Daddy's Gone a Hunting

28

After seeing Kate in intensive care and running into Hannah in the hospital Friday morning, Douglas Connelly had gone home. Sandra had left the apartment sometime during the night. He wouldn’t be surprised if she’d gotten a text from Majestic or whoever that scruffy-looking rapper was, but he didn’t care.

Should he have told Hannah that Kate had apologized to him for the fire? Would it have been better to say nothing? But Hannah had known right away that he had been lying when he said that Kate had whispered to him she loved him. But then Hannah had looked aghast when he told her that Kate had said she was sorry about the fire.

Hannah told him that she had hired her friend Jessie to represent Kate if she was accused of setting the explosion.

What about Gus? Would his wife hire a lawyer to defend his reputation as well?

Doug pondered these questions when he returned from the hospital shortly after nine o’clock. The spacious eight-room apartment on East Eighty-second Street where he had raised the girls was just off Fifth Avenue and around the corner from the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Now both girls had their own apartment. He didn’t need all the space, but he liked the location on Museum Mile, and the restaurant in the building. The apartment was filled with Connelly Fine Antique Reproductions and exquisite in its own way, although even he admitted he found the totally formal atmosphere and the furniture not particularly comfortable.

In fact, it was a daily reminder that Kate was entirely right. Either multimillionaires bought original antiques for investment, or they chose a mixture of antiques and comfort. Decorating with reproductions of fine furniture, even high-quality ones, just was going out of fashion, even for five-star hotel chains that had been their best customers. Doug recognized the truth of this when Kate furnished her own apartment, even if it was done in a sense of rebellion. Not even one end table had come from the plant.

Doug reflexively clenched and unclenched his hand. To steady his nerves, he went into the library and poured himself a vodka despite the early hour. Sipping it slowly, he settled in his one comfortable chair, a leather recliner, and tried to make sense of what was going on. Should he get a lawyer? He didn’t need one to know that the insurance company wouldn’t pay any claims on the original antiques or the whole complex if it was proven that a member of the family had set the fire.

Without the business, even if it is losing money, I’ll run out of cash in two months, he thought. Maybe I can take a deposit on the property with the understanding it won’t be available until any lawsuits are settled. A sudden shiver made his body go clammy with sweat. Not now, he thought as he closed his eyes knowing he was about to relive the moment years ago that changed his life forever-the moment the boat he was steering hit that cable. It was as though they had sailed off the end of the earth. The bow of the boat was sliced off and the rest of it slipped under the water. He was at the helm. The others were in the cabin below.

They never knew what happened, he thought to himself. The crew on the tanker never knew we’d hit the cable. He had grabbed a life jacket and pulled it on. Then he had managed to throw out the life raft, grab the bag with his wallet, and jump in as the boat sank. Doug closed his eyes, willing the memory to pass. And it did as suddenly as it had come over him. He resisted the impulse to pour a second vodka. Instead he reached for his cell phone and called Jack Worth. They had not spoken at all since yesterday, when they met at the hospital.

Jack answered on the first ring. When they had been at the complex, he always called Doug “Mr. Connelly,” but when they were alone it was “Doug.”

“How is Kate?”

“No change.”

“Did you get over to the property yesterday?”

“No, I intended to. But I went to the hospital twice and then the fire marshals were here last night. You went over, didn’t you?”

“I went straight there from the hospital. Those marshals got pretty rough about the lack of security on the premises.” Jack Worth’s voice was worried. “I got the feeling that since I was running the place, they think I should have insisted on having security cameras. I told them the place was up for sale for the right price.”

Doug didn’t like the undercurrent of panic he heard in Jack’s voice.

“Some of the guys at the plant called Gus’s wife,” Jack said. “You know how popular he was with them. She told them that there’ll be visitation today at the Walters Funeral Home in Little Neck between four and eight. Gus had no use for me or you after he was fired, so I don’t know whether or not to go.”

“I think you should go,” Doug said adamantly. “And I will, too. It will show our respect for Gus.” He looked at his watch. “I’ll get there around six.” He considered for a moment, then knew he was not interested in having dinner with any of the women listed in his address book. “Why don’t you get there around the same time and we’ll grab a bite to eat afterward?”

“Fine with me.” Jack Worth hesitated, then added, “Doug, watch what you drink today. You tend to run off at the mouth when you have too much.”

Knowing it was true, but angry at the suggestion, Douglas Connelly said curtly, “I’ll see you around six,” and turned off his phone.