Silent Treatment

Chapter14

Although it was only five in the morning,Kevin Loomis was already dressed for work. He made his way quietly to thekitchen and eased the door closed. Just because he couldn't sleep was no reasonto wake Nancy or the kids. He had crawled into bed after midnight and had notdrifted off for at least another hour. That made a total of about ten hours ofreal sleep in the days since he had first noticed the picture of EvelynDellaRosa in the Times obituary section. One moment he was certain thewoman in the photo was Desiree. The next moment he was certain she wasn't.There were undeniable similarities, but the woman in the photo looked youngerand yet not as attractive as Desiree.

He nuked a cup of yesterday's coffee inthe microwave and took it down to his basement office, a tiny space he had setup amid the boxes, out-of-season sporting equipment, heating ducts, and cinderblocks. He hadn't spent much time there since his promotion but it was still agood place to hide out and think. Besides, he thought now, it wouldn't be toomuch longer before the makeshift study that had served him so well was a thingof his past. Their house, a small three-bedroom on a tree-lined street inQueens, had a Sale Pending sign on the front lawn. It was under offer toa plumber and his wife: As soon as that sale went through, the offer Nancy andhe had made on a fabulous place in Port Chester would become final. Twelverooms, three fireplaces, and four baths on an acre and a half. It was the dreamhouse they had thought would never be more than a dream.

New job, new car, new house, newassociates, new secrets … it was all happening so fast. Maybe that was whatwas bothering him. Not the business with Desiree or Kelly or The Roundtable,but the business with Kevin Loomis. No matter how hard he tried to feelotherwise, he couldn't shake the sensation that somehow he was in over hishead.

'Most of the knights have been inexecutive positions for years,' Burt Dreiser had said on the day he finallymade the offer that had so changed Kevin's life. 'And they've forged a uniquebond as members of The Roundtable. At first you're going to feel intimidated bythem. But you needn't be. I've been watching you work around here for a longtime now, and I would never have tapped you to take my place if I didn't havecomplete confidence in you. As long as you believe in what The Roundtablestands for — as long as you believe that our cause justifies our approach tosolving problems — that's all that matters.'

Kevin couldn't recall his preciseresponse, but it had obviously been the right one. It had also been the truth.Throughout his life he had often cut corners — legal, moral, and otherwise — for things he wanted or causes he believed in. There was nothing about TheRoundtable or its various programs that he couldn't accept, especially with somuch at stake for his company and himself. Everything would be perfect,absolutely perfect, if only he just felt a little more at ease with the wholething.

He smoothed Evelyn DellaRosa's obituary onhis desk and reread it. Consumer editor for Manhattan Woman magazine fitwell enough with what they knew of Desiree, but certainly not the part abouther being a doctor's wife. Although she hadn't actually had sex with Kevin, shecertainly had seemed ready and willing to. Gawaine had also admitted to somepretty intimate contact. He denied having intercourse with her, but Kevinalways had the notion he was lying about that. Things like doctors' wivesbecoming call girls happened, for sure. Who hadn't read articles about suburbansex rings or watched the reports on Hard Copy? But Kevin certainly neverthought he would find himself in the middle of such a thing. He read on.

. . died suddenly in a Manhattanhospital. .

Died suddenly. What did that mean?

He wondered if he should say anything toGalahad and the others. Perhaps. At the next meeting, he decided. Perhaps heshould.

'What difference does it make?' he askedhimself out loud.

Even if Desiree was EvelynDellaRosa, what of it? There was nothing to suggest that her death had anythingto do with The Roundtable. Nothing at all. Kevin's efforts to convince himselfof that had almost succeeded when he fixed on the final exchange of the lastmeeting — the one between Galahad and Merlin.

We've come too far to letanyone threaten our work.

Wasn't that what Galahad said? It wasdefinitely something like that, he thought. And what had Merlin responded?

Don't do anything rash. . Atleast not until you're certain she's not a policyholder with one of ourcompanies.

Not an exact quote, perhaps, but closeenough. Even at the time, Kevin had felt there was something creepy aboutMerlin's comment. Not the words, but the inflection, maybe. . and theexpression on his face. It was as if he and Galahad were enjoying an insidejoke.

And now a woman who might beDesiree was dead. . suddenly. . in a hospital. .

Kevin was badly startled when the phone beganringing. He snatched up the receiver.

'Kevin, Burt here. Hope I didn't wake you.Listen, something's come up that I think we should talk about. Nothing serious,and nothing for you to worry about. But I wonder if you could meet me at myboat at, say, seven-thirty?'

The boat. The only place Dreiser felttruly safe and secure. It had to be Roundtable business.

'Of course,' Kevin said. He cleared sometension from his throat. 'I'll leave in just a few minutes.'

He put the DellaRosa obituary in anenvelope and pushed it into the recesses of his desk drawer. Then he wentupstairs, left a note on the kitchen table for Nancy and the kids, and headedfor the garage.

'Hey, hotshot, did you forget something?'

Nancy called to him from the doorway. Shewas holding his briefcase in one hand and a bag of pistachios — his mostenduring vice — in the other. She was dressed in the beige silk robe he hadgiven her for Christmas. Early morning sunlight, dappled by the maples acrossthe street, shone on her in a most appealing way. They had met in ninth gradeat a church picnic and had fallen for one another immediately. Nancy Sealy wasbeautiful then; and now, twenty-four years and three kids later, Nancy SealyLoomis was beautiful still. Suddenly, the vision of her was intruded upon bythe image of Kelly, naked astride his thighs, stroking him patiently, expertly.For a moment, just as it had that night, his entire world consisted of herglistening, coal-black pubic hair. He had let her lick him some and even takehim inside her mouth for a while — there was no red-blooded man on earth whocould have said no to that. But just as with Desiree, he had drawn the line atintercourse. And for that restraint he remained grateful.

Accepting the briefcase and nuts, hekissed his wife on the cheek, then on the lips, then on the lips again — thistime more passionately.

'Hey, is this an invitation?' she asked,nibbling at his ear. 'Because if it is, I can call the office and tell Martythat — '

'Honey, I can't. I've got a meeting with Burt.I'll try to get home early, though. Better yet, I'll call. Maybe we can meet atthe Starlight Motel.'

Nancy brightened immediately at the idea.

'You mean that?'

Meeting Kevin at a motel for sex had beenher oft-expressed fantasy since the one time in college when they had actuallydone it.

'I'll call early this afternoon,' he said.'If it's possible, we'll do it.'

He kissed her once more and trotted to hisLexus. That was the last time with Kelly or any other escort, he vowed. He wasfaithful, but he wasn't goddamn Saint Francis. Sooner or later, if he keptplaying with fire, he was going to get burned. He would discuss his decisionwith Burt — that was just a courtesy, given all the man had done for him. Buthe had made up his mind. Lancelot would have to invite one less girl to theparty or else do two himself. Sir Tristram was out of that loop.

He cut through the neighborhood and headedtoward the Midtown Tunnel. Dreiser's boat, a magnificent forty-foot Bertram,was moored at a yacht club near the Seventy-ninth Street Boat Basin on theHudson River side. Forty-second Street all the way across, then up the WestSide Highway, he decided. At the last minute, he changed his mind and took theFDR. He could cross over at Seventy-second through Central Park. If he gotlucky and made it there with a lot of time to spare, his laptop was on the backseat, and he had a ton of paperwork to catch up on. The portable computer hadcost Crown $4500 — more than he had made in six months when he was juststarting out.

He slipped a Sinatra disc into the CDplayer and closed the windows. The custom-made sound system had twelve speakersand a twelve-band equalizer. What a gas, Kevin thought. The dreammachine. The dream job. The dream house. His life was moving along like awell-oiled machine. And here he was, trying to mess it all up in his mind. Healways was one to look for the catch in any situation — the cloud at the end ofthe silver lining. The business with Evelyn DellaRosa was probably nothing morethan two women with a strong physical resemblance, and his overripe imaginationat work.

Traffic in town was lighter than usual.Kevin made the dock with almost half an hour to spare. Still, Burt was alreadyon his boat, having breakfast on the stern deck. He was a handsome fifty-one,with graying dark hair and patrician features.

'I stayed in town last night,' heexplained, motioning Kevin to help himself to coffee and juice.

In town meant on the boat. AndKevin strongly suspected that on the boat meant with Brenda Wallace. Maybeshe was what this meeting was about — Burt needed an alibi.

'If you have to stay in town,' Kevin said,motioning across the Hudson, 'this is the way to do it.'

'Your house go through yet?'

'Today or tomorrow, I think.'

'Port Chester, right?'

'Yes.'

'Port Chester's got some nice sections.Very nice sections.'

'The house is beautiful. Nancy'll becrushed if the deal falls through.'

'Let me know if any problems do come up.I'm pretty good at finding ways to solve problems.'

'Thank you.'

Dreiser flipped what was left of hisEnglish muffin over the stern. A seagull snagged it in midair.

'So, what's going on with you and TheRoundtable?' he asked suddenly.

Kevin felt the color drain from his face.

'I don't know what you mean.'

'Kevin, I was brought into The Roundtablefive years ago, shortly after it was formed. After I accepted the chairmanshipof Crown it became necessary for me to distance myself from the group. Ouragreed-upon understanding is that should The Roundtable ever be investigated,the company CEOs would have to deny any knowledge of it. The knights wantedsimply to eliminate my seat. Maybe look into bringing in someone from anothercompany. I can't tell you how strongly I had to argue for them to allow me tochoose a replacement from within Crown.'

'I'm glad you succeeded.'

'You should be. Let me give you an idea ofwhat belonging to The Roundtable means to us. A year or so ago one of theknights got real bad food poisoning at some damn Chinese restaurant and thenhad a coronary at the hospital and died. His company CEO wasn't allowed torecommend a replacement. There had been some problems with the man. Theknights, myself included, felt he lacked commitment to what we were trying toaccomplish. Nobody trusted him. If he hadn't died, he probably would havegotten kicked off The Roundtable before too long. That would have been a first.But unless he changed his ways and his attitude, it would have happened. As aresult of losing their representation, his company, Mutual Cooperative Health,lost something like nineteen million this past year. Nineteen million is a hitI don't want Crown ever to have to take.'

'So?'

'Kevin, as I have told you many times,these men are very careful and very suspicious. This thing with that magazinereporter — what's her name?'

'She called herself Desiree, but I believeher real name might be DellaRosa. She-'

'Yes, well, that thing with the reporterupset some people. They worried about what you might have said to her.'

'I didn't say — '

Dreiser raised a hand.

'Kevin, please. Let me finish.'

'Sorry,' Kevin mumbled.

'It was no big deal, but you were the newkid on the block. They didn't know you, so of course, they didn't completelytrust you. That's understandable, yes?'

'Yes.'

'Okay. The operative word here is trust.Kevin if these men don't feel comfortable with you, they don't trust you. Andif they don't trust you, you're out. And for all I know, Crown may be out, too.That would hurt us, Kevin. Nineteen or twenty million a year, and God only knowshow much more in the years to come, would hurt us badly.'

'I understand.'

'Then why in the hell did you callLancelot to complain about the girl he sent you?' Dreiser's voice raised just abit.

Kevin was stunned that such a full reporthad been given to his CEO. He stopped himself at the last instant from makingsome sort of excuse or explanation. There was one thing and one thing only thatBurt Dreiser wanted to hear at this point.

'It was a misunderstanding,' he said. 'Itwon't happen again.'

'Excellent. Excellent.' Dreiser clenchedhis fist for emphasis and pumped it in the air. 'Kevin, I don't care what inthe hell you do with those girls once they're in your room. But the more theother knights feel you're one of the gang, the quicker you actually will be. Itmay seem trivial to you. But believe me, when it comes to this group, nothingthat goes on is trivial. There is just too much at stake.'

'I understand.'

'Good. You'll be fine, just fine, as longas you never forget what's on the line.'