Desperate Measures (39 page)

 

In the offices at 600 Army Navy Drive in Arlington, Virginia, Sandor Neville was participating in a three-way conference call with the Attorney General and Manhattan's District Attorney. He repeated Marshal McNally's phone call word for word. He fired up a cigarette while he listened to the two attorneys hash out the pros and cons of the request. His mind wandered. Was his wife going to serve pumpkin and pecan pie tomorrow or would it be apple? It probably wasn't going to make a difference because, from the sound of things, he wasn't going to make it home for a few days.

Neville thought about Maddie Stern. He felt sorry for her. He wished there were something he could personally do for the young woman. He wondered if Pete Sorenson was going to be alone for Thanksgiving or if he had someone to share it with. The whole thing sucked as far as he was concerned. He fired up a second cigarette. He was stubbing it out in the ashtray when the Attorney General gave the okay to send a psychiatrist of Neville's choosing to Jasper Springs. And where in the goddamn hell was he supposed to find a shrink on Thanksgiving eve? The Yellow Pages? Well, yeah, it was a place to start.

Neville called his wife, told her not to hold dinner for him.

The following afternoon, with a light snow falling, a blue and white helicopter set down in the cornfield on the ranch outside of Jasper Springs. Parker McNally, in a four-by-four, waited for his passenger, who he thought looked meaner than a castrated bull. “Oh shit,” he muttered.

He wasn't fatherly-looking at all. Grandfatherly would be more like it. Maybe even great-grandfatherly. He expected his voice to be brittle and raspy, like dry leaves rubbing against each other in the fall. Instead it was warm and gentle-sounding. A chuckle crept in when Dr. Phillips said, “I'm as cold as a well digger's ass. Tell me about my patient.”

“Well, we didn't tell her about you. That's for starters. Did they really swear you in as a marshal?”

“At the airport. I felt important,” Dr. Phillips said. “It was necessary to maintain the secrecy. In a way, it wasn't necessary because I'm bound by the Hippocratic oath, but I took it anyway to make everyone feel better.” He chuckled again as the four-by-four sped through the snow-covered fields. “Now, tell me everything you can about the patient.”

McNally told him everything he knew. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the doctor nod several times. His voice full of awe, McNally said, “She can tell you what's on every page of the Sears catalog.”

“Amazing,” was all the doctor said. “How shall I address her, as Miss Parsons, or have you given her a second name?”

McNally shrugged. “That's part of the problem. They told her she couldn't be Olive Parsons anymore because the computer made a mistake. It seems there's a real Olive Parsons somewhere. She refused to accept a new name. She's very angry.”

“Justifiably so,” the doctor said.

McNally continued to talk, and Dr. Phillips continued to listen. He didn't ask any more questions. McNally thought it strange, but what did he know about psychiatry?

The house, when they arrived, smelled of cinnamon and apples. Janny was baking pies with the apples from the root cellar.

McNally made the introduction and discreetly withdrew to the kitchen with Janny.

“Are you a psychiatrist, Dr. Phillips?” Maddie said, marking her place in the catalog by turning down the page. She was on sleds, Flexible Flyers.

“Yes I am,” Phillips replied, taking a chair near the fire. “I was told you needed someone from the outside to talk to. I'd like to help if I can. If you aren't ready or if you'd like me to leave, I will. The decision is yours, Miss . . . Stern.”

“Didn't they tell you I'm not Maddie Stern anymore?” Maddie asked flatly.

“Yes, and they told me you aren't Olive Parsons either. At my age I get confused easily, so I prefer to go with who you
really
are.” Phillips chuckled.

Maddie stared at the sleds in the catalog. “If you're just here to talk to me, I don't think you can help me. I'm tired of talking. No one listens. No one cares. I don't belong here. You aren't going to change that, so what it means to me is we're wasting each other's time. What does it mean to you?”

“I think it's too early to make that kind of an assessment. I'm certainly willing to give you the benefit of my years in practice. I'm happy to say I've never lost a patient yet.”

“To what?”

“To that netherworld that closes out the rest of the world.”

“There are days when I think I'm losing my mind. Maybe I already lost it and don't know it,” Maddie said quietly.

“That's a start.” Phillips smiled.

“I know this catalog from front to back,” Maddie said.

“What is that going to do for you? Next year there will be new items and the page numbers will change.”

Maddie stared at the doctor. He reminded her of someone, but she didn't know who. Maybe a movie star. That was it, Fernando Lamas. Distinguished, with pearl-gray hair and matching mustache. His eyes held a smile that was hard to ignore. “I never thought about that. Hopefully, by next year I won't be using this catalog to entertain myself.”

“Oh, why is that?”

“By then the trial should be over and I'll be ... someone else. I guess. I don't know that for certain. There are no certainties. You know that, don't you, Doctor?”

Phillips chuckled. “Death and taxes.”

Maddie closed the catalog. “I lost my way, Doctor, and I can't find my way back. I want to. I need to.”

The words tumbled out then, in a torrent. From time to time Phillips nodded to show he was following her. He watched as she sipped from a cup of tea, and watched as she wiped at the perspiration dotting her brow. If he were alone, he would have cried for her anguish.

It was dark out when Maddie halted and looked around. The room was dark, the only light coming from the fireplace. She got up and turned on the lamps. “I think we missed dinner.”

“That's all right. We can eat later. Tell me, what do you want? What would make you whole again? If you could do it right now, today, what would you do?”

“I want to put on my coat and walk away from here.”

“As?”

“As Maddie Stern.”

“And?”

“Go back to New York. Pick up my old life. Take my chances.”

“The trial?”

“I'll go through with it.”

“What about the danger you'd be in?”

“What about the danger I'm in now? As a psychiatrist, I think that's a rather foolish question. I'm in danger now of losing my mind. I know that, I'm not exactly stupid. That netherworld you spoke of, I can't think it's preferable to death if death is the end result of my leaving here. Now, let me ask you a question, Dr. Phillips. I want a straight-out answer, don't take time to think, just blurt it out. If you were me, what would you do?”

“The same thing I know you're going to do. Leave. Be who I am.”

“You aren't supposed to say that, you're supposed to try and talk me into staying.”

“Wherever did you get an idea like that?” the doctor asked.

“Isn't that why they sent you here?”

“I can't say what was in
their
minds, but it wasn't in mine. A very nice gentleman named Sandor Neville called me on the recommendation of the AMA and told me about you. He said he'd never met you personally and he wished there was something he himself could do for you. He said something I totally agreed with.”

“Which was?” Maddie said breathlessly.

“To have to stand by and see your life taken away from you through no fault of your own had to be the worst thing in the world. I reviewed my own life and came to the same conclusion. Well, I'm glad we settled all that. I thought I was going to be here for weeks.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“If we tell Mr. McNally to call the airport, we'll have time to eat that wonderful dinner I smelled earlier and be on our way.”

“To where?”

“I'm heading back to Atlanta, Georgia. I thought you said you wanted to go to New York.”

“You mean I can . . . leave?”

“Maddie, you could have left anytime you wanted. You did it in Fort Lauderdale and again in Utah. You made the decision. This is probably the most important decision you'll ever make in your life. If you can live with it, and there's no pun intended, then let's get the phone call out of the way and some dinner under our belts.”

“Not so fast, Doctor. How do I handle Pete and the store and . . . all that?”

“Oh, no, Miss Stern, we don't supply the answers, we just help you down the road. You must make your own decisions.”

“I've changed.”

“That's understandable.”

“Pete has too. Changed, I mean.”

“Can you forgive that change?”

“I don't know. I had all these preconceived ideas about him.”

“Do you think he had the same preconceived notions about you?”

“I think so, Dr. Phillips. I guess it wasn't meant to be.”

“Relationships have to be worked at. Absence doesn't always make the heart grow fonder.”

“That sounds like an answer to me.”

“I like the word ‘observation' better.”

“Before we go in to dinner, Doctor, I have to show you something.”

Maddie opened the Sears catalog and withdrew a long white envelope. Pasted on sheets of blank paper was a birth certificate, her first communion and baptism certificates, and a copy of her driver's license and Social Security card. The last sheet of paper contained replicas of her credit cards.

Tears blurred the old doctor's eyes. “It must have taken you a long time to do this, to cut out those letters so painstakingly and then line them up. These,” he said, holding up the papers, “are works of art.”

“No, Dr. Phillips, they're who I am. I want the originals back. I deserve to have them returned. I won't settle for anything less.”

“Then, Maddie Stern, I suggest we do what we have to so we can be on our way.”

“They won't try and stop me?”

“No. You have my word.”

“Then, Dr. Phillips, let's go eat that turkey and apple pie. I have a lot of catching up to do.”

In the kitchen Janny reached out to her. “Good for you, Maddie,” she whispered.

“Janny, I'm sorry. I mean that. Are you coming?”

“No. I'm going to stay here. I kind of like it, and the guys are depending on me to keep their affairs in tip-top shape. I'm going to go out on my own when it's all over. I wish you the best.”

“Do you want me to write?”

“No. I think this chapter of our life is over. I have things to do and places to go. I'll try and find my mother. McNally said he has some sources he can help me tap. I'm going to be fine.”

“So am I.”

“I know you will, Maddie. Good luck.”

“The helicopter will be here in forty minutes,” McNally said quietly.

“Guess you're glad to see me go, McNally? I can't apologize, you need to know that.”

“None expected . . . Miss Stern.”

“Thank you for that, McNally.”

“Can we eat now?” Phillips grumbled.

Maddie laughed. “Absolutely.”

She'd walked through this door hundreds of times, but today it was different. She wasn't going to walk back into the cabinlike house again.

She was taking nothing with her but the clothes on her back, the envelope with her homemade credentials, and the little money she'd saved.

She was Maddie Stern again. She had papers that said so.

She laughed then, a sound of pure joy, her eyes sparkling with her freedom. She skipped through the snow and then dropped to her knees. She made a snowball and pretended to throw it at the doctor, who dodged as if she had. He laughed with her. All his cases should be this easy, this satisfying.

Dr. Phillips smiled. “You'll be in New York before midnight.”

“I can't believe it!” Maddie squealed. “I'm free. I'm not Miss Nobody, I'm not Miss XYZ. I'm Maddie Stern. I'm me again. Me. God, I really am me.

“Me!”

Her shrill cry of pleasure carried in the clear, frosty air and came back to wrap itself around her.

She was going home.
Thank you God. Thankyou-thankyouthankyou.

“It was a wonderful dinner, Annie. I think I can truth
fully say this was the best pumpkin pie I ever ate.”

Annie smiled. “You say that no matter what kind it is.”

“And now it's time to talk, is that it?”

“Yes, Pete, now it's time to talk. I think you even know what I'm going to say.”

“Then maybe you shouldn't say it.”

“I have to say it, Pete. I'm leaving. The store is in good hands. You've come to terms with Leo's letter. I'm no longer needed here anymore. I want my own life back, Pete. The store, as much as I love it, isn't for me. I'm a lawyer, it's what I do best. So I'm leaving you with the dishes and heading back to the city. Tomorrow is the biggest shopping day of the Christmas season. Saturday will be busy too. I want to get that set up and under way. This way I can leave knowing I did my best. Oh, don't look so glum, Pete. I'll stay in touch. I'm going to take a vacation first, though.”

“Annie—”

“Shhh,” Annie said placing her finger against his lips. “You'd have done it for me. It's time to move on. You're going to be fine, Pete. Before you know it, the trial will be here and then it will be over. Maddie will come around once it's all over, and then you two will live happily ever after.”

“And you, Annie?” Pete said with a catch in his voice.

“Me!” Annie said in mock horror. “Have you ever known me not to come out on top?”

“A time or two,” Pete said in a funny-sounding voice.

“That doesn't count.” She swooped down, bussed him on the cheek, and was out the door before he could get up from the table. He heard the car's engine, saw the headlights arc on the kitchen wall. Total silence wrapped itself around him.

“What the hell... ?”

Good old Annie. His best friend. His pal. His confidante. His moral conscience. Good old Annie. Best cook in the whole world. Best goddamn store manager he'd ever seen. Best fucking overall lawyer. Best of everything. Annie was the best.

And now she was gone. Just like that. He shook his head to clear it. At that moment he would have driven after her, but he'd consumed over a bottle of wine all by himself. Annie had only a few sips. He was in no condition to drive.

She said she'd stay in touch. She would, because Annie never lied to him.

Annie was his best friend. Annie was his conscience.

Annie was the best.

And he loved her.

The following day the remains of the scrumptious Thanksgiving dinner were still on the table. At breakfast he'd picked at the turkey stuffing. At lunch he'd gnawed on a wing and ate some dried turkey breast. For his dinner he was going to finish off the pumpkin pie and drink another bottle of wine. Maybe two, maybe three. For sure he'd be able to sleep. But first he needed some sound. Bob Marley's “Stir It Up” ricocheted off the walls. “That's more like it,” Pete said, dusting his hands together before he uncorked his first bottle of wine. Before he passed out on the couch, he decided he'd listen to Marley's “I Shot the Sheriff” sixty-two times.

He woke the following morning a little before noon when a horn blared in his driveway.

“Shut the fuck up,” Pete groaned as he covered his head with one of the sofa cushions. The horn blared again.

“Annie!” Pete bounced off the sofa and hit the door at a dead run, his head pounding like a jackhammer. He blinked when the doorbell rang. He yanked it open and cried “Annie” at the same time.

“Sorry, Pete, it's just me, Maddie.”

“Maddie! Jesus Christ, it's you, Maddie?”

“In the flesh. Can I come in?”

“In the house? Well, hell yes.” Pete took a backward step, still startled. “Maddie, how did . . . what . . .”

“Coffee would be nice.”

“Coffee? Oh, coffee. Yeah, yeah, I'll make some coffee.” He stumbled twice on his way to the kitchen because he kept looking over his shoulder. “It really is you, I'm not dreaming. Am I dreaming, Maddie?”

“No. It's me. Looks like you had a party. Is this still from Thanksgiving?” The amusement on her face wasn't lost on Pete.

“I didn't feel like cleaning it up. Actually, I've been ... sort of snacking on the leftovers. Why don't you clean it up while I make coffee?”

“I beg your pardon. I don't do ... okay, if that's what I have to do to get a cup of coffee, okay. Should I just throw everything away?”

“That sounds good. Dump the dishes in the sink. Maddie . . . how . . .”

“Sit down, Pete, and I'll tell you.”

Pete sat down. He listened, and when she was finished with her story and her coffee, he poured her another cup. “Isn't it dangerous for you?” he asked.

“You know what, Pete? I'm not who I thought I was. I truly believed I could handle anything. I was wrong. I was wrong about a lot of things. That's why I'm here. I realized in my captivity—and that's how I thought of it, captivity—that I didn't love you. Not the way a woman is supposed to love a man. The way I think Annie Gabriel loves you. And I don't think you love me the way a man is supposed to love a woman. If you did, you would have joined me. If I really loved you, I would not have asked you to join me. We need to talk about all of this openly. I do love you, but in a different way. I did love your money, though. Once I lost everything, I started to think differently. Something happened to me. When you said you'd wait for me forever, were they just words or did you mean them?”

“At the time, I think I meant them. If you were to ask me the same question now, I'd have to be honest and say they were just words.”

“We're not the same people anymore, Pete.”

“In a way, that's hard to accept.”

“Not if we learned something about ourselves in the process,” Maddie said softly.

“I never . . . what you're doing takes guts. I don't know if I could do it.”

“No one knows until it's all taken away. If I'm going to die, I want to die as Maddie Stern. Promise me, Pete, if anything does happen to me, that my ... tombstone says Maddie Stern on it. Can you do that for me?”

“My God, Maddie . . . yes, yes, I'll see to it.”

“Good. Now, about Fairy Tales—”

“Wait a minute, Maddie. Just like that you walked away?”

“Not quite. On my own I wouldn't have had the guts. They sent this shrink to talk to me. He gave voice to my wants. He understood what it meant to be in hiding, losing everything. If those others understood, they didn't tell me, and they didn't help me either. By the same token, I didn't do much to help myself. All I know, Pete, is I'm going to enjoy my life for however long it lasts. I will do my duty and testify, because it's the right thing to do. I'll keep my word. That's important to me, that I follow through. Do you understand any of this?”

“Every word. To answer your question, the store is yours. It was always yours and it will continue to be yours. Annie was keeping it intact for you. By the way, where do you get off saying Annie loves me?”

“Oh, Pete, sometimes you can be so dumb. Why do you think she dropped everything and came here? Women know these things. I think you love her too, but you're just getting around to admitting it to yourself. Do you remember how hyper you used to get when I would ask you about her? I was jealous, and I'd never even met her. Nobody puts their life on hold, to do what she did, unless they care deeply for that person. I'm going to miss you, Pete.”

Pete found himself at a loss. He felt both relieved and yet anxious. “More coffee?”

“One more cup and then I have to leave. Can I have the keys to the store?”

Pete reached up to an array of hooks on the wall and took down his set of keys for the store. “Do you like Bob Marley, even a little, Maddie?”

“Not even a little bit.”

“How about sailing? I bought a boat.”

“Not even a little bit. Hate the wind in my hair.”

“Would you have gone to Bell's Beach with me?”

“This is one of those important, trick questions, isn't it?” Maddie said quietly.

“No, it's just a question.”

“I'd have gone to Australia and probably found a way to avoid the beach. I don't like sand up my butt and getting my hair all mussed up, and for sure I wouldn't take surfing lessons. Do you still have that board?”

“Yeah, I still have it. What do you suppose would have happened to us if we'd gotten married?” Pete asked curiously.

“In the beginning we'd have done okay. Then you would have started to travel more, and I'd start planning a second store, and we wouldn't see too much of one another. We'd probably drift apart. Neither of us would do anything about it. We'd start to lead separate lives, and eventually we'd probably divorce. This is me talking now, Pete. Back then none of this occurred to me. I'm trying to be honest for both of us. Do you concur?”

Did he? “At this point in time, yes. But, like you, not back then.”

“Maybe something good did come from this,” Maddie said sadly. “Well, I have to be leaving. I've got to start looking for an apartment. And I need a loan.”

“My pleasure,” Pete said, reaching into a kitchen cabinet for his household checkbook. “Look, Annie is leaving tomorrow. Moving out. You can use the apartment as long as you like. I can sublet it to you.”

“Thanks, Pete, I appreciate it, but that's kind of going backward. I need a new place to go with who I am now. I wish you all the best and I'm truly sorry if I gave you a bad time. I can't take that back, as much as I want to.”

“And I wish you the best too. Let's stay in touch.”

“Only in the business end. What are you going to do with your life, Pete?”

“Well, much as I hate certain aspects of the law, I don't think I'll switch professions. It's what I do best. I think I'm past due for a vacation. I think I'll go someplace.”

“Someplace? That's not good enough, Pete. Do it all. Go for it. Do it now. Don't wait. There might not be a tomorrow. I guess I shouldn't have said that, huh?”

“Hell no. You're right. Maddie, if there's anything I can do, all you—”

“I'll ask. Take care, Pete.” She kissed him lightly on the cheek.

“By the way, how'd you know where this house was?”

“I memorized it off the letter you wrote. Hey, guess what? I memorized the entire Sears catalog. Surfboards, page 486. The entire catalog, Mr. Sorenson. The index too. Try and top that.”

Maddie was laughing as she backed the car around. Pete had come outside to see her off. “Take care of yourself, Pete.”

“The
whole
catalog?” Pete said.

Maddie tapped the horn, five notes of zippy sound as she drove away.

“I'll be damned.” In the house he sat down to think about what her visit meant to him personally. Maddie was taking charge of her life. For better or worse, she was going to do what was best for her.

Without thinking twice, Pete called the precinct and asked for Otis Nester. When his voice came over the wire, he identified himself and told him Maddie's story. “Will your people look out for her, Nester?”

“Around the clock, and she won't even know we're there.”

“That's good.” He didn't say thanks. They owed her that much. More, but they'd never be able to make up for what they'd taken away. He hung up the phone, did the dishes, threw away the wine bottles, and put Marley's tunes on the stereo again.

Upstairs, he showered, shaved, and packed his bags with enough clothes to last him a month. He carried his cases out to the Rover. His last trip into the house was spent turning down the thermostat, turning off the stereo, and locking all the doors and windows. He grinned broadly when he pulled the surfboard from the closet. He wiped at imaginary dust, his eyes brimming. Inside his breast pocket was his open-end ticket.

He had one stop to make, Fairy Tales, where he was going to swoop Annie off her feet and take her with him.

It didn't work out that way. Pete charged into the store a little after four, his eyes raking the sales help and customers. When he didn't see her, he bellowed her name.

“Annie isn't here,” he was told by Ada Rollins. “She left around two. She had a plane to catch.”

Pete's jaw dropped. “Where did she say she was going?” He should know that. He should have asked.

“She said good-bye, that's it, Mr. Sorenson. She said she wouldn't be back. Last week she said she was thinking about moving to San Francisco. Maybe that's where she went. I'm sorry I can't be more helpful.”

“I'm sorry too. Listen, the owner of the shop will be in tomorrow. She'll be taking over from Annie. 'Bye, ladies,” he said to all the curious sales help looking at him.

Fall back and regroup.

Outside in the brisk air, the surfboard in the backseat of his Rover, Pete felt suddenly stupid. Always the last one out of the gate, Sorenson. Too much, too little, too late. Time to go back to Darien and think this through.

Well, hell, if Maddie had the guts to come back and take on life, then he had the guts to use Leo's ticket and go for his dream.

“Yeahhhhh.”

It was dark when he drove down the shale road to his Darien home. He swerved to the side when a tow truck pulled alongside. The driver tapped his horn, slid over to the passenger side and rolled down the window. “Hey, are you Pete Sorenson?”

“Yeah. Who're you?”