Sins of the Flesh

by Fern Michaels

  “I’d love some.” Ill at ease, he watched her bustle about the compact kitchen. The silence between them was strained, awkward. Gone was the easy camaraderie they’d shared in the past. When he could stand it no longer, Daniel cleared his throat and began to speak.

  “I…I had to come, Jane. This is too important for either of us to try to sweep under the rug. I want to know, I need to know if there is some kind of misunderstanding, something that we can all rectify without…”

  “Without hurting Nellie,” she broke in, and turned to look at him. “But what about me, Daniel? Do you have any idea how I feel? Do you have any idea what you did to Bebe yesterday with…with your defense of Nellie? Good Lord, do you think we wanted to hurt you like that? The old Bebe, the Bebe you used to know, deserved those remarks, but not the Bebe of today. She was trying to do what her son wanted the only way she knew how. Daniel, I talked to that young man. I listened to him and I heard what he said. Neither Bebe nor I lied to you. Your daughter is doing the lying. And you know me well enough to realize I wouldn’t lie to you about something this important.”

  “That’s why I’m here,” Daniel said carefully. “You said the option contract on Ambrosia is in the files and the date had been tampered with. You also said your letter of resignation was in your desk. After breakfast, I’d like to go to the studio and see them both.”

  “No, Daniel,” Jane said, ladling fluffy scrambled eggs onto his plate. “My word should be all the proof you need. I won’t allow you to attack my credibility. I haven’t lied to you. Either you believe me or you don’t.”

  “My daughter…”

  “Yes, I know how terrible this must be for you, but I have to do what’s right for the studio, for Bebe, and for Philippe. I can’t worry about Nellie.” She put the pan in the sink and sat down opposite him, her eyes troubled. “I have this feeling, Daniel, that if you go to the studio, you won’t find my letter in my desk, nor will you find the original Ambrosia option contract. Nellie is too smart for that.”

  Daniel pushed his plate away. “So what you’re saying is that Nellie is a thief and a…a forger? My God, Jane, I…she’s my daughter…surely you can understand why I’d go to the mat for her.”

  “Yes, I do understand, and you must understand that I will do the same thing for the studio and Reuben.”

  “Reuben has always loved Nellie,” Daniel said.

  “Reuben loved the girl Nellie allowed him to know, just the way she allowed you to see only one side of her. She’s devious and manipulative, she lies and covers it all up with her wide-eyed innocence. Bebe told me there was something, something she couldn’t put her finger on the day they had their first meeting. I think Philippe realized it, too, but only after it was too late. Daniel, open your eyes. What young man would get married and leave his bride two days later when it wasn’t necessary?”

  Daniel shook his head. “That wasn’t the reason he left. He felt guilty—conscience-stricken because his father had gone to France to find Mickey and fight the Germans while he remained here. He wanted desperately to do his part.”

  “Perhaps,” Jane conceded. “But then there’s the power of attorney. When Philippe realized the ramifications of giving Nellie free rein to his inheritance, he changed his mind—and because the marriage was never consummated, he doesn’t owe her anything except an annulment.”

  She leaned across the table. “Daniel, Philippe’s fortunes…your friend Mickey secured his future, his, Daniel. I think she would take a dim view of Nellie helping herself at Philippe’s expense. But there’s no point in hashing this over again, is there? Would you like to see my letter of resignation? I brought a copy of the original home with me.” She was out of the room before Daniel could reply. When she returned she handed it to him.

  Daniel read the letter and gave it back to Jane. “You could have typed this yesterday when you came home. Unless I can examine the original…”

  “Damn you, Daniel, this isn’t a court of law! I thought you loved me. I’m telling you the truth. I think,” she said sadly, “it would be best for all of us if you left now. I’m sorry you’ve been placed in a position where you have to choose sides. I just want you to know one thing: I was prepared to walk away from it all so I could keep you. I was going to let Nellie win, but I know now she would have done something, something to turn you against me, and you would have believed her. I’m glad Bebe called me, and I’m glad I had the chance to talk to Philippe. When Reuben returns I can face him with a clear conscience…. You can see yourself out now, and before you leave I’d appreciate it if you would give me back my key.”

  Daniel unhooked the key from his key ring and laid it carefully on the table. He tried to see past the burning in his eyes and the lump in his throat. As he closed the door behind him, he heard Jane say, “I love you.”

  He was alone again. Reuben was gone, his one true friend in the whole world. Mickey was in France trying to stay alive. Bebe had turned her back on him, and Jane…Jane was abandoning him. All he had was Nellie. The thought gave him no comfort at all.

  It was eight o’clock when Daniel returned home. He showered and changed his clothes, his thoughts in a turmoil. Promptly at nine o’clock, he started making long-distance phone calls back east, confident that he would reach the two people he wanted to talk with.

  The first call he placed was to St. Margaret’s, where Nellie had gone to school as a child. The Mother Superior there remembered Cornelia well, and when Daniel explained that he was calling for background and information on his daughter, she did her best to comply.

  “Your daughter was an exemplary student scholastically, straight A’s, if I remember correctly. We don’t have all that many students who excel consistently. However, Cornelia never quite fit in; she had no real friendships, and on more than one occasion we had to call your wife in for conferences.” To Daniel’s growing horror, she went on to relate a series of instances where Nellie had been accused of theft, lying, and malicious mischief.

  “I made a notation myself on Cornelia’s records that I thought she was emotionally disturbed. On several occasions I suggested that Mrs. Bishop seek outside help for the child, but she refused.” There was a slight pause, then the Mother Superior said gently, “I thought you were aware of all this, Mr. Bishop.”

  After he’d hung up, Daniel sat with his head in his hands, his chest heaving. Childhood misdemeanors…or incipient pathology?

  The next call he placed was to the commanding officer at Fort Dix. When he finally got through fifteen minutes later, he was informed that there was no recruit named Philip Tarz or Philippe Bouchet at Fort Dix. Daniel swore, ripe, four-letter gutter words he’d learned in the Great War.

  In a frenzy of frustration he ran up the steps and threw on whatever clothes fell into his hands. He was out of the house and in his car within fifteen minutes. But he realized then that he didn’t know where he was going, if indeed he was going to drive somewhere. To Nellie’s, to confront her? Back to Jane to share his information? To Bebe, perhaps? Well, Jesus Christ, he could sit here all day and play word games, he thought nastily.

  At last he yanked the car into gear and drove to the studio, roaring past Eddie Savery without so much as a look. His destination—Jane’s office.

  A long time later Daniel decided that he would never make a detective. In his hands was the option agreement for Ambrosia, which he’d inspected carefully and thoroughly several times. The dates were typed cleanly, with no trace of an erasure. He didn’t know whether he felt relieved or depressed. The clean copy proved that the dates hadn’t been changed and the signatures on the last page hadn’t been tampered with. Jane must have made a mistake or lied to him, it was that simple. Nellie was in the clear. Next, he picked the lock on Jane’s desk, careful not to disturb her possessions. There was no sign of her resignation letter. Again, that made Jane a liar and Nellie innocent. Perhaps Jane had simply overreacted to Nellie’s intelligence, her youth, and her prettiness. But it was too late now fo
r explanations; too much damage had been done. Nellie would always be between them.

  There was still the matter of Philippe and Fort Dix. If the boy wasn’t at Fort Dix, where the hell was he? Had he simply pretended to enlist to escape his marriage to Nellie? If so, why go to Bebe? Maybe she’d misunderstood—maybe he’d gone somewhere else.

  Philippe’s bankers in New York might know where he was. Certainly he would have notified them; he was that kind of young man. Within minutes Daniel was speaking with Silas Goodwin, who informed him that the Morgan bank no longer handled Philippe Bouchet’s business.

  “What!” Daniel roared. Immediately he lowered his voice. “I don’t understand, Mr. Goodwin. If you aren’t handling Philippe’s business, who is?”

  “His wife, Mr. Bishop. Your daughter, I believe. I would have thought you understood and perhaps encouraged the transfer.” There was a coolness and a snideness that smacked of…Obviously the man was thinking…collusion. Daniel found himself sputtering and defending his position, trying to explain that he needed to reach Philippe.

  “I hope you have more luck than I did. I tried all morning to reach the young man and couldn’t. I had no other choice but to follow his wife’s directive. She sent their banker here, and everything has been removed from our hands. The power of attorney was in order. I spoke to the lawyer who drew it up. Is there anything else, Mr. Bishop?”

  “No. Yes! Yes, wait just a damn minute here. Are you telling me all of Philippe’s holdings have been transferred just today?”

  “Several hours ago, as a matter of fact,” Goodwin replied. “I don’t mind telling you all of us here in the trust department think there is something…irregular going on, but we’re powerless to do anything about it. It’s impossible to reach Madame Fonsard. Your daughter is an incredibly wealthy woman, Mr. Bishop. Now, if there’s nothing else, I’m due at a meeting.”

  Daniel’s eyes were wild as he stared around Jane’s office. This was all happening too fast. One minute he was absolving Nellie and the next he felt like crucifying her. One moment he was sure Jane was an out-and-out liar and the next he knew that was impossible, because she loved him. And now this!

  Daniel shook his head to clear his thoughts. What to do next, he wondered. See Nellie, confront her with everything? No, he decided, not everything. Trap her, trick your own daughter? His conscience pricked. “If that’s the only way to get to the truth of the matter, then, yes, that’s exactly what I’ll do.”

  Nellie was curled up in a chair by the front window. On the table next to her chair was a writing pad and pencil. Her banker had just called, telling her that all the transfers from Morgan had been taken care of and he was on his way back to California. She’d agreed to a meeting in his office first thing Monday morning. For over an hour she’d delighted herself with all the different numbers in Philippe’s accounts, holding off on totaling them until she couldn’t stand the suspense another second. When she had the grand total in front of her, she’d squealed in delight, hugging her knees.

  She was as rich as Croesus. She laughed, the sound rippling all about her. And it had been so easy!

  The sound of her father’s car in the driveway startled her. Immediately she picked up her pad and pen and started to write a letter to Philippe. On the hall table were two other envelopes with blank paper inside addressed to “Mr. Philippe Bouchet.” For show, of course.

  A moment later Nellie opened the door to her father, dabbing at her tear-filled eyes. “Hi, Daddy,” she said listlessly. “I was just writing to Philippe. It’s silly, I know, because I don’t have his address yet, but it makes me feel better.”

  Even though Daniel’s heart swelled at his daughter’s words and the woebegone look on her face, he took a deep breath and proceeded, using his courtroom voice. It was a front, but it was the only way he could get through the ordeal ahead of him.

  “Why, Nellie, why did you do it? I spoke to Silas Goodwin today and he told me you had all of Philippe’s funds transferred out here, every one of his holdings! You’re going to have to transfer it all back.”

  Nellie gasped.

  “You called Mr. Goodwin! Why? Didn’t you believe me?…Oh, I get it, Jane finally got to you. That’s it, isn’t it? Oh, Daddy,” she wailed, “I knew this was going to happen! I just knew it! I did only what Philippe told me to do.”

  “I’m ordering a freeze on all Philippe’s holdings until I reach him. I can do it, Nellie. You see, I have a letter from Mickey that gives me power of attorney over Philippe’s assets.”

  “Daddy, Philippe is twenty-one now. Everything is so legal, it’s unshakable.” She watched her father out of the corner of her eye.

  Daniel attacked her verbally then, telling her about his phone call to St. Margaret’s and his discussion with the Mother Superior. Nellie’s eyes narrowed as she listened. When she spoke, her voice was that of a wistful little girl.

  “I can’t believe you did all that, Daddy. You’re making me sound like a…deranged person, like…oh, God, like Mother. Why are you doing this to me? All I did…am doing, is what Philippe wants.”

  Daniel hardened his heart against his daughter’s tears. “We’ll find out if that’s the case as soon as we hear from Philippe,” he said in a flat voice.

  “In the meantime, I have to have all of this hanging over my head,” Nellie said reproachfully. “You believe everyone but me; you’ve been checking up on me. So what if I was a jealous child? That certainly doesn’t make me evil and conniving. Why won’t you believe me?”

  “None of this is going to do you one bit of good, Nellie,” Daniel said miserably. “The power of attorney Bebe has supersedes the one you have.”

  “That’s just too bad about Bebe! Everything is in my name now, just the way Philippe wanted.”

  Daniel rubbed his temples. “That’s what I thought. It’s still illegal, Nellie. The courts will make you give it back.”

  “Not until Philippe returns. He’s off serving his country, and no court is going to strip away a wife’s holdings,” Nellie cried. “I don’t care what Bebe has. It’s a forgery; she and Jane cooked it up between the two of them. I can’t believe you’re falling for their story. I’m your daughter, why would I lie to you about something so important?”

  “They said exactly the same thing to me. Why? For Philippe’s money, that’s why. You want it all and the studio, too. That’s it, isn’t it?” Daniel demanded.

  “No! It’s what Philippe wanted. Call Fort Dix and ask him yourself.”

  “I already did. He isn’t there.”

  Nellie’s eyes widened. “What do you mean, he isn’t there? He said in his note he was going to Fort Dix.”

  “Obviously he changed his mind because there is no new recruit at Fort Dix by the name of Philip Tarz or Philippe Bouchet. I’m having it checked out right now,” Daniel said grimly.

  Suddenly Nellie burst into fresh tears, and Daniel’s heart went out to her despite his reservations. She was so alone, so defenseless. If he turned on her, she would have no one.

  “Honey, let’s go into the kitchen and have some coffee and really talk,” he said, his voice gentler now. “I think I can help you if you’ll cooperate. Nellie, I don’t want us to have friction, there’s got to be a way to straighten all of this out.”

  Nellie stood up and towered over her father, her eyes dark with anger. “No, there isn’t a way to settle this. You believe them. I won’t ever be able to forgive you for turning against me, my own father! I think you should leave before we say more hateful things to each other. I would never hurt you the way you’ve just hurt me. If Philippe were here, he’d never let you talk to me like this. And for your information, Daddy, I’m going to the office on Monday and I’m going to sit in Philippe’s chair in his office just the way he wanted me to. I’m going to run my half. I don’t care what Bebe does with her half. And you just try to take his money away from me, just try! If you do, I’ll…I’ll…”

  “You’ll what, Nellie?” Daniel demande
d softly.

  Nellie stared at her father with tears streaming down her cheeks. “Never forgive you,” she said, picking up the pad and running from the room.

  Daniel watched her go, tears rolling down his cheeks.

  While Nellie plotted and schemed behind her bedroom door and Daniel stewed and fretted in Reuben’s house, Bebe spent the entire weekend trying to understand the report Philippe had given her on the wave of the future—television.

  It was so comprehensive, so detailed, Bebe felt as if she were reading a foreign language. The thing that struck her most in the entire seventy-six-page document was Philippe’s conviction that television was a technological breakthrough guaranteed to revolutionize the entertainment industry. In his summary he recommended that Fairmont research and develop an electron tube and electronic scanning method to make the marketing of television systems practical. The words licensing and patents were underlined.

  Bebe finished the report at three o’clock on New Year’s Day. By six o’clock the dining room table was covered with sheets of papers full of numbers. At six-thirty she called Jane, who arrived an hour later. Together they added and subtracted on Sol’s ancient adding machine.

  By eight-fifteen Bebe was trembling badly. “I’d kill for a drink right now,” she muttered.

  Jane grinned. “What’ll it be, cherry pop or ginger ale?”

  “Coffee, strong and black.” Bebe sighed. “Will it work, Jane?”

  “What’s the worst that can happen if it doesn’t?” Jane said, eyes twinkling mischievously. “We get jobs in a defense plant and move into an apartment together with Willie.”

  Bebe swallowed hard. “I have a list of every single Fairmont employee and their phone numbers. You use Pop’s phone in his study and I’ll use the one in the kitchen. Tell them I’m calling a special meeting for seven-thirty tomorrow morning. That way I can be at the bank by nine.”

  Twenty minutes later Jane walked into the kitchen and clapped her hands together. “Done!” she cried.