“Very wrong, sir.” He cleared his throat. “I’d recommend a pitching wedge for bludgeoning, myself.”
Which illustrates one of the many reasons why I married the man.
***
Outside, Jack made appropriate comments about the garden and the view, and we settled into comfortable chairs under an enormous umbrella. Gordon materialized with pitchers of iced tea and lemonade, then just as silently he was gone.
It would have been downright pleasant under other circumstances. We made small talk for a while, on every safe topic I could think of—which no longer included the weather. I was just thinking about making a getaway when Harry leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and cleared his throat. I swear I heard a bell, signaling round two was about to begin.
“Charley,” Harry said, “I can see what it is you like about this guy.” He did not look at Jack. “He’s good-looking, I’ll give him that, and he holds up his end of a conversation. Probably pretty smart too if you get past all that polite bullshit.”
Jack cleared his throat but made no comment.
“But here’s the thing,” Harry went on. “You know as well as I do that getting married so fast was just goddamn stupid.” He put up his hands to cut off my protests. “Maybe you did it to piss me off, and maybe you did it because he talked you into it, but the point is, we can clear this whole mess up here and now. I’ve had a lawyer draw up some papers and we can just put this whole thing behind us. Jack won’t be able to lay claim to one goddamn cent.”
I stared at him, and then at Jack, who seemed fascinated by the scene.
“Are you out of your…Who the hell…How dare you!” I finally hit the phrase that worked, and hit it at full volume.
“How dare I what?” Harry yelled back. “How dare I look out for you? How dare I get you out of this mess?”
The man was unbelievable. “What makes you think for one minute—” I stood. “We’re leaving.” I made for the house, heading for the steps that led to the great room.
“Charley,” Harry called after me. “This isn’t just your decision!” I stopped and turned. Jack and Harry were still where I’d left them. “Don’t you think you should consult your husband?”
Jack looked from Harry to me.
“Jack?” Why wasn’t he coming with me?
Jack set his tea on a glass-topped table. “Let’s hear him out, Charley.”
Harry grinned in satisfaction, said “Come with me,” and took the path back to the game room. Jack looked at me, then followed.
What in the hell?
When I caught up with them they were in Harry’s office, across the hall from the game room. Harry was pulling a folder from his desk drawer. “I think you’ll find this is all in order.” He tossed it to Jack.
Harry sat behind the massive desk and gestured to Jack to have a seat. He saw me in the doorway. “Glad you could join us.” I stepped into the room, feeling more than a little disoriented. “If we can just agree on certain terms, I’m sure we can take care of this today.”
“Terms?” Jack enquired.
“Money,” Harry said flatly. “How much it will take to make you go away.”
“Ah.” Jack returned to his perusal of the paperwork.
This couldn’t be happening.
“How about five hundred thousand dollars?” Harry said smoothly.
Jack glanced up, then returned to the document, flipping a page.
“Seven fifty?”
Jack looked at him. “May I borrow a pen?”
Harry handed him a silver fountain pen, then watched as Jack underlined something and circled something else. “All right,” he said when the pen came down again. “I’ll go to a million, but not a penny more.”
Jack wrote something on the last page. His signature? Was this really happening? He handed the folder back to Harry.
“I was sure you’d see things my way.” Harry looked at me and suddenly seemed much, much older. “Sorry it turned out this way, Charley.”
I was about to start screaming and never stop when Jack stood. “Thanks, but no thanks, sir.” He looked at me. “Are you ready?” He nodded his head toward the door.
“Goddamn it!” Harry yelled. He held up the last page of the document, where Jack had neatly written “bullshit” across the signature line. “Listen, you little—”
“Harry!” I was finally able to speak. “You know that part of the wedding ceremony that goes ‘speak now, or forever hold your peace’? That’s the reason you weren’t at my wedding. I won’t have you—”
“I don’t care what you’ll have,” he shouted. “That man is not what he says he is, and—”
“Harry, for the love of God,” I interrupted. “Jack’s a meteorologist. Who in his right mind would pretend to be a meteorologist if he wasn’t?” I shot Jack an apologetic look. “No offense, sweetie.”
“A meteorologist? You believe that?” Harry brought his fist down on the desk with a sharp crack. “Any idiot can say anything about the weather!”
“What’s your point, Harry?” I asked.
“My point is,” he bellowed, “he’s a liar. And I’m going to keep digging until even you can see that and have the sense to get out of this mess and get a goddamn annulment!” By the time he finished, his voice was loud enough to shake the substantial rafters.
“It’s not a mess!” I yelled back. “It’s my life and I can take care of myself!”
“Take care of yourself! You didn’t even get a prenup!”
“That’s it! I’m out of here! Jack, let’s go!” I was storming across the room when Jack spoke.
“Just a minute, Charley.”
Not again. I whirled around and saw Jack take a white letter-sized envelope from his inside jacket pocket. “Harry,” he shook his head in what looked like admiration. “Please, keep digging. I’m sure whatever you find will be entertaining, if nothing else.” He placed the white envelope next to the folder on the desk. “This is for you. It’s just a copy, the original is with a lawyer in London.” He turned to me. “Now we can go.”
What the hell was that?
“What the hell is that?” Harry boomed.
Jack gave me a grin and answered without looking back. “It’s a legally binding disclaimer. But you can think of it as a prenup, Horatio.”
Chapter 5
I have no idea how Jack found out Harry’s real name. No matter how much I begged, he just smiled and said Harry wasn’t the only one who could uncover a thing or two. So I had to content myself with the memory of the blank astonishment on my uncle’s face as we’d left.
I was a little rattled by Harry’s accusations, although I’d have died before admitting it. I hated the fact that he’d found out anything about Jack, be it good or bad. And I really hated that I couldn’t ignore what he’d said. Finally, I just had to ask.
“Jack, these places you went for the Navy…”
“Um hmm?”
“Harry seemed to think…” I cleared my throat. “It does seem kind of funny to send a meteorologist to all those places when all that stuff was happening.”
“Does it?” He looked at me with a sort of vague surprise, which wasn’t helpful in the least.
I tried to smile. “I know you’ll think I’m crazy—”
“You? Crazy? Never.” Just a little sarcasm there, which I chose to overlook.
“Jack, were you some sort of spy?” I waited for him to laugh.
He thought about it a minute before answering. “If I had been, I don’t think I’d be able to talk about it.”
“Not even to your wife?”
“On the other hand,” he said, “I can talk about weather as much as you’d like.”
Great.
***
We spent the next few days pretty quietly. No unexpected naked women turned up—living or dead. No belligerent relatives dropped by. I made a few more attempts to trap my husband into an admission of a heroic past, but they were unsuccessful. Pretty tame stuff, all things co
nsidered.
On Thursday night we had reservations at Farallon and I was looking forward to an indecent quantity of oysters on the half shell. As we walked into the long, undersea atmosphere of the bar I grabbed Jack’s elbow. “It’s the detective,” I whispered. “Inspector Yahata.”
He was standing at the bar, wearing another sharp suit, this time accessorized by an ultra-thin blonde. He spotted us and came over, trailing the date, while we waited for our table.
“Mr. and Mrs. Fairfax. I’m glad to see you’ve recovered from your unpleasant shock.” His speech was as clipped and quick as it had been at the crime scene. I looked at the blonde and wondered if he ever whispered sweet nothings in her ear. And if so, did it sting much?
“Inspector.” Jack held out his hand. “We’ve been wondering about—” his eyes flicked to Yahata’s date, then back to the detective, “the young lady.”
The detective had one of those smiles where the corners of the mouth go down. “I’m afraid as yet there’s been no identification of the young lady.” His stress of the last two words was accompanied by the slightest of nods.
Wasn’t it nice that we could all be so polite and civilized while discussing a corpse in a swank restaurant? Until I spoiled the mood.
“Was she murdered?”
The blonde looked away, as if I’d said something unforgivably crude. But since we hadn’t been properly introduced, I decided it didn’t really matter. Yahata was gazing at me with undisguised curiosity. Again, I had the feeling that the air between us was crackling with energy.
“Yes,” he replied. “Are you still sure you didn’t know her?”
My mouth had gone dry. Apparently I’d used up my quota of smart-ass comments for the evening. I shook my head.
“We’ll know more when we identify the body. But just to be thorough, I’d appreciate it if you could look at the lobby security tapes at some point.”
“Do you think there’s a connection to us?” Jack asked. “I mean, a deliberate one?”
The down-turned smile reappeared. “It’s too early to discount any possibility.” His eyes flicked to a point behind us. “I see your table is ready. I won’t trouble you any further.”
Which was a lie. I’d spent a lot of mental energy trying to convince myself that a total stranger had committed suicide in an anonymous hotel bathroom and it was random chance we’d found her. But a murder implied planning. Had part of the plan been to involve, or even implicate, Jack or me?
“Do you suppose that was a coincidence?” Jack asked after we were seated.
“You mean you think we were meant to find the body?”
Jack frowned. “I meant whether Yahata just happened to be here tonight.” He looked over toward the bar, where the detective and his striking date were no longer visible. “But they’re both interesting questions.”
***
A few days later Simon called and insisted I meet him, Eileen, and Brenda for lunch and gossip. I decided to make the day complete by doing a little shopping first.
I began with Saks for the basics, moved on to Neiman Marcus, glanced in at Wilkes Bashford, popped into Chanel, and wound up at Prada. A morning well spent, in both senses of the word.
I headed for the restaurant where I was supposed to meet the gang. As I paused to admire a glittering display of glassware in Gump’s window, I realized I hadn’t done anything yet about finding place to live with Jack—let alone accessorizing it with the perfect champagne flutes. I felt a little flurry of panic at the thought, so I dashed into Diesel for jeans and some funky tee-shirts. I’d probably wear them more often than anything else I’d bought.
Of course I was late for lunch. I turned into Belden Place, my arms full of packages, and saw the gang sitting at a sidewalk table. Eileen was checking her watch, and as I came up on them from behind I heard Simon say “probably still shagging her brains out—” right before Brenda saw me, kicked Simon under the table, and yelled “Charley!”
We’d agreed to meet at Plouf, one of several small bistros in this alleyway in the financial district. It was one of the few places in the city where you could sit outside and take advantage of the beautiful summer weather, at least on those rare San Francisco occasions when the summer weather was beautiful. It was also close to Eileen’s office, and they served the most amazing mussels in town.
“Well, as long as you’re late for a good reason,” Eileen said, appraising the shopping bags I piled on the pavement before sitting next to her.
“Sorry, sorry, I totally lost track of time—” I began.
“Oh, Charley,” Brenda offered, “nobody expects you on time anyway.”
“We ordered already,” Eileen informed me. “All your favorites.”
All my favorites made for a fairly decadent lunch. Mussels in a white wine and garlic broth as well as mussels in a light cream sauce, calamari and fennel tempura, a warm leek and Roquefort tart, and a tomato and arugula salad with white anchovies. We shared everything, forks clashing as we reached over each other to spear our favorite bites, using chunks of crusty bread to mop up the extra sauces.
After we’d completely stuffed ourselves and the waiter had removed all evidence of the crime, Simon poured me another glass of wine and said “All right, darling, now tell all.”
“About your brunch with Harry,” Brenda added helpfully.
I should never have told them about the invitation.
“Take it blow by blow,” Eileen grinned wickedly. “I want to know how much blood was shed.”
“Harry’s not that bad!” Brenda exclaimed, then looked around in surprise, as if someone else had said it. Quietly, she added, “I’m sure he was very understanding, once he…understood.”
I snorted eloquently.
“Was he?” Eileen asked knowingly.
I told all.
When I got to the part about Jack’s dramatic presentation of the legal disclaimer, Eileen’s eyes narrowed. “A legal disclaimer? So it isn’t a prenup?”
“Not officially,” I explained. “Because it’s not a mutual agreement. I didn’t even know anything about it until Sunday. Jack had a lawyer draw it up in London because he figured some people would think he married me for my money.”
“Oh, Charley.” Brenda seemed wounded by the mere thought of such a cynical perspective, while Simon gazed heavenward and wisely said nothing.
Eileen cleared her throat. “Do you have a copy?”
“With me? Of course not. I didn’t even want to look at it.”
“Well I do,” she said decisively.
I looked at her blankly.
“Charley, I’m your financial manager. I manage your finances.”
Still blank.
“I should see any legal document that might possibly impact your financial outlook.” She waved away the waiter’s proffered dessert menu and ordered cappuccinos for all of us. Turning back to me, she continued. “Even if you don’t take an interest in these things, you pay me to.”
“I suppose…” I hadn’t thought of it like that.
“So fax it to me this afternoon,” she continued briskly. “After all, I’m not saying that Jack isn’t wonderful, but men can be pretty deceitful at times, and—”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Brenda exclaimed. “Just because you’ve married a couple of jerks…”
“Is four a couple?” Simon enquired innocently.
It was true that Eileen had been married four times, and each had been a jerk, in his own way. The only positive outcome of her marital experiences was her son Anthony. It was natural for her to be suspicious of Jack’s motives, and not just because of her position as my financial manager. She glared at Simon. “The fact,” she said icily, “that I have been divorced does not color my judgment in any way.”
“Right.”
“So anyway—” Brenda gave Simon a warning look— “what else is new?”
Was this the time to tell them about the murdered woman we’d found in the tub? I looked at Eileen and could
n’t bring myself to add fuel to her suspicions about Jack. She’d probably point out that I’d never found any dead bodies before I’d gotten married. So I shrugged. “Not much.”
Eileen pushed her chair back. “I have to go.” She stood. “I have a very new and very rich client. Don’t forget to fax me that disclaimer.” She bent to air-kiss my cheek. “I am happy for you, sweetie,” she whispered.
“You can’t go yet,” Simon protested. “We haven’t talked about work at all. We need to bring Charley up to speed on the Rep and what we’re doing.”
Eileen consulted a sleek little electronic organizer. “I can move some things and do lunch on Friday.”
“Works for me. Charley?”
“Fine.” I perked up. “Can we do dim sum?”
“Good God.” Eileen gave me a look filled with despair and waved as she left.
“Have you looked at the play yet, darling?” Simon looked at me expectantly.
“I haven’t had a chance to read it. But I will by Friday,” I promised, seeing his face fall. “Chip said it was great.”
“It’s good,” Simon agreed. “It will be great if we can pull it all together. I’ve been trying to get in touch with the writer to set up a meeting. You’ll love her, darling, she’s —”
He might have rambled on forever if Brenda hadn’t cut him off. “If you two are going to get all theatrical on me I think I’d better go. Maybe I can still beat the traffic on the bridge.” Brenda lived in Berkeley, drove an ancient red Volkswagen, and spent a fair amount of her mental energy figuring out how to get from Point A to Point B without getting stuck in the epic traffic backups that were part of the geography of the Bay Area.
Catching a nasty look from one of the waiters, Simon and I decided to call it a day as well, and he gallantly helped me flag down a cab and cram my morning’s purchases into it.
“Don’t worry about the Rep,” he said earnestly, just before closing the cab door. “Everything will be fine.”
Great. Before he’d said that I hadn’t been worried.
Chapter 6
“Jack!” I called out as I came through the door. “Are you here?”
Jack stuck his head out of the second bedroom and took in the pile of shopping bags.
Speak Now Page 5