‘He’s right here in Key West, guys. Let’s go and get him.’
47
The four of them had been shown by a dark-suited flunkey into a sort of ante-room, a smallish lounge, where they had now been waiting for several minutes. Portraits of past presidents looked down on them benignly from the walls and an enormous vase of lilies adorned a polished cherrywood table in the centre of the room.
Jeb, deep in a chintz-covered armchair, glanced at his watch.
‘This is a bit odd,’ he said. ‘The Kennedys are usually punctilious about meeting their guests personally as soon as they arrive. I wonder what’s going on?’
As if on cue the door opened and Jackie Kennedy walked into the room.
Stella caught her breath. The casual Beach Jackie in slacks and sweater had vanished: in her place was the stunning fashion icon slavishly copied by women around the world. This evening the First Lady was dressed in a simple black shift worn to the knee, with three-quarter-length sleeves. She was in black low-heeled shoes and wore a single-strand necklace of pearls with matching drop earrings. Her hair, which sometimes looked black in photographs and on television, was in fact a rich, glowing chestnut. Tonight, it tumbled down to her shoulders and the front was swept up and back from her smooth, wide brow. Her make-up was minimal.
The simple-but-chic glamour may have been understated, but its impact was stunning. Stella glanced across at her mother. Diana appeared to be transfixed, her mouth very slightly open as she stared at the vision that stood smiling at them all from the doorway.
‘Good evening, everyone, I’m so sorry about this delay,’ their hostess said as she moved further into the room, and the spell was broken. Everyone stood up.
‘It’s a real pill and I think our plans for tonight might have to change,’ she continued, crossing to shake hands with Diana, who was wearing a sleeveless dark-green dress and matching court shoes with heels at least two inches higher than the First Lady’s. ‘You must be Diana. I’m Jackie – welcome to the White House. Gracious, you’re beautiful. Mind, Jeb did tell me you were.’
Diana murmured something that nobody could quite catch and Jackie turned to Stella and shook her hand too. ‘Hello again, Stella. Last time we met we could hardly hear ourselves speak above the noise of Bobby and Ethel’s children.’
Stella laughed. ‘They’re certainly quite a handful, Mrs Kennedy, I could see that.’
Jackie waved one hand quickly. ‘It’s Jackie, please . . .’ She turned to the Rockfairs. ‘Dorothy, Jeb . . . you’re both looking very spiffy tonight.’
‘Sounds like we’re all dressed up with maybe nowhere to go, except back to our hotel,’ Jeb smiled. ‘But you look fabulous, Jackie, as always. Don’t you ever have an off night?’
‘As a matter of fact we’re all having an off night tonight, or we’re about to, I suspect,’ Jackie replied. ‘I can’t go into details but something serious has just blown up, and I mean very serious. Bobby’s juggling about seven phone calls at once and the President’s going to be joining him shortly. Ah, but here he is now.’
Jack Kennedy had walked into the room. Stella had last seen him in swimming shorts and an old T-shirt; now he looked every inch a president in his beautifully tailored charcoal-grey suit, gleaming white cuffs shot an inch below the sleeves, and a narrow silver tie knotted beneath his button-down collar.
Afterwards, Stella and her mother would agree that the mere sight of him had delivered an almost physical jolt, a small electric shock to the senses.
He was smiling at them but there was tension beneath the smile; they could all see that.
‘Jeb, Dorothy . . . Stella . . . and, ah, you must be Diana,’ he said, unconsciously echoing his wife a few moments before. ‘Welcome to the White House. Has Jackie explained how the land lies here this evening?’
‘Sure,’ said Jeb, speaking for all of them. ‘Jackie says that there’s a problem, and whatever it is, it’s a biggie. Is it some kind of political knot, Mr President? Anything I can do to help unravel it?’
Jack Kennedy’s smile tightened. ‘Thanks, Jeb, but I, ah, think not, on this particular occasion. Even Bobby’s beaten to the wide on this, though he’ll rally. He’ll have to. No, it’s not a political problem – not a domestic one, anyway. Let’s just say we, ah, unexpectedly find ourselves in what I might call uncharted waters. It’s not something one of your beautifully crafted speeches or press releases is going to fix, Jeb, I can tell you that.’
‘Wow.’ It was Dorothy. ‘My imagination’s running riot here. Is this something you’re going to have to go public with, Jack?’
For some reason her use of his Christian name seemed to relax him a little. But he shook his head. ‘No. Not yet at least. We’re still assessing the situation. But if this is what we think it is then, yes, I can see myself having to go on TV with it in a day or so.’
Jackie slipped an arm around her husband’s waist. ‘It’s all going to turn out fine, Jack. You and Bobby are smart guys. You’ll settle this business between you, you know you will.’
Jeb looked at the others. ‘Well, whatever it is it sounds like we should all get out of your hair, Mr President. We’ll go back and eat at the Willard, once we’ve checked in. It’s only a block away from here.’
The President nodded. ‘I’m real sorry about this, especially for you, Stella.’ He turned to her. ‘I was very much looking forward to hearing how you pulled off such an, ah, extraordinary achievement down there in Florida. But it’ll have to keep for another time.’
He looked directly at Diana. ‘I hear you have to go home to England in a day or so, Diana. Perhaps next time you’re in America you’ll let us know so we can invite you back here with your daughter and these two, ah, good-for-nothings.’
What extraordinary eyes he’s got, thought Diana as she thanked him, while Dorothy simultaneously blew the President a raspberry. A sort of greenish-grey. They seemed to look right into you.
The President held her gaze for a moment longer than was necessary, and Diana felt the beginnings of a flush rising from her throat.
Then he was addressing his wife.
‘Jackie, I’ve got a couple of things to pick up from down the hall here, and then I’ll be in with Bobby for the rest of the evening. Don’t wait up for me, this is going to be a long night.’
He turned to their guests. ‘Once again, I apologise. We’ll do this again properly, I promise.’
And he was gone.
‘Well . . .’ said Jeb. ‘If someone could see us downstairs, Jackie, we’ll go over to the Willard. Would you care to join us there for supper?’
The First Lady shook her head. ‘No thanks, Jeb. I feel I should stay here tonight, but it’s nice of you to offer.’
Diana, who was still feeling faintly unsettled by the President’s unflinching gaze, raised one hand. ‘I’m sorry, everyone, but I just need to powder my nose . . . Mrs Kennedy, where’s the nearest bathroom?’
The First Lady smiled. ‘Diana: I’m afraid our rescheduled dinner is entirely dependent on your agreeing to call me Jackie from this moment on.’
Diana returned her smile. ‘Then I’d be delighted to, Jackie.’
‘And I’d be delighted to show you to the nearest bathroom. Come along with me.’
The two of them went out into the corridor. After a few moments, the others heard both women laughing.
‘Crikey,’ Stella said. ‘I’ve never seen my mother like that before. She looked like she’d swallowed a horse-tablet or something. Sounds like she’s getting back to normal now, though.’
‘Oh, everyone freezes up a bit when they first set eyes on either of those two in the flesh, let alone both of them together,’ Dorothy said matter-of-factly. ‘You wouldn’t be human if you didn’t. I certainly did. Especially when JFK zaps you with those amazing eyes of his. The Germans have a word for it, don’t they – Führer-Kontakt. There’s something almost hypnotic about someone who wields enormous power, whether it’s for evil or for good.’
>
She turned to her husband and lowered her voice. ‘Did you see the way Jack looked at her just now, Jeb? I hope Jackie didn’t notice.’
He shrugged. ‘She probably did, but who knows what goes on in a marriage, Dottie? We’ve spoken about this before. Whatever his weaknesses, she loves him. She will do until the day he dies.’
Diana had not been using a polite euphemism, she really did need to powder her nose.
Jackie told her she’d see her back in the room with the others and Diana spent a minute or two in the fragrant, thickly carpeted bathroom re-applying lipstick and powder in front of an enormous mirror in its gold-painted frame.
She felt slightly embarrassed that she’d been so tongue-tied with the Kennedys. Still, they were the most famous and gilded couple in the world. Next time – if there really was going to be a next time – she’d give herself a good talking-to in advance.
She snapped her compact shut, rinsed her powdery fingers in the sink beneath the mirror and opened the door.
President Kennedy was standing directly outside, holding a large black leather-bound notebook in his hand. He grinned at her, gesturing to the book. ‘Found it,’ he said obscurely. ‘And I, ah, wanted to find you too, before you leave us.’
Diana stared at him in surprise. ‘How did you know I was here, Mr President?’
‘I was coming out of the room at the end there when I saw you go in, so I figured I’d wait here for you.’
He moved a little closer to her, still with that engaging smile on his face.
As an attractive woman, Diana was well used to men making passes at her and she had learned to see them coming, but this man, she thought, beat the lot. He had to be the fastest mover she’d ever encountered.
‘The thing is, Diana . . . the thing is . . .’
The next second he was kissing her, the back of his free hand resting lightly on her cheek.
She almost began to respond – in fact, reviewing the extraordinary moment later, she had to admit to herself that she definitely did start to respond – but managed to pull sharply back, pushing him firmly away with both hands. Her undeniable thrill of excitement gave way to a sudden and powerful desire to laugh. This was ridiculous.
‘Now look, Mr President,’ she said as firmly as she could. ‘This is NOT happening. I have just met your lovely wife and she’s in that room just down there. Quite apart from anything else, what if she came out here and saw you kissing me? Now, I’m going back to my daughter and my friends and we will pretend that this never happened. All right?’
He was entirely unperturbed.
‘On the contrary, Diana, the memory of kissing your lovely face will sustain me through what I have no doubt is going to be the most difficult evening of my presidency thus far. But you’re right, of course. This is neither the time nor the place. The next time we meet I will be certain to, ah, arrange things differently. It would be my pleasure to spend some time alone with you.’
Now Diana couldn’t stop herself from laughing aloud. ‘Perhaps it would, but it’s not ever going to happen! You can be completely certain about that, sir.’
His eyes crinkled as he laughed in his turn. ‘We’ll see about that, Diana. We’ll just see about that. I always say—’
Diana never discovered what it was the 35th President of the United States always said because at that moment Dorothy emerged from the room further down the corridor, calling: ‘Diana? Are you lost? We’re—’ She came to a full stop when she saw the two of them. Jack Kennedy gave her a friendly wave.
‘Oh!’ Instinctively, she waved back. ‘Um . . . are you ready, Diana? We’re off now.’
‘Yes,’ Diana called back. ‘I’m just coming.’
She turned and put out her hand, which the President shook with an elaborate formality. He continued to grin at her in the most disarming way.
‘Goodbye, Mr President. Good luck with whatever the matter is that’s troubling you. I’m sure your wife is right and everything will turn out well in the end.’
His smile faded just a little.
‘It has to, Diana. For all our sakes, it has to.’
48
He could see that his boss was in a bad mood. It was obvious from Tom’s sulky expression and the set of his shoulders as he walked slowly back into the Springfield less than an hour after leaving for an afternoon in bed with his new – and very secret – boyfriend.
‘I thought you left me in charge until happy hour,’ he said as the owner stamped behind the bar and poured himself a generous scotch. ‘You told me you wouldn’t be back ’til six.’
‘That was the plan,’ Tom snapped. ‘But Bruce got a phone call almost as soon as he’d taken his gun and uniform off. Afternoon leave cancelled. They’re calling everyone back in to his headquarters because of this Keys Killer thing, you know, the manhunt. They still think he’s hiding out in Key West, and there’s been some kind of a breakthrough.’
He was careful to show no emotion and carried on methodically stacking the still-hot-to-the-touch tumblers he’d just taken from the automatic dishwasher – the first one he’d ever used – and asked in a voice as offhand as he could manage: ‘His uniform? Headquarters? What, you’re telling me your new boyfriend’s a cop?’
‘Yes, and he’s gorgeous. Not that I got to do anything with that fantastic body of his this afternoon. And from what he told me I might not get another chance for days, unless they get lucky. He said there’s been some sort of development in the investigation. All hands on deck.’
He closed the door of the empty dishwasher and began wiping down the bar top. Steady now, he told himself. Don’t look too interested. Let’s not frighten the horses here, OK?
‘Well good, actually.’ His voice could hardly sound more casual. ‘Because I’m sick of seeing that guy’s face wherever I go around here. If they nail him then at least they can take all those frigging posters down. They give me the creeps.’
‘Really? I think he looks cute myself, quite the regular piece of eye candy. But your wish might come true because from what Bruce said they may as well tear them all down right now for all the use they are. He’s changed his appearance, apparently. Looks totally different now.’
OK. Stay cool.
‘Wow . . . is that the breakthrough? What are they doing about it? Why are they calling everyone back to the ranch today?’
‘Bruce didn’t know at first – they just told him to get his sorry ass back there pronto. I stayed in bed when he’d gone, watching some mindless daytime game show and eating the chocolate cake I’d brought for him – Bruce loves chocolate cake – and finishing off the bottle of Chardonnay we’d started together.
‘But just before I left, he called me from work. Of course, he has to be careful. If they find out he’s . . . well, you know . . . he’ll be kicked straight out of the force, maybe even sent to jail, and it’s much worse for cops on the inside, obviously. Anyway, he said they’re getting one of those police artists to draw some of the different looks the killer might have adopted – you know, blond like you, or the total opposite. Maybe with glasses . . . hey, like you again, Den! Watch yourself – you could be pulled in on suspicion of being the famous Keys Killer!’ He laughed.
‘Jesus, don’t joke about it, Tom. I skipped bail, remember? I’m a wanted man, for Chrisakes. I don’t want to find myself dragged all the way back to Texas on some fucking framed-up soliciting charge.’
His boss looked uncomfortable.
‘Of course not . . . jeez, Denny, I’m real sorry, I wasn’t thinking. It was just a stupid joke . . . anyway, we’ll get to see what they think this guy looks like now in a coupla hours – his mugshot’s gonna be on the main news show out of Miami at six o’clock, you know, the one hosted by that Todd Rodgerson guy, who, by the way, isn’t half as cute as he obviously thinks he is.
‘But he’s gonna show the drawings. That’s why Bruce and everyone has been ordered back in – they’re expecting a whole bunch of calls. He says the picture that attra
cts the biggest response is the one they’ll check out first. Bruce thinks they might even make an arrest just a few minutes after the first broadcast – after all, this is Key West, not Miami. There ain’t many places to run to. But if not, the sketches will make the morning papers, too. It’s all quite exciting, don’t you think? I always say I enjoy a good manhunt!’
Laughing at his own wit and with his spirits restored, Tom offered to hold the fort if Dennis wanted to take a late lunch.
‘Thanks, Tom. I’ll do that. I just need to go to my room for a coupla things. I’ll be back to help out at happy hour, OK?’
Five minutes later, he slipped out through the rear fire exit, so his boss wouldn’t see he was carrying the bag he’d arrived with the week before. It had briefly crossed his mind to kill Tom before leaving but too many other people, staff and customers, could testify that he’d been working in the Springfield and he could hardly kill them all.
When he got out to Duval he reached into the back pocket of his skin-tight cords for the coaster some sad old queen had insisted on giving him the night before, telling him: ‘I’m always at the house, gorgeous, if I’m not in here. Come up and see me sometime. You could make an old man very happy.’
He squinted at the phone number, blurred by spilt beer, that the old guy had scribbled down in red ballpoint before tottering off home. Was that a three, or an eight? Fuck it, it didn’t matter, he’d dial it both ways.
Without looking back at the bar that had been his sanctuary, he headed for the phone booth on the corner of Duval and West. He glanced at his watch as he went.
Four-thirty.
He didn’t have much time.
The street was just a couple of hundred yards up from the old Pier House, built on land that had been reclaimed from the mangroves more than a century before. It was a near-forgotten corner of this last fragment of the United States, a single boulevard of shabby, paint-peeling clapboard houses that petered out where a long-silted-up channel that once connected to the Gulf now lay dank and stinking. Residents said half of Key West’s mosquitoes bred here in summer and that the town should dig it out and then concrete the whole damn thing over. Make it a parking lot or something.
The Way You Look Tonight Page 19