“We plan on sleeping together and sharing the master suite,” Jane said to ease the man’s embarrassment. “I want a very big bed, romantic lighting, and a shower big enough for two.”
“I understand.” The smile on his lips said that he really did.
“I think we also need a Jacuzzi—”
“For two?” he interrupted.
“Why not?” Jane said. Then she added, “And a television that pops up out of something for nights when I’m home alone.”
Arnold Kallen began writing and measuring. “And the things in the closet?” he asked.
She wanted to be glib and suggest a tag sale, but Kay’s closet might be a problem. She couldn’t gauge Bill’s sentimental attachment to her things, or which outfits Cassie might hope to wear. “I’ll have the closet empty before you start,” she promised, wondering if she could get any response from Bill on short notice.
Kallen returned on Saturday to meet with the Andrews children, who were visiting for the weekend. Jane explained that their father hoped they would be spending more time at home, and she wanted to redo their rooms to fit their preferences. Neither Cassie nor Craig showed much interest.
“Who wants to live here?” Cassie demanded. “I like being at school and at the farm.”
Craig mentioned a wall-size screen for his video games so he’d have something to do in the city. “I won’t be here much,” he decided.
Jane knew that Bill would be disappointed, but she wasn’t unhappy that the children would rather be elsewhere. If they were with her, she would probably cause a ruckus by sending them out to find summer jobs. The kids went up to the roof to swim in the pool. Kallen left with instructions to “just make their rooms light and airy.”
She moved her things out of Bill’s room even though she wanted nothing more than to fold up into his embrace. So far, her engagement to Andrews had been a series of trials and disappointments. She wanted to enjoy some of the rewards. But the children shouldn’t see their father bedding down with a girlfriend, so it was important for them to say their good nights from separate doors. Maybe, after the kids were sound asleep …
William arrived late that night and went straight to his own room. A few minutes later he knocked on her door. “I hoped we could spend a few minutes together,” he said when she answered. But it wasn’t the few minutes she was hoping for. He was still in his shirt and tie.
He suggested a nightcap and they went down to the piano bar, where he poured each of them a brandy. Robert Leavitt was on his way over, bringing some papers from the office. His week had not gone smoothly, and he gave her a quick summary of the details. The Federal Communications Commission had rejected his request for an exception, and a cable system he was courting had gone to another bidder. He and Leavitt needed to decide on a counterattack. Then he asked about her week.
She painted it as brightly as possible. The wedding date was set, the guests had been invited, and the caterer had been hired. The children were home and eager to see him. The swimming pool was open, and the dance floor had been fixed. Then she eased into the negatives. He would have to make a decision about the clothes in Kay’s closet. He nodded gravely but didn’t commit himself to doing anything right away. She gave him a quick rundown of the changes she was planning for Kay’s suite. He seemed pained.
“You do want me to change it into our room, don’t you?”
“Yes, yes. Of course.” But he showed no enthusiasm. He could just as well have been agreeing to a dental procedure.
Then she told him about his children and their lack of enthusiasm for personalizing their rooms.
He said he would talk to them. “They’ve been through a lot. Try not to be too hard on them.”
Hard on them? She was offering to redo their rooms. In a sense, promising to re-establish the household that had been blown away by the blast that killed their mother. But now wasn’t the time to plead her case about raising his children. He had been away on a failed mission and seemed discouraged. “You know what? Why don’t we take our drinks up to the pool and go skinny-dipping?”
He smiled as if the idea was outrageous. “This isn’t the tallest building in the neighborhood,” he said.
“Good! We’ll give the neighbors something to talk about.”
“You go,” he said. “I have to wait up for Leavitt.”
Jane felt a twinge of anger. This wasn’t the homecoming she had been expecting. He had taken her report as if he were presiding over a business meeting and seemed disappointed in the message and the messenger. Being married to William Andrews was going to be thorns as well as roses. “Okay, I will,” she said in a demonstration of independence. It wasn’t so much that she wanted to go swimming but rather to show that she, too, could have her own agenda.
She regretted her choice as soon as she stepped out of the cabana. She was wearing a terry robe over her swimsuit, but she still felt the early-fall breeze blowing across the rooftops. She dipped a toe and found the water delightfully warm. But still, she knew how cold the night air would feel when she got out. “Big mouth,” Jane chastised herself as she took off the robe. She went down the steps and slipped into the water, where it was warm and comfortable.
Wonderful! She was in total silence, high above the traffic noise, looking up at stars and out over the lit skyscrapers of New York. Kay Parker certainly knew how to live! Jane could imagine her floating weightlessly there, in her orbit over the earth. But she wondered if Kay and Bill had ever gone skinny-dipping together. That didn’t strike her as likely. Kay wasn’t the type, and he wouldn’t have had the time. Then there were the possibilities introduced by her recent discovery of Selina Royce. Maybe the Andrews-Parker marriage wasn’t quite the paradise that the society writers had constantly reported.
She was beginning to guess at their relationship. Kay was a public persona, a celebrity in her own right, in some ways her husband’s rival for public adulation. In her private life, she was a genuine American princess, playing dress-up with the other ladies at court. And Bill was totally absorbed in his empire, a king who needed a queen for the sake of the peasants. Did they love each other as much as they loved themselves? Did they ever laugh at the ridiculous luck that brought them such privileged lives?
There was a sound, a precisely engineered click followed by a droning hum—a motor starting close to the deep end, where she was swimming. Then a rattling sound as a machine went into action. She looked around. Nothing had changed, but the rumbling left no doubt that something was moving. She stared into the darkness beyond the lit edge of the pool.
It came at her quickly, breaking into the light as it reached the water. A large wooden beam was rolling over the pool, coming straight toward her head. Jane righted herself and reached for the bottom with her foot, trying to run. But at the deep end, she couldn’t touch bottom. The beam was closing quickly. She thought of ducking down and letting it roll over her head. But then she understood precisely what was happening. The dance floor was closing over the swimming pool. The beam coming toward her was the edge of the first panel, followed by others that would seal her under the water.
22
The floor panels were stacked in a machine that rolled them out one after another. As each panel slid out, it locked into the edge of the panel ahead and then pushed out over the pool, dragging the next one behind it, like the slats of a bamboo window blind.
She kicked off and swam furiously toward the shallow end. But her stroke was panicked and ineffective. She was thrashing rather than swimming. She felt the closing edge with her foot as she kicked. The door of the trap was sliding over her. She wasn’t going to make it.
Jane screamed, her voice louder than the rumble of the mechanism. But her cry seemed useless. No one could get to her in time. She planted a foot on the moving edge and pushed off. For a second she was in the open, reaching out to the steps at the end of the pool. She grabbed the ladder and raised herself up out of the water. But there wasn’t time. She would never make it out
before the floor reached her, and if she was halfway out, the heavy wooden edge would cut across her like the blade of a guillotine. She had only seconds to save herself, and only one choice to make. Jane let go of the ladder, took a breath, and dropped under the water. She held her breath as the floor closed over her.
Her world went silent, as if she had suddenly gone deaf. She was in an eerie space of water brightly illuminated by the pool lights, sealed in on all sides. Every detail of the pool was clearly visible. She could see the tiles, the water-circulation inlets, and the steps. Over her head she could see the steel bars that reinforced each of the dance-floor panels. She took hold of the ladder and pulled up until she broke the surface. The water was at eye level when her head touched the bottom of the dance floor. Jane tilted her head back until her face was out of the water. She gulped for air and found that she could breathe—but just! The surface was still oscillating so that tiny swells were washing across her mouth and nose. If she wasn’t careful, she could easily swallow water. If she lay perfectly still, she could breathe. But her feet sank and her shoulders rolled. Even the slightest movement created waves, and the waves rolled back over her face. Jane clutched at one of the steel braces. For a few moments she was able to hold herself still. Breathing was easier, but the tension in her shoulders shot pain across her back. She couldn’t last long without letting go.
It would be easier, she decided, to sit on a lower step of the ladder and steady herself with her head bent back and her face in the clear. She tried one step, but it left her at the water level, gurgling with each breath. The next step was too high. Her face was pressed painfully against the wooden plank above. There was no position that would let her relax and breathe calmly.
She tried another scream that sounded deep and resonant in the small space above the water. It didn’t seem loud enough to get anyone’s attention. She banged her fist against the panel. The short stroke she was able to take produced nothing more than a knock. Once again she felt herself sinking, the water licking over her face. Jane knew that she couldn’t hold herself still in the narrow air space for very long. She began to understand that her life was in danger.
There was only a three-inch gap between the water and the wooden ceiling that held her prisoner. She couldn’t hold herself still for more than a few seconds, so she had to time her breaths very carefully. Come up slowly, break the surface, and breathe deeply. Then let herself settle back with just her eyes above the water. Wait patiently until she needed another breath, then tip her head back until her mouth and nose were clear. It was a routine that she knew she could keep up for a while. But for how long? It was the middle of the night. She might not be missed until William woke up in the morning, seven or eight hours from now. Could she stay awake and hold her concentration for that long?
The lights snapped off, a change every bit as dazzling as if they had suddenly flashed on in the darkness. In the glow of the pool lights she had been able to analyze her predicament. Now she was in total blackness, as if lost at the bottom of the sea. She came up too quickly, banged her head, and swallowed water. She was suddenly choking, gasping for air and breathing in more water instead.
Don’t panic, she told herself, but panic was already setting in. She was disoriented, unsure whether her face was in the narrow opening or still underwater. She was short of breath but terrified of taking in more water.
Don’t panic! She felt for the ladder, sweeping her arms under the water. Her hand hit the metal pipe and then she was able to feel the steps. She let the ladder guide her as she rose, her arm raised to feel the rough bottom of the dance floor. Then she brought her face up slowly. She sputtered and threw up the water that had been locked in her throat. She drew a deep breath, taking in air but also more water, and the cycle of choking started all over again.
Stay calm! She rolled on her side so that half her face was pressed against the dance floor and she was able to spit up more water. But she couldn’t control the gasp for air that drew still more water into her lungs. And that set her thrashing again.
There was plenty of air lying in a layer across the top of the water, and more seeping in from the outside. If she could just develop a rhythm—press her face against the wooden ceiling, breathe, and then let herself relax. Even if she sank a bit, she would still be safe as long as she could rise up gently for the next breath. But the choking and gasping were exhausting, and with the fatigue came even greater disorientation. Jane couldn’t make her body work the way she knew it had to.
She began bobbing slowly, trying not to disturb the water surface and make waves. She got into a rhythm that seemed to work: surface to draw a breath, let herself sink a bit, and then surface for the next breath. She began counting the seconds to keep her mind occupied so that she wouldn’t panic. But the process became hypnotic. She felt herself choking and realized that she had drawn a breath underwater. Later she felt herself sinking, exhaling a trail of bubbles. How long had she been trapped in the swimming pool? It seemed like hours, but it was probably no more than fifteen minutes. How much longer could she hold on?
The lights flashed on, snapping her back to her senses. She had not heard footsteps or the click of the switch that had turned the pool lights back on. But someone must be there. Jane took a deep breath and screamed at the tiny opening where a connection between two floor panels rested on the edge of the pool. She listened carefully. Nothing! She called again. No one was there.
“Christ, help me!” she yelled. There was another terrifying moment of silence. Then a click and the whir of a motor. And then a rumble as the panel above her face began moving back toward the deep end of the pool. As soon as the floor slid past her. Jane exploded out of the water. In two rapid strokes she was holding on to the edge at the shallow end. Then she began to cry hysterically.
Bill Andrews reached down to her. She caught his hands and then threw her arm around his neck. For an instant, he tottered, fighting to avoid being dragged in. Then he pulled back and got his hands under her arms. He hauled her up until her torso was lying on the deck, her legs still dangling in the water.
“You’re okay!” he shouted at her. “It’s all right!” He pulled her up into his arms and dragged her knees up onto the edge. Then he lifted her until she was standing, her weight leaning against him. “You’re okay,” he repeated. He led her toward the cabana, and she walked with faltering steps.
“Thank God you came up,” she said when he eased her down onto a deck chair.
“Leavitt just left. I thought I’d come up and dry you off,” he explained. “When I saw the pool covered, I thought you must have finished your swim. I damn near went back down to find you.”
“Jesus, I was drowning. The pool cover closed over my head.”
He draped a towel over her shoulders and found another one so that he could begin drying her hair. “You’re freezing,” he warned her. “Can you walk to the steps? You should get downstairs and into something dry.”
He led her straight to his bedroom and slipped into the bed next to her so that he could warm her in his arms.
When she came down in the morning, Bill was at the breakfast table with Cassie and Craig. He rose and seated her. “Feeling better?” he asked.
“Much better!”
Craig stopped chewing long enough to ask, “Did you really get caught under the pool cover last night?” Then he turned to Cassie with a conspiratorial grin.
Jane nodded and then smiled, determined not to be overly dramatic. “I did get myself trapped,” she answered.
“That’s not supposed to happen,” Craig said. “There are electric eyes and stuff to keep it from closing if anyone is in the pool.”
Jane answered, “They must have burned out.” But then she asked how the motor could have started. “Who could possibly have thrown the switch?”
“A mechanical failure,” William said. “No one could have thrown the switch. It’s right next to the pool. You’d have seen anyone who came up.”
“B
ut it worked for you,” Jane remembered. “You pushed the button and everything worked normally. So nothing was broken. Somebody must have pushed the switch.”
Cassie and Craig ignored the discussion as they finished their pancakes. But Bill persisted in his view that it was some sort of mechanical failure. “There’s no way to get on the roof except through the apartment. And no one let anyone in. Everyone was asleep until Robert got here.”
“Look,” Jane said with a hint of temper. “The pool and deck were serviced yesterday. Everything was in working order. So why would it suddenly decide to close ….” Her voice drifted off as she realized the import of what she was saying. If there was no way to get to the pool except through the apartment, then whoever pushed the button must have been in the apartment. If it wasn’t a mechanical failure, then someone in the family had tried to kill her. “I guess we’ll have to talk to the service people,” she mumbled, seeming to concede the point.
Mrs. McCarty stepped into the breakfast room with another plate of eggs. “What happened?” she asked, looking from face to face. William responded, explaining the previous night’s accident. “She had a close call,” he concluded.
Eileen helped herself to the coffee and eggs. “I’ll call the company,” she promised. “There must be something that needs to be fixed. Machines don’t turn themselves on, and no one would want to hurt you.”
Jane could think of people who might want to hurt her. Cassie or Craig could have decided that they didn’t want their father to have a new wife. Bill’s secretary and his office staff might resent a new figure in the chain of command. And someone very close to Bill, such as someone who was at that unusual business meeting eight years ago, might want to stop her snooping into the death of Kay Parker.
Maybe no one wanted to kill her. Maybe it was to frighten her and warn her not to insert herself into the affairs of the family or dig into its secrets. Was it possible that she was the problem Andrews had to discuss with Leavitt?
The First Wife Page 18