Conduct in Question

by Mary E. Martin

  He parked the car. Behind him were the high, sandy cliffs, set one against the other. The broad gray lake spread out to the horizon. Anyone watching from above would be surprised to see a solitary man in a business suit marching past bulrushes as tall as men, and onto the beach.

  He trudged through the soft, sinking sand westward, toward the city. The constant wind swept down from the hills, cutting through his jacket. He longed for the cold to anesthetize him.

  Up ahead, a dog ran in circles around a pile of rock and driftwood. Gulls dipped over the water and called out in eerily human-sounding voices. Harry stared out onto the rolling waves of the huge lake. Bereft, he wished he did not know the truth.

  The cliffs ahead rose sharply straight up from the water. The afternoon sun shimmered on the smooth and sheer rock face. On the horizon, his city lay reduced to a tiny black smudge, as if it had floated away from him forever. With Laura gone, the city he once loved existed only in a jumble of memory.

  Suddenly, Harry began to run. His leather shoes squished on the damp sand as he neared the pile of rock and wood ahead. Wincing at the pain in his side, he stopped not ten yards from his destination.

  The driftwood, piled high, looked like a prehistoric monster. Harry kicked away some garbage and bent to examine the wood. Seizing a long piece of driftwood, he held it up in the unceasing wind. The knot in the wood stared skyward like an ancient, wizened eye.

  The heft of the wood aroused an unexpected sense of power in him, then murderous frustration swept through him. In sudden fury, he swung the driftwood upward and felt his body stretch to its limits. With all his strength and power, he smashed the blind, gnarled eye on the rocks. The reverberation stunned him. The splintered wood shot along the beach. Elated, he shook with his own long-buried fury and smashed another piece of wood, and then another. He sank to his knees on the deserted beach, isolated by rock, wind, and water. At last, he was spent.

  Quietly, he returned to the car. With the wind roaring in his ears, he acknowledged the emptiness within. It was strangely familiar. Somehow, he had always known his marriage would end this way.

  CHAPTER 33

  When Katharine left Harry’s office, it was only three-forty-five. Her appointment with Tony McKeown was at four-thirty. She had half an hour to fill.

  From the bright sunlight, she entered the cool, dim arcade. Squinting, she slowed her pace, until her eyes adjusted to the softly filtered light from the vaulted ceilings of glass. Then, driven by the specter of her sister, she marched blindly down narrow corridors, surrounded by marble and brass. Soon she was lost in a maze of tiny shops.

  She stopped for coffee on the mews. From her purse, she took a pen and notebook and laid them on the table set with white linen and silver. She had to organize her thoughts before meeting Tony.

  Her sister’s face floated into her mind again. The stitching and the bruised, puffed disfigurement enraged her. Suzannah was no different from the women at Emma’s shelter. That female, self-effacing deference nearly drove her mad. When she told them to be strong and stand up for themselves, they just looked blankly at her. How could you build confidence and strength when there was nothing to work with? They were only little children. Looking up, she stared at pigeons strutting and puffing along the intricately scrolled ledge.

  The white-coated waiter’s face was bland and smiling as she ordered coffee. She gazed down the mews at the rows of stone columns in shadows, and shivered. Women were traditionally subservient. Caught in dependency, they made easy and convenient targets. But why had violence increased as women gained their independence? Her coffee arrived, and she sipped it. Women still flocked to the shelter in droves. Her thoughts returned to Suzannah.

  Through tears, Suzannah had said only several weeks ago, “Frank will never leave. He needs someone to hurt.”

  “For God’s sake! Why do you let him?” Katharine demanded.

  Suzannah shook her head slowly and said, “You can’t get rid of men like Frank. He enjoys hurting people too much. It’s that simple.”

  Katharine never understood women’s weakness, but she could grasp glimmers of the pleasure of domination and submission. Few men frightened her. None had been physically brutal. With her own strange sense of power, she had frightened a few herself.

  Years back, she had been with a senior cabinet minister in the government. Although soft and more than middle-aged, he had radiated power and charm. He had commanded her to undress and lie on the bed. As he watched her satisfy herself, she had thought he would ignite. Katharine reveled in a strange, shifting mixture of domination and submission. After all, it was only a game, which ought not to be taken too seriously.

  She turned to thoughts of Tony. He had intentionally put himself in a position of conflict by acting for St. Timothy’s, submitting an offer for a client on Marjorie’s house, and advising her and Gerry. She would find out why.

  CHAPTER 34

  Harry took the slow route back into the city along Kingston Road. He passed long stretches of broad, desolate roadway fringed with scabby motels and wrecked cars. Suddenly, he was pulling up in front of his house. A car sat in his driveway.

  He almost wept. Were they here already? He could not bear the sight of Laura with Stover. He had always pictured the man with a pretentious goatee and a pipe, fat and out of shape, with little darting eyes and a fake English accent.

  A man stepped from the car. He was alone. Did Laura lack the guts to come herself? Did she send her lover out to do her dirty work? The man bent to see Harry through the car window.

  “Harry. It’s Bob Rowe. So sorry to disturb you, but…”

  Harry was slow to understand. When he at last realized he was not confronting Stover, he shook his head and asked, “Bob, what are you doing here?”

  Bob tugged on his goatee, “I’m afraid it is really urgent, otherwise I wouldn’t have come. But I have to find Katharine. I understand she had an appointment with you.”

  “Yes, this afternoon, along with Gerry, Suzannah, and Frank.” Harry ushered Bob into the house.

  In the living room, Bob sat on the edge of his chair and began fiddling with his tie clip. “Did she say where she was going?”

  “Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong, Bob?”

  Staring out the window, Bob spoke in a distant voice. “Katharine’s been threatened.”

  Harry sat up. “By whom?”

  Bob turned into the darkening room. “By Frank Sasso.”

  “With what? You mean over the will?”

  Bob shrugged helplessly. “It’s on the voice mail at home. Yes, he said he would hurt her if she didn’t stop the fight about Marjorie’s will.”

  “You’re sure it was Frank?”

  “Yes. He’s called the house before. I know his voice.”

  “Did you call the police?”

  “No, if they’re involved, Katharine would be furious.”

  “But that’s ridiculous.”

  Bob held up his hand. “You don’t know Katharine. She’d think I was spying on her.”

  “What? When her safety’s at stake?” Harry thought he was less amenable to calling the police himself.

  As if deciding whether to continue, Bob sat silent for some moments. “Katharine sometimes goes off. I mean, she has friends…men…that she meets.”

  Harry saw Bob’s shoulders sag. He wanted to find words to console him, but could think of none.

  As if a dam had burst, Bob turned to him. “Harry?” He fumbled for his pipe and polished its stem. “The only way I can make sense of it is this: I still love her. She’s strong, capable, brilliant, and tough. But she’s so strong that she can’t trust enough to love anyone. One part of her is at war with another.” His voice choked. “I’m afraid she’s doomed.” He buried his face in his hands. His voice came to Harry as if from a hollow void. “That’s why she does it…she’s always hoping to find the one she can trust enough.” At last, Bob looked up at him. “That’s why I’m always there to pick up the pieces,�
� he said softly. “Since she knows I’ll always be there, she takes me for granted.”

  With sadness creeping over him, at last Harry spoke. “Well, she had an appointment right after she left my office, with another lawyer, Tony McKeown.”

  Bob removed his glasses and massaged his temples. “Can you call him for me, Harry? It’s all we have to go on.” Harry nodded and lifted the receiver.

  CHAPTER 35

  Tony had canceled a meeting to accommodate Katharine.

  Seated on his deep leather couch, she struggled to maintain an assertive air. She knew her anger was evaporating. Every movement of the man was smooth and disarming; every word was soft and insidious. From his office window, she could see black clouds creeping over the city.

  Tony smiled blandly as he handed her a scotch and sank beside her on the sofa. Casually, he gestured toward the window. “Magnificent, isn’t it?” He edged slightly closer to her. His left hand, the one with the tiny claw finger, rested on his knee. Katharine shifted forward on her cushion and concentrated on her drink. He caressed the razor-thin crease of his trouser leg with the little claw. She sipped her drink and then set it on the coffee table. She was drawn to him one moment, repulsed by him the next.

  She endeavored to marshal her logic, her plan of attack. Although he was now lounging against the deep pillows, she knew it was only a pose. McKeown never relaxed. In the growing silence, it was difficult to collect her thoughts.

  “What can I do for you, Katharine?” It was a simple question. Any lawyer might begin with it. But his voice caressed her name. In the dim light, she saw his eyes dance with amusement. The way he tapped that delicately deformed finger doubled her tension. He was waiting for her. In the light, she hoped he would not see the flush spreading up her throat. Her skin prickled and her clothing felt rough. It was her move.

  “Surely it can’t be so terrible, Katharine, that we can’t talk.”

  She was certain he was taunting her. He sat forward slowly and set his empty glass on the table.

  “Is it about your aunt’s estate, or something else? After all, you and I should be able to talk about almost anything.” His questions hung in the air.

  She found her voice. “Yes, it’s about Marjorie’s estate.” Katharine stood up and moved away toward the window where it was cooler. “Listen, Tony,” she began, “the family just had a meeting with Harold Jenkins this afternoon. There’s an offer from one of your clients on the house.”

  “Isn’t that a good thing?”

  “Well, yes, but how can you still represent me and Gerry? That’s certainly a conflict.” She hesitated, then raced on. “Isn’t it?” Immediately she hated the quizzical tone in her voice. It was just like Suzannah’s.

  McKeown rose and joined her at the window. “Well, I won’t. Not if you don’t want me to.”

  “But shouldn’t you have told us that at the outset?” she persisted.

  “Well, I’ll certainly withdraw, if that’s what you want. But it is a good offer, isn’t it?”

  Katharine was surprised at the question. “Yes, it’s a very good offer.”

  McKeown stood back from her, laughing. “Now I understand why you’re here!” Touching her shoulder, he guided her back toward the couch. His hand grazed her hip. “You’re trying to jack me up, right?”

  He sat down again. “Katharine, it’s an excellent price. In fact, it’s twenty-five percent over the market value. My client desperately wants the land and is ready to outbid, if necessary.”

  She was disarmed by his frankness. “Then your client isn’t the church?” she asked. McKeown appeared to find this very amusing.

  “No, certainly not.”

  “Then how many different interests do you represent?”

  “Listen, Katharine, I can’t answer all your questions.” McKeown lounged back again. Like an electric shock, she felt the jolt of his appraising eyes wandering up and down her legs. “Why don’t we have dinner together? Maybe I can answer some of them.”

  The telephone rang in his inner office. Until then, Katharine had not been aware of the adjoining room.

  In one lithe movement, he rose from the sofa. “Excuse me for a moment,” he said, smiling. “I’d better take that call.” Glass in hand, he strode into the office beyond.

  Katharine watched as he turned back and carefully set the door just an inch or so ajar. She sighed and tried to relax in the deep cushions surrounding her. She knew she was drawn to him. She tried to distract herself by leafing through several art magazines that were neatly stacked on the coffee table. She found a strange assortment of photographs and paintings of African masks. Running her finger over the glossy surfaces of the pictures, she shivered. Some were ugly, crude, and primitive. Others, with their simple, almost primordial lines, evoked an ethereal sense of calm, as if from another world beyond her experience. Suddenly she was seized with the desire to enter it.

  Tony turned on a lamp in his small office and answered the call.

  “McKeown,” he said softly. In the dim light, his eyes glimmered green and yellow.

  “Mr. McKeown, it’s Harold Jenkins.”

  A small smile broke over Tony’s thin lips. “Harry. Good to hear from you. What’s up?” He moved from behind the desk and opened the door just a crack more. Now he had a perfect view of Mrs. Rowe, pretending nonchalance as she examined his magazines. The line of her neck and shoulder was tense. She had not quite given herself over to him. In time, she would.

  “A Mrs. Katharine Rowe left my office at about three forty-five this afternoon,” said Harry.

  “Yes?” Again, Tony glided across his office. Peering around the corner, he opened the door just a bit more. He held his breath. She is lovely, he thought.

  “She said she was going to your office.”

  “Oh?”

  Harry knew McKeown would be loath to reveal that Katharine was a client. “I’m calling because her husband, who is with me now, is quite concerned about her whereabouts.”

  “I can certainly understand his concern. With that mad artist on the loose, I’d be worried too,” said Tony softly. Distracted by Katharine’s pacing in the outer office, he watched her gaze out upon the city hall. A touch of restlessness possessed her. “She did have an appointment with me, Harry, but she called to cancel just a few minutes beforehand.”

  “That’s odd. She seemed so intent on seeing you about the Deighton estate.” When Tony did not reply, Harry continued, “She didn’t say why, did she?”

  “No, Harry.” Tony touched his cheek and then his chin. He would have to shave.

  “Or where she was going instead?” Harry persisted. McKeown’s nonchalance was irritating.

  “Harry, my secretary took the call,” Tony replied. “Not the first one to not show up, though.” He chuckled. “I hate to let the pretty ones get away.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Just joking, Harry,” Tony said with unusual energy. With his claw finger, he circled the rim of his glass. His sleeve knocked a pen from his desk. Deft as a panther, he sprang to retrieve it.

  Through narrowed eyes, he gazed through the opening of the door. There she was framed in the light. He blinked his eyes. He could tell by the way she crossed her legs and smoothed her skirt that she was waiting for him.

  “Tony, if there is anything more you can think of…”

  Tony sat up straight. “You sound really worried, Harry. Any specific concerns?”

  “Her husband tells me she has received a threatening phone message.”

  Immediately, Tony was interested. “Really? From whom?”

  “A man, Frank Sasso.”

  “I think I’ve heard that name. Who is he?”

  “He’s the boyfriend of Katharine’s sister, Suzannah.”

  Tony silently moved toward the door. Holding perfectly still, he watched Katharine intently, his head cocked to one side. Such a lovely red dress. Then, softly, he opened the door another inch.

  “Harry? I think I know who he is. If I�
�m right, he’s a pretty nasty thug. You know the type. Grabs whatever he likes, regardless of right or wrong.”

  In surprise, Harry stared at the receiver. McKeown was scarcely known for his ethics.

  “What did he threaten?”

  “If she didn’t cooperate, she’d get hurt. Or words to that effect.”

  “That sounds like Frank. A dangerous bully.”

  Harry was surprised at the vehemence in Tony’s voice.

  “You know, Harry, I’ve heard guys like him hang out at a place called the Gold Coin,” Tony hesitated. “I think it’s a bar somewhere around College and Spadina. But, of course, I can’t say for sure.”

  Harry wrote down the information.

  “You might try there…” Tony’s voice trailed off as Katharine paused to examine herself in the mirror on the far wall. He caught his breath. She was ready. He hastened to end the conversation. “Harry, old man, I’ve got to run. But I’ll be sure to call if I hear from her.”

  Harry stared at Bob for a moment. “Apparently Katharine canceled her appointment with him. He suggested we look for Frank in some bar.”

  Bob covered his face and swore.

  Sinking with weariness, Harry saw himself marching along the beach at the Bluffs. He felt the reverberation up and down his arms from smashing wood on rock. From the depths of his own wretchedness, pity for the man overtook him.

  Bob’s few words had painted a nightmarish world. Katharine went off sometimes with people…other men. “Bob, where does Katharine go?” Harry swallowed hard.

  In the growing shadows, Bob sighed deeply. “I don’t really know, Harry. You’ll not think much of me as a man, but I’ve known for years that Katharine finds…” His voice was choked as he continued, “…what she thinks she cannot find with me. She’s sick, Harry. She thinks she can find satisfaction elsewhere. The truth is she has never found it anywhere.”

  Harry did not know what to say. Two sad men, he thought, with two unsatisfied women. At last he asked, “Has she gotten into difficulties before?”