Ice Cream Man
Page 5
Blanca grimaced. “Pig. I feel really bad for Mrs. Barrington. I liked her when we met at Bear Mountain for the picnic last summer. She took an interest in my boys.”
Shareen smiled. “Me too. She wanted to know all about my church choir.”
Blanca cursed in Spanish. “Typical men: betrayal and deceit. I’m sorry, Vinnie, but it’s true.”
Shareen twisted. “You know, I’m sorry for Dan, like everyone here. And I’ve spent enough time with Linda now to confirm that she’s both mean-spirited and condescending. But still, Blanca’s information isn’t actually incriminating.”
“It’s certainly fishy,” Vinnie said in a flat voice.
Shareen turned to Vinnie. “Blanca said the agency might have omitted the original itinerary. Unless we have access to his entire travel file, we’re jumping to unfair conclusions.”
“I can get it. Log in to his computer,” Blanca said quickly.
Maria put down her wine glass. “I don’t think so. That’d look suspicious. What would be your reason?”
“I don’t know… maybe Bill’s an asshole?”
“Really, Blanca. That doesn’t help.”
Vinnie’s voice remained flat as he spoke. “There’s got to be more. Has anyone noticed anything at all funny, especially around scheduling?”
Maria closed her eyes. “Now that you mention it…”
Vinnie looked up. “What?”
“Well, it’s just that, when the presentation was moved to Thursday, I remember thinking that it worked out nicely, because I already had the Spec Room reserved for Bill for that time. Two weeks ago, Bill had asked me to set up a reservation for that very day.”
The Spec Room really was spectacular, which of course meant that everyone wanted it for their meetings. As a result, the room required special reservation, and all reservations had to go through Maria.
Maria continued: “Bill said he needed the room for a client meeting. He used that tone of his, you know the one, Blanca?” Blanca nodded. “He ‘wasn’t to be questioned.’”
Vinnie raised his hand. “That’s some coincidence…”
Maria interrupted him. “Now that I think about it, he asked about Gary’s schedule, too—Gary’s availability. He said Gary had to meet this client. He wouldn’t give me details, just said he’d talk to Gary about it. I never heard more about the mystery client, and after the presentations came up, he never said a word about rescheduling the original meeting.”
“And you don’t think that’s fucking suspicious?” Vinnie’s voice rose.
Maria gave him her wash-your-mouth-out look.
Shareen’s deep voice rumbled. “I think we should look over the calendars again. Look for anything, no matter how trivial. Start with the week before the presentation, maybe two.”
****
As they left the Pig ’N Poke, Vinnie said to Blanca, “I’m going to do more than check Dan’s calendar.”
Shareen overheard and took Vinnie’s arm, pulling him ahead. “Vinnie, tread carefully. Office espionage is illegal. You could lose your job or even go to prison. And if it comes down to it, I will report you. Be smart, Vinnie. You’re too sweet to lose.”
They soon split up and went their separate ways, and only Vinnie and Blanca remained, both headed toward the 42nd Street shuttle.
“Vinnie, what’s the matter?” asked Blanca.
“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”
“That won’t wash with me. You’re down, I can tell.”
“Fuck yeah.” Vinnie’s voice had a tinny sound. He swayed, holding on to Blanca as they quickened their subway descent to avoid an oncoming shower.
“Please, don’t stonewall me.”
No response.
“Come on, Vinnie, talk.”
Vinnie sighed. “I guess I’m just depressed, is all. I didn’t realize how much I wanted to go to NYU.”
“You still can, Vinnie. Dan made that clear. You’ve been guaranteed the DV&N scholarship.”
“I can’t leave Dan.”
“Why not? Dan’s a big boy. He’ll easily get another assistant.”
Vinnie winced at that, and she noticed his eyes crinkle. Vinnie was barely audible when he said he didn’t want to talk anymore. Blanca said she’d call him again after her boys were in bed.
****
The TV was tuned to Hitchcock’s North by Northwest when Blanca called Vinnie.
“What is it really?” she asked. “You could attend NYU. Dan will survive without you.”
“But what about me?”
“What do you mean?”
“… It’s complicated.”
“Of course it’s complicated. It involves you.” Blanca’s little laugh wasn’t reciprocated. So she waited—her usual successful tactic with Vinnie.
“Fuck, Blanca, I love Dan. And I don’t mean like him a lot. I fuckin’ love him. You know what that means, don’t you?”
This time Blanca’s silence was unintended.
“It’s stupid. I’m a gay man and Dan’s so fuckin’ straight you could use him to draw lines. He loves his drop-dead gorgeous wife. Paris would have solved everything.”
“I… I don’t know what to say. You’re right, this is complicated.”
“Fucking right it’s complicated. I thought I might meet someone like Dan at NYU, someone who was gay and available.”
“You still can. There’s still time to enroll.”
“I can’t. I want to be with Dan, even if I can’t have him. And not for sex—which we don’t have, just so we’re clear. It’s the way he talks. He’s smart and has fantastic ideas. His math is beyond me, but I get the concepts. And he actually asks for my opinion, Blanca. Believe it or not, Dan says my ideas are good. With Dan, I use my brain in ways I’ve never done before.”
“I’m still at a loss here.”
“You and me both. Fuck… that’s why I wanted Dan to move to Paris. With him gone, I would’ve had a chance to start anew—a real chance to meet smart people like Dan. Maybe find someone for me.”
“Vinnie, you will. You’re a great guy. I’d fall for you, gay or not gay. You’re handsome, funny, intelligent, and considerate. I can’t imagine anyone not falling in love with you.”
They talked for nearly an hour. Blanca tried hard to boost Vinnie’s self-esteem. Vinnie moaned over Dan and his lonely life. Neither heard the other’s point of view. Vinnie felt he was “addicted” to Dan, which Blanca thought overly dramatic.
Then their conversation took a turn that alarmed Blanca. Vinnie suggested that he could do more with regard to the investigation of Bill and Linda.
“Vinnie, you heard Shareen. It’s espionage. Leave it to us.”
Vinnie agreed—but far too readily. “Sure. Goodnight, Blanca.”
Blanca did not sleep well that night.
Chapter 10
Bill Has Mail
Del Vecchio & Neale, Incorporated had twenty-first-century executive offices outfitted with top-of-the-line amenities: electronics, cables, Mac computers, Bluetooth, WiFi, wall-mounted flat-screen TVs, adjustable ergonomic chairs, private bathrooms with showers. Ninety-five percent of the work flowed through computers, tablets, and cell phones; the electronic cloud knew all, from shared calendars, data, reports, and spreadsheets. The business had always been both hard-core and hardball; the modern office had merely added the hard drive into the mix.
And it only made sense that assistants’ calendars were linked up with those of their bosses. The assistants were, after all, the ones in charge of making all the updates. When entries changed, each executive was kept up to date in real time with an instant refresh of their calendars and agendas.
“I’ve pulled up the first recorded calendar entry for the Paris presentation,” Vinnie said to Blanca from his office telephone. “It was set up three months in advance. Maria put it on the general office calendar.”
Vinnie tapped more keys then added, “The first meeting change came a week after the original schedule. Maria moved
it from morning to afternoon. No reason given. That’s the thing with calendars, they don’t provide reasons.”
“Yeah, I know,” said Blanca. “I’ll look around on mine and Bill’s DV&N calendars and see if I can find anything else.” She clicked off.
A few minutes later, Blanca pinged Vinnie through Gmail; Vinnie had suggested that for the sake of discretion they communicate through their private Google accounts, although they both knew that even these were traceable. Her message confirmed that Bill’s DV&N calendar and her own calendar both showed the same history—Maria’s original meeting date, then the subsequent move to the afternoon—as Dan’s personal calendar and the general DV&N calendar.
However, there was one caveat: Bill kept a personal calendar that wasn’t linked to the DV&N office calendar. “Bill doesn’t trust me, or anyone,” Blanca wrote.
Vinnie’s next message was predictable: “Can you access Bill’s personal calendar?”
“Yes. He maintains his personal calendar himself, but it still has to be coordinated with the office or he’d double-book. He usually does this with me once a month, but when he’s away, like now, he sends me a link and I do it for him. I’m typically only editing future events, but that doesn’t mean I couldn’t go back and look at earlier information.”
After sending this message, Blanca called Vinnie on the phone; whatever she had to say must be too sensitive even for Gmail. “I can access his files, too,” she said. “He mistakenly left his password scribbled on his notepad one time and I wrote it down, although I’m not sure why.” Blanca giggled. “One more thing: Shithead’s pretty computer-savvy, so he might have protected his individual files with passwords, or he might have a way to track if they’ve been opened.”
Vinnie digested all this. “This is great. But let me access Bill’s calendar, not you. I can do it from his office, which will leave less of a trail to me.”
“It’s too risky, Vinnie. Someone might see you. You have no reason to be there—but I do. Remember Shareen warned you about corporate espionage? Please, just leave it to me.”
As Vinnie hung up, he imagined being chased by a crop duster, like Cary Grant in North by Northwest.
****
Throughout October, DV&N was a beehive. With the launch of the new European Division, everyone had been expected to be on hand at all times. Except Bill, who had wangled an invitation to be a speaker at a weekend conference in San Diego; something about “New Strategies for Volatile Markets.”
“Sorry, Gary,” he explained, “but this is too important for DV&N not to be represented. I’ll use an extra day to schmooze with our southern California clients and make them feel special.”
Bill didn’t mention that the five-star Park Hyatt Aviara Resort conference venue included the world-class Arnold Palmer golf course—which in his mind greatly enhanced the conference’s “importance.”
He piggybacked two extra days by using the Monday Columbus Day holiday and an extra day to schmooze with clients—on the course, of course—and would be flying back to DV&N headquarters on Wednesday, arriving late afternoon.
This created just the opportunity Blanca needed. She planned to examine Bill’s calendar on Tuesday—about the time he’d be on the back nine, she estimated.
****
The mid-afternoon sun baked Bill as he reclined on the balcony overlooking the lagoon. His golf was finished for the day, and he was bored, with no activity planned for the night. Might as well have another scotch and check my emails; make it look like I’ve done some work.
Bill opened his laptop, and in seconds he was virtually sitting in front of his New York City computer. First he pulled up his DV&N calendar to check his availability for the coming week. He had received a text while on the fairway: New Special next week by reservation. RSVP RR by Tues. Cryptic, but easily deciphered: Bill was a regular customer at Ristorante Roma and the special was a high-stakes card game. His work calendar showed that he had no client meetings on the evening in question, but he still had to check to see if he had any personal plans. Better not be some fucking kid recital or basketball game that night. Why couldn’t his wife go without him?
Bill pushed his scotch aside, minimized his DV&N calendar, and pulled up his private one.
A flag? What the fuck? That’s not possible.
The little red triangle in the corner of the calendar blinked at Bill. This isn’t right. He reached for his cell phone, catching Blanca minutes before the end of the New York workday.
“Were you on my computer?” Bill barked as Blanca answered the phone. She didn’t answer right away, so he added, “Did you hear me?”
“Uh, yes Bill,” said Blanca. “Vinnie said Dan wanted to meet with you when you return. I didn’t want to bother you. It didn’t seem that important, so I checked your personal calendar rather than disturb your well-deserved relaxation time.” Her voice sounded strained.
“Don’t ever go to my computer again. I don’t give a fuck what either Vinnie or Dan want! And how did you get my password?”
“You gave it to me before your last trip, don’t you remember? You thought I might need to access files.”
Bill’s scotch-infused brain accepted this explanation, and he moved to the next part of Blanca’s statement. “And what the fuck does Dan want to meet about?”
“I’m sorry, Vinnie didn’t say. Shall I call him and ask? Vinnie’s gone for the day, but I can try to reach him at home, or I can give you his number.”
“Don’t bother, I don’t want to talk to that queer. I’ll find out when I get back. Mark it on the office calendar and add a note about the subject. And stay off my fucking computer. Tell Rodney in IT to change my password.”
Bill’s head cleared for one moment. Fucking lying cunt. She’s up to something. I know it.
Bill ended the phone call, poured more scotch, and settled back onto his chaise longue. He looked across the lagoon to calculate probabilities. What were the odds that Dan would want to meet with him? What were the chances Blanca wouldn’t know the reason? Was he likely to have given her his password? Had Blanca given his password to anyone else? To that queer Vinnie? Scotch and shock had induced fear into the normally fearless Bill Barrington.
Fuck Blanca, I’ll call Rodney myself.
Blanca’s remark about Vinnie leaving reminded Bill that Rodney in IT would probably have left work too, so he telephoned Rodney’s cell.
“Hi, Rodney, it’s Bill.”
“Hi, Mister Barrington. I thought you were in California.”
Bill skipped the pleasantries. “My password was used on my private account by Blanca. I don’t think she’s secure. I want you to change it now. Send me a text with a new password.”
“Of course, but I can’t change it without you in the office with me. Remember, we set up a double secure system for partners and senior staff. We’ll have to wait for your return.”
“Shit. There’s nothing you can do?”
“Sorry, sir. I can make it top priority the minute you get back.”
“Fine. And another thing: I want to know if anyone’s been reading my emails. Can you check on that? Don’t read them yourself, just find out if they’ve been read. Let me know if anyone has been going through my files, too. This is your priority.”
“Okay, Mister Barrington. I’ll do it first thing tomorrow.”
“And remember, Rodney: this stays between us. No one hears or your ass is on the line. Got it?”
Bill hung up without waiting for Rodney’s response, because the question Bill wanted answered was not for Rodney:
What does that pissant Dan Livorno want?
Chapter 11
Uptown Lunch
Weekday lunch meant business, so Ginny’s midweek invitation to her friends to join her at Pane e Olio had surprised them. The personable owner, Giulio, greeted his long-standing customers like honored guests. With each order he said, “Va bene. Grazie.”
The ladies waited until Giulio left them to enter the kitchen, and th
en Sarah spoke. “So Ginny, what’s up? Not that I’m complaining. Anything to get away from those whining, privileged undergrads and their bloated checking accounts. Oh wait, that was you two.”
“Not funny for the umpteenth time. Enough with the privilege envy,” grumbled Betsy.
“Very mature, rich girl. Okay, Ginny: spill. You sounded anxious.”
“This is going to sound weird…” Ginny hesitated.
Sarah looked to Betsy, then back to Ginny. “I love weird. Kinky and sexy, too?”
“Maybe.”
Sarah rubbed her breast.
“Stop that. This is serious.” Ginny paused. “You know what, it’s not important. Let’s talk about whatever you want.”
“No way. You brought us here for a reason. C’mon, I’ll behave.” Sarah smiled and Betsy nodded.
Removing her napkin from the table, Ginny started, “Dan’s taken his loss hard. He’s been distant. This is the first time his effort hasn’t paid off.”
“Come on, disappointment happens to all of us,” said Sarah. “It’s been what, five or six weeks? Dan needs to grow a pair. I’m sorry he didn’t get the Paris job, but it’s not the end of the world.”
Betsy chimed in. “You can take the Bloomingdale’s job, and Dan can join you later. He’ll find employment in Paris. Maybe a few months’ commuting might even be a little fun.”
“It’s not the commute, or a job. Dan’s an overachiever. Success is all he knows. And this loss was unfair… fixed. He thought that DV&N people were good, honest people. He’s… changed.”
Neither friend responded, so Ginny continued. “I’ve told you our sex has been lousy for a long time, and I accept the blame for that. But now it’s Dan. He’s… off sex. I’ve tried everything. And I mean everything. I’m worried. Even scared.”
“I’m sorry,” said Sarah.
With a shift in her seat, Betsy tilted. “Me too. Have you suggested counseling to Dan?”
“He won’t discuss it. And as much as I loathe the idea, I suggested anti-depressants. He balked.”