by Charles Ayer
She took me by the hand and stood up.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
“US.”
The word buzzed in my head like a wasp as she led me into the living room and over to a sofa. She sat down, pulled me down right next to her, and shifted herself so that she was facing me. She didn’t let go of my hand.
“I haven’t been honest with you about David and me, and that hasn’t been fair,” she said. “I asked you to find him, and I’ve drawn you back into my life, but I haven’t even had the courage to tell you honestly how things were between us. It seems like all I’ve been doing is holding out on you while I’ve been expecting you to find my husband at the same time.”
The word “husband” jarred me, and Lacey’s admonitions started shouting at my conscience, at least what was left of it. But I kept my mouth shut. Maybe I was learning.
“Things haven’t been right between David and me for a long time.”
“I know that feeling.”
“No, Matt, you don’t understand. Things haven’t been right between David and me for a very, very long time.”
“How long are you talking about?”
She sat quietly. I didn’t push her. She looked down at her hand holding mine. She finally looked up at me.
“You’re one of the few people who knew how it was.”
“How what was?”
“You know, for all of us, growing up. The three of you, and me, I guess. We didn’t realize it at the time, but just think about the pressure that was on all of us to be exactly what everyone needed us to be.”
“Who was putting pressure on us, Doreen?”
“The whole damn town, Matt! I’m not trying to blame anyone, but think about it. Devon-on-Hudson was just a run-down, lower middle-class backwater back then, remember? Then the three of you came along, and suddenly the town had an identity. People suddenly had a reason to be proud to be from Devon-on-Hudson. They had something to talk about at the barber shop on Saturday and when they got to work on Monday morning. It was like a fairy tale. You guys were the handsome princes and I, heaven help me, was the Enchanted Princess.”
“And the tale had to be told,” I said, “if I’m following.”
“Yes, Matt! And it had to be told just the way everyone needed to hear it.”
“‘All the world’s a stage,’ right?”
“Right! And we: you, me, David, and Kenny, we were the players.”
“And the players had to stick to the script.”
“Yes, or else the whole fairy tale would have evaporated and everybody would have woken up in dumpy old Devon-on-Hudson again. And it would have been our fault.”
“Doreen,” I said, trying to keep the incredulity out of my voice, “are you saying that you and David never really loved each other? That you got married just because people expected you to? That the Prom King had to marry the Prom Queen so that everybody could live happily ever after?”
“What I’m saying, Matt, is that we got married when we were kids, and we had our kids when we were still kids. Nobody does that anymore, but we did. All I can remember is that we were too young to know what we wanted. We just assumed it was what we wanted because that’s how the story went.”
“So when did it occur to you that something was wrong?”
“It didn’t occur to me for a while, I guess. We had the kids right away, and I was up to my neck in bottles and diapers. David was busy settling into his new job, and of course the pressure was relentless on us to get involved in the town’s social and civic activities. Then one day I woke up and realized that David and I hadn’t made love in three months.”
“Did that upset you?”
“I don’t know if it upset me as much as it made me wonder, you know? I’d go out with other women my age and they all talked about how their husbands were just wearing them out. They were young men, after all.”
“Did you ever discuss your situation with your friends? I thought women talked about everything.”
“What women talk about is none of your business, but no, I didn’t discuss it.”
“Because the narrative had to be that the Quarterback and the Homecoming Queen had the best sex life ever, right? David and you had to be the best lovers because you were the best at everything.”
Doreen looked at me with something approaching admiration.
“That’s right,” she said.
“I don’t mean to pry, Doreen, but was it ever like that?”
“You know, it’s funny. I never gave it any thought until well after the fact, but no. All the time we were dating, when we came home for holidays during college, even when we were engaged, David never tried to get me to have sex with him. He was always very polite about it.”
“But you had the two kids. There must have been some passion at some point.”
“We reproduced, Matt. I don’t know how else to describe it.”
“You don’t think he’s gay, do you?”
“Absolutely not.”
“How do you know?” I said, recalling my conversation with Richie Glazier.
“Because I just know, that’s all. I saw how he looked at other women’s asses when we were walking down the street, how a woman in a low-cut dress would turn his head. No, David’s not gay.”
“Do you think he was having affairs?”
“No, Matt. I do not believe he was having affairs.”
I’d heard clients perjuring themselves on the witness stand sound more convincing than that, but I didn’t push it.
“Are you saying that he just didn’t find you attractive? I find that awfully hard to believe, Doreen.”
“I know you do, Matt, and that’s sweet.”
“So you’re saying that you haven’t had a sex life since you were young.”
“Up until a few years ago, we’d have sex maybe every few months. It would usually be after a party when we’d both had a little too much to drink. That was about it. And then it stopped altogether.”
“I apologize for asking this, but did you ever have any affairs?”
“That’s a fair question. The answer is no.”
“I’m sorry, Doreen.”
“There’s nothing for you to be sorry about. But I’ll be forty soon, Matt, and I feel like I’ve been missing out on something really, really good for way, way too long, and I’m not sure how much longer I’m willing to wait. I don’t want to be having this same conversation when I’m fifty, you know?” She gave me a long look that I tried not to make too much of, no matter how much I wanted to.
“It seems like you and I have been in the same boat,” I said. “The sex between me and Marianne died years ago. You know what finally killed it?”
“What?”
“One night, when we were in the middle of, you know, intercourse, she looked right at me and said, “You’re just imagining I’m Doreen, aren’t you?”
“Oh my God, Matt,” she said, barely suppressing a smile. “What did you do?”
“I’ll tell you what I didn’t do.”
“I don’t think you have to tell me that,” she said, now openly grinning.
“You know what the worst part was?”
“What?”
“She was right.”
Doreen blushed, and said, “You know, Matt, one of the best things that happened to me in a long time was seeing the look on your face when I first came to visit you at your apartment a couple of weeks ago.”
“What do you mean?”
“Knowing that nothing had changed. Knowing that after all these years you still thought I was hot, that you still wanted me. I guess until that moment I didn’t realize how much I missed that feeling.”
“I thought I was a little more subtle than that.”
“Oh, please.”
She leaned closer to me and I leaned closer to her. The air seemed to get warmer, while the air conditioning hummed away. I put my hand on her bare arm and pulled her to me…
Somewhere in the kitchen my phone rang. I’d put it
on the kitchen counter when I’d arrived, and I’d forgotten all about it.
“I’d better get that,” I said, jumping up to run to the kitchen before I had a chance to think twice.
The phone conversation was brief. I also received a text message while I was on the phone. After I’d hung up and read the message I put the phone back on the counter and walked back to the living room.
Doreen was naked when I got back.
“I got tired of waiting for you to take a hint,” she said, smiling.
She was still sitting on the sofa, her clothes carefully folded beside her. She stood and walked toward me. Her generous breasts were still firm. Her nipples were dusty pink roses against a blanket of snow. Her stomach was toned and flat. When she got to me she put her hands on my face and kissed me like she meant it, then she reached down and put her hands on my butt and pulled me close.
“I really want to hear about the phone call,” she said, her eyes boring into mine. “I just don’t want to hear about it right now.” She led me back to the sofa.
It had been way too long for both of us, and everything happened pretty fast the first time. The second time took a lot longer, and by the time we were done we were both damp with sweat and breathing like young ponies back from a canter. I think I had a stupid grin on my face. We lay together, not speaking, for a long time.
“You can tell me about the phone call now,” she finally said.
“I don’t want to,” I said.
There must have been something in the tone of my voice, because she looked up at me, her expression suddenly serious.
“Matt?”
“What?”
“Tell me, please.”
“The phone call was from Lacey.”
She was quiet for a long time. “What did she say?” she finally said.
“She told me that Brad from the bank had called her. David’s laptop popped up on the bank’s network, and its GPS locator was on.”
“Did she tell you where he was?”
“No. I told her we were here, and she said she’d be coming over to talk to us.”
“Did she say when?”
“In about an hour,” I said, glancing up at a clock on the wall that, almost unbelievably, read just 9 o’clock. It’s amazing how little time it takes for a life to change.
“An hour from now?” said Doreen, glancing up at the same clock.
“Yes, and hour from now.”
She stood up and gathered up her clothes in one arm. She reached the other hand out to me. “Come with me,” she said.
She led me out of the living room and upstairs to her bedroom. She dropped the clothes on the floor and pulled me onto the bed with her.
“I just want to make sure we know where we stand,” she said, wrapping her long legs around my torso. I wanted to reply, but my mouth was full of her left breast, and all that came out was a muffled groan. She laughed.
We knew where we stood.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
“WELL, HELLO, YOUNG LOVERS,” said my sister as she walked into the kitchen. As usual, she’d let herself in without knocking.
Doreen howled.
“What are you talking about?” I said, feeling my face start to burn.
“Oh, for God’s sake, Matt. If I had a heat map of this room right now, it would be blinking red where the two of you are standing. Not that I disapprove. I guess I was wrong huh?”
“I guess you were,” I said.
“It was a good thing to be wrong about,” she said.
“Sure was,” I said.
“What are you guys talking about?” said Doreen.
“Nothing important,” I said.
Doreen poured coffee for all of us and put on a fresh pot.
“Is that Hollandaise sauce I smell?” said Lacey.
“Yes it is. Matt and I had Eggs Benedict for breakfast. You want me to cook some up for you? It’ll only take me a few minutes to whip up some more Hollandaise sauce.”
“Sure.”
“Haven’t you had breakfast yet?” I said.
“Of course I have. What does that have to do with anything? Who in their right mind is going to turn down Eggs Benedict, especially when there’s someone in the kitchen who knows how to make a Hollandaise sauce?”
Doreen went to work at the stove while Lacey and I sat at the table and drank coffee, talking about nothing in particular. We didn’t want to talk about anything concerning David until Doreen could come and sit down with us. Doreen was just as efficient with the Eggs Benedict as she had been the first time, and she put down a fragrant plate in front of Lacey in what seemed no time. The aroma made me hungry again.
“So, Lace,” I said, as Doreen and I watched in wonder while she demolished her meal, “why don’t you tell us what’s going on?”
“Well, like I told you,” she said, pushing her plate away. It looked like it had been licked clean. “Brad had been scanning for David’s laptop periodically since we visited the bank. Up until yesterday there was nothing.”
“Which meant he had it turned off all this time?” I said.
“Either that, or he’d disabled the GPS tracking,” said Lacey.
“I’m guessing he just turned the laptop off,” said Doreen. “I’m not sure he’d know how to get into the ‘Settings’ function to disable the GPS.”
“That’s my guess, too,” said Lacey.
“I wonder why he suddenly turned it on?” said Doreen.
“Perhaps he was trying to contact someone,” I said. “Remember, for all he knows, he still owes that money to the Ukrainians. Maybe he was starting to panic.”
“Or perhaps he was hoping someone would find him,” said Doreen.
“I guess it could be either,” I said. “But let’s get to first things first. Where is he?”
“He’s in a little town called Halfmoon, New York. It’s just north of Albany, right where the Mohawk River and the Hudson River meet.”
“Huh,” I said. “That’s an interesting name for a town. Have you ever been there, Doreen?”
“I never heard of the place.”
“And David’s never mentioned it? Did he perhaps have bank business up there?”
“I never heard him mention it, and I’m just about positive that he never had any bank business up there.”
“So am I,” I said. “Does Brad think he’s still there?
“He really can’t be sure,” said Lacey, “but he was there at least until a couple of hours ago.”
I stood up.
“Where are you going?” said Doreen.
“I’m going to Halfmoon,” I said. “Where else?”
“Now?” said Doreen.
“I’m not sure I have a minute to lose,” I said. I gave her a quick kiss and walked out the door.
CHAPTER THIRTY
THE TEXT MESSAGE I’D RECEIVED had been from Eddie Shepherd, telling me that he’d gotten a response on the APB from the Halfmoon police. I called him on the way up and thanked him for the heads up. I didn’t tell him about Lacey’s phone call. I thought it was best he didn’t know about her snooping, and I also didn’t want to diminish the fact that he’d reached out to help me.
I had decided to leave directly from Doreen’s house, hoping to find David before the trail went cold. It’s an easy trip up the Thruway, and I got there in less than two hours. The Hudson River Valley is one of the most scenic areas of the country, and I would have taken the Taconic Parkway to enjoy it if I hadn’t been in such a hurry. It was a nice drive anyway.
Halfmoon is, indeed, an interesting name for a town. Some people say it comes from the fact that the bend in the Mohawk River where it flows into the Hudson is shaped life a half moon. But I also knew that it was the name of the ship Henry Hudson sailed when he explored the river that bears his name on his search for the Northwest Passage. I guessed that it was probably somewhere near this spot that Henry decided he wasn’t going to be finding it anytime soon, that perhaps God had played a trick on him. The fa
cts were probably on the side of the first explanation, but I had a soft spot for the latter.
Route 9 runs through Halfmoon, but it’s not a busy place. There’s a McDonald’s, a Subway, a couple of drugstores, and a dry cleaner; but the residents have to travel a few miles up Route 9 toward Saratoga to do any major shopping. I drove by a place called the Halfmoon Diner, which looked inviting. There’s also a Best Western. It wasn’t the only motel in town, but it would be the first one someone would notice driving in from the highway. David’s laptop had once again gone silent, but I figured the most likely places to stake out would be either the diner or the motel. It was past noon, and I was hungry. I rationalized that at that hour David would be more likely to be out looking for a meal than hanging out in a motel room. I pulled into the parking lot of the diner.
The Halfmoon Diner didn’t look like much from the road, but the interior was surprisingly spacious. They could certainly serve a lot of people in the place, and from the look of the lunchtime crowd there, I bet they did. I took a seat in a back corner that gave me a pretty good view of the rest of the dining area and perused the menu, which was expansive, to say the least. It turned out that the Halfmoon was a typical Greek diner: You could get breakfast all day, plus it offered a full lunch and dinner menu, and they had a liquor license. Chances were if you were hungry for something, it would be on the menu. I was starting to like the place already.
A waitress came by with coffee and a glass of ice water. I decided that I should have a substantial meal, since I didn’t know when I’d have the chance to eat again, so I ordered the broiled calf’s liver and onions and mashed potatoes. One of the most tragic consequences of modern dietary dogma is that organ meat has been deemed unhealthy, and it’s more and more difficult to find restaurants that serve it. I bitterly opposed that notion, and I ordered liver, sweetbreads, and scrapple whenever I had the chance, especially since Marianne wouldn’t even hear of serving them at home. I made a mental note to ask Doreen where she stood on the issue.