He began explaining the cloud formations of this day: cumulus-piled high, but granting shade and little chance of precipitation..
At first she paid no attention. But several general topics later in his monologue, it occurred to her that he seemed to have a great interest in and knowledge about a great number of things. His knowledge attracted her.
She couldn’t believe it: by the time Al came to collect her that evening, the time had passed so quickly while she conversed with Jack Fradet that the two had missed dinner.
Slowly, that’s the way it started, and grew. Jack and Barbara met infrequently in parks or out-of-the-way restaurants. Except for the fact that each had a spouse, there was nothing sinful, illegal, or even fattening about their interest in each other.
Then they turned a corner.
When they’d first met several weeks before, Barbara would have covered any odds that they would at any time become physically involved. Freud had said it all for Barbara: anatomy is destiny. And Jack Fradet’s anatomy did not destine him to capture her favors.
What Freud left out of the picture was what he himself asked with significant frustration: “What does woman want?”
Manners, deference, tenderness, and, up near the top of the list for at least some women, power.
Jack Fradet definitely was unimpressive physically, but he possessed, or could fake possession of, some tender virtues. And at one remove from the top of an established banking firm, he did have power-a significant amount of power. As Henry Kissinger said, power is an aphrodisiac. And then of course women generally seem able to look beyond mere physical appearance much more so than men.
It was a banking convention in Florida that transformed the relationship of Jack and Barbara. Jack Fradet was empowered to select Adams delegates for this convention. Among those selected was Al Ulrich. Jack went no further than that. He also did hot go to the convention.
It worked. Barbara invited Jack to dinner in the Ulrich condo apartment. He enjoyed dinner and again went no further than that.
Eventually she seduced him according to the plan he had cleverly composed.
Of all the men who had romanced her, the best lover of all was Jack Fradet. No one, including Marilyn Fradet, would have believed that. His services during foreplay made it virtually impossible for Barbara not to reach climax. Afterward, all he required was a brief, releasing orgasm for himself.
Now, with this in mind, she felt somewhat callous in summoning him here tonight, to the very apartment where it had all begun for them. But this was the hand dealt her by fate; she had drawn cards and she would play that hand.
A knock at the door. He never rang the bell. She didn’t have to check the time; it would be precisely seven o’clock. That’s the way Jack was.
She wore a modest housecoat. She could no more envision Jack ripping off her clothing than she could imagine Marty Whitston turning away from a lovely, near naked woman.
Barbara opened the door. There he was, wearing that slight, enigmatic smile. She ushered him in and took his coat and hat. It wasn’t cold, or even chill outside-but Jack always protected himself and his health. Jack could quote statistics on catching cold in early autumn.
They sat facing each other, neither speaking.
“Thanks for coming,” Barbara said finally. “This is about my note-at the party.”
The smile didn’t change. “Things have changed since then.”
“What do you mean?”
“Al. You feared he would blow the roof off. He’s gone. If we were in a novel, I’d say Al’s death was a deus ex machina and highly unrealistic. But since we’re in real life, I have to look at it as a major coincidence.”
Barbara rose and got two cups of coffee. She didn’t need to ask: Jack nearly lived on coffee. She wondered that he ever slept. “Maybe a coincidence, maybe not,” she said as she placed their cups on the small table that separated them.
“‘Maybe not’?” He took a sip and compressed his lips in appreciation. It was out of character for one so gorgeous, but Barbara was a marvelous cook.
“Doesn’t it strike you as odd that as careful a person as Al was, that he would be killed by a kid who needed money for dope?”
“This is excellent coffee, Barbara. What’s so odd about that? It happens all the time. We live on the downtown riverfront. Things here are about as safe as anywhere.
“As far as that goes, the branch Al left was in comparably safe territory. He volunteered for the new branch. He stepped from the safety of a pantry shelf to a heated frying pan, as it were. Which is not to say that anyone anywhere in this country is really safe.
“But, Barbara dear, all of those people, as Al did, have just begun working in a risky area of this city. What if there were a residency restriction? What if someone in authority required the people who work in that neighborhood to live there too? Like they do the police and firefighters. You think we’d be able to even plan on opening a branch in a neighborhood like that?
“No, my dear, Al’s death certainly is tragic, but not a complete surprise. Nor do I think it at all odd that a dope addict would kill to feed his habit. It would be nice if all addicts had jobs so they could afford to buy the drug of their choice. But eventually and inevitably, drugs incapacitate the user to the degree where he can’t hold down a job. But he has to have dope and he’ll do anything to get it-even commit murder.
“So, no, dear, I do not think it odd that our addict goes to a bank to get some money for his addiction. After all, banks are all about money. That he was not thinking all that clearly fits nicely in the whole picture. The error may very well be in our decision to open there.”
Barbara’s eyes widened. “You mean you think that branch never should have been planned, let alone opened?”
“Tom and I had words on the subject.” All hint of a smile had vanished. “But …” He shrugged. “It was not my place to make that final decision. Actually, I think we’re moving away from serving our faithful and long-standing customers. As I say, we’ve had words. We know each other’s thinking in the matter. But Tom is still the boss.
“However, just between the two of us, I think Al was a fool to accept, let alone volunteer, for the job.”
It was Barbara’s turn to smile. “You don’t think he did it from some altruistic motive, do you, Jack?”
“Not for a moment.” Jack shook his head vigorously.
“Then why?”
“I suppose he knew there’d have to be some sort of reward at the end of the stick.”
“What do you suppose that would be?”
“A choice of the next assignment, I suppose. Maybe a choice of a prime branch. There are lots of things working here. Leave Al where he is and, in time, when the right manager retires or dies, Al moves up. But that’s all guesswork. That’s up on Tom’s level. He created the monster; he’ll have to deal with it.
“But why do you ask? You have an idea?”
“How about an executive vice presidency?”
Jack paused with his cup half raised. Then he began to laugh. He laughed so hard he had to set the cup down again. “There are only three, you know, Barbara,” he said when he could control his laughter.
“Then one of you would have to leave, wouldn’t you?”
“Al an executive VP? That’s rich. None of us is anyplace close to retirement. And even if it happened,
While he enjoyed what he seemed to think was a hilarious notion, Barbara fumed.
Practically the same reaction as Martin’s. Either both men were completely innocent of complicity in the murder of her husband, or they deserved some sort of award for their performances.
However, even if Jack had had nothing to do with murder, still there could be something unsavory in his vice presidential dealings. Perhaps Jack was involved in some hanky-panky that would lend itself to a little blackmail.
