Silent Treatment

Harry sank on to the couch, aware now of apounding headache that he suspected would not be gone soon. He picked up thetelephone and called his office. Mary Tobin was immensely relieved to hear fromhim.

'Dr. Corbett, I've called everywhere,' shesaid. 'Even the police.'

'What time is it?'

'Pardon?'

'The time, Mary.'

'Noon. Almost noon. Where on earth areyou?'

'I'll explain when I see you. I need to gohome. I won't be in until three. Can you juggle people? I'll make up the timeSaturday.'

'Are you okay?'

'Let's just say I've been better. I'llspeak to you later.' Harry retrieved his shoes, made one final, fruitless checkof the apartment, and headed home. The answers had been right there in hishands. By not being more careful, he had blown the chance to save himself. Buthe did have much more insight into just who Evie DellaRosa really was. And healso had a voice … a gentle, cultured voice with just the hint of a Britishaccent.

Chapter14

Although it was only five in the morning,Kevin Loomis was already dressed for work. He made his way quietly to thekitchen and eased the door closed. Just because he couldn't sleep was no reasonto wake Nancy or the kids. He had crawled into bed after midnight and had notdrifted off for at least another hour. That made a total of about ten hours ofreal sleep in the days since he had first noticed the picture of EvelynDellaRosa in the Times obituary section. One moment he was certain thewoman in the photo was Desiree. The next moment he was certain she wasn't.There were undeniable similarities, but the woman in the photo looked youngerand yet not as attractive as Desiree.

He nuked a cup of yesterday's coffee inthe microwave and took it down to his basement office, a tiny space he had setup amid the boxes, out-of-season sporting equipment, heating ducts, and cinderblocks. He hadn't spent much time there since his promotion but it was still agood place to hide out and think. Besides, he thought now, it wouldn't be toomuch longer before the makeshift study that had served him so well was a thingof his past. Their house, a small three-bedroom on a tree-lined street inQueens, had a Sale Pending sign on the front lawn. It was under offer toa plumber and his wife: As soon as that sale went through, the offer Nancy andhe had made on a fabulous place in Port Chester would become final. Twelverooms, three fireplaces, and four baths on an acre and a half. It was the dreamhouse they had thought would never be more than a dream.

New job, new car, new house, newassociates, new secrets … it was all happening so fast. Maybe that was whatwas bothering him. Not the business with Desiree or Kelly or The Roundtable,but the business with Kevin Loomis. No matter how hard he tried to feelotherwise, he couldn't shake the sensation that somehow he was in over hishead.

'Most of the knights have been inexecutive positions for years,' Burt Dreiser had said on the day he finallymade the offer that had so changed Kevin's life. 'And they've forged a uniquebond as members of The Roundtable. At first you're going to feel intimidated bythem. But you needn't be. I've been watching you work around here for a longtime now, and I would never have tapped you to take my place if I didn't havecomplete confidence in you. As long as you believe in what The Roundtablestands for — as long as you believe that our cause justifies our approach tosolving problems — that's all that matters.'

Kevin couldn't recall his preciseresponse, but it had obviously been the right one. It had also been the truth.Throughout his life he had often cut corners — legal, moral, and otherwise — for things he wanted or causes he believed in. There was nothing about TheRoundtable or its various programs that he couldn't accept, especially with somuch at stake for his company and himself. Everything would be perfect,absolutely perfect, if only he just felt a little more at ease with the wholething.

He smoothed Evelyn DellaRosa's obituary onhis desk and reread it. Consumer editor for Manhattan Woman magazine fitwell enough with what they knew of Desiree, but certainly not the part abouther being a doctor's wife. Although she hadn't actually had sex with Kevin, shecertainly had seemed ready and willing to. Gawaine had also admitted to somepretty intimate contact. He denied having intercourse with her, but Kevinalways had the notion he was lying about that. Things like doctors' wivesbecoming call girls happened, for sure. Who hadn't read articles about suburbansex rings or watched the reports on Hard Copy? But Kevin certainly neverthought he would find himself in the middle of such a thing. He read on.

. . died suddenly in a Manhattanhospital. .

Died suddenly. What did that mean?

He wondered if he should say anything toGalahad and the others. Perhaps. At the next meeting, he decided. Perhaps heshould.

'What difference does it make?' he askedhimself out loud.

Even if Desiree was EvelynDellaRosa, what of it? There was nothing to suggest that her death had anythingto do with The Roundtable. Nothing at all. Kevin's efforts to convince himselfof that had almost succeeded when he fixed on the final exchange of the lastmeeting — the one between Galahad and Merlin.

We've come too far to letanyone threaten our work.

Wasn't that what Galahad said? It wasdefinitely something like that, he thought. And what had Merlin responded?

Don't do anything rash. . Atleast not until you're certain she's not a policyholder with one of ourcompanies.

Not an exact quote, perhaps, but closeenough. Even at the time, Kevin had felt there was something creepy aboutMerlin's comment. Not the words, but the inflection, maybe. . and theexpression on his face. It was as if he and Galahad were enjoying an insidejoke.

And now a woman who might beDesiree was dead. . suddenly. . in a hospital. .

Kevin was badly startled when the phone beganringing. He snatched up the receiver.

'Kevin, Burt here. Hope I didn't wake you.Listen, something's come up that I think we should talk about. Nothing serious,and nothing for you to worry about. But I wonder if you could meet me at myboat at, say, seven- thirty?'

The boat. The only place Dreiser felttruly safe and secure. It had to be Roundtable business.

'Of course,' Kevin said. He cleared sometension from his throat. 'I'll leave in just a few minutes.'

He put the DellaRosa obituary in anenvelope and pushed it into the recesses of his desk drawer. Then he wentupstairs, left a note on the kitchen table for Nancy and the kids, and headedfor the garage.

'Hey, hotshot, did you forget something?'

Nancy called to him from the doorway. Shewas holding his briefcase in one hand and a bag of pistachios — his mostenduring vice — in the other. She was dressed in the beige silk robe he hadgiven her for Christmas. Early morning sunlight, dappled by the maples acrossthe street, shone on her in a most appealing way. They had met in ninth gradeat a church picnic and had fallen for one another immediately. Nancy Sealy wasbeautiful then; and now, twenty-four years and three kids later, Nancy SealyLoomis was beautiful still. Suddenly, the vision of her was intruded upon bythe image of Kelly, naked astride his thighs, stroking him patiently, expertly.For a moment, just as it had that night, his entire world consisted of herglistening, coal-black pubic hair. He had let her lick him some and even takehim inside her mouth for a while — there was no red-blooded man on earth whocould have said no to that. But just as with Desiree, he had drawn the line atintercourse. And for that restraint he remained grateful.

Accepting the briefcase and nuts, hekissed his wife on the cheek, then on the lips, then on the lips again — thistime more passionately.

'Hey, is this an invitation?' she asked,nibbling at his ear. 'Because if it is, I can call the office and tell