Warren’s life had changed. He no longer attended social events. Once a man who could seldom tolerate being alone, he now found himself seldom able to tolerate the company of others. His reclusiveness was seen by others as an indication of his grief-after all, others would say, the man had lost most of his family in one evening. That much was true.
One person, however, could command his presence at any gathering: Mitch Yeager. He realized that Yeager was monitoring his moods, as well as making sure that Warren knew where things stood. He wasn’t sure what Mitch Yeager had planned for him. Yeager, once confronted, said Warren had nothing to worry over, provided he wasn’t overwhelmed by an urge to make accusations that couldn’t be proved.
Yeager surprised him unpleasantly one day by telling him of a recording. The tape, Yeager said, made clear that Warren desired his parents’ deaths and wanted to take over his father’s company. Warren was assured that on the tape, Yeager would be heard adamantly refusing to be a part of any murder plot and advising him to seek psychiatric help.
Warren, reflecting on the work that had been done recently on the Nixon tapes, now wondered if specialists could determine that the tape Yeager secretly made of their conversation had been altered. And he was beginning to suspect that such a tape could not be used as evidence against him.
But no one in this room knew any of that.
Instead, he told Lillian what he had told Zeke and Auburn sixteen years ago, about the event that had led to this gathering. How it happened that Warren, leaving the Las Piernas Country Club after a luncheon engagement with Auburn, literally bumped into Yeager’s wife Estelle, who was not too steady on her pins. He was surprised to see her in that condition. He later learned that on the days when her adopted son was in preschool, it was not unusual for her to polish off three martinis in the country club bar.
She smiled up at Warren and asked him if he could help her figure out where she had parked. He gave her his arm and guided her to her car. He offered to give her a lift back to her house, but she shuddered and said, “Mitch wouldn’t like that much.”
Perhaps because of the booze, or perhaps because she hadn’t realized that Warren wasn’t truly a friend of the family, before she settled herself into her BMW, Estelle invited Warren to her young son’s fifth birthday party. Believing this was another appearance commanded by her husband, Warren accepted the invitation.
“I’d be pleased to come. I don’t think I’ve ever met Mitch Junior, have I?” he had said.
“Oh, probably not-I try to keep him out of the way when Mitch has his friends over. And he’s not Mitch Junior. We decided to call him Kyle. That was Adam’s middle name. Did you know Adam-Mitch’s brother?”
Warren shook his head.
“Oh. Well, he’s been gone for some years now,” she said uneasily, and looked away.
“I like the name Kyle,” Warren said, mostly to distract her from what were obviously unhappy thoughts.
She smiled. “Me too. Besides, I could only cope with one Mitch in the house at a time.” She blushed, then said, “Please don’t ever tell Mitch I said that.”
“I promise I won’t,” he said. She thanked him and hurried off, as if afraid of making further unguarded remarks.
Yeager had smiled tightly when Warren arrived at the party, his eyes glinting as he turned to his wife-who was perfectly sober on this occasion. Warren, correctly guessing that Yeager neither expected nor wanted him to be there, saw the color drain from Estelle’s face, and hurriedly spoke before Yeager could lash out at her. “I hope you don’t mind my only coming by for a few minutes-I can’t stay long. Just wanted to wish your son a happy birthday.”
Warren had by this time learned to hide his emotions, behind a bland look perceived by Yeager as a mixture of stupidity and meekness.
Yeager laughed and said, “What could be more important than my son’s birthday? Come in and stay as long as you can.”
Warren saw Estelle’s relief and smiled.
He moved into a room crowded with adults. On the back lawn, a clown entertained a half dozen young children. Two young men were shooed away from raiding a table of hors d’oeuvres-Mitch’s nephews, Eric and Ian, he later learned-then they sat pinching and lightly punching each other whenever their harassed Aunt Estelle wasn’t looking. He thought they were probably in their twenties-too old to be acting so childishly.
Warren carefully set the wrapped gift he had purchased-a Tonka dump truck-at the base of a great pyramid of birthday plunder. He heard familiar laughter and turned toward it, smiling.
Todd! Todd’s laughter. In the next instant, he told himself that was not possible, was it? But the memory of that laugh was so clear…
The sound came again, and he realized it was a child’s laugh. He could not control the disappointment he felt, even as he chided himself for reacting as he did. The laughter of one boy as he ran from another, that was all. The laughing boy came to stand before Warren. A dark-haired, dark-eyed child.
The boy studied him, then glanced at the package Warren had added to the pile of gifts. “Did you bring that for me?”
“Are you Kyle?”
“Yes.”
Warren wondered how the child had managed to take note of one among so many, but he said, “Yes, that’s for you. Happy birthday, Kyle.”
“What is it?”
“Something I hope you’ll like.”
“Me too,” he said, and ran off to join the other children.
“Me too,” a voice said behind Warren, startling him. He turned to see Mitch Yeager.
He wondered how long Yeager had been standing there. He managed to say, “You’ll have to let me know if he does.”
“Come and sit down-you look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”
Warren laughed. “Thanks, but I’m fine. Just don’t like to be in crowds anymore.” It was something Yeager knew to be true of him. He saw Yeager’s expression clear, so he added, “I really can’t stay.”
“No? Why is that?”
“I’ve got to meet with Auburn Sheffield this afternoon.”
Yeager frowned. Mention of Warren’s arrangements with Auburn never failed to irritate-and distract him. “I’ll never understand what made you give that old geezer so much control of your money. I could have helped you do much better with it, and you wouldn’t have to live like some beggar in the meantime. You sure you can’t get out of that deal?”
“Not a chance,” Warren said. Zeke Brennan had made sure that Yeager could never pry him out of the agreement. Warren shrugged helplessly, and again used the truth to distract Yeager. “I never was smart about money. That’s why I went to Sheffield. And you said…I knew you didn’t want contact with me.”
Yeager looked quickly around him, then said in a low, angry voice, “Watch what you say and where you say it, Warren.”
“Sorry.”
“Try not to be such a stupid ass all the time.”
Warren was pleased to make his escape shortly after receiving that bit of advice.
Warren had cleaned that part of the story up a bit when telling it today. His mother had once hinted to him that Lillian Vanderveer Linworth had run wild as a young woman, but you’d never believe it now. Now she was the picture of sophistication and restraint. He wondered if Katy would have matured in the same way. Somehow, he couldn’t imagine it.
She heard him out, then said, “Do I understand you to say that you believe Kyle Yeager is Todd and Katy’s son-that he is really Max Ducane?”
“Yes.”
“Warren, that’s impossible. He was adopted before Max was taken.”
Warren looked over to Auburn.
“I was as skeptical as you, Lillian,” Auburn said, “at first.”
“At first…?”
