The Betsy (1971) (32 page)

 Chapter Five

I had the martini, very dry and very cold, in a glass clouded with frost beads waiting on the bar for her when she came in. Silently I put it in her hand.

“You didn’t forget, did you, Angelo?” she asked.

I raised my glass to her. “Angelos, like elephants, never forget.”

We drank silently. She finished her drink in what seemed like one swallow. I remembered that too. I refilled her glass from the martini pitcher. I still didn’t speak.

She crossed the room and looked out at the sparkling lights of Ontario. The blinking sign on the other side of the river went on-off: COME ON OVER!

She turned to me. “You have a good view from here at night.”

“When it’s clear,” I said. “Not so good on smoggy days.”

She sipped her drink and turned back to the window. “I’m leaving him,” she said. “I made a mistake. I know it now.”

I didn’t say anything.

She turned to look at me. “Did you hear what I said?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

“Don’t you have any comment to make?” Her voice was brittle and thin.

“No.”

“Nothing?” She laughed. “Not even, I told you so?”

“Nothing.”

She turned away again and looked out the window. “The girl that came downstairs. Is she—?” She didn’t finish the question.

“We’re old friends,” I said.

We were silent again. She emptied her glass and held it out to me. I refilled it and gave it back to her.

“Thank you,” she said.

I nodded.

“Still don’t talk very much, do you?”

“Only when I have something to say.”

“Then say something,” she said sharply.

I looked at her. “Why?”

She didn’t look at me. “Because it’s not the way I thought it would be. All he cares about is the company. That’s all he lives for. That and the determination he has to avenge his father’s death.”

“Avenge his father’s death?”

“Yes,” she answered. “He’s a man split in two between his respect for his grandfather because of the old man’s accomplishments and his hatred of him for hounding his father to suicide.”

“He blames Number One for that?”

She nodded. “He said the old man never got off his father’s back, just as he won’t get off his.”

“I can’t believe that.”

She turned to me. “I didn’t either. Until one night he showed me a letter which he keeps in the wall safe in the house. It was the first time he ever showed it to anyone. Even Alicia never saw it.”

“What letter?”

“The letter his father left when he committed suicide,” she answered.

“But there was no letter,” I said. I remembered the newspaper stories. “The police never found one.”

“Loren did,” she said. “He was the one who discovered his father’s body. He found the letter too. And hid it. Even then he was afraid that if the contents of the letter were revealed, the company would be finished.”

“What did it say?”

“I only saw it once but I won’t forget it,” she said. “It was not addressed to anyone. It was just a note scrawled in his father’s handwriting.

“‘I cannot go on any longer. He will not leave me alone. I do not have one day’s peace and there is not a day that passes that he does not make impossible demands on me. I have tried for years to get him to leave me alone but now I see that he never will. And I no longer have the strength to fight him. This is the only way out. Believe me. Forgive me.’

“It was signed simply, ‘L H II.’”

I didn’t speak.

She looked at me. “Loren said it was exactly the way his grandfather treated him. But that he was stronger than his father. He could fight back and would.”

I turned away silently to refill my own glass. I took a sip of my drink. “Why didn’t he do something about it then?”

“The reason he gave me, and for one other,” she said. “He was afraid that his grandfather would not make him president of the company if he did.” She took a sip of her drink and held out her empty glass again.

I refilled it and gave it back to her.

“I’m getting smashed,” she said. “I’ve probably been smashed since I came up here. I had two doubles while I was waiting downstairs.”

She held her liquor well, her eyes were clear. “You look all right to me.”

“I feel it,” she said. “I know myself.”

I didn’t speak.

“You see, even way back then, all he cared about was the company. And nothing’s changed. He really doesn’t need a wife or even a woman. He doesn’t need anyone.”

“Then why did he marry you? He could have had you and kept Alicia. It would have saved him a fortune.”

She laughed. “But he didn’t know that, did he? You knew it and I knew it. But he didn’t. I remember you once said he was square.” She laughed again. “You don’t know how square he really is.”

I pulled at my drink silently.

“Do you know every time we make love he asks if I made it before he has his orgasm?” She giggled. “Sometimes I drive him crazy and say no just to make him wait. He goes out of his mind.”

“I think you are smashed,” I said.

“What’s the matter, Angelo?” she asked. “Don’t you like to hear me talk about my sex life?”

I looked at her. “If you want the truth, no.”

“You’re getting very proper, aren’t you, Angelo? Like that time out at the test track in Washington and now you won’t even talk about it.”

I was silent.

“I remember the way it was in San Francisco between us. Do you remember, Angelo? It was beautiful.”

“I remember.” I also remembered the pain when she left me in the airport. Strange, but there was no hurt now.

She came close to me, so close I could taste the smell of her in my mouth. “It could be like that again.”

“No.”

She put her drink down and her arms around my neck. Her open mouth seized hungrily on mine, her tongue ravishing my mouth. Nothing.

I held her away from me, my hands gripping her arms. “No.”

“Give it a chance, Angelo,” she said, her eyes searching mine. “It could be like that again!”

“It won’t be, Bobbie. Ever again.”

“Why do you keep saying that, Angelo?” she cried. “I love you! I’ve always loved you!”

This time I brought her to me and kissed her. For a long time, until her arms fell to her sides and she stepped back, looking up at me, a strangely lonely look in her eyes.

“You would only be making another mistake,” I said. “Running from him to me isn’t the answer.”

Her voice was clear, she wasn’t the least bit smashed. “How did you know?”

I took her hand. “I didn’t hear the music,” I said.

She was silent for a moment, looking down at our hands, then she drew her hand away. “Do you have another martini left in that pitcher?”

I refilled her glass. I watched her drink half of it before she stopped.

“I’ll miss you. You do make a good martini.”

“I’ll give you the recipe,” I said. “Straight gin. Lots of ice. No vermouth.”

She smiled. “That’s a dirty trick.”

“It’s also a great martini.”

“My bags are downstairs. I’m going out to the airport. I’m not going back to him.”

I didn’t say anything.

“I can make a late plane to Chicago. And leave from there for London in the morning.”

“Does he know you’re gone?” I asked.

She shook her head. “I’ll call him from the airport just before I get on the plane.”

“Won’t he miss you before then?”

She laughed. “He was locked up in a meeting with Dan, a fellow named Mark Simpson, and a few other gentlemen I never saw before when I left. Rough-looking characters they were too. Not the usual kind of men that have come to the house before. Chances are that he won’t go up to bed until the wee small hours.” A curious expression came into her eyes. “Now that I think about it, I remember they were talking about you when I passed the doorway.”

“Really? Something good I hope?”

“Nothing good,” she said seriously. “Apparently you did something today that’s gotten Loren very incensed. Did you?”

“I might have,” I admitted. “But I work for his grandfather and we don’t exactly see eye to eye these days.”

“I heard Loren’s voice as I went down the hall,” she said. “‘I’ll play as tough and dirty as the old man anytime and Angelo might as well find that out right now,’ he said.”

“What else did he say?”

“I didn’t hear anything else. By that time I was down the hall and out of earshot.” Her eyes were troubled. “I don’t like it.”

“It’s probably just some words out of context that sound much worse than they really are.”

She finished her drink and gave it to me. I placed the empty glass on the bar. “You’ll be careful?”

I nodded and we started for the door. “You have a coat?” I asked.

“I checked it downstairs.”

I held the door open for her. She stepped through and turned to face me. I bent and kissed her cheek. “Good-bye, Bobbie. Good luck.”

I could see the hint of tears in her eyes. “Apparently we’re always saying good-bye, aren’t we, Angelo?”

“Seems like it,” I said.

She held back her tears. Her chin came up proudly. “Well, at least we don’t have to go through that again, do we?”

“No.”

She caught at my lapels and pulled me down to her. Her lips were gentle on mine. “Good-bye, Angelo. Don’t think badly of me. Just remember that we did love each other. Once.”

I looked into her eyes. The tears were there now. “I’ll remember,” I said gently.

Then she turned abruptly and walked to the elevator, her back straight and stiff. I stood there until the elevator doors closed behind her. She never looked back. Not even once.

 Chapter Six

When I came out of the bathroom after my shower, the waiter had left the breakfast table rolled up against the bed and Cindy was sitting up, eating a Danish, getting crumbs all over the sheet, the stereo blasting.

“Oh, Jesus!” I said, tightening the towel around my waist and pouring myself a cup of coffee. “This early in the morning?”

“It’s the Pocono Inaugural Five Hundred last July,” she said. “I just got the tapes yesterday.”

I swallowed some of the coffee. It was black and hot and tasteless, like all hotel coffee. “You couldn’t wait?” I asked sarcastically.

She paid no attention to me, intently following the roar of the motors racing from speaker to speaker. “That’s Mark Donohue,” she said excitedly. “Hear that other car moving up on him?”

I lit a cigarette without answering. I listened. She was right. There were two roaring engines chasing from speaker to speaker. Now it seemed almost as if they were in the same speaker.

“That’s Joe Leonard! Now he’s passing him. He’s passed him! Mark chickened on the oil slick on the second curve of lap two and Joe sneaked by him. Listen! That’s A. J. and Mario right behind them!”

The telephone rang. I picked it up. “Hello,” I shouted over the sound of the speakers.

“What’s that damn noise?” Number One demanded. “Where the hell are you?”

“Cindy, turn that damn thing off!” I yelled. She picked up the remote. The tape whirred to a stop. I turned back to the phone. “That better?”

“Who is with you?” the old man asked.

“Cindy. My test driver.”

“What the hell is she doing?” he asked. “Driving a Formula One around your bedroom?”

I laughed. “Practically.”

“It’s three days,” he said, “I didn’t hear from you.”

I remembered what Alicia told me about Mrs. Craddock. “I had nothing to report,” I said.

“Then what the hell have you been doing?” he snapped. “Driving your test driver around the bed?”

“Why don’t you call me later from outside?” I suggested cautiously.

“What for? he retorted. “You know how I hate to go out in this town.”

“Security,” I said.

He was silent for a moment. I could hear the sound of his breathing in the phone. “Are you talking about Craddock?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“I know all about her,” he said shortly. “Besides she’s out of the house right now doing the marketing. You can talk.”

“If you know about her, why do you keep her?”

“She’s the best damn secretary and housekeeper I ever had. And, believe me, good housekeepers aren’t easy to come by these days.” He chuckled. “The way I figure it, the money my grandson pays her makes her job the best in the world and keeps her from blowing it.”

“But what good is it if Loren knows everything you’re doing?”

He chuckled again. “He only knows what I want him to know. That way everybody’s happy. She’s not in the house now. See what I mean?”

“Okay,” I said. I wondered if any one of us would ever catch up to him. There had to be something to being ninety-four. If there was anything to the old saying that practice makes perfect, being ninety-four was a lot of practice.

He listened quietly while I covered the last two days. When I finished, he was still silent. The line echoed emptily. “Are you there?” I asked.

“I’m here,” he said. I heard a deep sigh. “My grandson wants to beat me so bad he can’t wait.”

It was my turn to be silent.

For the first time I heard resignation in his voice. “When you’re young, you’re always in a hurry. He should take his time. Monday will come soon enough.”

“A lot can happen in six days.”

“I told Roberts to turn back the voting trust to the Foundation,” he said. “I’m not even coming in for the court hearing.”

“Why?” I asked. “Because you know you’re going to lose?”

“Don’t get impertinent, young man,” he snapped, fire coming back into his voice. “No, not because I’m going to lose but because it’s the right thing to do. The Foundation is too important to become a football.”

I said nothing.

“Besides, that’s just the skirmish. The real battle comes at the stockholders’ meeting on Tuesday morning. That’s where you win or lose. I’ll be there for that one.” He chuckled ironically. “Of course, my grandson figures that he’s got it won or he wouldn’t have called the meeting for the day after the hearing.”

“He’s lost Alicia’s votes,” I said. “Maybe we can change some others.”

“They don’t have the same reason that she has. The only chance I see is if we can tie him into Simpson. Even the trustees of the Foundation won’t go along with a president who tried to sabotage his own company.”

“We’ve got a beginning,” I said. “We already know that he has more than a passing acquaintance with him.”

“That’s up to you. There’s nothing I can do about that down here.”

“I’ll try,” I said. “I remember what you told me before I left.”

“Forget that! I was only talking because I was angry. I don’t want him framed if he had nothing to do with it.”

“Why the sudden change of heart?” I asked. “You develop a conscience in your old age?”

“No, goddamn it!” he roared. “Just don’t forget that he is my grandson and I’m not going to hang him for something he didn’t do.”

“Then get ready to lose if I can’t tie it together,” I snapped back at him.

“I won’t lose!” he said sharply. “Remember what I said when we started this thing. We would build a new car and by God, that’s exactly what we did!”

“Mr. Hardeman’s waiting in your office,” my secretary told me when I came in.

“Fine. Bring in two cups of coffee.”

I opened the door and went into my office. Loren was standing at the window. He turned to me. “Good morning, Loren. You’re a week early, aren’t you?”

“This isn’t a business visit,” he said heavily. He walked slowly from the window toward my desk. He looked like a man who hadn’t slept all night, weary lines tracing their gray way into his face, his eyes red and pouchy. “My wife left me last night.”

My secretary came in with the coffee. We were silent while she placed the cups on the desk and left. I pushed a cup toward him. “You better drink that. You look like you could use it.”

He sank into the chair opposite me and reached for the coffee cup. But his hands were shaking so much that some of the coffee spilled over the rim and he returned the cup to its saucer without tasting it. “You’re not surprised,” he said.

I looked at him. “Should I be? Were you?”

His eyes fell for a moment. “I suppose not,” he said in a low voice, almost as if to himself. “I could see it coming for a long time. But there was nothing I could do about it. Detroit wasn’t her idea of the world.”

I sipped my coffee without speaking. Office coffee was just as bad as hotel coffee, only instant.

He raised his eyes. “You saw her last night?”

“Yes.”

“Did she say anything to you?”

“No more than you told me,” I answered.

“Damn!” he exploded. He got to his feet and went back to the window and pounded his fist into his open palm. “Damn!”

I watched him silently, sipping my coffee.

After a moment, he regained his self-control. He turned to me. “Why did she go to you?” he asked in an almost normal voice.

I looked into his eyes. “Because we were friends, I guess. And there was no one else here for her to turn to. I think you put your finger on it. Detroit wasn’t her idea of the world. But then, Detroit never tried very hard to make her welcome.”

He turned back to the window. “I don’t know what to think.” After a moment he came back to the desk. “I was jealous of you,” he said. “I know she was out in San Francisco almost all the time you were there.”

“But that was two years ago. Long before you decided to get married.”

“I know,” he said. “But when I was told that she stopped off at the Ponch to see you on her way to the airport, I began to think. After all, you’re much more her type than I am. I was never very much of a ladies’ man.”

In spite of myself, I had to smile. “And I am?”

At least he had the grace to look embarrassed. “Come on now, Angelo,” he said. “You know what I’m talking about. Stories about you and women have come back here from all over the world.”

I laughed. “You have to tell me them sometime. I might discover something about myself.”

“Angelo, would you give me a straight answer if I asked you a direct question?” He was in deadly earnest.

“Try me.”

“Did you have an affair with my wife?”

“No.” I looked right into his eyes, secure in the knowledge I was telling him the truth. Bobbie and I never had an affair after she married him.

He took a deep breath and nodded his head. “Thank you,” he said. “Now I can put that away and forget I ever thought about it.”

“Okay,” I said.

He turned and started out of the office. I called him back. He stopped in the middle of the room. “Yes, Angelo?”

“Would you give me a straight answer if I asked you a direct question?”

He came back to the desk. “Try me,” he said.

“If I could work out a compromise between you and your grandfather, will you give up this stupid fight between you in which one of you will get hurt but only the company will suffer?”

His face settled into grim lines. It was amazing how much he looked like his grandfather. “No.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s a despot. And I’m not going to let him destroy me as he did my father.”

“But that was a long time ago,” I said. “He’s an old man now and in a wheelchair—”

“He was old then and in a wheelchair!” he interrupted me. “But it didn’t stop him then and it won’t stop him now!” His eyes grew cold. “Besides you never had to walk into a room and find your father with the top of his head blown off!”

I stared at him. “And you’re absolutely sure that your grandfather was to blame?”

“As sure as I’m standing here,” he said.

I got to my feet. “I apologize for asking,” I said. “Your grandfather would have canned me if he knew I even brought it up. But I had the wrong impression.”

“What was that?”

“For a moment there,” I said, “I thought you were almost human.”