I was having trouble matching the story Maggie was telling me about her fiancé with the guy I’d interviewed earlier in the day. As she described the progression of their relationship, it appeared she was not as taken with him in the beginning and that Marco, not Maggie, had been the driving force from day one. This all came as a surprise to me. Up to this point, based on past experience, if I’d been made to guess how their relationship had unfolded, I’d have reversed the roles. I made a mental note to go over this again when I had more time. I circled back to my original question.
“And your father. What was his reaction to all this?”
“My father was funny when I told him about Marco. I assumed he would be happy for us, because Marco is his best friend’s son.”
“But what about when you were sixteen? You didn’t think he’d still be upset about that?”
“Jon, it had been almost ten years since that happened, and I hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Marco in that time. We were just teenagers, kids at the time. If my father still had an issue after all that time, he would have said something.” She paused. “But when I told him we were dating, his response was nothing. Not happy for me. Not upset. He never said much of anything. After I thought about it for a while, I realized Papa usually keeps his own counsel. When it’s something important, he doesn’t share his thoughts or feelings until he’s made a decision. He never said anything, and I never asked.” She smiled. “But I think hiring you was his way of giving us his approval.”
I nodded, smiling back, although I didn’t agree with Maggie’s assessment of her father’s actions. My sixth sense was quietly ringing a bell. Something was not right about all of this. Families didn’t usually hire me if they weren’t in total support of the upcoming nuptials. Even if either or both members of the engagement couple had a strong desire to bring me in, it only happened when the parents writing the check were behind it. It was even more rare for the initial request to come from a parent of the engaged. First contact with me was almost always made by the bride-to-be, less often by the groom-to-be, and rarely by the parent of either principal. But in this case, Tony Vespucci was so intent on having me write his daughter’s love story that he flew out to Los Angeles to meet with me personally without the knowledge of his daughter or anyone else, as far I knew. Then, even with my protestation that I would not have enough time to do my best job, he was adamant. Maggie interrupted my thoughts.
“Excuse me a moment. I’m going to use the ladies room.” Maggie stood up from the table and headed to the back of the restaurant toward the restrooms. I watched her walk, disappearing down the narrow hallway.
“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”
I jumped in my seat, jerking my head around. Cranston was standing at my side. I quickly gathered my composure. “She is,” I answered, trying not to betray my feelings.
“Have you met her fiancé yet?” Cranston asked.
“I have. He’s charming,” I said with a hint of irony.
Cranston eyed me. “Has Vespucci been treating you well?”
“So far, yes. But I’ve only been here one day,” I said with a wry smile.
“Well, Jon, I feel responsible for you being here, so I want to make sure you’re taking care of yourself.”
“What do you mean?” What did he mean? Take care of myself?
“Tony heard about you through me, but I didn’t actually think he’d hire you,” Cranston answered.
“Getting a job’s not a bad thing, Cranston,” I said. “Or in this case, is it?”
Cranston shrugged his shoulders. “Whether something is good or bad depends on where you’re standing.” He paused, and then asked, “How much do you know about Tony? I’m assuming you’ve done your usual, exhaustive research.”
“I’ve done enough to know Tony Vespucci is not someone to cross.”
“Nothing could be more true, my friend,” Cranston said, but the way he said it sent a chill down my spine. “I’ve known Tony a long time. Been doing legitimate business with him for years. But Tony has his hands in a lot of different ventures. Some of them are, shall we say, under the radar.”
I lowered my voice to just above a whisper, “He’s connected, right?’”
Cranston brushed his index finger against his nose, indicating yes. “Just keep your eyes and ears open, and if you do what Tony asks you to do, you should be fine. If you need anything, call me.”
“Thanks, Cranston.” I stood up and gave the old man a hug. Although he was doing his best to reassure me, all the concerns and fears I had tried to dismiss rushed back to the surface and, for a moment, I panicked. I wanted to run out of the restaurant, hop on a plane, and go back to Los Angeles.
Cranston’s voice intruded on my flight scenarios. Noting the look on my face, he placed his withered, surprisingly strong hand on my shoulder and said, “Tony is a man of his word. You do right by him and he’ll do right by you. Just do your job the way you have always done it and he’ll be more than satisfied.” Cranston nodded to me when he saw Maggie walking down the hallway towards us.
“But I’m not worried about Tony, Jon. I’m more worried about what’s going on around him. Just keep your eyes open and watch your back.” As Maggie approached, Cranston added, “Now she’s a catch. Marco doesn’t deserve her. He’s the bully in the schoolyard, always has been.”
Before I could respond, Maggie sat down at the table.
“Young lady,” Cranston said to Maggie, “give your father my regards, and tell him he should take good care of Jon here. Can you do that for me?”
“I will happily pass on the message, Mr. Jefferson,” Maggie said, and then looked at me, as if to say, “Of course, we wouldn’t think of doing anything less.”
“You two enjoy the rest of your lunch,” Cranston replied, as he patted me on the back. I watched him as he casually walked away from the table. He had accomplished so much in his lifetime and he was still going strong.
Maggie was watching me watching him. “Amazing what he does at his age.”
I couldn’t agree more but I was still working over Cranston’s warning. I couldn’t help but feel I was getting in deeper and deeper and wasn’t prepared for what lay ahead. It felt surreal. I felt surreal. I turned my attention back to Maggie.
“My father is a good judge of character,” Maggie said. “It’s made him very successful. He doesn’t like a lot of people, but I can tell he likes you. The same way Cranston does.”
Her father liked me. At least for now. That was a good sign.
Maggie leaned forward. “But you like to keep your distance. You don’t let anybody get too close to you, do you?”
Maggie fell silent, waiting for an answer. I tried to get a grip on the tangle of thoughts and panic scrambling through my brain and body, doing my best to clear it all out and get some control.
“Is that a rhetorical question?” I asked her.
Maggie responded, “Deflection. See?” She sat back, disappointed.
“I’m sorry, Maggie, it’s just the tools I’ve learned to keep the ball rolling forward in my interviews. I have to keep the focus always on the principal to gather the information needed,” I explained. “In this case, the principal is you. Over the years, I’ve found that if I talk about me, it muddies the waters and colors the responses I get to questions that need to be asked. I’m sure you’d understand that because of your anthropology background.”
Reluctantly, she said, “Yes. Okay. Focus back on me. Fire away.”
As the restaurant emptied, we ate our dessert, a tasty gelato with a sharp espresso. Slowly, we got off the subject of Maggie and Marco’s relationship and talked about Maggie’s Ph.D. studies, her family, and what she loved about New York. The conversation ebbed and flowed. As we talked, my fears and concerns about Vespucci and Marco and what I was getting wrapped up in disappeared as I became more interested in Maggie herself.
Finally, after almost two hours of recording in the restaurant, I stopped the tape and realized the restaurant was almost empty. As if on cue, a busboy cleared our table and we waited for Janene to hand me the check.
“Mr. Jefferson sends his regards,” Janene said, hovering over us. “He had to go, but he asked me to tell Jon Fixx he was serious about stopping by to see him and Mrs. Jefferson. Lunch is on him.” She gave me a big smile.
I wasn’t surprised by Cranston’s gesture. “Please tell Cranston thank you, Janene, and I’ll do my best to see him and Judith,” I said. Then, Janene gave Maggie a hug before clearing our table.
We left the restaurant in mid-afternoon, and instead of taking a taxi back to Maggie’s office, we walked a roundabout way, taking our time, lost in our own thoughts. Maggie broke the silence. “Mr. Jefferson said you usually take a minimum of six months to work on a project.” She paused and looked at me. “Then why did you take on our story? You’ve got only a little over three months.”
“Let’s just say your father can be very persuasive.”
“My father threatened you?” she asked, apprehensively.
“No, no,” I said and immediately regretted putting it that way. I gave her my best smile, scrambling to recover. “He was very convincing. And it helped that Cranston Jefferson gave your father my name.”
Maggie scrutinized my face as I spoke. She seemed satisfied with my answer. “It’s just sometimes my father can be pushy in his business dealings, and I want to make sure you are completely here of your own accord.”
“Of course,” I said, emphatically, so Maggie would not get suspicious that I had initially turned her father down. I wondered in that moment if she knew or had any idea of what her father was capable of doing if someone made him unhappy. I pushed the thought aside and tried to lighten our conversation. She asked me general questions about my business, and I answered as best I could. It dawned on me as we walked that we could have been good friends in another life, maybe more. As soon as I had the thought, I dismissed it, realizing it would get me nowhere.
We said our goodbyes when we reached the university.
“So, Jon Fixx, I’ll see you again before you leave, right?”
“I think so. I’ll do the rest of my interviews in the next few days with your family and friends and then try to see you and Marco, if time permits before I leave.”
“Will be done as soon as I get upstairs,” Maggie assured me and gave me a hug. “Jon, I hope your girlfriend in Los Angeles knows what she has. I see why Mr. Jefferson likes you so much.” She studied me a moment longer, then turned and disappeared through the double doors.
I stared at the university building long after Maggie was gone. I wasn’t sure what to think or how to react. There had been only one time before when I had been strongly affected by another person while on assignment and that was Sara. Not only had I never felt such a strong connection with a client before, never had a client tried to delve into my personal life. While trying to shake myself out of the daze I was in, I waved down a taxi, directing the driver back to my hotel.
Sitting in the taxi, I slowly reviewed the last twenty-four hours, and what I had discovered during this time led me to three hypotheses. First hypothesis: Maggie and Marco were not in love as much as they’d like me to believe. There were definitely chinks in the armor. Of that I was sure. This was not to say they weren’t in love at all, or not in love enough to get married. I’d seen couples on par with Maggie and Marco who got married and were fine. However, they didn’t fall under the category of head-over-heels.
Second hypothesis: I presented some kind of threat to Marco, at least he saw it that way, though I couldn’t fathom what that threat could possibly be. Often, when I found a principal who presented me with an unwelcome attitude, the principal was hiding something.
Third hypothesis: The man who hired me, the man who was paying me, the father of the bride, didn’t like his soon-to-be son-in-law. I was as sure as anything that Tony Vespucci had never forgiven Marco for his earlier transgressions, and I guessed that if I dug deeper there was more to it. But did I want to dig deeper? I heard the voice in my head shout a resounding No!, but I had no choice in the matter. I had taken this job. I was not about to tell Tony Vespucci I was changing my mind. I’d just attempted to do that for the first time in my career with the Nickels clan. For obvious reasons, that had not gone over well at all. I knew I still had not seen the last of Nick Nickels Sr. and when it came to the Intimidation Factor, he had nothing on Tony Vespucci. Walking away was not an option.
As I stepped out of the taxi in front of my hotel, I came to the unsatisfying decision that I would have to keep the rest of my interviews on an innocuous level, just enough to get the information I would need to write Maggie and Marco’s love story. And then I would get out as quickly as I could. That was that. I took the elevator up to my floor, and walked down the hallway to my room. I felt Maggie’s hug again, her body tight against me. The feelings tingling just under the surface made me uncomfortable. Though I’d decided just moments before to finish this job as quickly and safely as possible, one thought kept nagging me. Why did Vespucci hire me? I didn’t get hired by fathers who didn’t like their daughter’s fiancé. Maybe I was reading the whole situation wrong; maybe Vespucci and Marco made their peace with each other when Marco got back from Italy. As I thought about it, I knew I could not find out the real reason Vespucci hired me if I approached it head on. If I wanted to know what I was doing here, I would have to play it out. Would I be safe? I would have to take my chances, I decided.
I got to my room, my thoughts flip-flopping back and forth. I reached for the handle of my hotel room door, but the door opened at my touch. I stood there, surprised, then cautious. I pushed the door open, flipping the light switch just inside the entrance. From my vantage point, nothing seemed out of place. I stepped inside the room, pulling the door shut behind me. My overnight bag rested beside the bed in the same place I’d left it earlier. I figured the maid must have left the door open by accident after she cleaned my room. I went back to the door, stepping on the outside and pulling it shut to ensure the lock worked. It did. This time, I needed to slide the card to unlock the door. I stepped back inside, noticing the blinking light coming from the phone on the nightstand beside the bed. I crossed the room and picked up the receiver, hoping Sara had left me a surprise message instead of calling my mobile. I punched the appropriate buttons and heard the automated voice prompts telling me I had one message. My guts tightened as I listened to Nick Nickel Sr.’s voice.
“Jon, soon you will understand the great resources I have at my disposal. You don’t become district attorney for the state of California, which by the way is the fifth largest economy in the world, without knowing how to keep an eye on someone. I know where you are each minute of the day. I have eyes everywhere. One way or another, you will pay me back for embarrassing me like you did in front of my daughter. Candy still cries herself to sleep because of what you wrote. Welcome to my world, Jon Fixx. I’m going to make you a permanent fixture. I’ll be seeing you.”
I erased the message and hung up the phone. Nick Nickels was tracking me. This was something new. By now, I was used to the threatening phone calls, the yelling, and the like from the Nickels clan. But those messages were emotionally driven. They didn’t worry me so much. This one was different. Nickels Sr. sounded calm, sinister. In addition, he was putting time and money into tracking me. The unlocked door suddenly took on a whole new light. I jumped up, rushing through my small hotel room into the bathroom, through the step-in closet, under the bed, checking any space that would be large enough to hide a man. Or a bomb. Or something. But I found nothing. I was getting paranoid. Nickels Sr. was all talk. I had given him his money back so he couldn’t pursue me legally. He wanted to harass me, and he was doing a good job. I didn’t think I could become more unsettled than I already was. But now I had Nick Nickels Sr. to contend w
ith as well, even here in New York. This was all becoming more than I could handle.
Thinking over all my troubles reminded me I had not had a substantial conversation with my girlfriend since I had arrived in New York. I grabbed my PDA from my pocket. No missed calls. She hadn’t even called me back. I sat on the side of the bed, staring at my phone. I was a fool if I thought this was just a phase. I couldn’t deny the emotional distance between us. I felt isolated, in limbo, never clear where I stood. I grabbed my phone, hitting the speed dial for Sara’s number. The phone rang a couple of times. Then I had Sara live.
“Hello.”
“Hi, lover. Just checking in.”
“Dammit, Jon, I’m on the other line with a really important client. You know the drill when you’re on the road. I’ll call you tonight when I’m ready for bed.”
“Oh, okay.”
“Bye.”
“I just wanted—” Click. I kept the phone to my ear. “—to tell you I love you.” I put the phone on my lap. That was that. Momentarily defeated, I stared at the wall, empty.
Finally, I shook my head, figuring the best thing for me to do was work. I grabbed my laptop out of my bag, powered it up, and logged into my email. Good to her word, Maggie had already sent me a list of family members and friends I needed to contact. I immediately set to making phone calls and sending emails, lining up the rest of my time in New York. I was a bit disappointed because the two key people I truly wanted to talk to were unavailable. Tony Vespucci and Giancarlo Balducci had both left town on unexpected business trips, so I’d have to wait until my next trip to interview them. In the interim, I’d have time to sketch out Maggie and Marco’s story, and anything new I discovered on the next trip could be added in. Once I’d outlined my interview time frame, I ordered room service and passed out with the television on.
Jon Fixx Page 18
