by Raye Morgan
“Look, can we begin wrapping this up?” Dr. Strong said. “I’ve got another appointment soon.”
“Sure. But first, one more question about your background info. I checked out the places you list as your home ten to twenty years ago, before you became a media star, and there doesn’t seem to be any record of a Richie Strong in any of those places.”
The man was actually starting to sweat. “I—I changed my name once I knew I was going into public life. My original name was long and hard to pronounce.”
“I see. Exactly what was that name?”
“I don’t think you need to know that.”
“If I don’t know that, how can I check your previous employment and addresses?”
“You don’t need to check those things. If you don’t believe me, go write about someone else.” He stood, calling an end to the interview. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some real work to do.” Turning on his heel, he was out the door.
Daniel didn’t spend much time mulling over his meeting with Dr. Richie. He had other things to think about that afternoon—such as a meeting with the lawyer who’d been assigned to handle his case in the department hearing. He had a date now, and the lawyer seemed to think he had a good defense, but you never knew what might happen in these things. Political pressure counted for more than truth at times.
It was almost evening as he made his way to Abby’s apartment, and his cell phone rang as he pulled into the parking place.
“Yeah?” he said into the phone.
“Jimmy here. How ya doin’?”
“Great. Wonderful. The world is my oyster. How about you?”
“Not so good. I took in that NoWait oil to the lab for testing like you asked me. But there seems to be a problem.”
“Problem?”
He’d gone to the clinic and easily purchased his own little jar of the stuff after Abby stubbornly refused to let him use hers. Funny girl, that Abby. She had principles and standards and a fine sense of morality. He wasn’t used to seeing that in most of the people he dealt with. He had to admit it was going to take some getting used to. It also meant extra work at times. But maybe it was worth it. Time would tell, he supposed. One thing it meant—he knew he could count on her to do what was right. And that wasn’t always comfortable.
At any rate, he’d taken the jar of oil he’d purchased right over to Jimmy and he’d expected to get a detailed report by now.
“What sort of problem?”
“Okay, here’s the dope. The techie thinks there’s something funny about the stuff but he can’t quite pin it down. It needs analysis he can’t do, so he’s sending it over to the university. They’ve got a state-of-the-art lab over there and he thinks they might be able to get to the bottom of it. The only drawback is it will take a week or so to get the results.”
“Oh, man.”
“Yeah. I know you wanted something quicker than that. But it can’t be helped.”
“I guess not. Thanks, Jimmy. Let me know when you hear something.”
“Will do.”
Daniel put away the phone and sat for a moment, staring into space. He had a feeling this was going to be it. NoWait oil was going to be the culprit. Funny. Instead of triumph, he felt a sort of sad resignation. Maybe it was because he had that damn hearing on his mind. When you came right down to it, the hearing was going to impact his life a lot more than the verdict on NoWait oil.
Then he thought of Abby and his spirits rose. Leaving the car, he strode quickly to her door. She opened it before he’d finished knocking and she was in his arms before he had time to take another breath.
“You smell so good,” he murmured, holding her close and burying his face in her hair as they awkwardly made their way into the living room, clinging together like Velcro.
“And you feel so good,” she countered. She pulled back and looked into his face. “How did the meeting go?”
“The meeting?” For just a moment he thought she meant with the lawyer, but then he remembered that she didn’t know about that. “Oh, with Dr. Richie?”
She nodded, searching his face for clues.
“It went okay, I guess.”
She waited a moment, then went on impatiently. “So how do you feel about…things?”
He released her and slumped onto the couch, grimacing. “Feelings are not what we’re going for here. We need to use the old brain. Thinking. Facts.”
“Sorry.” She made a face at him and sat on the arm of the chair. “Well, then, what are you thinking?”
He shook his head and looked up at her almost apologetically. “I’m thinking the guy is as phony as a three-dollar bill.”
“Oh, Daniel.” She winced. “Did you give him a chance?”
“Yes, I gave him a chance. And he gave me nothing but lies and evasions. The guy is not a straight shooter from what I could determine.”
Abby bit her lip and looked away, obviously in a certain sort of anguish over this. “I wanted to believe in him,” she said softly.
“I know you did, honey.” Reaching out, he pulled her onto his lap. “I’m sorry.” He kissed her softly, then smiled into her sad face. “Forget about that for now.”
She nodded. “I’ve got to start getting ready for tonight’s seminar,” she reminded him. “It’s a special one. You’re coming, aren’t you?”
“Sure.” He nuzzled her neck and sighed. “But you know what? I’m hungry as all get out.”
“I could whip you up an omelet, but it will have to be a quickie. I’ve got to be at the seminar by…”
“Hmm.” He touched the tip of her earlobe with his tongue, making her squirm. “That’s not what I’m hungry for.”
“Ah.”
She laughed softly, looked at the clock and sighed as she turned in his arms. His mouth was on hers and she opened to his kiss, opening her heart at the same time. His hands slid up under her shirt, cupping her breasts and teasing her nipples, making her cry out as quick desire shot through her.
“Oh, Daniel! Not in front of Ming.”
He lifted from her and stared groggily at the cat.
“Ming,” he commanded, “get thee to a cattery.”
The cat stared back for a moment, golden eyes inscrutable, but then her ears flattened against her head and she slunk off down the hall toward the laundry room.
Abby laughed and abandoned herself to Daniel’s caresses. As he pulled away her clothing and explored her body, she closed her eyes and let herself sink into sensation. His touch was so wonderful. She’d never dreamed it could be this way.
She’d thought she wasn’t made for love. Her past experiences consisted of a few furtive near-disasters and nothing very satisfying. It was always a bit embarrassing, a bit humiliating.
But this…this was so different. The way he touched her made her feel special, adored, cherished. He made it very clear that her body excited him, that as things built to a climax, he got wild and crazy with need for her. But she never got the feeling that the sex was all he cared about. It was always him and her, not him and generic “woman” set on earth to fulfill his needs. He was making love to her and she was responding in kind.
She loved him. She loved the way his mouth felt on her breast, loved the way his fingers found her most sensitive areas and stroked her to arousal, the way his hard body took control of hers and sent her to the moon.
He towered over her as she lay back on the couch, and then he was plunging into her and she took over, wrapping him in her body, taking possession of his soul for that final moment of ecstasy.
He was hers. At least for now.
The seminar was even more crowded than usual. Dr. Richie’s fame was spreading and people were flocking in to see what he had to say about life—and to pick up some NoWait oil. Daniel surveyed the crowd and had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He wanted to warn them all, but he had no leg to stand on without those test results.
Looking around the room, he saw a lot of people he knew, including some
who were familiar with his role as a police detective. He saw Arline looking very friendly with a handsome young intern, and Carrie Martin looking nervous in a seat by herself. The sight of Wilbur Mason wasn’t surprising, but when he saw Ella sitting beside him, his jaw nearly dropped.
He couldn’t resist ribbing her a little and he made his way to the seat just behind her and leaned forward.
“Ella Crown, what are you doing here?”
She looked back at him and grimaced. “If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em.”
“Ella, tell me it isn’t so. I never thought I’d see you surrender to the cupid faction.”
She glared at him and jerked her thumb toward her companion. “Wilbur talked me into it. He said the doc might be able to help me calm down a bit and not be so cranky all the time.”
Daniel grinned. “He said that and you let him keep his head?”
Ella turned so that she could talk to him without being overheard. “You know, it’s not all that much fun being cranky. I figure, what the heck. I’ll give peace and love a try for a few days. I might even like it.”
Daniel laughed and patted her shoulder before rising and heading back to the outer fringes of the room where he could keep an eye on things. Then he settled back and waited to see if there were going to be any fireworks tonight.
Carrie’s hands were shaking and her heart was beating very fast. This was going to be hard. But it had to be done. Dr. Richie—her ex-husband—was winding down his lecture. It was time. If she was ever going to do it, it had to be now. She had to get this over with because she couldn’t live with this burden hanging over her any longer.
Rising from her chair, she started for the front of the room. No one tried to stop her. She saw the stairs ahead and she mounted them. Looking up, she saw surprised faces on the stage. She turned toward the audience.
“Hello, everyone. I’d like to be allowed to make a statement.”
“Ms. Martin,” Abby said from the rear of the stage, smiling at her with a worried look in her eyes. She was coming toward her as though she was prepared to escort her back to her seat. “I’m sorry but—”
“I have something I need to say about Dr. Richie,” Carrie said urgently, her voice louder now. “Please let me say it. I just have to tell you all what I think of Dr. Richie.”
The rest of the staff on the stage, obviously thinking this was going to be some sort of a testimonial to the doctor and his work, began to smile and encourage her. Abby followed their lead, but she was looking more and more worried.
“Well,” Dr. Richie said graciously, smiling at her, “if you feel you must.” And he relinquished the microphone to her.
Carrie looked at him. He was giving her the smile he reserved for conquests. He must be thinking she’d had a change of heart from the other day at the bus stop. She yanked her gaze away. She couldn’t look at him if she was going to get through this. Gripping the podium with all her might, she tried to keep her knees from knocking. Looking up, she began.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I’ve known the man you call Dr. Richie for over twenty years. I knew him back in Apopka, Florida, when we both were kids. I probably know him better than anyone else in this room.”
The faces were still pleasant, turned up to her expectantly. She went on.
“And I’m sorry to tell you, Dr. Richie is a fraud.”
There was stunned silence for a moment as people looked at each other and waited for the punch line that was surely coming. When it didn’t materialize, gasps were heard here and there among the participants. The staff onstage was paralyzed with horror and astonishment. Dr. Richie looked stunned.
“What are you talking about?” someone called from the audience.
“This is what I’m talking about,” she said. “I know a lot of you love him. I know you depend on him. It’s all very well if you think his products and his methods work for you. That’s wonderful. And that’s just what I know he wants. But I think you have to know the truth about him. A life based on lies will crumble and poison everything and everyone around it. And the lies must stop.”
There was a murmur in the crowd and everyone on stage was looking toward Dr. Richie, obviously waiting for a sign from him as to what they should do. But Dr. Richie was standing as though rooted to the ground. He was staring at Carrie and looking white as a sheet.
“I know you believe your Dr. Richie is wonderful,” Carrie was saying. “And I know he really wants to be everything you think he is. But it’s time to tear away the curtain. Richard is a flawed human being, just as we all are. He’s not the perfect paragon you think he is.”
“Sit down, woman,” someone called furiously from the audience. “Who are you to say these things about him?”
Carrie lifted her head and went on. “My name is Carrie Martin,” she said. “But it was once Carolyn Strokudnowski and I was married to a man named Richard Strokudnowski. We loved each other very much, but we had different goals, and our marriage was torn apart. I went my way and married a man named Ralph Martin. Richard went his and became a fitness guru named Richie Strong.”
The gasps were louder now. Carrie kept her gaze firmly toward the crowd. She knew she wouldn’t be able to go on if she saw Richard’s face.
“I’m afraid my ex-husband has been presenting himself as something he isn’t,” she said. “He has his talents, but medical miracles will never be among them. Richard always tried hard, but he was all thumbs when it came to chemistry. He could talk you into anything, but he couldn’t get formulas right. He couldn’t even manage to make a decent oil and vinegar dressing when we had dinner. And he had to retake several courses in the process of getting his doctorate in Nutrition Systems. He doesn’t tell you that. And he didn’t graduate from Harvard as it says on his brochure. Actually, it was the University of Jasmine Island off the coast of California. A decent place, but hardly the prestigious institution he claims.”
By now she had the full attention of the crowd and the staff. She felt it and she took a deep breath, forcing herself to relax a little.
“He was never much good at facing reality,” she said. “If you read his material, you would think that he was a miracle worker. He lists a string of marvelous results he claims he’s had in the past. Well, let me set you straight. He can’t work miracles. Those things he lists are exaggerations. He will do his best for you, I’m sure, but you must be careful of anything he tries to get you to use and you must take his advice with a grain of salt and understand that anything he recommends is just an experiment, not a cure-all. And with experimentation there are often unforeseen consequences.”
“Like what?” a voice from the audience challenged.
“Beware of the NoWait oil,” she said, her voice gaining power. “Haven’t you noticed that people who take it are changing before your eyes?”
There was a sudden commotion and people began to cry out. Looking over her shoulder, Carrie saw Dr. Richie disappearing off the stage into the back area. And then Daniel O’Callahan was charging the stage and running out the back way, obviously in pursuit.
Carrie slumped against the podium, all energy suddenly drained. It was over. Richard was unmasked. Perhaps he was ruined. She wasn’t sure. But she was sure what she’d done was the only thing she could do. The lies had to be countered with truth. That was the only way he could go on and maybe do it right the next time.
But she still hadn’t told him the biggest secret of all. She hadn’t told him that they had a son together, a son he never knew about. That would have to wait for another day.
Abby sat staring at her hands. She’d been doing that for hours, it seemed, but she couldn’t make herself get up and do anything else.
Ming jumped in her lap and looked up into her face with a worried meow, but she didn’t notice. She stared at her hands.
Her mind was filled with Daniel and Dr. Richie and Carrie Martin and the fact that her life had pretty much melted away tonight. Dr. Richie wasn’t what she’d thought he was and Danie
l wasn’t what she’d thought he was. The two most important men in her life were both frauds. Where did she go from here? She wasn’t altogether sure she could handle this.
When the bell rang, she knew it was going to be Daniel. What was he going to say to her? What could he say?
She felt wooden as she went to greet him and she let him in without a smile. He searched her face, then swore softly.
“Did you catch him?” she asked.
“Dr. Richie? No. He got out the back way and locked a steel door. We had to go back around and by the time we got there, he’d already driven off. The state troopers are looking for him now.”
She sighed, nodding, then looked into his face. “Is it that I’m just so stupid?” she asked him quietly. “Or are all the men I deal with really good liars?”
He winced. “I guess you’ve already figured it out, haven’t you?” he said.
“That you’re not a journalist? That you’re a cop who was investigating Dr. Richie all along?” She turned away from him. “Yes. I got the general idea when you took off after the doctor the way you did, but others in the audience who know you filled me in on everything I didn’t know.” She turned back and stared at him, her eyes clouded. “It’s somewhat humiliating to be told by perfect strangers that the man I’ve been sleeping with is not who I thought he was.”
He winced and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” he said softly.
She shook her head. “Sorry isn’t good enough.”
“What can I do to make it up to you?”
She closed her eyes. “Be that other person. Turn back the clock and tell me the truth this time.”
He took her by the shoulders. “Abby, I’m the same person. Honest. The only difference is—”
She opened her eyes and glared at him. “The only difference is you’re a liar.”
He pulled his hands back and stared at her. Pain shivered in his gaze, and then a sort of anger. Wordlessly, he turned away and went out the door.
