Worst Fears Realized

by Stuart Woods

  “You rest, and I’ll fix us some breakfast”, she said, then went away.

  Stone lay staring at the ceiling, then drifted off. He was awakened by Dolce getting back into bed and by wonderful smells. He sat up and built a backrest of pillows, and Dolce set a tray in his lap. He stared down at scrambled eggs, sausages, English muffins, orange juice, and a thermos of coffee. The Sunday New York Times was on the bed beside him.

  “I could get used to this,” he said, buttering or muffin. He looked over, and Dolce was having melon and coffee. “You fattening me up for something?” The eggs were delicious.

  “You don’t gain weight,” she said. “I know all about you; you eat and eat, and stay the same size. How do you do that?”

  “I chose my parents well; they were both slim all their lives.”

  “If I ate everything my aunt Rosaria put in front of me, I would weigh four hundred pounds,” she said.

  “Are you named for her?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is she your only other relative?”

  “Most of my relatives are dead; Mama died last year, and Papa’s two older brothers died a long time ago, when they were in their twenties.”

  “In their twenties? Of what?”

  “Of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “Oh.”

  “Papa wasn’t even allowed to go to the funeral; his father shipped him off to Columbia Law School and told everybody he was in Europe, studying. He wasn’t allowed to come to Brooklyn for three years. He was the only student in law school who went to class armed.”

  “It’s hard to think of your father doing anything as crude as firing a weapon.”

  “He never had to, as it turned out, but Papa is a survivor; he would have done whatever was necessary.” She gazed at him. “It’s a family trait.”

  “Did you know your grandfather?”

  “No, he died a long time before I was born. Papa was still in his twenties, so he had a heavy burden to bear. He didn’t marry for a long time, for fear of making his wife a widow. It took him years of work to stabilize the situation he inherited. It was a mess.”

  “But no longer?”

  “No longer. Papa has devoted his life to making the family respectable; that was why he was so upset when I married Johnny.”

  “Why did you marry him?”

  She laughed. “I was a virgin. With Papa watching over me, it was the only way I could get laid.”

  “There must have been more to it than that.”

  She laughed again. “Not really. When I went out, I was always watched by somebody Papa sent. If I had let a boy make a wrong move, he would have gotten hurt, and I couldn’t have that on my conscience.”

  “I’m glad to know you have a conscience.”

  “Of course, I have a conscience!” she nearly yelled. “You think I’m like my grandfather?”

  “I have very little idea of what you’re like, except in bed, and there you are spectacular.”

  “A native talent,” she said, “like singing.”

  “I believe you.” Stone set aside his breakfast tray and began leafing through the Times. He found it in the Metro section. “Here it is,” he said, showing Dolce the paper.

  “That’s Mitteldorfer?”

  “Yep.”

  “He looks like such a little twerp.”

  “He is, but he’s a dangerous one.”

  “Where do you think he is?”

  “My guess? Manhattan, somewhere on the East Side, living well. That’s why I’m hoping one of his new neighbors will recognize the picture.”

  “Who’s the one in this drawing? He looks like Mitteldorfer.”

  “That’s the drawing done from Mary Ann’s description of the man who attacked her. They really do look a lot alike, don’t they?” Stone stared at the two pictures. “Holy shit!”

  “What?”

  Stone picked up the bedside phone and called Dino.

  “Hello?”

  “I’m looking at the Times. You notice anything about Mitteldorfer’s photograph and the police sketch?”

  “Sure, they look alike. Remember the guy who cut your neighbor’s throat? He looked like Mitteldorfer with hair. That’s why we checked to see if he had any kids, and we drew a blank; just a nephew, and he’s living in Germany.”

  “Dino, if Mitteldorfer has another wife, as Arlene said he did, maybe he’s got a kid by her.”

  “Ah, good point.”

  “You have any luck on the marriage records?”

  “Not yet. The computer records only go back a few years, but I’ve got a couple of rookies going through the old files, on microfilm.”

  “That’s it, I know it is. If we can find the first Mrs. Mitteldorfer, then we can find her son, and then we’ll find Mitteldorfer. Why don’t you check everybody by that name in the state? Hell, in the country; it can’t be that common a name.”

  “I’ll get my people on it first thing tomorrow morning. How was your dinner last night?”

  “I’ll tell you later; call me if anything comes up. Oh, I almost forgot: how’d it go at the theater opening last night?”

  “Zilch; nothing happened.”

  “Maybe Mitteldorfer doesn’t know Palmer’s name.”

  “That’s my guess. When are you coming back to town?”

  “I’m not sure; I can’t go back to the house.”

  “Okay, talk to you later.”

  Stone hung up. “I don’t suppose you’ve had any results yet from your inquiries at Sing Sing?”

  “Let me make a call,” she said, picking up the phone on her side of the bed. She dialed a number. “You know who this is? What have you got?” She signaled Stone for paper and pen, and Stone got out of bed to get it. “Yeah. Spell it. You got an address? What’s the parole officer’s name? Thanks.” She hung up and handed Stone the pad. Three names were written on it. “The first two were in with Mitteldorfer; the third name is the parole officer for both of them; they were both released before Mitteldorfer was. My man couldn’t get an address, but he says they were both tight with your man.”

  “That’s something to go on,” Stone said. “But not before tomorrow. Come on, let’s get dressed and out of the house. It’s a beautiful spring day, and there’s an auction up the road somewhere.”

  “An auction of what?”

  “You know, a country auction—lots of stuff.”

  “What kind of stuff?”

  “Antiques, furniture, pictures, bric-a-brac.”

  “Can’t do it; I’ve got to get back to the city.”

  “But it’s Sunday.”

  “I’ve got a board meeting tomorrow, and I’ve got to read over a hundred grant applications by then.”

  “Aw.”

  “Besides, there’s too much oxygen up here for a city girl. You said you don’t want to go back to your house?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Why don’t you stay with me?”

  “In Brooklyn?”

  “Of course not; I live in the East Sixties.”

  “Sure you’ve got room?”

  “Sure; you don’t take up much space.”

  “Maybe I’ll come into the city tonight; that okay?”

  “Sure.” She wrote down her address. “Call me on your car phone when you’re in the block, and I’ll open the garage door for you.”

  “You and I must be the only people in the city with a garage.”

  “Could be.” Dolce got up, threw her things in a bag, kissed him, and left the house.

  A moment later, he heard the Ferrari’s high-pitched roar. A moment after that, he was asleep again, exhausted.

  48

  S TONE WAS JERKED AWAKE BY A LOUD ringing. For a moment, he thought it had been a dream, then it rang again. It wasn’t the phone; could it be the door? He had never heard his own doorbell. He got up, got into a cotton robe, and padded downstairs.

  Arrington was standing on the porch.

  “Good morning,” he said sleepily. �
��Come in.” She was wearing faded jeans, a chambray shirt knotted under her breasts, and no makeup. He thought she had never looked more beautiful.

  She put her arms around his waist and leaned into his shoulder. “Good morning,” she said.

  “Would you like some coffee?”

  “Yes, all right.”

  He moved away from her and into the kitchen, where he busied himself making coffee.

  Arrington came and sat on a stool at the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room. “I take it I just missed Ms. Bianchi?”

  “Yes.”

  “I saw her drive away.”

  Stone turned. “Did she see you?”

  “No.”

  He breathed a sigh of relief.

  “I like the cottage; it suits you.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Did you choose it with Ms. Bianchi?”

  “No.” He didn’t elaborate on that.

  “I like it even better, then.”

  “I’m glad; you’ll have to bring Vance and Peter over.”

  She said nothing.

  “What brings you out on a Sunday morning?”

  “I thought I might go to a country auction, then I found myself driving by the green and thought I would rather see you.”

  “Oh.” He poured them both a cup of coffee. “Have you had breakfast?”

  “Yes. When you live with Vance Calder, there’s always a servant at hand to grant your every wish.” She didn’t sound very happy about it.

  “So, how’s life in LA? Do you like it out there?”

  “It’s all right, when I’m not being kidnapped.”

  “I hope you haven’t made a habit of it,” he said.

  “No; you were kind enough to put an end to that. I’ll always be grateful.” She put her hand on his.

  “You’re welcome,” he said.

  “I know you’re not very comfortable with gratitude; but I had to say it, anyway. Vance feels the same way. He likes you very much, you know.”

  “And I like him.”

  “Let’s sit in the living room,” she said, taking her coffee and making her way to a sofa.

  Stone followed and sat down next to her, leaving a respectable distance between them.

  “How have you spent the time since we last saw each other?” Arrington asked.

  The memory of their last time together flooded back. They had been in the bedroom of a Bel-Air Hotel suite, and Arrington had been naked. “Oh, the usual”, he said. “A little work, a little play.”

  “How is Dino?” she asked.

  “Very angry; he doesn’t like his family being in danger.”

  She nodded. “And Elaine?”

  “Exactly the same.”

  “Give them both my love, will you?”

  “I will.”

  There was a long silence; Stone struggled to find something to say. “Are you writing?” he asked, finally.

  “I started a novel, but after a couple of chapters I sort of gave up on it.”

  “Don’t give up. You’d write a very fine novel; you have all the skills.”

  “I don’t know that I’m cut out to be a novelist,” she said.

  “Why not?”

  “I think that, in order to write a good novel, you have to be able to face reality, and I’m not very good at that.”

  “What is it about reality that you find so hard to face?”

  “The reality is that I want to be with you.”

  That sucked the wind right out of Stone; he was unable to respond.

  “I think about you all the time; about having dinner with you and Dino and Elaine; about living in your house; about making love to you; I think about that a lot.”

  Stone put down his coffee and massaged his temples. This was pretty much all he had thought about, until recently. Now she was here. What was he going to do about it?

  “Do you think about me?”

  “Yes.”

  She moved closer. “Do you think about making love to me?”

  “Yes.”

  She sat up on her knees on the sofa and ran a hand through his hair. With her other hand, she pulled loose the tie of his robe and ran her hand inside.

  Stone took her hand and put his on her shoulder, then took her into his arms and kissed her face. “Don’t,” he said. “It’s too painful.”

  “I want the pain to stop,” she said. “I want you.”

  “You know very well that I want you, too.”

  “Then I’m yours.”

  Stone took a deep breath. “No,” he said, “you’re not.”

  “I want to be yours again.”

  “I can’t let myself want that.”

  “Why not? We can have each other.”

  “No, we can’t.” Stone could not believe he was saying this.

  “I’ll come back to New York; I’ll get a divorce. I should never have married Vance.”

  “But you did.”

  “I made a stupid mistake,” she said. “Do I have to pay for it the rest of my life?”

  “We both do.”

  “I want to come back, Stone.”

  “You can’t take Vance’s son away from him; I won’t be a party to that.”

  “Then I’ll leave Peter with Vance. I can still see him.”

  “Arrington, I saw you with that baby last night; you love being his mother, and if I came between you, you’d end up hating me for it.”

  “I want you more.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  She sat up and pulled his robe open. “Make love to me,” she said. She ran her hands down his body and kissed him on the neck and shoulders. “Just this once; make love to me. Then, if you still want me to go, I will.”

  Stone took her shoulders and held her away from him. “Listen to me,” he said. “I’ve done things in my life I’m not proud of, but I’ve never been an adulterer, and I’m not going to start now—not even with you, in spite of the fact that I’ve loved you more than any woman I’ve ever known. I just can’t do it.”

  Tears spilled down her cheeks. “Stone, I love you.”

  “Arrington, some part of me will always love you.”

  “Then why can’t we be together?”

  “We both made choices that we’re going to have to learn to live with.”

  “I was living with them until I saw you last night,” Arrington said. “Really, I was.”

  “Then you can do it again.” Stone stood up and pulled her to her feet. “You have to go home, now.” He walked her slowly toward the door, his arm around her. She was still crying. On the way to the door, Stone grabbed a handful of tissues from a box on an end table.

  At the open door, she turned and faced him. “Don’t send me away; please don’t do that.”

  “You have to go,” he said.

  “You don’t really want me to go.” She sobbed.

  He dabbed at her eyes with the tissues. “What I want doesn’t matter anymore.”

  She took the tissues and blew her nose loudly. “Kiss me goodbye?”

  He took her face in his hands and kissed her lips lightly. “Goodbye, sweet girl,” he said.

  She turned and ran for the Range Rover parked in his drive. In a moment, she had driven away.

  Stone walked back into the house and closed the door, trying hard to swallow the lump in his throat. Then he heard a car door slam outside. Oh, God, he thought, she’s come back, and I won’t be able to send her away again.

  He went and opened the front door, ready to take her in his arms. Vance Calder stood on the little porch. “Hello, Stone,” he said.

  “Hello, Vance,” Stone said weakly. “Will you come in?”

  “No,” Vance replied. “I just want to know if I have anything to worry about from you.”

  Stone shook his head. “No, Vance, you don’t.”

  Vance took a deep breath. “Thank you for that,” he said.

  “Just try to find a way to make her happy.”

  Vance nodded, squeezed Sto
ne’s shoulder, went back to his car, and drove away.

  Stone went back inside, hoping that every Sunday morning in Connecticut was not going to be as hard as this one.

  49

  S TONE LOCKED UP THE HOUSE, GOT INTO his car, and drove away. He wasn’t sure he’d done the right thing about Arrington, and it was killing him. He kept thinking about what it would be like to have her back again; then he would think about her son and his father and come back to the same place. When he had reached Pleasantville, he called Dino.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, it’s Stone.”

  “Where are you?”

  “On the Saw Mill River Parkway. Can you meet me at P.J. Clarke’s in an hour?”

  “What’s up?”

  “I’ve got a lead.”

  “From where?”

  “Don’t ask, just be there, and for Christ’s sake, be sure you aren’t followed.”

  “Awright in an hour at Clarke’s.”

  He was in Yonkers when the car phone rang. “Hello?”

  “Stone, it’s Bill Eggers.”

  “Hi, Bill.”

  “We have to talk, and we can’t do it on a car phone.”

  “What’s up?”

  “Let’s meet somewhere; when are you due back in the city?”

  “I’m meeting Dino at Clarke’s in half an hour; you want to join me?”

  “That’s fine; this concerns him, too. I’ll see you in half an hour.” He hung up.

  Stone punched the phone off. Now what?

  Back in the city, he found a parking spot near Clarke’s, then went inside. Dino was already halfway through a scotch.

  “Hey,” Dino said.

  “How was your weekend?”

  “Lousy; how was yours?”

  “Don’t ask,” Stone replied.

  “What’s this about a lead?”

  Stone took the paper from his pocket. “I’ve got two names that Mitteldorfer was friendly with in Sing Sing.” He handed it to Dino. “They’re both on parole, and they’ve got the same Manhattan parole officer. Tomorrow morning, will you give him a call and find out where they are? I’d like to talk to them with you.”

  “You bet your ass,” Dino said. “It’s about time we got somewhere with this.”

  “Here comes Bill Eggers,” Stone said, nodding at the door. “He wants to talk to us about something; I don’t know what.”