Whistler's Angel

by John R. Maxim

  “Adam, she’s hardly a child.”

  “Have you tried speaking to her?”

  “I’ve spoken to her mother. Granted that Claudia’s had a change in perspective. But you’re looking for diminished capacity, Adam. Sounds to me more like it’s been heightened.”

  Whistler paused to rub his face. This was out of control.

  “Say you’re right,” he told his father. “You’re not, but say you are. Say Claudia and I ride off into the sunset. What makes you think that Aubrey and Poole will keep their end this time around?”

  “For openers? They know they won’t get another chance. I’ll come after them with everything I’ve got.”

  “Yeah, but...”

  “I told Poole that I would have stayed on the sidelines if they hadn’t pulled that dumb-ass raid. I don’t need a war either. I have better things to do. All I wanted was to help you walk away clean. No one had to have been hurt on either side and Aubrey wouldn’t be in a wheelchair.”

  “Aubrey? What wheelchair?”

  “You didn’t know?”

  “I’m the last to know anything. Someone got to him? When?”

  “The night before last. Carved him up pretty good. So it’s not as if he’s getting a pass.”

  “Yeah, but fill me in. Who’s this slasher we have? I know it wasn’t the twins.”

  He said, “No, not their style. It was another old friend who caught Aubrey with his pants down. That’s no figure of speech. Caught taking a dump. Did some surgery on his lower extremities. Do you know if he has any kids, by the way?”

  “No, he doesn’t. ”

  “And he won’t. Consider him punitivized. This guy not only does not walk away, he doesn’t walk at all for quite a while.”

  Whistler blinked in disbelief. “And you still won’t say who?”

  TEN

  He stayed in Cherry Creek at her mother’s house until Claudia was released from the hospital. He had dreaded the prospect, but her mother insisted. She said that her house was the safest place for him, “what with snipers all over the place.”

  “Um…what snipers?”

  “Here and outside the hospital, too. And a couple are watching the

  police chief and mayor. Your father didn’t tell you about that?”

  “He did say that he would look after you.”

  Yes, he had. However, there were probably no snipers. Maybe one or two observers. Maybe even the twins. All his father had done was to call Mrs. Geller on a phone that he knew to be tapped. He told her that he had sharpshooters in place, but don’t worry, they’re experts and they’re all well concealed. Just go about your business as usual.

  Whistler had been reluctant to stay at her house for fear that she’d lay into him for even considering taking her daughter away for a year. She didn’t, he realized, because she hadn’t heard. His father was apparently saving that news until she got over to Geneva. Kate Geller had accepted his invitation, swayed by the prospect of a month’s peace of mind while her greenhouse was being repaired. She wouldn’t have to worry that a phantom sniper might pop some poor salesman who blundered to her door. More than that, he’d arranged for further medical care while Claudia rested and healed. Not least, Kate Geller would have that month to decide whether she should thank his father or strangle him.

  Claudia was released and was able to travel. Her mother had packed two suitcases for her and brought a change of clothing to the hospital. She brought a pair of slacks and a big loose-fitting sweater that fit over the cervical collar. Whistler had hired a private ambulance that would take them directly to their plane. Claudia asked her mother to ride up front for the forty minute ride to Denver’s airport. She said, “I need to have a private chat with Adam.”

  Two minutes into the ride, she leaned toward him. In a low voice, she asked, “You still think I’ll be a nag?”

  “No, I didn’t really mean that.”

  “Still think I won’t be any good in the sack?”

  “I never said any such thing.”

  “Well, just so you know, the doctor said we can have sex as long as it’s

  nothing too athletic.”

  “Claudia…”

  “Oh, Adam, lighten up. Don’t you know when I’m teasing?”

  “I’m still…having a little trouble with all this.”

  “But as long as we’re on the subject of sex, aren’t you dying to find out what it’s like? I mean, how many angels have you boffed?”

  “Um…we’re still teasing? You’re not serious, right?”

  “On the other hand, angels don’t do humans as a rule. For me, it might be a real letdown. You think?”

  She was watching his expression. She reached to take his hand. She said, “Yes, Adam, I’m still teasing you.”

  He muttered, weakly, “I knew that.”

  She said, “Okay, Adam, all kidding aside. All I’m trying to do now is make you comfortable with me. We’ve both got to try to relax.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “No, you’re not, and you’ve never been comfortable with me, especially not after we’ve made love.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Yes, it is, Adam, and now we know why. You were holding so much back. That’s changed, but now there’s this. You do love me, don’t you?”

  “From the first day I met you.”

  “Then give us a chance. We’ll be okay.”

  He had booked an overnight flight to Geneva, with a change of planes in New York. All three slept through most of the crossing. His father met their plane at Geneva’s Cointrin Airport. His limo was waiting for them on the tarmac.

  The chauffeur had a wheelchair for Claudia. An escort car, engines running, stood near. Two bodyguards in it. Whistler didn’t recognize them. The twins were probably still back in Denver having seen to their safe departure.

  Whistler’s father, who’d arranged that they needn’t go through Customs, was dressed in a business suit and tie. He had gotten a haircut and his beard had been trimmed. It seemed to Whistler that the look he was going for was that of a respectable businessman. He had greeted Claudia with a kiss on both cheeks after first kissing Kate Geller’s hand.

  Kate Geller nudged Whistler, “This the housebroken version?”

  “Be nice,” Whistler answered. “He’s trying.”

  His father’s home, in which Whistler had grown up, was a three story town house on the Place Des Alpes. It was one of Geneva’s many park-like squares and one of its better addresses. The house was, like its neighbors, of white brick and mansard roofed with a flower box in every window.

  The house to its right was his father’s as well. Whistler hadn’t been inside it in years. From the outside it looked very much like the others. It was staffed and run like a small hotel with rooms for any visiting associates. It had two meeting rooms, one of which was a “bubble room” impervious to listening devices. The top floor was his father’s communications center staffed by several full-time employees. It probably contained more eavesdropping equipment than most foreign embassy buildings. Whistler doubted that Kate would be given a tour. She would have to be content with the residence.

  Whistler’s father had arranged to have Claudia’s records forwarded to his personal physician. He had also arranged for a visiting nurse who was trained as a physical therapist. The doctor didn’t want her using the stairs, so his father had converted a first-floor study into a bedroom for Claudia. His father had moved out of his second floor suite. That was where Kate Geller would stay. Whistler was given a room on that floor that had been his own, growing up. There was still another guestroom on the second floor, but his father had chosen not to use it. That room had been Alicia’s. That might have been the reason. Or perhaps he simply thought that for propriety’s sake he should not be on the same floor as Kate. He opted to stay up on the third floor where his driver and housekeeper also had rooms. Whistler knew them both well. They were long-time employees. Both did double-duty as bodyguards.

&nbs
p; “It’s so pretty,” said Kate as she was being shown the house. “Very warm. And inviting. I’m surprised.”

  “You expected a barracks?” asked his father.

  “No, in your case, a bunker. But a woman must have done this. Your wife?”

  “Every stick.”

  The furnishings were an interesting mixture of styles. Mostly Empire, Queen Anne and a little Swiss Rustic with rich Persian carpets on the floors. Good art on the walls, mostly Dutch - Vermeer and Mondrian - and a French artist’s portrait of…well, Whistler’s mother. She was in her early thirties when she sat for it.

  A better word would have been squirmed for it, recalled Whistler. The artist had tried for a classical pose. Sitting straight, very regal, chin held high. She wouldn’t do it. The smile, intended to be elegant, serene, looked like that of a woman who was trying not to laugh. Her eyes said, “I just can’t believe that I’m doing this. Please don’t take this seriously. This isn’t me. Get me out of this gown and into some jeans. Oh, hell, go ahead. It’s for Harry.”

  Kate saw that at once. “You must have had to tie her down.”

  “Not me,” said his father. “I knew nothing about it. The portrait was a birthday surprise.”

  “You haven’t told me her name.”

  “It was Andrea.”

  “She’s lovely.”

  “Yes, she was. Even now, I’m still amazed that she married me. One would think that she could have done better.”

  “One would think,” said Kate Geller.

  “Beg your pardon?”

  “Just agreeing.”

  “Well, feel free to contradict me any time.”

  Claudia had also admired the portrait, but she seemed to have something else on her mind. Whistler asked, was something wrong? She took him aside.

  “You and I are going to have separate rooms on separate floors?”

  “We…didn’t sleep together in your mother’s house either.”

  “Are you stalling?”

  “Not at all. But what’s the rush? You’re still healing.”

  He was certainly stalling and a little afraid. That first time…the time that they’d made love while going camping was awkward for its own set of reasons. They quickly became less self-conscious with each other, but Claudia had been right. There was still something missing. The only thing that made it fall short of being great was his awareness that he was still lying to her and that she would eventually find him out.

  Now there were no more lies. She knew who he was. Well, sort of. She had yet to see that side of him. It was now more a question of who Claudia was and how different she thought sex would be. Would she expect celestial trumpets? An orgasmic super-nova? There was only one way to find out, he supposed. He hoped that she would not be disappointed.

  Kate Geller had overheard the exchange. While Claudia was being shown

  to her room, she nudged him again and said, “Adam, relax. There’s such a thing as thinking too much.”

  He asked, “How would you know what I’m thinking?”

  “Daughters talk to their mothers. She knows that you have all kinds of misgivings. She said you told her that you love her. Did you mean it?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “Then be patient, Adam. You’ll work it out.”

  “Working it out takes two rational people.”

  “You think love is rational? Who told you that? All you can do is follow your heart and dance to the music while it lasts.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “On the subject of irrational behavior, Adam, something seems to be developing between me and your father. Would that bother you, by the way?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Unlike yours, ours might not be a match made in heaven. Here I am, this hick who grows plants in Colorado. There he is, this, well…whatever he is…who’s been known to do a different kind of planting.”

  “Mrs. Geller…”

  “My point is, If I’m willing to dance with the devil, why should you get uptight about an angel?”

  “He’s not a devil.”

  “I know that, Adam. He’s only a man. And Claudia is still just a woman.”

  “Yeah, but…”

  “You’re looking that horse in the mouth again, Adam. There doesn’t have to be any ‘but.’ You ought to try counting your blessings.”

  He supposed that he’d never thought of his father in terms of having a woman in his life. There must have been some since his mother died. But perhaps there were none who had gotten to know him before they had any idea who he was. Like Claudia and himself. Two very different worlds. As with Claudia and himself, maybe that was the attraction. Whatever. Here they were. And Kate Geller was right. They should dance to the music while it lasts.

  Within a week he and Claudia were going on day trips, returning for her therapy sessions and treatments. They went out on his father’s boat a few times. He taught her the basics of sailing. On land, he took her touring, a few trips by car, but mostly they traveled by train. He thought that travel by train would be less exhausting, so he bought Eurail passes for the two of them. Half of Europe was within a few hours by rail. He showed her some of Switzerland, some of France, some of Germany.

  Claudia was thrilled, like a kid on Christmas morning. To begin with, she’d never been on a train. Most Americans hadn’t if one doesn’t count subways. In Europe, it’s the best way to travel.

  At first, he’d booked them a first class compartment, but Claudia preferred to wander through the cars meeting and mixing with the passengers. She was very outgoing, much more so than he, and no one seemed able to resist her warm smile. Most of them spoke some English and, if they did not, Whistler would act as translator. She was very impressed to learn that he was fluent in most of the languages they would encounter. It had not occurred to her that he’d be multi-lingual, having grown up in the middle of Europe.

  Europeans are often taken aback by the easy affability of Americans. This was not the case with Claudia at all. People seemed instantly comfortable with her. They would ask with concern what had happened to her neck. She would shrug it off as nothing and ask about them. She would want to know where they were going, where they came from, and she’d ask their advice on places to visit. If they’d brought a lunch with them, they would ask her to share it. If they traveled with children, she would play with the children. If they traveled with pets, she would ask to hold the pets.

  Oh, yes. The pets. She would hold small dogs and cats in her arms and walk with them up and down the aisle. She would speak softly to them and they would respond with a lick or the touch of a paw. Whistler didn’t realize what was happening at the time, but this was where the talking to animals began. He wasn’t sure when they began talking back. Or at least when she started to hear them.

  Even without her thing with the animals, Whistler had serious concerns. If the plan was for them to lay low for a year, that meant not attracting attention to themselves. But Claudia seemed a magnet. One could not fail to notice her. And once noticed, everybody seemed to want to approach her. This was new. Well, sort of. She had always been approachable. But he supposed that when a woman in convinced that she’s an angel, she’s bound to radiate an extra measure of warmth. He half expected to see cripples hobbling after her to touch her. But it was nothing like that. They just liked her.

  And there was a flip side that might not be so bad. No one seemed to be paying much attention to him beyond what was minimally polite. The attraction was Claudia. He was just, well…some guy. Compared to her he was almost invisible. That might not be a bad thing after all.

  What mattered for the moment was that she was happy, especially when they would detrain and explore. To her, every vista was new and exotic. Not the cities so much. They’d become too modern-looking. Downtown Frankfurt, for example, could well have been Houston, having been almost totally rebuilt since the war. But dozens of quaint little villages and towns had survived the war undisturbed. A few looked like something out o
f Hansel and Gretel. She’d want to hop off the train and tour them on foot until she was thoroughly exhausted.

  Whistler let that happen. He let her get tired. That way, getting home, she’d fall asleep right after dinner and the question of sex could be postponed a while longer.

  It wasn’t exactly that he dreaded the prospect. He knew that she claimed to have been pulling his leg on the subject of transcendent sex with an angel. But if she, in fact, had some unearthly expectations, how could he possibly live up to them?

  “Adam...” He could hear her mother’s voice in his head. “Stop fretting. Just follow the breadcrumbs.”

  Kate Geller and his father had stayed closer to home. Kate had been right. Something seemed to be developing. Not that the going was entirely smooth. They had obviously already had the discussion about their two kids going off for a year. Whistler knew this because he had happened to hear a part of a subsequent discussion.

  Well, he hadn’t just happened to hear it; he’d eavesdropped. He was sitting in the study where Claudia was napping. He’d left the door ajar, although not for that purpose. Kate and his father had gone for a walk. They’d been out in the square feeding birds. As they came back in, he heard his father’s voice asking, “How can I help you feel better about this?”

  She said, “I’d take her and run if I had any sense.”

  “Except Claudia won’t. She’s quite comfortable with it.”

  “Harry…we both know she’s out of her gourd. That aside for the moment, let’s talk about you.”

  “We’re just people, Kate. We’re a family just like yours.”

  “No, yours is a family like the Mafia’s a family. Mine is a family like the ones that go to church and then stop to pick up some Egg McMuffins.”

  He grunted. “In the first place, we are nothing like the Mafia. In the second place, Adam’s always gone his own way. My hope is that this will redirect him.”

  “So it’s true. This is part of a grand scheme you’ve hatched.”

  “Kate…I did not deal these cards.”

  “Oh, and who are those strange little men I keep seeing? There are two of them, right? Or have you cloned a whole bunch?”