“Will you go see him?”
“If it will get you off my back.”
The following morning Peter Templeton’s secretary said, “Detective Pappas is calling on line one.”
Peter picked up the phone. “Hello, Nick.”
“I think you and I better have a little talk, my friend.”
Peter felt a sudden anxiety stirring in him. “Did you talk to someone about Mellis?”
“I talked to Old Man Mellis himself. First of all, he’s never had a heart attack in his life, and second, he said as far as he’s concerned, his son George is dead. He cut him off without a dime a few years ago. When I asked why, the old man hung up on me. Then I called one of my old buddies at headquarters in Athens. Your George Mellis is a real beauty. The police know him well. He gets his kicks beating up girls and boys. His last victim before he left Greece was a fifteen-year-old male prostitute. They found his body in a hotel, and tied him in with Mellis. The old man bought somebody off, and Georgie boy got his ass kicked out of Greece. For good. Does that satisfy you?”
It did more than satisfy Peter; it terrified him. “Thanks, Nick. I owe you one.”
“Oh, no, pal. I think I’d like to collect on
this
one. If your boy’s on the loose again, you’d better tell me.”
“I will as soon as I can, Nick. Give my love to Tina.” And Peter hung up. He had a lot to think about. George Mellis was coming in at noon.
Dr. John Harley was in the middle of an examination when his receptionist said, “Mrs. George Mellis is here to see you, Doctor. She has no appointment, and I told her your schedule is—”
John Harley said, “Bring her in the side door and put her in my office.”
Her face was paler than the last time, and the shadows under her eyes were darker. “I’m sorry to barge in on you like this, John, but—”
“That’s all right, Alexandra. What’s the problem?”
“Everything. I—I feel awful.”
“Have you been taking the Wellbutrin regularly?”
“Yes.”
“And you still feel depressed?”
Her hands were clenched. “It’s worse than depression. It’s—I feel desperate. I feel as though I have no control over anything anymore. I can’t stand myself. I’m afraid I’m—I’m going to do something terrible.”
Dr. Harley said reassuringly, “There’s nothing physically wrong with you. I’ll stake my reputation on that. It’s all emotional. I’m going to switch you to another drug, Nomifensine. It’s very effective. You should notice a change within a few days.” He wrote out a prescription and handed it to her. “If you don’t feel better by Friday, I want you to call me. I may want to send you to a psychiatrist.”
Thirty minutes later, back in her apartment, Eve removed the pale foundation cream from her face and wiped away the smudges under her eyes.
The pace was quickening.
George Mellis sat opposite Peter Templeton, smiling and confident.
“How are you feeling today?”
“Much better, Doctor. These few sessions we’ve had have helped more than you know.”
“Have they? In what way?”
“Oh, just having someone to talk to. That’s the principle
the Catholic Church is built on, isn’t it? Confession?”
“I’m glad you feel the sessions have been helpful. Is your wife feeling better?”
George frowned. “I’m afraid not. She saw Dr. Harley again, but she’s talking about suicide more and more. I may take her away somewhere. I think she needs a change.”
It seemed to Peter that there was an ominous foreboding in those words. Could it be his imagination?
“Greece is a very relaxing place,” Peter said casually. “Have you taken her there to meet your family?”
“Not yet. They’re dying to meet Alex.” He grinned. “The only problem is that every time Pop and I get together, he keeps trying to talk me into coming back and taking over the family business.”
And at that moment, Peter knew that Alexandra Mellis was in real danger.
Long after George Mellis had left, Peter Templeton sat in his office going over his notes. Finally, he reached for the telephone and dialed a number.
“I want you to do me a favor, John. Can you find out where George Mellis took his wife on their honeymoon?”
“I can tell you right now. I gave them some shots before they left. They went to Jamaica.”
I have a friend who beats up whores… I remember once we were in Jamaica together. This little black whore took him up to a hotel room, and after she got his pants off, she told him she wanted more money… He beat the shit out of her. I’ll bet she won’t try that on anyone again.
Still, there was no proof that George Mellis was planning to kill his wife. John Harley had verified that Alexandra Mellis was suicidal.
It’s not my problem
, Peter tried to tell himself. But he knew it
was
his problem.
Peter Templeton had had to work his way through school. His father had been the caretaker of a college in a small town in Nebraska, and even with a scholarship, Peter had not been able
to afford to go to one of the Ivy League medical schools. He had been graduated from the University of Nebraska with honors and had gone on to study psychiatry. He had been successful from the start. His secret was that he genuinely liked people; he cared what happened to them. Alexandra Mellis was not a patient, yet he was involved with her. She was a missing part of the puzzle, and meeting her face-to-face might help him solve it. He took out George Mellis’s file, found his home number and telephoned Alexandra Mellis. A maid summoned her to the phone.
“Mrs. Mellis, my name is Peter Templeton. I’m—”
“Oh, I know who you are, Doctor. George has told me about you.”
Peter was surprised. He would have bet that George Mellis would not have mentioned him to his wife. “I wondered if we could meet. Perhaps lunch?”
“Is it about George? Is something wrong?”
“No, nothing. I just thought we might have a talk.”
“Yes, certainly, Dr. Templeton.”
They made an appointment for the following day.
They were seated at a corner table at La Grenouille. From the moment Alexandra had walked into the restaurant, Peter had been unable to take his eyes off her. She was dressed simply in a white skirt and blouse that showed off her figure, and she wore a single strand of pearls around her neck. Peter looked for signs of the tiredness and depression Dr. Harley had mentioned. There were none. If Alexandra was aware of Peter’s stare, she gave no sign of it.
“My husband is all right, isn’t he, Dr. Templeton?”
“Yes.” This was going to be much more difficult than Peter had anticipated. He was walking a very fine line. He had no right to violate the sanctity of the doctor-patient relationship, yet at the same time he felt that Alexandra Mellis must be warned.
After they had ordered, Peter said, “Did your husband tell you why he’s seeing me, Mrs. Mellis?”
“Yes. He’s been under a great strain lately. His partners at the
brokerage firm where he works put most of the responsibility on his shoulders. George is very conscientious, as you probably know, Doctor.”
It was incredible. She was completely unaware of the attack on her sister.
Why had no one told her?
“George told me how much better he felt having someone he could discuss his problems with.” She gave Peter a grateful smile. “I’m very pleased that you’re helping him.”
She was so innocent!
She obviously idolized her husband. What Peter had to say could destroy her. How could he inform her that her husband was a psychopath who had murdered a young male prostitute, who had been banished by his family and who had brutally assaulted her sister? Yet, how could he
not
?
“It must be very satisfying being a psychiatrist,” Alexandra went on. “You’re able to help so many people.”
“Sometimes we can,” Peter said carefully. “Sometimes we can’t.
The food arrived. They talked as they ate, and there was an easy rapport between them. Peter found himself enchanted by her. He suddenly became uncomfortably aware that he was envious of George Mellis.
“I’m enjoying this luncheon very much,” Alexandra finally said, “but you wanted to see me for a reason, didn’t you, Dr. Templeton?”
The moment of truth had arrived.
“As a matter of fact, yes. I—”
Peter stopped. His next words could shatter her life. He had come to this luncheon determined to tell her of his suspicions and suggest that her husband be put in an institution. Now that he had met Alexandra, he found it was not so simple. He thought again of George Mellis’s words:
She’s not any better. It’s the suicidal thing that worries me.
Peter thought he had never seen a happier, more normal person. Was that a result of the medication she was taking? At least he could ask her about that. He said, “John Harley told me that you’re taking—”
And George Mellis’s voice boomed out. “There you are, darling!
I called the house and they told me you’d be here.” He turned to Peter. “Nice to see you, Dr. Templeton. May I join you?”
And the opportunity vanished.
“Why
did he want to meet Alex?” Eve demanded.
“I haven’t the slightest idea,” George said. “Thank God she left a message where she would be in case I wanted her. With Peter Templeton, for Christ’s sake! I got over there fast!”
“I don’t like it.”
“Believe me, there was no harm done. I questioned her afterward, and she told me they didn’t discuss anything in particular.”
“I think we’d better move up our plan.”
George Mellis felt an almost sexual thrill at her words. He had been waiting so long for this moment. “When?”
“Now.”
The dizzy spells were getting worse, and things were beginning to blur in Kate’s mind. She would sit at her desk considering a proposed merger and suddenly realize the merger had taken place ten years earlier. It frightened her. She finally decided to take Brad Rogers’s advice to see John Harley.
It had been a long time since Dr. Harley had been able to persuade Kate Blackwell to have a checkup, and he took full advantage of her visit. He examined her thoroughly, and when he finished he asked her to wait for him in his office. John Harley was disturbed. Kate Blackwell was remarkably alert for her age, but there were disquieting signs. There was a definite hardening of the arteries, which would account for her occasional dizziness and weakened memory. She should have retired years ago, and yet she hung on tenaciously, unwilling to give the reins to anyone else.
Who am I to talk?
he thought.
I should have retired ages ago.
Now, with the results of the examination in front of him, John Harley said, “I wish I were in your condition, Kate.”
“Cut the soft-soap, John. What’s my problem?”
“Age, mostly. There’s a little hardening of the arteries, and—”
“Arteriosclerosis?”
“Oh. Is that the medical term for it?” Dr. Harley asked. “Whatever it is, you’ve got it.”
“How bad is it?”
“For your age, I’d say it was pretty normal. These things are all relative.”
“Can you give me something to stop these bloody dizzy spells? I hate fainting in front of a roomful of men. It looks bad for my sex.”
He nodded. “I don’t think that will be any problem. When are you going to retire, Kate?”
“When I have a great-grandson to take over the business.”
The two old friends who had known each other for so many years sized each other up across the desk. John Harley had not always agreed with Kate, but he had always admired her courage.
As though reading his mind, Kate sighed, “Do you know one of the great disappointments of my life, John? Eve. I really cared for that child. I wanted to give her the world, but she never gave a damn about anyone but herself.”
“You’re wrong, Kate. Eve cares a great deal about you.”
“Like bloody hell she does.”
“I’m in a position to know. Recently she”—he had to choose his words carefully—“suffered a terrible accident. She almost died.”
Kate felt her heart lurch. “Why—why didn’t you tell me?”
“She wouldn’t let me. She was so concerned you would be worried that she made me swear not to say a word.”
“Oh, my God.” It was an agonized whisper. “Is—is she all right?” Kate’s voice was hoarse.
“She’s fine now.”
Kate sat, staring into space. “Thank you for telling me, John. Thank you.”
“I’ll write out a prescription for those pills.” When he finished writing the prescription, he looked up. Kate Blackwell had left.
Eve opened the door and stared unbelievingly. Her grandmother was standing there, stiff and straight as always, allowing no sign of frailty to show.
“May I come in?” Kate asked.
Eve stepped aside, unable to take in what was happening. “Of course.”
Kate walked in and looked around the small apartment, but she made no comment. “May I sit down?”
“I’m sorry. Please do. Forgive me—this is so—Can I get you something? Tea, coffee, anything?”
“No, thank you. Are you well, Eve?”
“Yes, thank you. I’m fine.”
“I just came from Dr. John. He told me you had been in a terrible accident.”
Eve watched her grandmother cautiously, not sure what was coming. “Yes…”
“He said you were…near death. And that you would not allow him to tell me because you didn’t want to worry me.”
So that was it.
Eve was on surer ground now. “Yes, Gran.”
“That would indicate to me,” Kate’s voice was suddenly choked, “that—that you cared.”
Eve started to cry from relief. “Of course I care. I’ve always cared.”
And an instant later, Eve was in her grandmother’s arms. Kate held Eve very close and pressed her lips to the blond head in her lap. Then she whispered, “I’ve been such a damned old fool. Can you ever forgive me?” Kate pulled out a linen handkerchief and blew her nose. “I was too hard on you,” she declared. “I couldn’t bear it if anything had happened to you.”
Eve stroked her grandmother’s blue-veined hand soothingly and said, “I’m all right, Gran. Everything’s fine.”
Kate was on her feet, blinking back tears. “We’ll have a fresh start, all right?” She pulled Eve up to face her. “I’ve been stubborn and unbending, like my father. I’m going to make amends for that. The first thing I’m going to do is put you back in my will, where you belong.”
What was happening was too good to be true!
“I—I don’t care about the money. I only care about you.”
“You’re my heiress—you and Alexandra. You two are all the family I have.”
“I’m getting along fine,” Eve said, “but if it will make you happy—”
“It will make me very happy, darling. Very happy, indeed. When can you move back into the house?”
Eve hesitated for only a moment. “I think it would be better if I stayed here, but I’ll see you as often as you want to see me. Oh, Gran, you don’t know how lonely I’ve been.”
Kate took her granddaughter’s hand and said, “Can you forgive me?”
Eve looked her in the eye and said solemnly, “Of course, I can forgive you.”
The moment Kate left, Eve mixed herself a stiff Scotch and water and sank down onto the couch to relive the incredible scene that had just occurred. She could have shouted aloud with joy. She and Alexandra were now the sole heirs to the Blackwell fortune. It would be easy enough to get rid of Alexandra. It was George Mellis Eve was concerned about. He had suddenly become a hindrance.
“There’s been a change of plans,” Eve told George. “Kate has put me back in her will.”
George paused in the middle of lighting a cigarette. “Really? Congratulations.”
“If anything happened to Alexandra now, it would look suspicious. So we’ll take care of her later when—”
“I’m afraid later doesn’t suit me.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not stupid, darling. If anything happens to Alexandra,
I’ll
inherit her stock. You want me out of the picture, don’t you?”
Eve shrugged. “Let’s say you’re an unnecessary complication.
I’m willing to make a deal with you. Get a divorce, and as soon as I come into the money, I’ll give you—”
He laughed. “You’re funny. It’s no good, baby. Nothing has changed. Alex and I have a date in Dark Harbor Friday night. I intend to keep it.”
Alexandra was overjoyed when she heard the news about Eve and her grandmother. “Now we’re a family again,” she said.
The telephone.
“Hello. I hope I’m not disturbing you, Eve. It’s Keith Webster.”
He had started telephoning her two or three times a week. At first his clumsy ardor had amused Eve, but lately he had become a nuisance.
“I can’t talk to you now,” Eve said. “I was just going out the door.
“Oh.” His voice was apologetic. “Then I won’t keep you. I have two tickets for the horse show next week. I know you love horses, and I thought—”
“Sorry. I will probably be out of town next week.”
“I see.” She could hear the disappointment in his voice. “Perhaps the following week, then. I’ll get tickets to a play. What would you like to see?”
“I’ve seen them all,” Eve said curtly. “I have to run.” She replaced the receiver. It was time to get dressed. She was meeting Rory McKenna, a young actor she had seen in an off-Broadway play. He was five years younger than she, and he was like an insatiable wild stallion. Eve visualized his making love to her, and she felt a moisture between her legs. She looked forward to an exciting evening.
On his way home, George Mellis stopped to buy flowers for Alexandra. He was in an exuberant mood. It was a delicious irony that the old lady had put Eve back in her will, but it changed nothing. After Alexandra’s accident, he would take
care of Eve. The arrangements were all made. On Friday Alexandra would be waiting for him at Dark Harbor. “Just the two of us,” he had pleaded as he kissed her. “Get rid of all the servants, darling.”
Peter Templeton was unable to get Alexandra Mellis out of his mind. He heard the echo of George Mellis’s words:
I may take her away somewhere. I think she needs a change.
Every instinct told Peter that Alexandra was in danger, yet he was powerless to act. He could not go to Nick Pappas with his suspicions. He had no proof.
Across town, in the executive offices of Kruger-Brent, Ltd., Kate Blackwell was signing a new will, leaving the bulk of her estate to her two granddaughters.
In upstate New York, Tony Blackwell was standing before his easel in the garden of the sanitarium. The painting on the easel was a jumble of colors, the kind of painting an untalented child might do. Tony stepped back to look at it and smiled with pleasure.
Friday. 10:57
A.M.
At La Guardia Airport, a taxi pulled up in front of the Eastern Airlines shuttle terminal and Eve Blackwell got out. She handed the driver a hundred-dollar bill.
“Hey, I can’t change this, lady,” he said. “Have you got anything smaller?”
“No.”
“Then you’ll have to get change inside.”
“I haven’t time. I have to catch the next shuttle to Washington.” She looked at the Baume & Mercier watch on her wrist and made a decision. “Keep the hundred dollars,” she told the startled driver.
Eve hurried into the terminal. She half-walked and half-ran to the departure gate marked Washington Shuttle. “One round trip to Washington,” Eve said breathlessly.
The man looked at the clock above his head. “You missed this one by two minutes. It’s just taking off.”
“I’ve got to be on that plane. I’m meeting—Isn’t there anything you can do?” She was near panic.
“Take it easy, miss. There’s another shuttle leaving in an hour.”
“That’s too—Damn it!”
He watched her regain control of herself.
“Very well. I’ll wait. Is there a coffee shop around here?”
“No, ma’am. But there’s a coffee machine down the corridor.”
“Thank you.”
He looked after her and thought,
What a beauty. I sure envy the guy she’s in such a hurry to meet.
Friday. 2:00
P.M.
It will be a second honeymoon
, Alexandra thought. The idea excited her.
Get rid of all the servants. I want it to be just the two of us, angel. We’ll have a lovely weekend.
And now Alexandra was leaving the brownstone, on her way to Dark Harbor to meet George. She was running behind schedule. She had had a luncheon engagement, and it had taken longer than Alexandra had planned. She said to the maid, “I’m going now. I’ll be back Monday morning.”
As Alexandra reached the front door, the telephone rang.
I’m late. Let it ring
, she thought, and hurried out the door.
Friday. 7:00
P.M.
George Mellis had examined Eve’s plan over and over. There was not a single flaw in it.
There will be a motor launch waiting for you at Philbrook Cove. Take it to Dark Harbor and make sure you’re not seen. Tie it to the stern of the
Corsair.
You’ll take Alexandra for a moonlight sail. When you’re out at sea, do whatever turns you on, George—just don’t leave any traces of blood. Dump the body overboard, get into the launch and leave the
Corsair
adrift. You’ll take the launch back to Philbrook Cove, then catch the Lincolnville ferry to Dark Harbor. Take a taxi to the house. Use some excuse to get the driver to go in so that you’ll both
notice the
Corsair
is missing from the dock. When you see that Alexandra is gone, you’ll call the police. They’ll never find Alexandra’s body. The tide will wash it out to sea. Two eminent doctors will testify it was a probable suicide.
He found the motorboat moored at Philbrook Cove, waiting for him, according to plan.
George crossed the bay without running lights, using the light of the moon to steer by. He passed a number of moored boats without being detected, and arrived at the dock at the Blackwell estate. He cut the motor and made the line fast to the
Corsair
, the large motor sailer.
She was talking on the telephone, waiting for him in the living room when George walked in. She waved to him, covered the receiver with her hand and mouthed, “It’s Eve.” She listened a moment, then, “I have to go now, Eve. My darling just arrived. I’ll see you at lunch next week.” She replaced the receiver and hurried over to hug George. “You’re early. I’m so pleased.”
“I got lonely for you, so I just dropped everything and came.”
She kissed him. “I love you.”
“I love you,
matia mou.
Did you get rid of the servants?”
She smiled. “It’s just the two of us. Guess what? I made moussaka for you.”
He traced a finger lightly across the nipples straining against her silk blouse. “Do you know what I’ve been thinking about all afternoon at that dreary office? Going for a sail with you. There’s a brisk wind. Why don’t we go out for an hour or two?”
“If you like. But my moussaka is—”
He cupped his hand over her breast. “Dinner can wait. I can’t.”
She laughed. “All right. I’ll go change. It won’t take me a minute.”
“I’ll race you.”
He went upstairs to his clothes closet, changed into a pair of slacks, a sweater and boat shoes. Now that the moment was here, he was filled with a sense of wild anticipation, a feeling of excitement that was almost an explosion.
He heard her voice. “I’m ready, darling.”
He turned. She stood in the doorway, dressed in a sweater, a pair of black slacks and canvas shoes. Her long, blond hair was tied back with a little blue ribbon.
My God, she’s beautiful!
he thought. It seemed almost a shame to waste that beauty.
“So am I,” George told her.
She noticed the motor launch secured to the stern of the yacht. “What’s that for, darling?”
“There’s a little island at the end of the bay that I’ve always wanted to explore,” George explained. “We’ll take the launch over to it so we won’t have to worry about rocks.”