I
T IS THE LESS
gracious Krouch, Glenn Junior, barreling right to the point: He needs the lowdown from Thalia on Henry Archer. Is he trustworthy? Discreet? And what's in it for a gay ex-husband, this campaigning for Denise?
Thalia says, "I don't know what you're talking about. And by the way, nice of you to check in on me every millennium or so."
"Henry Archer? Your stepfather, right? You didn't know he came to see us about your mother?"
Thalia says—delivering up her best Katharine Hepburn—"How odd, yet how chivalrous! You can most certainly trust Henry. In fact, this upright citizen is sitting right next to me, on the veranda, not an inch away."
"Shit. Obviously you can't talk—" says Glenn.
"Yes, I can." Without waiting for an answer, Thalia says, un-muted, "Here. Talk to Glenn, my charming stepbrother."
Without preamble, and with her orange Razr phone to his ear, Henry says, "I hope the reason you were calling my references is because there's been movement in your position."
Glenn says, "Hold on a sec." A corrugated box promotion fills the air until Glenn comes back to announce, most unconvincingly, "I decided to do what's right."
"Which means what?"
"We should talk. In person."
Henry says, "Tomorrow? I'll check with the firm to make sure there's a conference room available and I'll call you back to confirm."
"No," says Glenn. "I'll call you. I'm the executor. I don't want Tommy dragged into this. Bye."
Thalia takes her phone back and claps it shut. "It would appear to the casual observer," she says, "that you've met with at least one of my stepbrothers to discuss your ex-wife. When did this all come about?"
Henry says, "I went to Long Island City, once. For ten minutes, two weeks ago."
"So I've got Glenn Krouch Junior from that cast of characters calling me about Henry Archer, from this subset. And, silly me—I had no idea they'd ever met! You know what this reminds me of? It's like when a character from
Days of Our Lives
shows up on
All My Children.
"
"It's not so far-fetched," says Henry. "Your mother turned to me for legal advice. I went to the factory to see if the sons would show her a little mercy."
"On which topic?"
"Money. Housing. I thought I'd begin with an appeal to their sense of fair play and generosity, if any."
He expects Thalia will say, "Ha!" but instead she says, "That might work with Tommy. Glenn, on the other hand, is an asshole."
"Yet he called," says Henry. "And he says he wants to do the right thing."
"Isn't life interesting?" says Thalia. "Just as I'm struggling with how to recognize what the right thing is, along comes an illustrated example in the unlikely form of Glenn Krouch Junior, torturer in his youth of small animals."
"Maybe he's genuinely concerned. Maybe he heard from the brokers that she's in a bad way—"
"Or maybe he's hearing from the ghosts of husbands past..." and adds, in an otherworldly voice, "'Glenn Junior, you must help Denise. Yes, it's Dad. Why do you doubt your own ears?'"
"I'm not getting my hopes up," says Henry. "Nothing ever gets accomplished in the first round of negotiations."
"Are you going to bring your client?"
"God no," says Henry.
Present in the law firm's smallest conference room are Glenn Krouch Jr. and a silver-haired, ponytailed man in a gray pinstriped suit and white sneakers, whose name, Eddie Pelletier, does not immediately register. "Mr. Pelletier is here in what capacity?" Henry asks Glenn.
"Blackmailer," grunts Glenn.
"He's kidding!" says Eddie. "I'm helping Denise, and so are you, right?" He reaches across the table to shake Henry's hand. "She said you were on her side, and you got this ball rolling."
Henry asks, "You're here on Denise's behalf ... how?"
"He's fucking her!" says Glenn. "If she gets the apartment, he gets a roof over his head."
Eddie says, "That's uncalled for. I think we should keep this professional and, if possible, let bygones be bygones." He turns to Henry. "Here's what he's referring to: Denise and I, after some big hurdles, are making a go of it. I happen to know that the kids were offended that the friendship started before their dad passed, and I also happened to be married. I admit there was some to-ing and fro-ing in that department, but that's now settled. As for why this, now, today: My history with the family business puts me in a unique position to help Denise."
"How?" asks Henry.
"Extortionist," says Glenn.
"His dad and I were in business together at one time," Eddie says. "And even though the partnership broke up, the friendship didn't."
Henry puts his pen down on his yellow legal pad. "If it's about business, I need to know why I was called. And why is Mr. Krouch using terms like
blackmail
and
extortion?
"
"He's exaggerating!" says Eddie. "I used a little persuasion of the verbal kind, which is how people negotiate. I pointed out that life would be simpler and he'd feel like a better man if he wasn't turning his stepmother out on the street. It's all about him and his peace of mind. Ask Denise. She was listening on the other line."
Glenn says, "Don't look so innocent, Archer. Didn't you show up at my place of business and say, 'Give Denise what she wants or I'll take you to court'? Isn't that what you threatened?"
"I don't make threats," says Henry.
"Then what do you call it?"
"A statement of fact," says Henry.
"This guy, I can tell, doesn't make threats," Eddie adds. "Look at this place. Solid cherry table, and not just doughnuts and coffee, but fruit salad. This gives me a good feeling." Eddie grins. "How we doing, Glenn? Are we ready to call in Mr. Archer's secretary to draw up a settlement, and we'll sign it, and you'll never have to see me again?"
Glenn is staring appraisingly across the table at Eddie. "Is that my father's suit you're wearing?"
"Your stepmother gave away all of your father's clothes. I don't see how this could be his."
"Gentlemen," says Henry. "I still don't have a clear understanding of who wants what, or why I'm here."
"I told you over the phone," says Glenn. "I just decided to do the right thing."
Henry says, "I'm going to be blunt: Intimations of blackmail, combined with your previously stated hatred of your stepmother and your obvious disdain for Mr. Pelletier, do not add up to your doing the right thing out of sheer goodwill."
"Why does it have to add up?" Glenn asks. "Can't I just sign a piece of paper that gives her the apartment, and you get a gal to type it up?"
"Who's your father's trust attorney?" Henry asks.
"Look," says Glenn. "All I want is to get this over with. I don't need to pay my father's lawyer for time I spend answering a million questions about the whys and the wherefores."
"She just wants the apartment," says Eddie.
Henry frowns his best bargaining-table frown, the one that says
not good enough.
"Here's the way I look at it," says Eddie. "It's not easy to evict a tenant who doesn't want to leave. So let's say that goes to court. The papers get wind of it. They write up stories about two rich brats—sorry, that's how they'd see it—who kick their widowed stepmother of twenty-four years into the gutter."
"Yuh. Like she needs an entire floor on Park Avenue," Glenn mutters.
Eddie leans forward and says, "Yuh, Glenny. Like you need a business on top of Krouch Cartons."
This, Henry can see, from the poisonous stare being returned across the table, is Eddie Pelletier's bargaining chip. "You have another business in addition to corrugated boxes?" asks Henry.
"Not in addition to the boxes. On
top,
" says Eddie. "Literally. What time of the day did you get out to Long Island City?"
"Afternoon," says Henry.
Eddie smiles. "Broad daylight. That explains it."
Henry asks, "That explains what?"
"Let's call it the night shift. Upstairs. At the Waikiki."
"Which is...?"
"What does it sound like?"
"A lounge?" asks Henry.
"You're close," says Eddie. "'Cause there's a lot of lounging going on up there."
Henry asks Glenn, "What is Mr. Pelletier alleging?"
"I'm not alleging anything! I know. I investigated. I
went
there."
"It's a spa," Glenn says. "Jesus. Big deal. Which Krouch and Sons Cartons, Inc., has nothing to do with."
"Spa!" Eddie says. "Know what a 'happy ending' is? Glenn can educate you and can probably give you a price list."
"If it's just tenantry—" Henry says.
Eddie says, "Yah, right. He sees no evil, hears no evil, never stays late, and never visits the tenants. Krouch and
Sins,
is more like it."
Henry turns to Eddie. "Are you or are you not blackmailing him? Because if you are, I'm obliged to tell you that you're committing an illegal act."
"No way am I blackmailing him."
"Did you threaten to go to the police if he didn't agree to your terms?"
"And say what? 'Fellas, I know there's three on every block, and you have to look the other way or else you'd be doing nothing else but busting massage parlors, but could you go write a ticket for the landlords of the Waikiki'? No, I didn't say that. What I said to Glenn was that a married guy shouldn't be spending so much time getting massaged by strangers or renting them rooms, and as the head of his church's parish council, he might not want to get caught with his pants down. Is that extortion? Or is that reminding him of the Ten Commandments?"
"Did your father know?" Henry asks Glenn.
Glenn says, "No comment."
"Tell him the rest," says Eddie. "Tell him what floor of Krouch Cartons your father was visiting when he suffered a fatal heart attack."
"You scumbag!" Glenn yells.
"How much of this does Denise know?" Henry asks.
"Nothing. We told her he died on a Stairmaster."
"What about Thalia?" asks Henry. "I don't mean the circumstances of his death. I mean as far as the business goes. Just reassure me that she's not benefiting in any way from the Waikiki. Or is she anything like a silent partner in Krouch and Sons? A board member? A stockholder?"
"No," says Glenn.
"Stockholder," says Eddie. "Ha! What's the symbol? Hand job?"
Henry picks up his pen again. "Is this an accurate summary of what got us here today: Mr. Pelletier is saying, effectively, if Denise loses her home, I could expose and embarrass you for immoral if not illegal activities?"
Glenn grunts affirmatively.
"I checked online," says Eddie. "It's not blackmail."
"And what is your personal stake in all of this?" Henry asks Eddie. "Because we seem to have an epidemic suddenly of people compelled to do the right thing."
Glenn says, "He gets to live rent free on Park Avenue instead of in a fifth-floor walkup in Hell's Kitchen."
"Clinton," says Eddie. "It's no longer called Hell's Kitchen. And I've got a view of the Hudson River."
"Was I misinformed when I was told that you and your wife, Mrs. Pelletier, are back together?" asks Henry.
Eddie says, "Look. I'm not such a terrible guy. I gave my marriage one last try and, okay, that came at a bad time for Denise. She hated me, but then she missed me. And let me say one more thing: the so-called masseuses?" He wiggles his index finger instructively in the direction of Henry's notepad. "Every one of them is an Oriental girl just off the boat. Which is why all of these places have names that sound like Chinese restaurants."
"Get him out of here," says Glenn. "I'm the executor. His job is done. Now it's between me and Denise."
Henry says, "Let's clear up one thing, so Mr. Pelletier doesn't have an urge in the future to phone your brother and play Sunday school teacher: You came alone because your brother has no knowledge of the shenanigans upstairs?"
Eddie says, "With 'Waikiki' flashing outside his window?"
"It doesn't flash," says Glenn. "And to answer your question: Tommy knows we rent eight hundred square feet to a spa. He doesn't use it, and he was out of town the week our father had his heart attack."
"Let's get a secretary in here," says Eddie.
Henry says, "I recommend that you call the real estate agent and tell her the apartment is off the market."
"Now?" asks Glenn.
"Now. On my phone."
"He means, no tricks," says Eddie.
Glenn takes Henry's cell phone and walks it to a distant chair, meant just for this, outgoing calls by the defeated and dispossessed.
"How about the monthly charges?" Eddie whispers. "Those'll set her back a fortune."
"Here's what Denise should do about those costs," says Henry. "She should sell this apartment for a fortune, buy a nice, pet-friendly two-bedroom, and live happily ever after on the difference."
"Big move," says Eddie. "And not exactly what she was fighting for."
"Are you employed?" Henry asks.
"I still have my side of the business. I dropped the twine, so I'm exclusively a label vendor, about ninety percent online."
"And not dependent on Denise for housing?"
"I'm not totally divorced yet," says Eddie. "And even if I was, it doesn't look good so soon after Glenn died."
"Denise, of course, being as sensitive to protocol as she is," Henry says.
"She likes you a lot," says Eddie. "In fact, I'd be jealous except that I know I don't have to be."
"Quite correct," says Henry.
He waits until he's home to call Denise. "Are you alone?" he asks.
"Just Albert Einstein, who—did I tell you?—is going to puppy kindergarten, even though he's twenty-one in human years."
"I meant, has your boyfriend returned yet?"
"Oh, hon," she says. "I guess you're up to date on everything."
"Has he filled you in on the meeting with your stepson?"
"He called the minute he got out of the subway. He said—and I was going to call you to confirm—that the spa above the factory is a brothel, and now Glenn knows that Eddie knows, and how embarrassed Glenn would be if his wife or mother or Saint Mary's of Manhasset ever found out."