The Fives Run North-South (27 page)

Which is why he hadn’t told him everything about the services he’d provided Rob Keaton.

29

C
ary never thought she’d set foot in the corporate offices of Manover Mechanics again. She’d been so eager to move on to whatever the next phase of her life would be, she’d shut down the familiarity of what came before. It started almost immediately after Fred left. She changed grocery stores. Traded in her car. Dumped possessions (Goodwill loved her). She did the same thing in her mind as well, ceasing to think about their life together. Taking those experiences and putting them in a box labeled “Someone else.” She’d been surprised by how easy it had been. Her therapist (yes, she had one. Briefly. Isn’t that required if you’re divorcing and have money?) had called it “compartmentalizing.” Cary called it “divorcee dessert.” It had certainly helped when Fred fell off the face of the earth just two short months after they filed for divorce and agreed to a
lump
-
sum
alimony. But it had still surprised her, because despite the incidents that triggered the divorce, she had loved him. And in some way still did.

Which is why she was now sitting in the reception area of Manover Mechanics, waiting for her appointment with Christopher Dover, division
president
—
once
her husband’s boss. There was a new receptionist. The old one, Donnie, had always greeted Cary with a huge smile and had jumped out from behind her desk to show off the newest in her famous collection of funky shoes.

“Funkeeeee!” had been her tag line, one that Cary had mimicked excitedly with each presentation. Then Donnie would have swept Cary back into the offices, never making her wait in reception. This new one barely looked at her, nodding at the chairs and informing her politely that she’d let Mr. Dover know she was waiting. And she’d emphasized “waiting.” So Cary sat. And with each minute she felt her body grow less relaxed, as she felt her past soaking into her like some demonic blood infusion. After ten minutes, the door opened and Christopher Dover stood there.

“Cary!” he said.

The smile was forced. But at least it was a smile. He opened his arms to give her a somewhat stiff hug.

“So good to see you again!” he said.

Right.

“I’m grateful you made time for me,” she said.

“Come on back,” he said, turning on his heels and leading her to his corner office.

“Can I get you something to drink?” he asked as they entered his office.

“No. Really,” Cary said. “I don’t want to take too much of your day.”

“It’s no trouble.”

It is.

“So how have you been?” Dover asked as he took his place behind his massive desk. Cary sat in one of the chairs across the desk (
boy, these are short
, she thought)
and looked up at him. The blinds in the window behind him were open, letting in the sunlight. He was more silhouette than person.

“Adjusting,” she said. She thought she caught a wave of relief on his face in her
single
-
word
response. As she’d hoped.

“I understand. How can I help you?”

“Well, Fred and I, we made a mutual decision to have a clean break. A quick divorce. Not so much out of animosity. It was really a friendly divorce. As much as they can be.”

“As I’d expect. You two personified class. As a couple.”

“Thanks.”

“We tied things up nicely. And I’ve not really seen or heard from him in about nine months. In fact,” she let loose a slight giggle, “I’m embarrassed to say I’m not even sure where he’s gone.”

“Oh?”

“Really. So I’m selling the house. I think I have a buyer, and it turns out there’s one more document I need him to sign. We thought we’d gotten it all, but you know how thick these files can get these days, right?”

Dover nodded.

“So, I was wondering if
you
—
or
anyone in the
company
—
might
have had some communication with him. Or might know his current address.”

Dover’s face was stone, but she knew the microchip in his head was spitting out calculations. After a few seconds, his head tilted and she saw his teeth through a smile. “Wow, Cary. I seriously doubt it. As you know, it didn’t end on the greatest of terms.”

No,
she thought.
I didn’t know that. “Parting of the ways…in everyone’s best interests” was about all she’d gotten out of Fred at the time.

“In fact,” Dover said, “I’ve not seen or heard from Fred since he cleaned out his office back in March of last year.”

In hindsight, Cary wished she’d not blurted out: “March?”

“Yes,” Dover said. “We let him go two weeks before the start of our fiscal year 2012, which was April. Why?”

“Oh, nothing. My, how time flies,” Cary said. She stood up. He legs were shaking. She prayed it wasn’t obvious. “Well, it was worth a try.”

Dover stood up. She could feel him studying her. She tried to control her breathing. “I’ll check with HR,” he said. “Maybe Fred made contact to get records, or perhaps a future employer called in for a reference. If I find out anything, I’ll give you a call.”

“Thanks, Christopher.”

“My pleasure. It was good to see you again, Cary.”

She was facing him, backing up slowly.

“I’ll see you out,” he said.

“I know the way. I’ve intruded enough.”

Again, a few seconds of silent studying. Then a nod. “Come see us again.”

Cary sat in her car and shook.

March?

Fred had been fired in March of last year?

She fought through the doubt and slid that fact into the sequence of events lodged in her mind; events from a year she’d fought so hard to drive from her memory. Those
memories
—
like
any thick
scab
—
simply
cover up a deep wound that, though buried, stays wilting under the crust. And, once open, took surprisingly little effort to recall.

March.

Almost a full month before the road rage incident with the red SUV…
that happened on his commute home from work.

Almost three months before their divorce in July of that year. And while she’d found out during the proceedings that he’d lost his job and not told her, she’d been led to believe it had been
weeks
—
not
months
—
prior
to the divorce.

Why had he hidden it from her? Vanity, as she’d assumed
or
—
in
light of how long it had gone
on
—
was
it something more than that?

Cary dug into her memory, thinking back to a period that spanned nearly three months. The final three months of their marriage. What could Fred have been doing every day when he left their home supposedly going to the office?

“So do you have a job, Walter?” Ben asked.

Walter was shaking off his rain jacket, scattering water all over the den of Ben’s house. Ben ignored it and waved him in.

“Not anymore,” Walter said, taking his usual spot. The uncomfortable chair.

“Oh? Where did you work?”

“The Grande Theater. Ticket sales.”

“What happened?”

Walter looked at Ben as if he were missing the obvious. “I quit.”

“Why?”

“To help you.”

“But I’m not paying you, Walter.”

“So?”

“Well, I’d assumed you’d do the reading during your spare time.”

“Yes.”

“So why did you quit your job?”

Walter shrugged. “I checked out that Fred Spencer guy like you asked.”

“His
ex
-
wife
is on her way over here. You learn anything that might surprise her?”

Walter shook his head.

“Why don’t we wait till she gets here so you don’t have to talk twice.”

Walter shrugged.

“Look,” Ben said. “How about you go to work for me? Temporarily.”

Walter shrugged.

“I need someone to help with my father’s house. I’m thinking of putting it on the market but need a temporary caretaker. And someone who’ll box up stuff I want to keep, sell off stuff we need to get rid of. Detail work. I started it but don’t seem to be getting anywhere very fast.”

“I can do that.”

“I know you can; it’s why I asked. And I’m sure I can count on your continued discretion. Nothing showing up on your fan club web page.”

“Without your permission,” Walter said.

“Without my permission.”

“So,” Walter said, “any more chapters?”

“You’re sounding like Paul.”

“I don’t like him.”

Ben nodded. “Yeah, I know. Tell me, are you in charge of any other fan clubs? TV shows? Comic books?”

“Uh
-
huh
.” Again with the “it should be obvious” expression.

“Why Rob Keaton?”

Walter’s eyes grew wide. It was as if he’d been asked “Why eat?” Ben smiled. “Let me ask this: how long have you been a fan?”

“I read
Switchback
in fifth grade,” Walter said. “It was the first
grown
-
up
book my mom and dad let me read. Well, they didn’t really know what I was reading, because they probably would have freaked. But it was an amazing experience. No more
Cat in the Hat
for me. I started saving my money to buy more Keaton novels. Been reading them ever since. And now…” his eyes glanced over at Ben’s desk, at the black notebook.

“Well, he certainly wrote a lot of books. Kept you busy, didn’t he?”

Walter nodded.

“Let me ask you something,” Ben said. “I grant you, my father was a terrific writer. But he and I had talked a lot. And he would be the first to say there were more talented writers out there. And they had no fan clubs.”

“Then they weren’t really better, were they?”

“You don’t judge a writer’s worth by their fan clubs.”

“So how do you?”

Ben shrugged. “My father once said he thought I was a better writer than he was.”

Walter burst out laughing. Then, looking at Ben, he realized it hadn’t been a joke and swallowed his laughter.

“I know,” Ben said. “Ridiculous.”

Walter started squirming a bit. “Um…” he started.

“Yes, Walter?”

“I’ve heard that some writers have books that they hold back from publishing. Stuck in drawers. Do you think…?”

“I’d be surprised.”

“But if we found one…?”

“I guess it would depend. In the meantime, we do have
Dented
.”

Walter rolled his eyes. “If you get around to it,” he said, somewhat under his breath.

“Look, Paddy…”

The doorbell rang.

Ben glared at Walter. “We’ll talk later. This is probably Cary.”

It was. She started talking before the door was completely open. “I just went to Fred’s office and…” She saw Walter behind Ben and stopped. “Oh. Hi.”

Walter gave a little wave.

Cary’s head tilted. “Do I know you? You seem familiar.”

“He crashed my dad’s funeral, too,” Ben said. “Apparently it’s how I meet my friends these days. Can I take your coat?”

Cary nodded, walking through the threshold and slipping off her coat. Ben made the introductions and smiled as both Walter and Cary looked skeptically at each other.

“So we have a little mystery to solve,” Ben said. “Cary, Walter is like my assistant on all things
Dented
.
Walter, we are looking into the possibility that my dad based Adam and
Suze
—
at
least in
part
—
on
Cary and her
ex
-
husband
.”

Walter, not one to hold back facial expressions, dropped his jaw and looked at Cary as if she were levitating.

“Fred Spencer,” Walter said.

“How do you know his name?” Cary asked.

“I asked him to do some Internet work,” Ben said. “He didn’t know why until now.”

“So they’re
real
?” Walter said.