The Fives Run North-South (30 page)

“Well,” Ben said. “There’s been a development that makes me think maybe he does.”

“Oh?”

Ben told her about the
break
-
ins
. Cary’s disbelief darkened her face, and she looked close to tears.

“What’s going on, Ben?”

“I don’t know. We know your husband got into a traffic situation with someone in a red SUV. Somehow, my father must have been there or seen it and hired an investigator to learn who your husband was. Then he apparently writes a book based on the event. In my mind, he simply expanded on the
situation
—
with
your husband’s
permission
—
letting
it grow into a story of pure fantasy. Up until now, I kind of supposed your husband evaporated for the same reason lots of guys disappear after divorcing: they want a fresh start. You know, leave shirt collars looser, work out in the gym, troll for younger women…stuff like that.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that theory if that’s all you thought it was?”

“He was your husband. If you felt the need to be worried, it wasn’t my place to suppose otherwise. Now…?”

“So what do we do?”

“What do you want to do?” Ben asked.

Cary inhaled deeply. “I want to scream at Fred, maybe smack him in the face a couple times. Or at least confront him. Maybe even go to Florida to do it.”

“Sounds like a good idea. You want company?”

“Would you really?”

“Of course. I have a stake in this now, too. Let’s go first thing in the morning.”

“Really?”

“Why wait?”

Cary shrugged, smiling. “Shit,” she said. “Why not?”

“How about I book a couple flights while you plate up that lunch?”

Cary reached over and squeezed his arm. “Thank you, Ben. Really…I feel like I came barging into your life, putting it on spin cycle, and you’ve been a trooper.”

“No need for you to feel bad. My father was involved in this in some way. I’m involved in this. The sooner we figure out why, the better.”

Ben was able to book flights that departed early the next morning. When it was confirmed, they both seemed to relax a bit. The afternoon progressed. They ate lunch, split a bottle of wine, and found conversation on everything except the situation with Fred Spencer and
Dented
. At one point, Ben told her about a writer’s conference he’d attended in the midcoast area of Maine last autumn.

“I’ve never been there, believe it or not,” Cary said.

“Really?”

“Fred always said that if he were going to take any time off, he’d not waste vacation days going farther north. He was a cruise ship kind of guy.”

“Wow. You don’t know what you’re missing. We’ll have to go up there after…” the expression of surprise on her face halted his sentence. “What?”

“After,”
she said. “I’m just glad to hear you want to do things together.
After
.”

“I’d like to.”

“So would I.”

At 6:38 exactly, the doorbell rang. They were still out on the deck, though it was starting to cool down. Ben looked at his watch and laughed.

Walter was a bit wired, for his standards. He walked in with a slight bounce to his step, though when he saw Cary he faded a bit.

“Oh. Hi,” he said to her.

“Hello, Walter. Good to see you again,” she said.

“Yeah.” Turning to Ben, he said, “I’m hungry. You got anything?”

“I’ll see what I can whip up,” Ben said.

“So?” he said, nodding his head toward the den where the black notebook was on Ben’s desk.

“Tell me about today,” Ben said. “You get much done?”

“Uh
-
huh
. Place is secure. I’ll go back in the morning. What do you have?”

“Excuse me?”

“To eat?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’ll go check,” Cary said.

“I have a peanut allergy!” Walter yelled as she faded into the kitchen.

“Come on,” Ben said, leading Walter into the den. He took a seat on his easy chair and motioned to the desk. “Have at it,” he said.

Walter opened the book. “So I’ve got a theory about the story, having to do with Peter. I’m thinking…” He looked down on the first page. “Whoa.”

Ben looked up. Walter was frozen.

“What?” Ben asked.

Walter looked up, blinking, pointing to the first page. Ben stood and walked over beside Walter and looked down. He remembered reading it (probably a couple times), some of his father’s random phrases…from story stuff to chore reminders. Like the first one:

Don’t use Hangers for dry cleaning. Who uses that much starch or sports shirts?

Paul: Keep that Esquire guy off my back.

Pillows.

Use Glass again.

Colors of red.

Ben looked up at Walter. “I guess I’m missing something.”

“Obviously,” Walter said. “What’s the name of the guy your dad hired to find Fred Spencer?”

“Glass…”
Oh, shit.

Use Glass again.

Glass.

Again.

“Dad was going to hire Glass again,” Ben said.

“Or maybe he’d already hired him before, and finding Spencer was the second time,” Walter said.

“Wow, keep reading, Paddy,” Ben said.

Walter put on his best
“I
-
told
-
you
-
so”
face and settled down at Ben’s desk. Ben grabbed his phone, pulling his wallet out and checking the number on Glass’s business card. The phone rang three times then went to voice mail. Ben checked the card and saw a cell phone number. He tried that, too, but it went right to voice mail as well. Ben left a message asking Glass to call him. He set the phone down.
It might be nothing
,
he thought.

No. Nothing is nothing these days.

“Hey, Walter.”

“Yes.”

“I think you need to go see Glass in the morning.”

“What time?”

“First thing.”

Walter slumped. “Man,” he said. “You don’t like it much when I sleep, do you?”

“You’ll recover.” Ben dialed Glass’s number again, and again got the voice mail. He said: “Mr. Glass, this is Ben Keaton. An employee of mine, Walter Benning, is coming over in the morning. He’s helping me settle matters with my father. He’s authorized to discuss anything to do with me or my dad. I’d like to ask you to give him your full attention, give him all the information he needs, and keep a good accounting of your time. I’ll pay double your rate if you help us bring resolution to a couple things. Okay? If you get this message tonight, please call.” Ben hung up.

“Why don’t you just go over yourself?” Ben asked.

“I’ll be in Florida.”

“Say what?”

“Cary thinks she’s found Fred. In Florida.”

“Whoa.”

“You can say that again.”

“I’d prefer not to.”

Ben shook his head. “Keep reading, Paddy.”

32

I
t was four thirty in the morning when Ben pulled into Cary’s driveway to pick her up. She came out the front door the second she saw his headlights. As she passed through them, Ben was struck by how attractive she looked…and in midday form. He was glad he’d showered, but couldn’t quite remember if he’d combed his hair. It’d been years since he’d woken up that early. On purpose, anyway. As they’d both decided, each carried a small
carry
-
on
bag with a single change of clothes. They had an
open
-
ended
return ticket and had hoped that they could fly into Palm Beach, get some answers, and return that night. But they couldn’t count on it and were prepared to stay at least one night.

“Hey!” she said, jumping into the passenger seat with more energy and eagerness than Ben could imagine anyone generating that early in the day.

“Morning,” he croaked.
Great. Smooth. A croak.
He tried to quietly clear his throat. “You ready?” He put the car into reverse, looking backward before she answered.

“Hey,” she said again.

He stepped on the brake and looked at her. She brought her hands to the sides of his face and gently pulled. Before he knew it, her lips covered his. A few seconds later she backed away. “Thank you,” she said, looking him fully in the eyes.

“Uhh…”

“Just drive, now. Okay?”

“Uh
-
huh
.”

He pulled out of the driveway, put the car in gear, and drove out of her neighborhood.

“You all right?” she asked.

“Yup,” he said. “I’m glad I brushed. Did the toothpaste last?”

“Minty fresh.”

“Good.”

No surprise, they hit some thick traffic as they approached Logan Airport. They had to move quickly after parking, but made it through security in enough time to relax over coffee before boarding the plane. Ben had purchased first class seats.

“If I’m going to get up in the middle of the night, I’m going to treat myself right for however long this day lasts.”

They boarded and the plane rolled away from the terminal before coming to a stop on the tarmac. The pilot informed the passengers that due to heavy traffic, they were going remain on the ground, perhaps for as long as
forty
-
five
minutes.

“I could have slept in longer if someone in the
airport
-
planning
committee had done a better job here,” Ben said.

“You don’t fly much, do you?” Cary said.

“One of the best things about being me is that to this point, I’ve not done anything much.”

“Except sleep?”

“You know me so well already,” Ben said. “I like to think I’ve been storing up battery power for whatever awesome thing I might eventually decide to do.”

“You’re not fooling me. You’re not the slacker you like everyone to think you are.”

“Who knows? I can tell you I’d hate to think how I’d have turned out had my father not been a
well
-
compensated
famous guy.”

“I have a feeling you’d still have been fine. I’m not a
‘what
-
if’
person myself.”

“Really? When you were a kid, what did you want to be when you grew up?”

“Married. A mom. A baseball player. Got one out of three. How about you?”

“Well,” Ben said. “That’s part of my problem. At some point in everyone’s life, the ‘what I want to be’ flips to ‘what I could have been.’ Not sure when that transition happens. It’s probably different for everyone. I figure it has to be a sad day, but only if you recognize it. For me, I’ve not hit that point yet…which would be a good thing if not for my age. For some reason, I’ve not accepted the fact that I’m a
grown
-
up
now.”

“So, what do you want to be when you grow up then?”

“A writer. A dad. A baseball player. See, I got two out of three. And did a
piss
-
poor
job at both.”

“I’m not sure that’s the case,” she said. She reached into her
carry
-
on
bag and pulled out a
dog
-
eared
copy of
Flier.
“I can’t put it down.”

“The success of a writer is the size of the audience that isn’t friends or family.”

“You’re a pessimistic brat if you get up too early, aren’t you?”

He pointed to the air vent above him. “Recycled air fogs up the brain. So, not to change the subject, but how are you doing?”

“Better when the subject was you.”

“What are you going to say to him?”

“I have questions. Lots. But right now I’m just thinking I’ll let it come out naturally rather than try to plan in advance.”

“I’m assuming you’ll want your privacy when we see him,” Ben said. “I’ll be there for you if you want, but that’s your call.”

“Thanks. I mean, having a productive conversation with Fred wasn’t easy in the good times. He liked to control our world and liked to keep things closed up inside. Part of it was to more or less protect me from the
negative
—
some
misplaced chivalry to keep my world happy and trouble free. And I have to admit, part of me enjoyed that. Who wouldn’t? On the other hand, I resented his tendency to stay private. I guess I wanted it both ways.”

“Nothing wrong with that.”

“Drove my sister crazy. She couldn’t stand Fred.
Wendy
—
my
sister
—
is
a world different from me. Career. Career. Career. No guy ever measured up to what she wanted.”

“Which was?”

“Well…probably a guy who behaved like I did with Fred. Compliant and without a lot of ambition.”

“Maybe she should have met me.”

“Yeah, right. If you meet her someday, you’ll see how unlikely that would have been. I love Wendy. We’re as close as two different people can be.
Fred
—
well
, that’s a different story. Which is a bit ironic. When I found out he came to Florida, I was a bit surprised because that’s her home. Although on the west side, in Tampa. Wouldn’t think he’d even want to share a state with Wendy. I used to come stay with her every five or six months.”

“Maybe you can extend your visit and see her.”

“I wouldn’t want to miss all the fun I’m having with you.”

“Fun?”

“Excitement. Fun. Almost the same thing. I mean, this started out of curiosity and concern from Fred. And that’s still there, especially now. But it’s turned into a bit of an adventure. It turns out I was more than ready for a little adventure in my life.”

The plane finally started moving.

“Well,” Ben said, “hope you really are ready…because we’re finally on our way.”

Then the plane stopped.

“Sorry, folks,” the pilot announced. “False start. Looks like we might be here a little while longer.”

“We like our adventures to move slowly,” Ben said. He looked at his watch. “Well, by now our boy Walter must be over at the offices of Roger Glass. I wonder how that will go.”

oshitoshitoshitoshit

Walter walked out of the offices of Glass and onto the street. He turned left. Stopped. Turned back in the other direction. Stopped. Froze. Looked down both sides of the street. Did what to an observer would look like either a slight seizure or a lame dance and froze again. Swiveling his head, he finally remembered where he’d parked and spotted his car. He walked briskly toward it, digging in his pocket for his phone.

He opened his car door. Sat down in the driver’s seat. Started the car then turned it off. He leaned over to his passenger seat where he had loose paper sheets, a notebook, some Chinese food menus, and a few business cards.

That guy Glass was kind of a dick. He started off treating Walter like he was fifteen years old. And he didn’t have much nice to say about Ben.

“Kind of pisses you off to see what growing up rich does to a guy, don’t you think?” Glass had said.

Walter had pretended to agree because he knew that sometimes it’s the best way to get
lame
-
o’s
to play nicely. Walter figured out that he had to act like he thought Glass was the wise man on the mountain and that he wanted to absorb the guy’s knowledge. As guys like that often do, Glass started vomiting information like an
anti
-
intellectual
exorcism. And really only a little of it mattered.

But did it ever matter!

It was all Walter could do to sit still (and, really, he didn’t sit
entirely
still. But for him…), as he needed to get out of there and call…

Who?

Looking at his watch, he knew that Ben and that woman were in the air right now. That left one alternative. One he hated. But this was…well, this was an
oshit
. He swam his hand through the pile of papers and junk on the passenger seat. Finding what he was looking for, he dialed a number written on a torn piece of paper.

After about three rings, he made the connection.

“Hello,” he said. “This is Walter.”

“Who?”

“Walter.
Walter
-
Paddy
.”

“Oh.”

“Is this Paul?”

“Yes.”

“I know we’re arch enemies…” Walter began.

“Really. Arch enemies? You use that term?”

“Okay, so maybe you just don’t like me because you’re inclined to not like people. I don’t know. But there’s a problem. For Ben.”

“You have my attention.”

“Well, I’d call him, but he’s in the air with that woman. The Suze clone.”

“Cary?”

“Her.”

“In the air?”

“To Florida.”

“Say what?”

“To find Adam. Or Fred. That guy.”

“Her
ex
-
husband
. Ben’s flying to Florida to meet her
ex
-
husband
?”

“Yes.”

“Wow.”

“I know.”

“No,” said Paul, “I don’t think you do.”

“So I went to meet the private investigator. You know, he’s a lot like Viniteri.”

“Who?”

“From
Dented
.
Curtis Viniteri. Did you really work for Rob Keaton?”

Sigh. “Why don’t you get to the point, Walter?”

“That’s what I’m trying to do. You just make things…difficult. You think I’m an idiot.”

“Sorry, Walter, I really am, but can you tell me why you called?”

And he did.

Paul hung up his cell phone and sat back in the desk chair in his Atlanta hotel room. He could only shake his head. This was all just…

Too much.

He looked down at his phone, nodded, and punched up one of the programmed numbers. The answer was quick.

“Malone,” he said. “It’s Paul. Look, we have a situation. I need to use the company jet. I need to get to Florida immediately. Can you make that happen? It’s a client situation, a huge emergency…Keaton. Ben Keaton…I know…I know…You’re still the one, Malone. Thanks!”