Treadmill (12 page)

“White wine?” she asked.

“Great idea.”

It had been a long time since he had drunk anything alcoholic.

She pulled out a bottle of wine from the refrigerator and returned to the living room. Handing him a corkscrew, she placed two wine glasses on the coffee table in front of the couch.

“You do the honors.”

He unplugged the cork, poured, and handed her one of the glasses, which she raised and clinked against his.

“To Parrish.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Cooper said. He felt good, and the crisp, cool wine against his pallet felt wonderful. She sat down on the couch next to him. He felt the intimacy of her proximity, and wanted to touch her. Instead, he breathed in her perfume, excited by her aura.

“He sounded quite happy,” she laughed. “For Parrish. He wasn’t much for displaying emotion.”

“No, he wasn’t,” Cooper agreed.

“I’m sure you’re relieved,” she said, sipping her wine and smiling.

“And grateful,” he said, lifting his glass and drinking.

“Very,” Susan said.

“Fate works in funny ways,” Cooper said. For the first time in months, he felt elated. He worked up the courage to meet her glance directly.

“You’re the only man that’s been in this place since…since Carlton,” Susan said.

“Really?” Cooper responded, noting that his hands shook as he emptied his glass in one gulp. She refilled his glass and topped her own.

“Really.”

“I…I haven’t been…with a woman…,” Cooper began, feeling flustered and uncertain. He noted that the wine had quickly rushed to his head and his tongue felt slightly heavy. “In fact, I haven’t touched…,” he paused, unable to complete his original thought, “…wine since forever.”

“Do you like it?”

“Yes.” He felt a hot blush rise to his face.

“Good.”

“I’m glad you invited me,” Cooper said. Reaching out, she patted his free hand. The touch of her skin was electrifying.

“Do you actually work out every day?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said.

“I should be doing it myself. I guess I’m lazy.”

“Great for the body and the psyche,” Cooper said, taking another deep sip of his wine. “At least you’re in control of yourself.”

“Yes,” she said. “That’s something worth considering. It’s awful to be powerless and at the mercy of others.” She hesitated, took a sip of her wine, and sighed. She pursed her lips. “I’ll never let that happen to me again. Never.”

Her refrain sounded a lot like his own inner dialogue, and yet here he was, doing the one thing he had vowed he would never do; become involved, offering a piece of himself to someone else.

“My recent experience was a nightmare,” Susan sighed. Her eyes roamed the room, alighting on the telephone. “He calls incessantly. I’ve changed my number twice. Doesn’t matter. Carlton finds it.”

“Is he harassing you?”

“Harassment is too mild a description. He can get physical.”

“Aren’t you concerned?” he asked.

“I try not to think about it. Carlton has a problem.”

She stood up, took his hand, and drew him to the bridge table. She ladled soup from a pot on the stove, and set the bowls on the table. Then she brought out prepared sandwiches and placed them next to the bowls.

“This is all quite a surprise,” he said, starting to eat. “Soup’s great.”

“I like to cook, but my time’s pretty limited.”

“I’m strictly into microwave,” Cooper said.

Susan poured again. Cooper knew he was getting drunk, but he was enjoying the euphoria.

“Did Parrish say he liked California?” he asked.

“Parrish will be fine. He’s a survivor.”

Cooper watched Susan eating her soup, noting the delicacy of her long, white, tapered fingers.

“And you?” she asked. “Divorced?”

“Yes,” he replied.

“Was it rough?”

He picked up the wineglass and drank again. He hadn’t expected the question, and was surprised to discover that it did not evoke as much pain.

“Not now,” he said, compelled to reveal the circumstances. “She wanted out. She and her boss became involved. I never knew. Couldn’t even sense what was happening. It came as a shock.”

“Must have hurt,” Susan sighed.

“It did.”

“And now?”

He raised his eyes and peered into hers.
Over
, he told himself.
Margo was over
. He smiled.

“Less and less,” he said, keeping his eyes steady, seeing hope in hers. “We had no kids. Clean break.”

“You’re lucky. I wish I could close the chapter on Carlton.” She shook her head as if trying to remove a terrible thought.

“You said he was physical. Did he…”

“Yes.” She looked away. “He did lose control on occasion.”

“God, that’s awful.”

“It was only a few times.”

“Did you go to the police?”

“No. I treated myself.”

Her remarks gave him cause for concern. “Let’s hope it’s all over,” Cooper said.

“Let’s hope.”

Their eyes met again, and held for a long moment.

“Well, at least Parrish served a good purpose,” Cooper told her.

She looked at him archly, as if she were confused by that remark.

“Did he?” she asked.

“He…he brought us together,” Cooper said, feeling another hot blush crawl up his cheeks.

“Oh….” She seemed relieved. “Let’s drink to that.”

She had refilled their drained glasses. He lifted his and they clinked. Then they drank.

“I’m not used to this,” he said, conscious of his tongue feeling even heavier. Briefly, the thought about Laura’s husband not tolerating alcohol intruded.

“Neither am I,” she said, appearing to have a better command of her faculties than him.

He finished his soup and started on his sandwich.

“It’s really good,” he said.

As they ate, their eyes met.

“It’s been awhile,” Cooper said. “…being with another person…like this.”

“Sounds like you’re alone a lot.”

“I know how to handle it,” he said. “It’s not the same as being lonely.”

“Alone is an unnatural state,” she said. “God made us to be paired. At least, that must have been His motive, since that is how the human race carries on.”

“People don’t always pair for propagation,” he said.

“I’ll buy that,” she chuckled.

Cooper felt the unmistakable signs of sexual arousal. His glance drifted to her nipples, which seemed to have hardened upright under the fabric.

“You don’t have a girlfriend,” Susan asked, as if reading his mind.

He shook his head.

“That’s another thing we have in common,” she said.

“Girlfriends?”

She caught the humor, threw her head back and laughed. “Sorry, that’s not my thing”.

“You’re a nurse, right?” Cooper inquired.

“For a plastic surgeon. I assist him. He works mostly in his own offices. Has an operating room on the premises. Does excellent work. I feel like I’m doing good things for people. That’s important to me.”

Yes it is
, he thought, feeling slightly ashamed of what he had done for a living.

“Before I became professionally unemployed, I was in advertising, a purveyor of the acceptable lie.”

“That seems like a harsh judgment.”

“Not at all. Lies are endemic to our society.” The observation surprised him.

Cooper had avoided pondering over philosophical matters for months. Now they were flooding back into his mind.

“In addition to being unstable, Carlton lied a lot,” Susan said. “He got all tangled up in them. If you’re going to lie, you should keep the lies logical and believable.”

“Margo did,” he admitted for the first time to another person, without discomfort. “My wife was an expert. I was completely taken in. By her words…and her actions.”

“She was that good?”

“A master,” he replied. He had observed no flagging of desire, no wavering of attention to the little details of their marriage. The memory of his naiveté slightly complicated his view of this woman seated across from him

“Then when it didn’t serve her anymore, she confessed?”

He nodded.

“She must have been diabolically clever.”

“And I had to be pathologically stupid.” He had never admitted that to anyone else. Despite his hesitation, he felt himself bonding with Susan.

“Carlton was also a womanizer, which would explain his jealousy. I even caught him once.”

“At least you caught him,” Cooper said. “I was left to imagine.”

“I get it,” she said after a pause. “The unknown is worse than the reality.”

Cooper reveled in this shared perspective.

“So we now have our mutual pain,” she said, her eyes meeting his. At the same time, he was conscious of their skin touching, her hand covering his. It was cool, caressing. He felt the return of the old need. A thrill of pleasure crawled up his spine.

“A couple of castoffs,” she whispered.

“That’s us,” he agreed.

Their faces moved closer and they kissed lightly on the lips. He felt her mouth open, taking in his tongue, caressing it with hers. His hand moved to her breasts, circling her nipples. He was almost delirious with desire, explosive.

“My God,” he whispered, breathless, remembering that he had once believed himself incapable of returning to such sensations. He had forgotten the joy of it.

She stood up, took his hand and led him to the bedroom, then sat down on the edge of the bed. He sat down beside her and kissed her again deeply. He felt her hand reach downward and caress his erection.

After a while, she stood up and undressed, then began to undress him. When they were both naked, she guided him inside her, straddled him and ground her hips in a frenzy of excitement. Her orgasmic eruption stimulated him to the same heights of pleasure.

“I’ve been wandering in a desert,” he said after they had cooled and were stretched out in her bed, caressing each other languorously.

“You were wonderful,” she sighed. “Wonderful.”

“I was?” he replied. “All I did was go with the flow.”

“I’ve got to admit. It’s been a long time since I flowed like this.”

“Me, too.”

“Did you have this in mind when you invited me to lunch?” he asked.

“I cannot tell a lie. And you?”

“Yes. But I didn’t believe it would happen. It’s been so long. And…,” he hesitated.

“And what?” she prodded.

“Frankly, I was afraid.”

“Of what?”

“Of caring. Of being betrayed again.”

His own candor surprised him. He was sharing too much, he decided.

“I know the feeling,” she said. “We often make the same mistakes over and over again.”

Before he could respond, she kissed him deeply again and reached for him, signaling her reawakened desire.

They made love all afternoon, and in between their post-coital languor, they talked. He learned that she had grown up in the Midwest, gone to nursing college, worked in a number of cities and wound up in Washington.

“Why nursing?” he asked.

“I’ve always wanted to help people,” she said, growing serious. “I know it sounds corny, but I think it’s important to serve mankind.”

He noted that her eyes seemed to be concentrating on something far away, an eternity from the present time and place.

“There’s no greater calling,” she whispered. “There is so much pain in this world.” This feeling for humanity impressed him deeply, revealing how self-centered his life had been.

Cooper must have dozed off, and when he awoke she was standing over him in a bathrobe toweling her hair.

“I guess I fell asleep,” he said, sitting up.

“After your performance, I’d say you deserved the rest.”

She laughed, bent over him, and kissed him lightly on the lips, then playfully slapped him on his naked thigh.

“I’ve got a staff meeting tonight,” she said, going back into the bathroom.

He got out of bed and dressed, and waited for her in the living room. He felt good, although he made no further attempt at that moment to analyze his feelings.

Take it as it comes
, he told himself.

She came out of the bedroom and they stood for a moment and embraced.

“When will I see you again?” he asked.

“Soon,” she said. “I have this odd schedule. I’ll know how it goes tonight at the meeting. Depends on the assignments.”

“Shall I call you?”

“I’ll call you.”

Cooper wrote down his apartment number and gave it to her. As they left her apartment together, he looked across the hall at Parrish’s apartment door.

“Good man, Parrish,” he said. “Made an impact on my life.”

“Mine, too,” she said.

He walked her to her car in the parking lot. They embraced again.

“It was wonderful,” she said, getting into the car.

“Yes it was,” he agreed.

“Can I drive you?”

“I’m fine,” he said.

She blew him a kiss, gunned the motor, and drove away. Smiling to himself, he watched her car disappear into the darkness.

It was only later, as Cooper neared his own building, that he was conscious of Laura’s black car still following him. He decided to not be evasive. She would have known he would be heading back to his own building.

The car pulled up beside him, stopped, and the door opened.

“Get in,” Laura said. Cooper hesitated. He wanted to be left alone. Well, not really alone. He wanted to be with Susan. Right now, to him, Parrish was history.

“I’m tired of watching your apartment, then driving around. I’ve been doing it all day. You can’t imagine how frustrating it is,” she said, offering a wry smile. “You evaded me.”

Her self-effacing disarmed him; shrugging, he slid in beside her. He would have to tell her that he wanted no part in whatever it was she was involved with. Nor did he feel any need to follow her advice to run away. Gunning the motor, she made a quick U-turn and headed in the opposite direction of his apartment.

“Where are we going?” he asked.

“You’ll know when we get there,” she said. The car headed down Wisconsin Avenue. She remained silent for a long time. Cooper knew she was angry. Finally, she spoke.

“I know my credibility is questionable,” she muttered.

“Yup,” he said.

“You think I’m a paranoid hysterical woman.”

“You said it. I didn’t.”

“Where did you go today?”

“Considering I went through all that trouble to avoid you, why would I tell you that?”

“You’re making a big mistake.”

“My biggest mistake was listening to you. When I saw your car this morning, it struck me that you were the person on my tail.”

“I was keeping on eye on you, yes.”

“And you were the one that broke into my apartment?” Cooper said.

“I admit it.”

“Then why blame it on the others?”

“I was there after the fact,” she said, somewhat sheepishly. “They were there ahead of me.”

“Who?” he asked.

“I can’t say for certain.”

“Maybe no one,” Cooper said.

She opened the glove compartment and pulled out a small round piece of metal.

“I found this in your phone.” She handed it to him. “Your phone was tapped.”

He rolled the device between his fingers.

“How do I know it was from my phone?”

“You’re a hard case, Cooper,” she sighed.

“Why would anyone want to tap my phone? It’s barely used.”

“That may be the point. They’d know any phone calls you did make would be very important.”

He observed her in profile as she drove. She was not unattractive, but her intensity seemed to minimize her attraction in an odd way, as if everything inside of her was invested in this one single-minded obsession. Her eyes, too, were laser-like in their beaming concentration. She did not just look at you with her eyes; she burned through you.

“I need to know more about you.”

“Why?”

She shook her head. “I’m doing this for your own good.”

“So what did you learn about me?”

“Disturbing things.”

He blew air out between his teeth in a familiar gesture of resignation. “I’m often disturbed by myself. And, if the truth were known, I really think I’m quite boring.”

“So much for self-analysis,” she said. “You’re a virtual hermit, anti-social, unemployed, without either a significant other or family. A loner…just like Parrish.”

Parrish again
. He was tempted to tell her what he had learned about Parrish, but that would require more explanation than he was willing to give. He had no desire to indulge Susan Haber in her weird speculations.

As for her characterization, she might have been more accurate if she were judging him pre-Susan Haber. Considering Susan’s reaction to him, and his to her, he could hardly be considered anti-social.

“And you have no friends,” she added.

“In my defense,” he said. “I spend my time reading, and that is enough for me. The characters in my books are friends enough.”

“Would they miss you if you suddenly…were gone.”

“You’ve got a point,” he said, nodding, taking comfort in his private thoughts about Susan Haber.
Would she miss me? Maybe not yet. Perhaps soon.

“If I’m a paragon of insignificance, then why have I captured so much of your attention?”

“You’ve caught my attention, Jack, because I believe you’ve caught theirs.”

“Them again?”

“Our gym buddies.”

“Do they think I know something?”

That had been his original presumption. His making inquiries about Parrish. But Parrish’s whereabouts were hardly a mystery anymore. Still, he held off telling her.

“Maybe,” she replied.

“That’s definitive,” he chuckled. She must have observed that he was taking her less and less seriously.

“They may want something from you.”

“From me? I have nothing even remotely valuable.”

“Ah! Now we come to the nub of the mystery. Then why are they so interested in you?”

“You’re the only one that thinks that,” he said.

“And you don’t believe me, do you?” She turned toward him for a moment.

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“And you shouldn’t be,” she said. “Remember. I told you to run. You sure didn’t vote with your feet.”

“I like to know what I’m running from.”

“Then I’ll have to do a better job convincing you.”

Despite what Susan had told him about Parrish, he could not discount the passion and sincerity of Laura’s commitment to unlock the mystery of her husband’s death.

“Look, I’m terribly sorry about your husband. Maybe his death was the result of foul play, maybe not. I can understand your obsession to find out the truth. But what does all this have to do with me?” Cooper sighed.

“I know exactly how you feel. I hate unanswered questions. And I admit my obsession. I’m a product of the old verities; truthfulness, loyalty, morality, ethics.” She pursed her lips and shook her head. “Midwest.”

“Midwest? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m a farm girl from Minnesota,” she said. “That’s me. I was a good girl. Church on Sundays. Helped Mama with the chores. Remember chores? Liberal Arts degree from a land grant college. Fell in love with Dale Chase in college. He was head of the class, President of everything.” She stopped abruptly.

“I don’t need your resume. I’m not hiring.” Cooper was instantly sorry. He was being mean-spirited, and he regretted it.

“So Dale marries his sweet virgin, and takes her to the land of hypocrisy and deception—the nation’s capitol. So, I’m still the good little girl, faithful, obedient. I know my place. I get a good job. We postpone having a family, because it’s not on Dale’s agenda. He’s now the tail wagging the dog.” She paused again, swallowing.

Tears or bile?
Cooper wondered.

“‘We’re on our way to the White House,’ he tells me. That’s supposed to excite me.”

“And it didn’t?”

“Not really,” she sighed. She tried to smile. “If you haven’t noticed—and I’m sure you haven’t—I’m a home and hearth person. What I hated most about my marriage was my unwavering supportiveness. ‘Stand by your man,’ and all that. I couldn’t be myself.”

“And you’re still devoted to him,” Cooper observed lightly. It felt weird, Laura opening up to him. It seemed a compulsion, just like Parrish.

Why me? Out of all people, why did they open up to me?

“Because of who I am, and who I’ve become, I need to know why my husband died. Then I won’t have to wonder anymore. Until I get that out of the way, I can’t go on with my life.”

Cooper did not respond. His losing Margo was a less extreme variation of what had happened to Laura, with one difference; Cooper wished he had known less about Margo, while Laura wished she had known more about Dale.

It is eerie
, Cooper thought, how people were connected by a continuum of similar human behaviors. He realized that human beings—despite their advances in technology and knowledge—never changed. They lived, suffered, loved, propagated, sometimes did dreadful things; lied, cheated, tortured, murdered, and to give the devil his due, often did good deeds. Then they died and were never heard from again.

“Do you understand?” she asked.

He remained silent.

“I guess you don’t,” she concluded.

He did, but he didn’t want to be a part of her world.

“If you’re not going to run, Jack,” she said. “You had better be aware of what could happen to you.” She had adopted an attitude of condescension and sarcasm. Cooper wished she would stop the car and let him out.

“Sounds threatening.”

“It is.”

She made a hard left on Reservoir Road past the German Embassy, then into the Georgetown University Hospital Parking Lot. She seemed to know her way around, moving into an area reserved for staff. She soon stopped the car in front of a familiar yellow Honda with a Bethesda Health Club sticker on the windshield.

“Anni Corazon,” she said.

“So?”

“She works here as a nurse.”

“Is that a problem?”

“Just file it away for future reference.”

He had assumed that she lived in Georgia Mews, a presumption quickly shattered by Laura’s next comment.

“She lives not far away on Wisconsin Avenue,” she said, as if reading his mind.

“Does she?”

“With none other than our friend Melnechuck.”

Searching his memory, Cooper could not recall Anni or Melnechuck ever having exchanged a word.

“And how is that significant?”

“He’s a medical lab technician.”

The way she said it made it seem as if it were very important information, although it’s relevance escaped Cooper. People in the same field enjoyed social proximity, and proximity encouraged relationships.

“Will wonders never cease,” he said with inescapable sarcasm. The statement sparked her impatience. She gunned the motor, and with tires squealing she drove the car out of the parking garage.

“Now where?” he asked, noting she was heading east.

“My place,” she said, as she drove deftly through traffic.

Near Dupont Circle, she entered a garage under a high-rise building and parked the car. He reluctantly followed her into the elevator. It stopped on the sixth floor. A plastic nameplate on her apartment door read ‘Davis.’

It was an efficiency apartment, sparsely furnished. In the one main room was a long desk, made from a recycled door. On it was a computer and a fax machine and a neat pile of papers. There were two canvas director chairs in the room, one of which she used as a desk chair. There was also a battered green television set, a DVD player, and on a shelf, a small video camera in a leather case.

In what would normally be a dining alcove was a neatly made up cot, and to one side, a bridge table with no chairs. There were no rugs on the shiny parquet floor. He noted that the tiny kitchen was, like the rest of the apartment, clean and functional. The whole place had a kind of buttoned down feel about it, like quarters on a small ship with everything in its place. It was also a mirror image of his own way of life, a physical embodiment of an obsessive attempt at self-control. It was the first time since they had met that he felt the slightest hint of commonality.

Without a word, she went into the kitchen and brought out two paper plates with sandwiches in plastic wrappers. She placed them on the desk, then brought out two cans of Diet Coke.

“I’m not into zapped food,” she said, obviously referring to his penchant for frozen foods. The comment was irritating. He was still annoyed that she had broken into his apartment.

She opened the file cabinet, took out a DVD, slipped it into the DVD player, then came back to the desk and turned on the television set.

“Just like the movies,” he said, unwrapping his sandwich.

“Hope you like tuna,” she said, unwrapping hers and turning toward the television set.

The rear of a large house came into view, with a driveway leading to a double door garage.

“Pay attention. It’s a house on Foxhall Road. Note that it’s completely hidden on all sides.”

“Who took this?”

“I did.”

Then an ambulance came into view. One of the automatic garage doors began to open. The ambulance backed up to the opening but did not move in further. Two men hopped out of the front doors: Blake and Melnechuck. They came around to the rear of the ambulance and opened the rear doors. Inside they could make out a stretcher and a man and a woman: Kessler and Anni. The image was a little pixelated, but reasonably clear enough to recognize them.

Melnechuck eased a stretcher from the ambulance on an angle down to Blake, which they then pushed into the garage. It was not clear whether the stretcher contained anyone. Everything happened swiftly. Then the garage door closed.

“I’m sure you recognize the actors in this little drama,” she whispered. He saw no need to comment.

Next, a large limousine came up the driveway and the other garage door opened. Cooper could make out two men in the front seat and people in the rear. Then behind the Limo he could see two SUVs, which pulled up behind it. Suddenly Laura stopped the DVD. Cooper squinted into the image.

“Familiar?”

“Vaguely,” Cooper said.

“The man driving is Kent.”