“Madam, I must insist, madam. Whom are you meeting?”
I had practically reached the landing at the top of the stairs when I looked down at the source of the voice calling up to me. All I could see was the top of his uniform cap.
“Oh, I’m terribly sorry. Were you talking to me? I’m with an escort service Mr. Segal called for me half an hour ago said just to come ahead as I was, what he needed wouldn’t take us very long.”
I continued down the short hallway and waited at the entrance to the bar so that Mike could catch up with me before I pushed open the padded leather door and walked in.
There were about five clusters of drinkers scattered about the large room, relaxing around cocktail tables with armchairs and easy chairs, nursing their nightcaps before heading off to rest up for tomorrow’s deal-making.
“Alexandra!” Jed spotted me almost immediately and called out to me as I stood in the doorway, scanning the room to find him.
“Come with me, Mike,” I whispered as I moved forward.
Jed rose to his feet, followed in rapid succession by his two boot lickers Larry and Stan slightly younger versions of Jed, hoping to grow up just like him, I was sure. Anderson Warmack, the centerpiece of the group, never budged from his chair, but just leaned in and rested his elbows on the table as he winked at me in welcome.
“Jed, I think you remember Mike Chapman. He’s with Homicide. Mike and I need to ask you some questions, Jed. We’d like to-‘
”Alex, darling, why don’t you and Chapman join us for a round. We’re celebrating Mr.
Warmack’s big night and anything you want to tell me can certainly wait till we get home.“ Could he really be as cool and unconcerned as he appeared to be, seeing me burst in here looking like a shrew with a detective at my side? Was it possible that I had made a ridiculous mistake?
Larry and Stan or was it Curly and Moe were scrambling to pull up two extra chairs from nearby tables now.
“Don’t bother. We’re not sitting. Jed, this is not a joke. We need to go somewhere private and talk. Right now. We can go upstairs to the library on the fourth floor I’m sure it’s empty at this hour.”
Anderson Warmack chose that moment to begin to blow his hot air into our business.
“Alexandria, my dear…”
“It’s not Alexandria. It’s Alexandra.”
Now I had Jed’s attention. I could mess with him but I better not cross old moneybags.
“Alexandra young lady I’ve been keeping your sweetheart from you too long, is that the problem? Called the police in on me, have you? You look mighty perturbed.”
Well, you’re a master of understatement, you pompous old fart. I’m not perturbed I am fucking pissed off and heartbroken and confused and hurt and angry, but I am much too well brought up to say exactly that to a politefool like you who likes to have his dimpled old ass kissed as frequently as possible. ftic “Quite the contrary, Mr. Warmack. I only need to see Jed ‘ for fifteen or twenty minutes, and if you’ll be good enough to wait for him, I won’t ever need to take him out of your presence again, for as long as I live. ” Jed was mad now. He was furious that I was bringing his idol and his underlings into some spat they thought I was starting, and he was trying to placate Warmack before he dealt with me.
‘I’ll just finish up with you, Anderson. Alex and her friend can have a wait-’ Mike was ready to jump in, at last.
“Hey, Mr. Spiegal, we’re ready to-‘ ”It’s Segal.“
“Nobody wants to embarrass you. I do have a few questions that need to have answers tonight. Now be a gent and do what the lady would like you to do, understand?”
Larry thought it was time for a little levity.
“Go on, Jed, we’ll still be here. Don’t make the tough guy take out his gun and shoot you in the foot to make you dance. What is it, Officer Krupke, a parking ticket? Did he expose himself in public? Better go with the nice policeman, Jed, I can’t I afford to call a lawyer for you.” Stan thought that was a real knee-slapper. Warmack, on the other hand, saw Jed’s tightened jaw set in place and his two fingers locked onto his expensive Cohiba cigar, creasing its very costly skin.
Warmack glared back at Jed. I knew he was too white bread to enjoy a public display of anybody’s dirty laundry.
“Why don’t you go along and clear up this business, whatever it is. I’m in no rush to go anywhere, as long as they see fit to keep some brandy in my glass.”
Jed excused himself and led us out of the room, around the corner to the elevator, and up to the library, without any one of us uttering a word.
The library was a strikingly elegant room. Dark-paneled and comfortably furnished, it featured second-story galleries reached by spiral wooden ladders and housed an eclectic selection of books, both commercial and rare. I used to love the evenings I had to wait for Jed to finish a negotiation downstairs, while I sat and browsed through some first-edition poetry volume from the thirties, interrupted only by staring at a section of the vaulted ceiling, painted with maps and mythological figures that showed me a new aspect every time I settled in a different chair.
This time, there was no looking at the ceiling. I walked to one of the long, narrow reading tables and sat down, pointing to the men to join me.
“Do I have to interrogate you, Jed, or do you think you can be honest with me for a change?”
“I must say I’m rather surprised at this Gestapo-like approach, Alex. I assume you and I can talk out our problems without any interlopers present.” Jed refused even to glance at Mike Chapman, who was sitting on my side of the table, across from him. His dark eyebrows were drawn together and wrinkled over his nose, as he seemed to try to puzzle why my mood had snapped so radically in the brief time since I had kissed him good night at the Plaza.
“I thought so, too, but apparently I was wrong. I didn’t even know we had problems. Why don’t you tell me what was going on between you and Isabella?”
“What’s gotten into you, Alex? I don’t understand what’s happened to you in the last hour, darling.” This time he nodded in Chapman’s direction, suggesting we could on talk more intimately if we were alone.
“Why don’t you and I? ”This has gone beyond “you and I.” Just start explaining everything to Detective Chapman.“
”Take it easy. I can’t figure out what has you in such a rage.“ ”It’s one thing to take advantage of me, Jed, but don’t play me for stupid on top of that. Tell us about your relationship with Isabella Lascar.“
“Ah, this is about jealousy, is it? You’re the one who introduced me to her and encouraged me to help her.
What suddenly makes you think anything else was going on? It’s not like you to be so insecure.“
“Try me. When did you decide to go with Isabella to my house on the Vineyard?”
How could I lie in bed beside you Saturday night and believe the things you whispered to me as well as the responses you evoked from me, is what I really wanted to say out loud.
“Now hold on right there, Alex. That’s insane. I never went to your house-‘ My hand slammed down hard on the solid table, piercing the silence of the cavernous room. I was almost as mad at I myself as I was with Jed. I prided myself on my ability to cross-examine witnesses, and I wasn’t even doing an amateur job at it. There was no subtlety to my technique, no clever buildup of incontrovertible facts. I just wanted to crash my way through to the only thing that mattered.
Why had he double-crossed me with Isabella Lascar? Our relationship wasn’t so entrenched that he couldn’t have ended it and moved on to be with her or anyone else he chose. Why did he have to humiliate me so openly?
“Don’t play with me anymore. This is not about jealousy or my feelings or anything as trivial as that. This is about – ‘ Mike was ready to try a more competent approach.
“What do you drink, Mr. Segal?”
“Oh, are we ready to be civilized now? Shall I order us up something from the bar?” Jed actually turned to look for a house phone before Mike made him realize the question was not a social one.