Master of the Game
: Book 5 – Chapter 32

Kate Blackwell was tired. The meeting had gone on too long. She looked around the conference table at the three men and three women on the executive board. They all seemed fresh and vital. So it’s not the meeting that has been going on too long, Kate thought. I’ve gone on too long. I’ll be eighty-two. I’m getting old. The thought depressed her, not because she had any fear of dying, but because she was not ready yet. She refused to die until Kruger-Brent, Ltd., had a member of the Blackwell family running it. After the bitter disappointment with Eve, Kate had tried to build her future plans around Alexandra.

“You know I would do anything for you, Gran, but I’m simply not interested in becoming involved with the company. George would be an excellent executive…”

“Do you agree, Kate?” Brad Rogers was addressing her.

The question shook Kate out of her reverie. She looked toward Brad guiltily. “I’m sorry. What was the question?”

“We were discussing the Deleco merger.” His voice was patient. Brad Rogers was concerned about Kate Blackwell. In recent months she had started daydreaming during board meetings, and then just when Brad Rogers decided Kate was becoming senile and should retire from the board, she would come up with some stunning insight that would make everyone wonder why he had not thought of it. She was an amazing woman. He thought of their brief, long-ago affair and wondered again why it had ended so abruptly.

It was George Mellis’s second visit to Peter Templeton. “Has there been much violence in your past, Mr. Mellis?”

George shook his head. “No. I abhor violence.” Make a note of that, you smug sonofabitch. The coroner is going to ask you about that.

“You told me your mother and father never physically punished you.”

“That is correct.”

“Would you say you were an obedient child?”

Careful. There are traps here. “About average, I suppose.”

“The average child usually gets punished at some time or another for breaking the rules of the grown-up world.”

George gave him a deprecating smile. “I guess I didn’t break any rules.”

He’s lying, Peter Templeton thought. The question is why? What is he concealing? He recalled the conversation he had had with Dr. Harley after the first session with George Mellis.

“He said he hit his sister-in-law, John, and—”

“Hit her!” John Harley’s voice was filled with indignation. “It was butchery, Peter. He smashed her cheekbone, broke her nose and three ribs, and burned her buttocks and the soles of her feet with cigarettes.”

Peter Templeton felt a wave of disgust wash over him. “He didn’t mention that to me.”

“I’ll bet he didn’t,” Dr. Harley snapped. “I told him if he didn’t go to you, I was going to report him to the police.”

Peter remembered George’s words: I feel ashamed. That’s why I insisted on coming to see you. So he had lied about that, too.

“Mellis told me his wife is suffering from depression, that she’s talking about suicide.”

“Yes, I can vouch for that. Alexandra came to see me a few days ago. I prescribed Wellbutrin. I’m quite concerned about her. What’s your impression of George Mellis?”

Peter said slowly, “I don’t know yet. I have a feeling he’s dangerous.”

Dr. Keith Webster was unable to get Eve Blackwell out of his mind. She was like a beautiful goddess, unreal and untouchable. She was outgoing and vivacious and stimulating, while he was shy and dull and drab. Keith Webster had never married, because he had never found a woman he felt was unworthy enough to be his wife. Apart from his work, his self-esteem was negligible. He had grown up with a fiercely domineering mother and a weak, bullied father. Keith Webster’s sexual drive was low, and what little there was of it was sublimated in his work. But now he began to dream about Eve Blackwell, and when he recalled the dreams in the morning, he was embarrassed. She was completely healed and there was no reason for him to see her anymore, yet he knew he had to see her.

He telephoned her at her apartment. “Eve? This is Keith Webster. I hope I’m not disturbing you. I—er—I was thinking about you the other day, and I—I was just wondering how you were getting along?”

“Fine, thank you, Keith. How are you getting along?” There was that teasing note in her voice again.

“Jus—just fine,” he said. There was a silence. He summoned up his nerve. “I guess you’re probably too busy to have lunch with me.”

Eve smiled to herself. He was such a deliciously timid little man. It would be amusing. “I’d love to, Keith.”

“Would you really?” She could hear the note of surprise in his voice. “When?”

“What about tomorrow?”

“It’s a date.” He spoke quickly, before she could change her mind.

Eve enjoyed the luncheon. Dr. Keith Webster acted like a young schoolboy in love. He dropped his napkin, spilled his wine and knocked over a vase of flowers. Watching him, Eve thought with amusement, No one would ever guess what a brilliant surgeon he is.

When the luncheon was over, Keith Webster asked shyly, “Could we—could we do this again sometime?”

She replied with a straight face, “We’d better not, Keith. I’m afraid I might fall in love with you.”

He blushed wildly, not knowing what to say.

Eve patted his hand. “I’ll never forget you.”

He knocked over the vase of flowers again.

John Harley was having lunch at the hospital cafeteria when Keith Webster joined him.

Keith said, “John, I promise to keep it confidential, but I’d feel a lot better if you told me the truth about what happened to Eve Blackwell.”

Harley hesitated, then shrugged. “All right. It was her brother-in-law, George Mellis.”

And Keith Webster felt that now he was sharing a part of Eve’s secret world.

George Mellis was impatient. “The money is there, the will has been changed—What the hell are we waiting for?”

Eve sat on the couch, her long legs curled up under her, watching him as he paced.

“I want to get this thing over with, Eve.”

He’s losing his nerve, Eve thought. He was like a deadly coiled snake. Dangerous. She had made a mistake with him once by goading him too far, and it had almost cost her her life. She would not make that mistake again.

“I agree with you,” she said slowly. “I think it’s time.”

He stopped pacing. “When?”

“Next week.”

The session was almost over and George Mellis had not once mentioned his wife. Now, suddenly he said, “I’m worried about Alexandra, Dr. Templeton. Her depression seems to be worse. Last night she kept talking about drowning. I don’t know what to do.”

“I spoke to John Harley. He’s given her some medication he thinks will help her.”

“I hope so, Doctor,” George said earnestly. “I couldn’t stand it if anything happened to her.”

And Peter Templeton, his ear attuned to the unspoken words, had the uneasy feeling he was witnessing a charade. There was a deadly violence in this man. “Mr. Mellis, how would you describe your past relationships with women?”

“Normal.”

“Did you ever get angry with any of them, lose your temper?”

George Mellis saw where the questions were leading. “Never.” I’m too damned smart for you, Doc. “I told you, I don’t believe in violence.”

It was butchery, Peter. He smashed her cheekbone, broke her nose and three ribs, and burned her buttocks and the soles of her feet with cigarettes.

“Sometimes,” Peter said, “to some people violence provides a necessary outlet, an emotional release.”

“I know what you mean. I have a friend who beats up whores.”

I have a friend. An alarm signal. “Tell me about your friend.”

“He hates prostitutes. They’re always trying to rip him off. So when he finishes with them, he roughs them up a little—just to teach them a lesson.” He looked at Peter’s face, but saw no disapproval there. Emboldened, George went on. “I remember once he and I were in Jamaica together. This little black hooker took him up to a hotel room, and after she got his pants off, she told him she wanted more money.” George smiled. “He beat the shit out of her. I’ll bet she won’t try that on anyone again.”

He’s psychotic, Peter Templeton decided. There was no friend, of course. He was boasting about himself, hiding behind an alter ego. The man was a megalomaniac, and a dangerous one.

Peter decided he had better have another talk with John Harley as quickly as possible.

The two men met for lunch at the Harvard Club. Peter Templeton was in a difficult position. He needed to get all the information he could about George Mellis without breaching the confidentiality of the doctor-patient relationship.

“What can you tell me about George Mellis’s wife?” he asked Harley.

“Alexandra? She’s lovely. I’ve taken care of her and her sister, Eve, since they were babies.” He chuckled. “You hear about identical twins, but you never really appreciate what that means until you see those two together.”

Peter asked slowly, “They’re identical twins?”

“Nobody could ever tell them apart. They used to play all kinds of pranks when they were little tykes. I remember once when Eve was sick and supposed to get a shot, I somehow wound up giving it to Alexandra.” He took a sip of his drink. “It’s amazing. Now they’re grown up, and I still can’t tell one from the other.”

Peter thought about that. “You said Alexandra came to see you because she was feeling suicidal.”

“That’s right.”

“John, how do you know it was Alexandra?”

“That’s easy,” Dr. Harley said. “Eve still has a little scar on her forehead from the surgery after the beating George Mellis gave her.”

So that was a blind alley. “I see.”

“How are you getting along with Mellis?”

Peter hesitated, wondering how much he could say. “I haven’t reached him. He’s hiding behind a facade. I’m trying to break it down.”

“Be careful, Peter. If you want my opinion, the man’s insane.” He was remembering Eve lying in bed, in a pool of blood.

“Both sisters are heir to a large fortune, aren’t they?” Peter asked.

Now it was John Harley’s turn to hesitate. “Well, it’s private family business,” he said, “but the answer is no. Their grandmother cut off Eve without a dime. Alexandra inherits everything.”

I’m worried about Alexandra, Dr. Templeton. Her depression seems to be worse. She keeps talking about drowning. I couldn’t stand it if anything happened to her.

It had sounded to Peter Templeton like a classic setup for murder—except that George Mellis was the heir to a large fortune of his own. There would be no reason for him to kill anyone for money. You’re imagining things, Peter chided himself.

A woman was drowning in the cold sea, and he was trying to swim to her side, but the waves were too high, and she kept sinking under them and rising again. Hold on, he shouted. I’m coming. He tried to swim faster, but his arms and legs seemed leaden, and he watched as she went down again. When he reached the place where she had disappeared, he looked around and saw an enormous white shark bearing down on him. Peter Templeton woke up. He turned on the lights and sat up in bed, thinking about his dream.

Early the following morning, he telephoned Detective Lieutenant Nick Pappas.

Nick Pappas was a huge man, six feet four inches and weighing almost three hundred pounds. As any number of criminals could testify, not an ounce of it was fat. Lieutenant Pappas was with the homicide task force in the “silk stocking” district in Manhattan. Peter had met him several years earlier while testifying as a psychiatric expert in a murder trial, and he and Pappas had become friends. Pappas’s passion was chess, and the two met once a month to play.

Nick answered the phone. “Homicide. Pappas.”

“It’s Peter, Nick.”

“My friend! How go the mysteries of the mind?”

“Still trying to unravel them, Nick. How’s Tina?”

“Fantastic. What can I do for you?”

“I need some information. Do you still have connections in Greece?”

“Do I!” Pappas moaned. “I got a hundred relatives over there, and they all need money. The stupid part is I send it to them. Maybe you oughta analyze me.”

“Too late,” Peter told him. “You’re a hopeless case.”

“That’s what Tina keeps telling me. What information do you need?”

“Have you ever heard of George Mellis?”

“The food family?”

“Yes.”

“He’s not exactly on my beat, but I know who he is. What about him?”

“I’d like to know if he has any money.”

“You must be kiddin’. His family—”

“I mean money of his own.”

“I’ll check it out, Peter, but it’ll be a waste of time. The Mel-lises are rich-rich.”

“By the way, if you have anyone question George Mellis’s father, tell him to handle it gently. The old man’s had several heart attacks.”

“Okay. I’ll put it out on the wire.”

Peter remembered the dream. “Nick, would you mind making a telephone call instead? Today?”

There was a different note in Pappas’s voice. “Is there anything you’d like to tell me, Peter?”

“There’s nothing to tell. I just want to satisfy my curiosity. Charge the phone call to me.”

“Damn right I will—and the dinner you’re gonna buy me when you tell me what the fuck this is all about.”

“Deal.” Peter Templeton hung up. He felt a little better.

Kate Blackwell was not feeling well. She was at her desk talking on the telephone when she felt the sudden attack. The room started to spin, and she gripped her desk tightly until everything righted itself again.

Brad came into the office. He took one look at her pale face and asked, “Are you all right, Kate?”

She let go of the desk. “Just a little dizzy spell. Nothing important.”

“How long since you’ve had a medical checkup?”

“I don’t have time for that nonsense, Brad.”

“Find time. I’m going to have Annette call and make an appointment for you with John Harley.”

“Bloody hell, Brad. Stop fussing, will you please?”

“Will you go see him?”

“If it will get you off my back.”

The following morning Peter Templeton’s secretary said, “Detective Pappas is calling on line one.”

Peter picked up the phone. “Hello, Nick.”

“I think you and I better have a little talk, my friend.”

Peter felt a sudden anxiety stirring in him. “Did you talk to someone about Mellis?”

“I talked to Old Man Mellis himself. First of all, he’s never had a heart attack in his life, and second, he said as far as he’s concerned, his son George is dead. He cut him off without a dime a few years ago. When I asked why, the old man hung up on me. Then I called one of my old buddies at headquarters in Athens. Your George Mellis is a real beauty. The police know him well. He gets his kicks beating up girls and boys. His last victim before he left Greece was a fifteen-year-old male prostitute. They found his body in a hotel, and tied him in with Mellis. The old man bought somebody off, and Georgie boy got his ass kicked out of Greece. For good. Does that satisfy you?”

It did more than satisfy Peter; it terrified him. “Thanks, Nick. I owe you one.”

“Oh, no, pal. I think I’d like to collect on this one. If your boy’s on the loose again, you’d better tell me.”

“I will as soon as I can, Nick. Give my love to Tina.” And Peter hung up. He had a lot to think about. George Mellis was coming in at noon.

Dr. John Harley was in the middle of an examination when his receptionist said, “Mrs. George Mellis is here to see you, Doctor. She has no appointment, and I told her your schedule is—”

John Harley said, “Bring her in the side door and put her in my office.”

Her face was paler than the last time, and the shadows under her eyes were darker. “I’m sorry to barge in on you like this, John, but—”

“That’s all right, Alexandra. What’s the problem?”

“Everything. I—I feel awful.”

“Have you been taking the Wellbutrin regularly?”

“Yes.”

“And you still feel depressed?”

Her hands were clenched. “It’s worse than depression. It’s—I feel desperate. I feel as though I have no control over anything anymore. I can’t stand myself. I’m afraid I’m—I’m going to do something terrible.”

Dr. Harley said reassuringly, “There’s nothing physically wrong with you. I’ll stake my reputation on that. It’s all emotional. I’m going to switch you to another drug, Nomifensine. It’s very effective. You should notice a change within a few days.” He wrote out a prescription and handed it to her. “If you don’t feel better by Friday, I want you to call me. I may want to send you to a psychiatrist.”

Thirty minutes later, back in her apartment, Eve removed the pale foundation cream from her face and wiped away the smudges under her eyes.

The pace was quickening.

George Mellis sat opposite Peter Templeton, smiling and confident.

“How are you feeling today?”

“Much better, Doctor. These few sessions we’ve had have helped more than you know.”

“Have they? In what way?”

“Oh, just having someone to talk to. That’s the principle the Catholic Church is built on, isn’t it? Confession?”

“I’m glad you feel the sessions have been helpful. Is your wife feeling better?”

George frowned. “I’m afraid not. She saw Dr. Harley again, but she’s talking about suicide more and more. I may take her away somewhere. I think she needs a change.”

It seemed to Peter that there was an ominous foreboding in those words. Could it be his imagination?

“Greece is a very relaxing place,” Peter said casually. “Have you taken her there to meet your family?”

“Not yet. They’re dying to meet Alex.” He grinned. “The only problem is that every time Pop and I get together, he keeps trying to talk me into coming back and taking over the family business.”

And at that moment, Peter knew that Alexandra Mellis was in real danger.

Long after George Mellis had left, Peter Templeton sat in his office going over his notes. Finally, he reached for the telephone and dialed a number.

“I want you to do me a favor, John. Can you replace out where George Mellis took his wife on their honeymoon?”

“I can tell you right now. I gave them some shots before they left. They went to Jamaica.”

I have a friend who beats up whores… I remember once we were in Jamaica together. This little black whore took him up to a hotel room, and after she got his pants off, she told him she wanted more money… He beat the shit out of her. I’ll bet she won’t try that on anyone again.

Still, there was no proof that George Mellis was planning to kill his wife. John Harley had verified that Alexandra Mellis was suicidal. It’s not my problem, Peter tried to tell himself. But he knew it was his problem.

Peter Templeton had had to work his way through school. His father had been the caretaker of a college in a small town in Nebraska, and even with a scholarship, Peter had not been able to afford to go to one of the Ivy League medical schools. He had been graduated from the University of Nebraska with honors and had gone on to study psychiatry. He had been successful from the start. His secret was that he genuinely liked people; he cared what happened to them. Alexandra Mellis was not a patient, yet he was involved with her. She was a missing part of the puzzle, and meeting her face-to-face might help him solve it. He took out George Mellis’s file, found his home number and telephoned Alexandra Mellis. A maid summoned her to the phone.

“Mrs. Mellis, my name is Peter Templeton. I’m—”

“Oh, I know who you are, Doctor. George has told me about you.”

Peter was surprised. He would have bet that George Mellis would not have mentioned him to his wife. “I wondered if we could meet. Perhaps lunch?”

“Is it about George? Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing. I just thought we might have a talk.”

“Yes, certainly, Dr. Templeton.”

They made an appointment for the following day.

They were seated at a corner table at La Grenouille. From the moment Alexandra had walked into the restaurant, Peter had been unable to take his eyes off her. She was dressed simply in a white skirt and blouse that showed off her figure, and she wore a single strand of pearls around her neck. Peter looked for signs of the tiredness and depression Dr. Harley had mentioned. There were none. If Alexandra was aware of Peter’s stare, she gave no sign of it.

“My husband is all right, isn’t he, Dr. Templeton?”

“Yes.” This was going to be much more difficult than Peter had anticipated. He was walking a very fine line. He had no right to violate the sanctity of the doctor-patient relationship, yet at the same time he felt that Alexandra Mellis must be warned.

After they had ordered, Peter said, “Did your husband tell you why he’s seeing me, Mrs. Mellis?”

“Yes. He’s been under a great strain lately. His partners at the brokerage firm where he works put most of the responsibility on his shoulders. George is very conscientious, as you probably know, Doctor.”

It was incredible. She was completely unaware of the attack on her sister. Why had no one told her?

“George told me how much better he felt having someone he could discuss his problems with.” She gave Peter a grateful smile. “I’m very pleased that you’re helping him.”

She was so innocent! She obviously idolized her husband. What Peter had to say could destroy her. How could he inform her that her husband was a psychopath who had murdered a young male prostitute, who had been banished by his family and who had brutally assaulted her sister? Yet, how could he not?

“It must be very satisfying being a psychiatrist,” Alexandra went on. “You’re able to help so many people.”

“Sometimes we can,” Peter said carefully. “Sometimes we can’t.

The food arrived. They talked as they ate, and there was an easy rapport between them. Peter found himself enchanted by her. He suddenly became uncomfortably aware that he was envious of George Mellis.

“I’m enjoying this luncheon very much,” Alexandra finally said, “but you wanted to see me for a reason, didn’t you, Dr. Templeton?”

The moment of truth had arrived.

“As a matter of fact, yes. I—”

Peter stopped. His next words could shatter her life. He had come to this luncheon determined to tell her of his suspicions and suggest that her husband be put in an institution. Now that he had met Alexandra, he found it was not so simple. He thought again of George Mellis’s words: She’s not any better. It’s the suicidal thing that worries me. Peter thought he had never seen a happier, more normal person. Was that a result of the medication she was taking? At least he could ask her about that. He said, “John Harley told me that you’re taking—”

And George Mellis’s voice boomed out. “There you are, darling! I called the house and they told me you’d be here.” He turned to Peter. “Nice to see you, Dr. Templeton. May I join you?”

And the opportunity vanished.

“Why did he want to meet Alex?” Eve demanded.

“I haven’t the slightest idea,” George said. “Thank God she left a message where she would be in case I wanted her. With Peter Templeton, for Christ’s sake! I got over there fast!”

“I don’t like it.”

“Believe me, there was no harm done. I questioned her afterward, and she told me they didn’t discuss anything in particular.”

“I think we’d better move up our plan.”

George Mellis felt an almost sexual thrill at her words. He had been waiting so long for this moment. “When?”

“Now.”