Master of the Game
: Book 5 – Chapter 35

The wedding took place two days before the coroner’s inquest. They were married by a judge in his private chambers. The mere idea of being married to Keith Webster made Eve’s skin crawl, but she had no choice. The fool thinks I’m going to stay married to him. As soon as the inquest was over, she would get an annulment and that would be the end of it.

Detective Lieutenant Nick Pappas had a problem. He was sure he knew who the murderer of George Mellis was, but he could not prove it. He was confronted by a conspiracy of silence around the Blackwell family that he could not break through. He discussed the problem with his superior, Captain Harold Cohn, a street-wise cop who had worked his way up from the ranks.

Cohn quietly listened to Pappas and said, “It’s all smoke, Nick. You haven’t got a fucking bit of evidence. They’d laugh us out of court.”

“I know,” Lieutenant Pappas sighed. “But I’m right.” He sat there a moment, thinking. “Would you mind if I talked to Kate Blackwell?”

“Jesus! What for?”

“It’ll be a little fishing expedition. She runs that family. She might have some information she doesn’t even know she has.”

“You’ll have to watch your step.”

“I will.”

“And go easy with her, Nick. Remember, she’s an old lady.”

“That’s what I’m counting on,” Detective Pappas said.

The meeting took place that afternoon in Kate Blackwell’s office. Nick Pappas guessed that Kate was somewhere in her eighties, but she carried her age remarkably well. She showed little of the strain the detective knew she must be feeling. She was a very private person, and she had been forced to watch the Blackwell name become a source of public speculation and scandal.

“My secretary said you wished to see me about a matter of some urgency, Lieutenant.”

“Yes, ma’am. There’s a coroner’s inquest tomorrow on the death of George Mellis. I have reason to think your granddaughter is involved in his murder.”

Kate went absolutely rigid. “I don’t believe it.”

“Please hear me out, Mrs. Blackwell. Every police investigation begins with the question of motive. George Mellis was a fortune hunter and a vicious sadist.” He saw the reaction on her face, but he pressed on. “He married your granddaughter and suddenly found himself with his hands on a large fortune. I figured he beat up Alexandra once too often and when she asked for a divorce, he refused. Her only way to get rid of him was to kill him.”

Kate was staring at him, her face pale.

“I began looking around for evidence to back up my theory. We knew George Mellis was at Cedar Hill House before he disappeared. There are only two ways to get to Dark Harbor from the mainland—plane or ferryboat. According to the local sheriffs office, George Mellis didn’t use either. I don’t believe in miracles, and I figured Mellis wasn’t the kind of man who could walk on water. The only possibility left was that he took a boat from somewhere else along the coast. I started checking out boat-rental places, and I struck pay dirt at Gilkey Harbor. At four P.M. on the afternoon of the day George Mellis was murdered, a woman rented a motor launch there and said a friend would be picking it up later. She paid cash, but she had to sign the rental slip. She used the name Solange Dunas. Does that ring a bell?”

“Yes. She—she was the governess who took care of the twins when they were children. She returned to France years ago.”

Pappas nodded, a look of satisfaction on his face. “A little farther up the coast, the same woman rented a second boat. She took it out and returned it three hours later. She signed her name Solange Dunas again. I showed both attendants a photograph of Alexandra. They were pretty sure it was her, but they couldn’t be positive, because the woman who rented the boats was a brunet.”

“Then what makes you think—?”

“She wore a wig.”

Kate said stiffly, “I don’t believe Alexandra killed her husband.”

“I don’t either, Mrs. Blackwell,” Lieutenant Pappas told her. “It was her sister, Eve.”

Kate Blackwell was as still as stone.

“Alexandra couldn’t have done it. I checked on her movements the day of the murder. She spent the early part of the day in New York with a friend, then she flew directly from New York up to the island. There’s no way she could have rented those two motorboats.” He leaned forward. “So I was left with Alexandra’s look-alike, who signed the name Solange Dunas. It had to be Eve. I started looking around for her motive. I showed a photograph of George Mellis to the tenants of the apartment house Eve lives in, and it turned out that Mellis was a frequent visitor there. The superintendent of the building told me that one night when Mellis was there, Eve was almost beaten to death. Did you know that?”

“No.” Kate’s voice was a whisper.

“Mellis did it. It fits his pattern. And that was Eve’s motive—vengeance. She lured him out to Dark Harbor and murdered him.” He looked at Kate, and felt a pang of guilt at taking advantage of this old woman. “Eve’s alibi is that she was in Washington, D.C., that day. She gave the cab driver who took her to the airport a hundred-dollar bill so he would be sure to remember her, and she made a big fuss about missing the Washington shuttle. But I don’t think she went to Washington. I believe she put on a dark wig and took a commercial plane to Maine, where she rented those boats. She killed Mellis, dumped his body overboard, then docked the yacht and towed the extra motorboat back to the rental dock, which was closed by then.”

Kate looked at him a long moment. Then she said, slowly, “All the evidence you have is circumstantial, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” He was ready to move in for the kill. “I need concrete evidence for the coroner’s inquest. You know your granddaughter better than anyone in the world, Mrs. Blackwell. I want you to tell me anything you can that might be helpful.”

She sat there quietly, making up her mind. Finally she said, “I think I can give you some information for the inquest.”

And Nick Pappas’s heart began to beat faster. He had taken a long shot, and it had paid off. The old lady had come through. He unconsciously leaned forward. “Yes, Mrs. Blackwell?”

Kate spoke slowly and distinctly. “On the day George Mellis was murdered, Lieutenant, my granddaughter Eve and I were in Washington, D.C., together.”

She saw the surprised expression on his face. You fool, Kate Blackwell thought. Did you really think I would offer up a Black-well as a sacrifice to you? That I would let the press have a Roman holiday with the Blackwell name? No. I will punish Eve in my own way.

The verdict from the coroner’s jury was death at the hands of an unknown assailant or assailants.

To Alexandra’s surprise and gratitude, Peter Templeton was at the inquest at the county courthouse.

“Just here to lend moral support,” he told her. Peter thought Alexandra was holding up remarkably well, but the strain showed in her face and in her eyes. During a recess, he took her to lunch at the Lobster Pound, a little restaurant facing the bay in Lincolnville.

“When this is over,” Peter said, “I think it would be good for you to take a trip, get away for a while.”

“Yes. Eve has asked me to go away with her.” Alexandra’s eyes were filled with pain. “I still can’t believe George is dead. I know it has happened, but it—it still seems unreal.”

“It’s nature’s way of cushioning the shock until the pain becomes bearable.”

“It’s so senseless. He was such a fine man.” She looked up at Peter. “You spent time with him. He talked to you. Wasn’t he a wonderful person?”

“Yes,” Peter said slowly. “Yes, he was.”

Eve said, “I want an annulment, Keith.”

Keith Webster blinked at his wife in surprise. “Why on earth would you want an annulment?”

“Oh, come on, Keith. You didn’t really think I was going to stay married to you, did you?”

“Of course. You’re my wife, Eve.”

“What are you after? The Blackwell money?”

“I don’t need money, darling. I make an excellent living. I can give you anything you want.”

“I told you what I want. An annulment.”

He shook his head regretfully. “I’m afraid I can’t give you that.”

“Then I’m going to file for divorce.”

“I don’t think that would be advisable. You see, nothing has really changed, Eve. The police haven’t found out who killed your brother-in-law, so the case is still open. There’s no statute of limitations on murder. If you divorced me, I’d be forced to…” He raised his hands helplessly.

“You’re talking as though I killed him.”

“You did, Eve.”

Her voice was scornful. “How the hell do you know?”

“It’s the only reason you would have married me.”

She looked at him, filled with loathing. “You bastard! How can you do this to me?”

“It’s very simple. I love you.”

“I hate you. Do you understand that? I despise you!”

He smiled sadly. “I love you so much.”

The trip with Alexandra was called off. “I’m going to Barbados on my honeymoon,” Eve told her.

Barbados was Keith’s idea.

“I won’t go,” Eve told him flatly. The idea of a honeymoon with him was disgusting.

“It will look strange if we don’t have a honeymoon,” he said shyly. “And we don’t want people asking a lot of awkward questions, do we, dear?”

Alexandra began to see Peter Templeton for lunch once a week. In the beginning, it was because she wanted to talk about George, and there was no one else she could discuss him with. But after several months, Alexandra admitted to herself that she enjoyed Peter Templeton’s company immensely. There was a dependability about him that she desperately needed. He was sensitive to her moods, and he was intelligent and entertaining.

“When I was an intern,” he told Alexandra, “I went out on my first house call in the dead of winter. The patient was a frail old man in bed with a terrible cough. I was going to examine his chest with my stethoscope, but I didn’t want to shock him, so I decided to warm it first. I put it on the radiator while I examined his throat and his eyes. Then I got my stethoscope and put it to his chest. The old man leaped out of bed like a scalded cat. His cough went away, but it took two weeks for the burn to heal.”

Alexandra laughed. It was the first time she had laughed in a long time.

“Can we do this again next week?” Peter asked.

“Yes, please.”

Eve’s honeymoon turned out much better than she had anticipated. Because of Keith’s pale, sensitive skin, he was afraid to go out in the sun, so Eve went down to the beach alone every day. She was never alone for long. She was surrounded by amorous lifeguards, beach bums, tycoons and playboys. It was like feasting at a wonderful smorgasbord, and Eve chose a different dish each day. She enjoyed her sexual escapades twice as much because she knew her husband was upstairs in their suite waiting for her. He could not do enough for her. He fetched and carried for her like a little lapdog, and waited on her hand and foot. If Eve expressed a wish, it was instantly gratified. She did everything she could think of to insult him, anger him, to turn him against her so that he would let her go, but his love was unshakable. The idea of letting Keith make love to her sickened Eve, and she was grateful that he had a weak libido.

The years are beginning to catch up with me, Kate Blackwell thought. There were so many of them, and they had been so full and rich.

Kruger-Brent, Ltd., needed a strong hand at the helm. It needed someone with Blackwell blood. There’s no one to carry on after I’m gone, Kate thought. All the working and planning and fighting for the company. And for what? For strangers to take over one day. Bloody hell! I can’t let that happen.

A week after they returned from their honeymoon, Keith said apologetically, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to go back to work, dear. I have a lot of operations scheduled. Will you be all right during the day without me?”

Eve barely managed to keep a straight face. “I’ll try.”

Keith was up and out early every morning long before Eve awakened, and when she went into the kitchen she found he had made coffee and laid out all the breakfast things for her. He opened a generous bank account in Eve’s name and kept it replenished. She spent his money recklessly. As long as she was enjoying herself, Keith was happy. Eve bought expensive jewelry for Rory, with whom she spent almost every afternoon. He worked very little.

“I can’t take just any part,” he complained to Eve. “It would hurt my image.”

“I understand, darling.”

“Do you? What the fuck do you know about show business? You were born with a silver spoon up your ass.”

And Eve would buy him an extra-nice present to placate him. She paid Rory’s rent and bought him clothes for interviews, and paid for his dinners at expensive restaurants so that he could be seen by important producers. She wanted to be with him twenty-four hours a day, but there was her husband. Eve would arrive home at seven or eight o’clock at night, and Keith would be in the kitchen preparing dinner for her in his “Kiss the Cook” apron. He never questioned her about where she had been.

During the following year, Alexandra and Peter Templeton saw each other more and more often. Each had become an important part of the other’s life. Peter accompanied Alexandra when she went to visit her father at the asylum, and somehow the sharing made the pain easier to bear.

Peter met Kate one evening when he arrived to pick up Alexandra. “So you’re a doctor, eh? I’ve buried a dozen doctors, and I’m still around. Do you know anything about business?”

“Not a great deal, Mrs. Blackwell.”

“Are you a corporation?” Kate asked.

“No.”

She snorted. “Bloody hell. You don’t know anything. You need a good tax man. I’ll set up an appointment for you with mine. The first thing he’ll do is incorporate you and—”

“Thank you, Mrs. Blackwell. I’m getting along just fine.”

“My husband was a stubborn man, too,” Kate said. She turned to Alexandra. “Invite him to dinner. Maybe I can talk some sense into him.”

Outside, Peter said, “Your grandmother hates me.”

Alexandra laughed. “She likes you. You should hear how Gran behaves with people she hates.”

“I wonder how she would feel if I told her that I want to marry you, Alex…?”

And she looked up at him and beamed. “We’d both feel wonderful, Peter!”

Kate had watched the progress of Alexandra’s romance with Peter Templeton with a great deal of interest. She liked the young doctor, and she decided he would be a good husband for Alexandra. But she was a trader at heart. Now she sat in front of the fireplace facing the two of them.

“I must tell you,” Kate lied, “that this comes as a complete surprise. I always expected Alexandra to marry an executive who would take over Kruger-Brent.”

“This isn’t a business proposition, Mrs. Blackwell. Alexandra and I want to get married.”

“On the other hand,” Kate continued, as if there had been no interruption, “you’re a psychiatrist. You understand the way people’s minds and emotions work. You would probably be a great negotiator. I would like you to become involved with the company. You can—”

“No,” Peter said firmly. “I’m a doctor. I’m not interested in going into a business.”

“This isn’t ‘going into a business,’ “ Kate snapped. “We’re not talking about some corner grocery store. You’ll be part of the family, and I need someone to run—”

“I’m sorry.” There was a finality in Peter’s tone. “I’ll have nothing to do with Kruger-Brent. You’ll have to replace someone else for that…”

Kate turned to Alexandra. “What do you have to say to that?”

“I want whatever makes Peter happy, Gran.”

“Damned ingratitude,” Kate glowered. “Selfish, the both of you.” She sighed. “Ah, well. Who knows? You might change your mind one day.” And she added innocently, “Are you planning to have children?”

Peter laughed. “That’s a private matter. I have a feeling you’re a great manipulator, Mrs. Blackwell, but Alex and I are going to live our own lives, and our children—if we have children—will live their lives.”

Kate smiled sweetly. “I wouldn’t have it any other way, Peter. I’ve made it a lifelong rule never to interfere in other people’s lives.”

Two months later when Alexandra and Peter returned from their honeymoon, Alexandra was pregnant. When Kate heard the news, she thought, Good. It will be a boy.

Eve lay in bed watching Rory walk out of the bathroom naked. He had a beautiful body, lean and trim. Eve adored the way he made love to her. She could not get enough of him. She suspected he might have other bedmates, but she was afraid to ask, afraid to say anything that might upset him. Now, as he reached the bed, he ran his finger along her skin, just below the eyes, and said, “Hey, baby, you’re gettin’ a few wrinkles. They’re cute.”

Each word was a stab, a reminder of the age difference between them and the fact that she was twenty-five years old. They made love again, but for the first time Eve’s mind was elsewhere.

It was almost nine o’clock when Eve arrived home. Keith was basting a roast in the oven.

He kissed her on the cheek. “Hello, dear. I’ve made some of your favorite dishes. We’re having—”

“Keith, I want you to remove these wrinkles.”

He blinked. “What wrinkles?”

She pointed to the area around her eyes. “These.”

“Those are laugh lines, darling. I love them.”

“I don’t! I hate them!” she yelled.

“Believe me, Eve, they’re not—”

“For Christ’s sake, just get rid of them. That is what you do for a living, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but—All right,” he said placatingly, “if it will make you happy, dear.”

“When?”

“In about six weeks. My schedule is full right—”

“I’m not one of your goddamned patients,” Eve snapped. “I’m your wife. I want you to do it now—tomorrow.”

“The clinic is closed on Saturdays.”

“Then open it!” He was so stupid God, she could not wait to get rid of him. And she would. One way or another. And soon.

“Come into the other room for a moment.” He took her into the dressing room.

She sat in a chair under a strong light while he carefully examined her face. In an instant he was transformed from a bumbling little milquetoast to a brilliant surgeon, and Eve could sense the transformation. She remembered the miraculous job he had done on her face. This operation might seem unnecessary to Keith, but he was wrong. It was vital. Eve could not bear the thought of losing Rory.

Keith turned off the light. “No problem,” he assured her. “I’ll do it in the morning.”

The following morning, the two of them went to the clinic. “I usually have a nurse assist me,” Keith told her, “but with something as minor as this, it won’t be necessary.”

“You might as well do something with this while you’re at it.” Eve tugged at a bit of skin at her throat.

“If you wish, dear. I’ll give you something to put you to sleep so you won’t feel any discomfort. I don’t want my darling to have any pain.”

Eve watched as he filled a hypodermic and skillfully gave her an injection. She would not have minded if there had been pain. She was doing this for Rory. Darling Rory. She thought of his rock-hard body and the look in his eyes when he was hungry for her… She drifted off to sleep.

She woke up in a bed in the back room of the clinic. Keith was seated in a chair next to the bed.

“How did it go?” Her voice was thick with sleep.

“Beautifully,” Keith smiled.

Eve nodded, and was asleep again.

Keith was there when she woke up later. “We’ll leave the bandages on for a few days. I’ll keep you here where you can be properly cared for.”

“All right.”

He checked her each day, examined her face, nodded. “Perfect.”

“When can I look?”

“It should be all healed by Friday,” he assured her.

She ordered the head nurse to have a private telephone installed by the bedside. The first call she made was to Rory.

“Hey, baby, where the hell are you?” he asked. “I’m horny.”

“So am I, darling. I’m still tied up with his damned medical convention in Florida, but I’ll be back next week.”

“You’d better be.”

“Have you missed me?”

“Like crazy.”

Eve heard whispering in the background. “Is there someone there with you?”

“Yeah. We’re havin’ a little orgy.” Rory loved to make jokes. “Gotta go.” The line went dead.

Eve telephoned Alexandra and listened, bored, to Alexandra’s excited talk about her pregnancy. “I can’t wait,” Eve told her. “I’ve always wanted to be an aunt.”

Eve seldom saw her grandmother. A coolness had developed that Eve did not understand. She’ll come around, Eve thought.

Kate never asked about Keith, and Eve did not blame her, for he was a nothing. Perhaps one day Eve would talk to Rory about helping her get rid of Keith. That would tie Rory to her forever. It was incredible to Eve that she could cuckold her husband every day and that he neither suspected nor cared. Well, thank God he had a talent for something. The bandages were coming off on Friday.

Eve awakened early on Friday and waited impatiently for Keith.

“It’s almost noon,” she complained. “Where the hell have you been?”

“I’m sorry, darling,” he apologized. “I’ve been in surgery all morning and—”

“I don’t give a damn about that. Take these bandages off. I want to see.”

“Very well.”

Eve sat up and was still, as he deftly cut the bandages away from her face. He stood back to study her, and she saw the satisfaction in his eyes. “Perfect.”

“Give me a mirror.”

He hurried out of the room and returned a moment later with a hand mirror. With a proud smile, he presented it to her.

Eve raised the mirror slowly and looked at her reflection.

And screamed.