Linwood Barclay - Trust Your Eyes

I felt I’d been holding my breath for an hour. I took what she had to say as good news, but my stress level was off the scale. On top of that, I was furious with Thomas. I knew I had to make certain allowances for him, but bringing the FBI to our door? The blood coursing through my veins was electrically charged.

Parker continued, “Your brother needs to find some other hobbies. If he keeps communicating with government agencies with his tales of a computer infrastructure meltdown, you’re going to be visited again. If not by us, then someone else.”

“I hear you.”

“It’s a different world than twenty years ago,” she said. “No one takes these things lightly. Look at what happened in Tucson. Thomas mentioned a psychiatrist. He sees someone regularly?”

“Yes.”

She had out her notebook again. “Name?”

I didn’t want to give it to her, but how long would it have taken her to find out on her own? Five minutes? Ten, tops? I had to put my faith in Laura Grigorin to either paint Thomas in a good light, or simply tell these two to get lost.

I gave Parker the name.

“Good day, Mr. Kilbride,” she said.

Driscoll nodded but said nothing. I watched the two of them go down the porch steps and get back into their government-issued wheels.

I wasn’t proud of what I did next.

Howard Talliman understands why Bridget Sawchuck wanted to tell him the details of her dilemma in a public place. Not only did it keep his reaction in check; there was nothing at all suspicious about the two of them being seen together. It’s perfectly natural for Howard to meet his best friend’s wife for lunch. He is as much an adviser to her as he is to Morris.

But Howard does not want to meet Allison Fitch where they can be seen together. He does not want anyone to know about this meeting.

So he books a suite for the day at the Roosevelt at Madison and Forty-fifth. He wants a room with a separate living area, thinking Allison might find it slightly unnerving being in a small space with a man she’s never met before, a king-sized bed the most dominant piece of furniture in the room. As though beckoning them. He instructs Bridget to contact Allison and invite her to the hotel for two in the afternoon to discuss the woman’s proposal. What Allison does not know is that Howard will be taking the meeting.

He orders coffee for two from room service with instructions that it be delivered ten minutes before Allison’s scheduled arrival. He doesn’t know whether she is inclined to punctuality, but is guessing that when one hundred thousand dollars is at stake, that’s a pretty good reason to be on time.

The china cups and saucers are set out on the coffee table, the silver spoons and white linen napkins in place next to them, when there is a soft rapping at the door at one minute before two. Howard gets up from the couch where he has been sitting casually with one leg over his knee. He opens the door a foot.

Allison’s mouth drops open. “I’m sorry. I’ve knocked on the wrong-”

“Ms. Fitch, a pleasure to meet you,” he says, opening the door wide and sweeping his arm inward. “You’re right on time.”

She hesitates, then steps into the room.

“Where’s Bridget?” she asks.

“I will be representing Bridget’s interests here today,” he says.

“Who the hell are you?”

“My name is Howard Talliman.” He doesn’t see the point in using some sort of alias. If this woman has been researching Bridget and Morris online-as he is sure she has-then she will certainly have come across his name and photo at some point. “I am a friend of the family.”

“Oh yeah, I know who you are,” she says. “You’re like…you’re his campaign manager or something like that.”

“Won’t you sit down? I’ve ordered coffee.”

Allison’s eyes take in the room as she moves toward the couch. “Where’s the bed?” she asked. “I mean, not that-I’ve never seen a hotel room that didn’t have a bed in it.”

Howard points to a closed door. “The bedroom is in there.”

Allison is impressed. “A hotel room where the bedroom is separate?”

“Yes.”

“May I see?” She tips her head at the closed bedroom door.

“Be my guest.”

She opens the bedroom door and whistles. “Wow.” She comes back to the couch and sits down. “What’s a room like this run you for the day?”

“That’s not really what we’re here to discuss, is it?” he says.

“I’m just saying, if Bridget can afford a room like this just so you and me can have a chat, maybe I’m aiming too low.”

Howard has already thought her demand for one hundred thousand dollars lacks ambition, but he chooses not to say that. He picks up the silver coffeepot by the handle and says, “May I pour you a cup?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Steam rises from the coffee as it streams into the cups. Allison adds cream and sugar to hers, while Howard takes his black. He leans back comfortably in his chair, saucer in one hand and cup in the other.

“So, Ms. Fitch, you’ve certainly stirred things up, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, well, I don’t know what exactly Bridget has told you.”

“She’s told me enough. That you two became friends, very special friends, that you spent some time away together in Barbados, and that you subsequently learned that she is married to Morris Sawchuck.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty much it.” She sips the coffee, makes a face, spoons in more sugar, and stirs.

“And once having learned this, you saw an opportunity.”

Allison Fitch blushes. “I don’t know if you’d call it that.”

“What would you call it?”

“I guess…I guess I would call it doing Bridget a favor.”

Howard’s bushy eyebrows soar briefly. “Explain that to me.”

“Well, I figured she wouldn’t want it getting out that the two of us, you know, that we had had a thing, and I was offering her a way to make sure that didn’t happen.”

Howard nods. “I see. You’re a very kindhearted person, aren’t you? Just how were you hoping to ensure that this information did not become public?”

Her eyes narrow. “You’re a pretty smug son of a bitch, aren’t you?”

“I am many things, Ms. Fitch.”

“Look, you already know the answer. I told her I’ve been having kind of a cash flow problem lately, and that if she could help me out, I’d make sure nothing came out about her, something that could ruin her husband’s chances of being governor or president or head of the glee club or whatever it is he wants to be when he grows up. I mean, news of his wife sleeping with someone other than him would be bad enough, but with another woman? All those supporters of his who when they aren’t spending five hundred bucks a plate at some fund-raising dinner for him are spending millions to fight same-sex marriage, they’re going to just love that. I mean, come on, what’s a hundred grand for her and her husband? That’s like, what? Lunch money? A little trip to Gucci or Louis Vuitton? That’s nothing for them. I could have asked for a lot more.”

Howard Talliman smiles. “How do you know the police aren’t listening in on this conversation in the other room? How do you know they’re not about to bust in here and arrest you for extortion and blackmail?”

Allison tenses up. He can see it in her eyes that, for a second there, she’s actually expecting it to happen. But then her muscles appear to relax.

“I don’t think you’d do that. Because then it would all come out. That the governor’s wife had been having a lesbian affair.”

“You think you could survive that kind of publicity?”

“Sure.”

“How do you think your mother in Dayton would handle it?”