Brian Freemantle - The Namedropper

‘Let’s forget it,’ she said, tightly.

‘What were you thinking of?’

‘I don’t know what I was thinking of. It’s not important.’

‘We’re each of us too dependent upon the other to fall out.’

‘Who’s falling out?’

‘It sounds to me like we could be. The first time I made the mistake and I apologized, twice.’

‘It just seems so… I don’t know… childish I guess, that we can’t talk to each other properly.’ Now the impatience had gone.

‘It would be better if you came here, somewhere public, and we had dinner very publicly in the restaurant, rather than me coming to your apartment.’

‘I wasn’t inviting you to my apartment.’

‘Then my suggestion works. I’ll make a reservation and be waiting for you in the lobby… say seven, seven thirty.’

There was a brief silence from the other end of the line before Alyce said, ‘I’ll be there at seven.’

There’d be a minimal insurance in telling Daniel Beckwith, Jordan supposed. But not tonight. Afterwards.

Alyce Appleton came into the hotel lobby precisely at seven with the self-assurance of someone who knew her rightful place in such moneyed surroundings; an impression that had come to Jordan in France but which he had forgotten until now. She saw him at once – which he’d intended, unlike the initial subterfuge at the Carlton – and continued on without pause, her face opening into a smile as she reached him. The blonde hair was loose and he saw at once that the diamond ring had been discarded, as well as the wedding ring. The shawl over one shoulder matched the blue of her skirt and made the perfect contrast against the paler sweater and Jordan was conscious of the looks that followed her, from women as well as men.

She said, ‘Hi. Quite like old times, meeting in hotels again!’

‘Not quite the same, though,’ qualified Jordan, surprised by the lightness.

‘Perhaps not,’ she agreed, falling into step as he led towards the bar. She chose mineral water to his martini. As they touched glasses she said, ‘You want to know a secret?’

‘As many as there are to know,’ Jordan said, meaning it.

‘I almost chickened out at the last minute, about coming tonight. I actually went back from the corridor into my apartment, to think.’

‘Why didn’t you?’

Alyce shrugged. ‘This is my call, isn’t it, us meeting like grown-ups? I thought about what we discussed on the phone, about Alfred and Leanne still being together.’

‘Are they?’ pounced Jordan, at once. ‘Have Bob’s enquiry people come up with something?’

She shrugged again. ‘I mean about what you said, about their both being represented by the same firm. Bob hasn’t told me anything of what his detectives have discovered. That’s what they are, aren’t they? Detectives?’

‘I guess,’ dismissed Jordan, disinterested in an immaterial definition; he knew from his earlier exploration of Reid’s computer that there had been no email contact from any enquiry agency. ‘But you changed your mind again and now you’re here.’

‘And I’m glad. What happened in France was wonderful and what’s happened since is total, awful shit and I like the idea of our being able to behave for a couple of hours as normal people – as friends, most definitely not lovers – and now we’ve got it out of the way I want to stop talking about it. There!’

‘Very positive,’ judged Jordan.

‘I used to be once, before I married Alfred. He took me over. Mr Svengali.’

‘I didn’t get the impression of you being beaten into submission in France.’

‘In France I’d escaped. I was free. It was a good feeling. One I hadn’t known for far too long. Not since…’

Jordan waited and when she didn’t continue said, ‘Not since when?’

Alyce shook her head. ‘France really was wonderful. Immediately before that, back here, I’d actually tried therapy, imagining it was my fault everything had gone wrong with the marriage. This is beginning to sound just like one of those therapy sessions, without the couch and with more noise. I don’t want to talk

about it any more, OK?’

No it’s not OK, thought Jordan, disappointed. He said, ‘OK. Why don’t we eat?’

He’d personally chosen a corner banquette table at which they could sit side by side but separated at its apex, looking out over the dining room. She deferred to him choosing the wine, as he had in France, and restricted herself to two glasses, again as she had in France. He accepted her suggestion of the Chesapeake soft shelled crabs and they shared a Chateaubriand. Jordan cut short Alyce’s renewed apology for him becoming involved in the divorce action and they agreed that neither was looking forward to the following week’s court hearings.

‘Who’s ever heard of an affair being described as a criminal conversation, for Christ’s sake!’ exclaimed Alyce. ‘It must date from the time we burned witches.’

‘Everyone in North Carolina has heard of it, apparently,’ replied Jordan, ignoring the rhetoric. ‘And I agree it’s unbelievable that laws like it still exist in the United States of America… exist anywhere that imagines itself to be halfway civilized. Our problem is that there’s nothing we can do about it except go with the system, as half-assed as it is.’

‘Does Dan really think he can get you dismissed from the case?’

‘I guess he wouldn’t be trying if he thought it would be a total waste of time.’

‘When are you going down to Raleigh?’

‘Somewhen over the weekend, I suppose. I’ve agreed to Dan making the arrangements. You?’

‘The same, I guess. You know where you’re staying?’

Jordan shook his head. ‘Dan says there isn’t a wide choice.’

‘There isn’t. I’m glad I changed my mind tonight and came after all. It reminds me a lot of France.’

‘But for the differences we’ve already agreed.’

‘But for the differences we’ve already agreed,’ she echoed, smiling. ‘That reminds me of France, too. Saying the same things to each other.’

‘No doubt whatsoever?’ queried Jordan, although he accepted there couldn’t be from what Daniel Beckwith had just told him.

‘Read it for yourself,’ suggested Beckwith, pushing the venerealogist’s report across the desk.

Jordan did, twice. Looking back up to the lawyer he said, ‘So how did Alyce, who says I was her only other sexual partner apart from her husband, contract chlamydia?’

‘That’s what I asked Bob, before you got here this morning. And what he’s going to ask her.’

‘What else did he say?’

‘That Alyce is thirty-one years old and if she’s only ever had two lovers so far she’s the next in line to the Virgin Mary.’

‘That’s not funny.’

‘Bob wasn’t trying to be funny. He’s one big pissed off attorney.’

‘Alyce lied: is lying,’ decided Jordan, the awareness spreading through him. He hadn’t learned anything from the Carlyle dinner, making it a waste of time, but he’d had that time to waste and he’d enjoyed being with her – and talking to her again the following day when she’d telephoned to thank him – and now he knew she’d been treating him like a fool – treating all of them like fools.

‘She’s got to be lying, hasn’t she?’ said Beckwith. ‘It’s knocked Bob’s case to hell and back. He’d just read Leanne Jefferies’ medical report when I spoke to him this morning. She’s clean, too.’

‘I met her this week,’ suddenly declared Jordan, knowing that it was essential that he did. ‘The same day that I got back from London. We had dinner together.’

‘You met Leanne Jefferies?’ frowned Beckwith, confused.

‘Alyce,’ corrected Jordan. ‘She called me after I spoke to you that morning. Called it childish that we shouldn’t meet. You should know.’