John Katzenbach - The Wrong Man

“Actually, that’s why I’m calling.”

“Is there a problem?”

Scott hesitated. “There might be.”

Susan Fletcher was a whirlwind sort of young woman, always balancing a half dozen ideas and plans between her head, her desktop, and her computer. She was small, dark-haired, intense almost to a fault, and endlessly energetic. She had been scooped up by First Boston as soon as she had graduated and worked in their financial planning division.

She stood in front of her cubicle window, staring out, watching as airplane after airplane descended into Logan Airport. She had been a little unsettled by her conversation with Scott Freeman and wasn’t precisely sure how to proceed, although she had reassured him that she would take charge of the situation.

Susan liked Ashley, although it had been nearly two years since they’d actually spoken. They had been tossed together as roommates freshman year in college, a little astonished at how different they were, then even more astonished when they discovered they got along quite well. They’d stuck together for a second year, before each had moved off campus. This had resulted in significantly less contact, though when they had managed to get together, it had been marked by a singular sense of comfort and laughter. They now shared little in common; if she used the bridesmaid’s test-would she choose Ashley to be in her wedding party?-the answer was no. But she felt a great deal of affection for her onetime roommate. At least, she thought she did.

She glanced over toward the telephone.

For some reason that she couldn’t quite determine, she was uneasy about what Ashley’s father had asked of her. On the simplest level, it was more than a little like spying. On the other hand, it could be nothing more than some misguided paternal concern. She could make a phone call, be reassured, call Scott Freeman back, and everyone could get on with whatever they were doing. And the added benefit would be getting in touch with a friend, which was rarely a bad idea.

If there was some irritated fallout, it would be between Ashley and her father. So, with only the smallest of misgivings, she seized her desk phone, glanced out one final time at the first streaks of darkness slicing across the harbor, and dialed Ashley’s phone.

It rang five times before being picked up, right to the moment when Susan thought she was going to have to leave a message.

“Yes?”

Her friend’s voice was curt, which surprised Susan. “Hey, free-girl, how’s it going?” She used Ashley’s freshman-year nickname with a soft familiarity. The only course they had ever taken together had been a first-year seminar on women in the twentieth century, and they had agreed, after a couple of beers one night, that free- man was sexist and inappropriate, free- woman sounded pretentious, while free- girl fit pretty well.

Ashley waited on the street outside the Hammer and Anvil, jacket collar pulled up against the wind, feeling cold seeping through the pavement into her shoes. She knew she was a couple of minutes early. Susan was never late. It simply wasn’t in her nature to be delayed. Ashley glanced down at her watch, and as she did, she heard a car horn blare from the street just beyond where she was standing.

Susan Fletcher’s beaming grin penetrated the early night as she rolled down the window. “Hey, free-girl!” she shouted with genuine enthusiasm. “You didn’t think I’d keep you waiting, did you? Go in and get us a table. I’m gonna park up the street. Be two minutes, max.”

Ashley gave a wave and watched as Susan peeled away from the curb. Pretty fancy new car, Ashley thought. Red. She saw Susan pull into a Park and Lock a block away and then went into the restaurant.

Susan drove up to the third level, where there were far fewer cars and she could pull the new Audi into a space where it was unlikely anyone else would park next to her and ding the door. The car was only two weeks old, half a present from her proud parents, half a present to herself, and she was damned if she was going to let the wear and tear of downtown Boston diminish its shiny newness.

She tapped the alarm system, then headed out to the restaurant. She moved quickly, took the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator, and within a couple of minutes she was inside the Hammer and Anvil, stripping off her overcoat and striding toward where Ashley waited, two tall glasses of beer waiting on the table in front of her.

The two embraced.

“Hey, roomie,” Susan said. “It’s been too long.”

“I ordered you a beer, but thought maybe now that you’re a hotshot businesswoman and Wall Street denizen, maybe a Scotch on the rocks or a dry martini would be more appropriate.”

“This is a beer night. Ash, you look great.”

This, Susan thought, wasn’t exactly true. Her onetime friend had a pale, nervous look about her.

“Do I?” Ashley asked. “I don’t think so.”

“Something bugging you?”

Ashley hesitated, shrugged, and looked around the restaurant. Bright lights, mirrors. Toasts at a nearby table, intimacy between a couple at another. A happy buzz of voices. It all made her feel as if what had happened to her that morning were something that had taken place in some bizarre parallel universe. Nothing surrounded her in that moment except a carefree sense of anticipation.

She sighed. “Ah, Susie, I met a creep. That’s all. He kinda freaked me out a little. But no big deal.”

“Freaked out? What did he do?”

“Well, he hasn’t exactly done anything, it’s more what he implies. Says he loves me, I’m the girl for him. No one else will do. Can’t live without me. If he can’t have me, no one else can. All that sort of useless crap. Doesn’t make sense. We only hooked up once and that was a big mistake. I tried to let him down gently, told him thanks but no thanks. Kinda hoped that was that, but when I headed out today, he left me some flowers outside my door.”

“Well, flowers, that sounds almost gentlemanly.”

“Dead flowers.”

This made Susan pause. “That’s not cool. How’d you know it was him?”

“Didn’t figure it could be anyone else.”

“So, what are you going to do?”

“Do? Just ignore the creep. He’ll go away. They always do, sooner or later.”

“Great plan, free-girl. Sounds like you’ve really thought that one through and through.”

Ashley laughed, although it wasn’t funny. “I’ll figure something out. Sooner or later.”

Susan grinned. “Sounds like that calculus course you took freshman year. If I recall correctly, that was your approach for both the midterm and then, when that lesson hadn’t sunk in, the final.”

“I should never have done well in math in high school. My mother pretty much steered me into that mistake. I guess she learned her lesson. That was the last time she even asked me what courses I was taking.”

Both young women leaned their heads together and shared a laugh. Few things in the world are as reassuring, Ashley thought, as seeing an old friend, one who was now in a new and separate world, but who still remembered the same old jokes, no matter how different the two of them had become. “Ah, enough about the creep. I met another guy, who seemed pretty cool. I’m hoping he’ll call me back.”

Susan smiled. “Ash. Living with you the first thing I learned was that the boys always called you back.” She didn’t ask another question, nor did she hear Michael O’Connell’s name. But in a way, she thought, she had already heard enough, or close to enough. Dead flowers.

On the street outside the Hammer and Anvil after a good deal of food and drink and more than a few old and familiar jokes, Ashley gave her friend a long embrace. “It has been great to see you, Susie. We should get together more often.”