Broken Serenade (25 page)

   
“I’m bigger than you because I’m a man. So, Miss Vivien, will you be my girlfriend number thirteen?”

    Vivien was having a lot of fun.

    “I don’t know, George. Thirteen is not the most appealing number, don’t you think?” 

    “There’s nothing wrong with thirteen, really! I
t’s just one, and three, and it’s nice, it looks good to me…”

   
Before she could make up her mind, either to accept or not George’s daring proposal, they reached their destination. Jean had left the door cracked open, and both children rushed inside screaming. The woman stepped out of the kitchen, holding one of her twin infants. She was visibly pregnant again.

    “Vivien, I ca
n’t thank you enough. I would’ve needed one more hour just to be able to leave the house.”

    “Not a problem, Jean. I should be the one to thank you. Anne and George are so wonderful. I enjoy their presence.”

    “Yes, they’re a handful. They come up with all these strange ideas and words. Not from Mark and me, though,” Jean tried to exculpate herself and her husband.

    “School is a never ending inspirational source,” Vivien suggested.

    “Thank God, this time I’m not pregnant with twins again,” the woman said laughing.

    “You’re so brave!” Vivien told her
, and she meant it.

   
She said goodbye to her young students and their sweet mother and headed home.

   
Just a couple of dozen yards from her home, the electricity went off. In a blink of an eye, thick darkness engulfed the entire neighborhood. 

   
Vivien’s heart picked up a galloping rhythm.

   
No, God, please not now!
She prayed, swept away by fear and revolt. The weather was calm, there was no serious reason whatsoever for an outage at that moment.

    She tried a
n easy trick she had learned from her mother, back in her childhood. She closed her eyes and kept them like that for a few seconds. When she opened her eyes again, she was able to distinguish the objects around her. She continued to take careful steps on the sidewalk, listening to the comforting sound of fallen autumn leaves crushing under her shoes. Now she could see her house. She decided to go across the front garden, so she would reach the door faster. She took only a couple of steps on the garden’s soft mulch and froze. A gargantuan apparition was throwing some sort of liquid from a canister over her front door. Almost involuntarily, her eyes followed that monster’s shadow as it crept about her house toward the back entrance.   

   
Vivien staggered in horror and wanted to turn around and call for help from a neighbor’s house. Next instant, a firm, chocolate-scented hand covered her mouth and muffled her terror-filled cry. A pair of strong arms circled around her and pulled her behind the thick bush of honeysuckle.  

   
“Shshshsh,” the man whispered in her ear. “Don’t be afraid. I’m not going to hurt you.”

   
She remained petrified, held so tight in those strange arms that she could hardly breathe. Only her heart beat wildly, pushing against her ribcage, as a savage beast fed up with captivity that wanted to break free.

   
While she forced her brain to find an escaping solution, the giant with the canister reappeared in the periphery of her visual field. She wasn’t able to see that monster’s face. The hood of a long, black coat camouflaged it perfectly. As the perpetrator approached her front door again, a light breeze brought the smell of gasoline to her nostrils. Next second, she watched in horror as her house entrance was engulfed in reddish, savage flames.    

CHAPTER 22

   
“
A
nother signature here,” Mr. Donohue instructed. “And another… right here. That’s it! We’re done for tonight.”

    The old accountant closed the blue file
, sending sidelong glances toward the delicate porcelain plate. In the end, his sweet tooth defeated his reservation, and he dared to take the last chocolate and walnuts cookie artfully crafted to please the most sophisticated palate.  

   
“I hate to leave a mess behind me,” he declared smiling.

    “Please, Mr. Donohue! Don’t be shy!” Timothy e
ncouraged him. “Personally, I aim to diminish my sugar intake. Nevertheless, it’s a permanent struggle, because – as you – I love sweets.”

    “When I was younge
r, I used to allow myself to be lured into different types of diets. Occasionally, I would lose a few pounds. Now I indulge in everything I crave for,” Mr. Donohue laughed heartily, patting his huge abdomen. “And talking about that, my wife is cooking lamb, twice baked potatoes with three cheeses, coleslaw, and some fancy dessert. We both would be very happy if you would dine with us tonight, Timothy.” 

   
“Thank you, Mr. Donohue. It’s so kind of you and your wife to invite me so often. You both know that I hardly – if ever! – decline such an invitation. However, tonight I have a very important date. Please send Mrs. Donohue my sincere regards. I’m always humbled by her culinary talents.”

    The
accountant treated Timothy with a meaningful stare.

    “So
all those rumors are true, aren’t they! Actually, it’s written all over your face, my boy,” the old man said, giving Timothy a friendly pat on his shoulder. “Listen, Carol Hopkins’ granddaughter is a darling and gorgeous girl. I listened to her playing Chopin at a charity concert in Los Angeles a couple of years ago. I watched her in awe, and I thought: God, she’s too beautiful to be so talented and too damn talented to be so beautiful! Yet,” the old accountant paused and shook his finger at Timothy, “she’s a bit too young for you, I may say.” 

   
“Yes? Is that what you think?” Timothy asked with a waggish grin.

    “Don’t get me wrong! I don’t blame you. Who in this world doesn’t like fresh, young meat?” Mr. Donohue winked at him and chuckled.  

    “Well, you know that I always value your opinion, sir,” Timothy added, escorting his accountant to the door.

    “Then don’t lose any more time. G
o ahead, my boy! You’re on the right track,” Mr. Donohue assured him dearly, stepping out of his office. He bade adieu to his favorite client and left, anxious to get home and have his gourmet dinner.

    Timothy returned quickly to his computer. During his long
meeting with Mr. Donohue, he had registered the arrival of at least one new email. She clicked the Inbox and was unpleasantly surprised to find that he had received another message from that mysterious person who had been harassing him for the past few weeks. The last five or six days, he had not received anything, and he had started to believe that the woman – he had no doubt it was a woman! – had found out about his recent relationship with Vee and had abandoned him. Unfortunately, it wasn’t like that!  

    He opened the message.
The usual vulgarities were entirely missing this time. A more ominous, threatening tone had taken their place. He read boiling with fury:

   
Poor Robert… What a disaster! Watch out, dear! You might be next… 

    “That’s it!” Timothy muttered. Tonight
, he decided to do what he should have done long ago. He started to dial the phone number of his high school colleague, detective Art Leonard. Simultaneously, he heard his cell phone ringing. He answered instantly, thinking that Vivien was calling – he was running a little late. A strange woman greeted him. Her voice appeared altered deliberately.

   
“Good evening, Timothy! Darling…” She purred like a cat. “Tonight you’re working late, aren’t you? That’s not good for your health. Take Robert Kane for example. He was working overtime every single day lately. Stress kills.”

    “
Who are you?” Timothy snapped. “And what do you want from me?”

    “Do you still remember what the burned body of a woman looks like
, Timmy? Did you call your pretty girlfriend over the last hour? Just to check on her…” 

    Timothy’
s heart leapt to his throat. 

    “Vee,” he whispered, lost for a second. Savage fury rose instantly inside him. “You miserable bitch!” he roared, as the woman erupted in a diabolic
al laughter. “If you dare to touch her I’ll kill you! I’ll find you anywhere you hide, and I’ll squeeze the life out of you with my bare hands!” He yelled at the top of his lungs, feeling as if he were losing his mind. The woman hung up still laughing hysterically.    

   
Shaking like a leaf, Timothy dialed Vivien’s home phone number. She didn’t pick up. Her answering machine started.

    “Get out of the house, Vee! Now!” he screamed in terror.
Running full-speed toward his car, he called her on her cell phone. As Vee didn’t answer, he pleaded with her voice mail. “Please Vee, get out of your house now! Listen to me, baby! Do it now!”

CHAPTER 23

  
 
H
aunted by gloomy thoughts, Senator Edward McLean crept into his large personal library. It had become his habit to retreat in here. The colossal, noise-proof door seemed to separate him from the entire world, and the library walls, full of bookshelves filled with books, muffled his secret phone conversations. He felt safe in here. He could afford to be himself in here. He sank into the brown leather armchair and heaved a sigh. He needed a woman tonight.
Someone to fuck my brains out,
he wished.
Preferably an experienced woman capable to pull me out of this miserable state.
Through sex, he freed himself from his personal demons and from all the stress that gripped him in a steel-like claw. It didn’t last though. The sweet taste of freedom usually faded fast. It seemed as if he walked in a circle, and he always returned to his initial lamentable state of mind – he was trapped.  

   
As perfect as it appeared in the eyes of the world, his marriage was a disaster. He hated his wife. He hated her piercing voice and her shrill criticism, her baggy, old-woman-like clothes, her hairspray-sodden blonde hair and style, her sweet, nauseating perfume… In fact, it would’ve been easier to say what he liked about her:
Nothing!
Most of all, he hated the way she looked at him – as if she knew about his torment, and she enjoyed it.
She doesn’t know about it. Not yet…Or does she?
he asked himself, not sure of anything anymore.
That bitch
… The Queen was blackmailing him, so that she would convince him to resign. If she didn’t know already, his wife would find out soon.
The entire world would find out. My political carrier will be over.
 

    Senator Edw
ard McLean opened the right drawer of his library desk. He took the small revolver and examined it as if it were a fine piece of jewelry.

   
This might be a solution… It would exonerate me from everything
, he reflected pessimistically. It wasn’t like him to have suicidal thoughts, but today, he was desperate.

   
He had worked hard his entire life to get here. He wasn’t going to give it all up so easily.

    Curious, he speculated about which
one of the gorgeous young women he had slept with had become pregnant from him. At least, he was content to know that, in those few hours of sex, he had felt infinitely more love and attraction for each and every one of those women than he had felt for his wife in fifteen years of miserable marriage.

   
Six years ago
, he thought melancholically. Sometimes he had the strange sensation that time buried him little by little, with every day that went by. All of a sudden, the realization that he had a five-year-old girl brightened his soul. He recalled the young daydreamer he had been so many years ago, when a family, a woman to love him, and a couple of children would have summed up his biggest wishes. That of course, before he had allowed himself to become afflicted with the political syndrome that, undeniably, had dragged him into this deplorable, wretched marriage. His wife had possessed the money and powerful connections to lure him into that world then. Her dowry was useless now, and so were her friends.    

   
Bit by bit, he finally got a clear picture inside his mind. He was unhappy – there was no doubt about that. He needed to make major changes in his life. He couldn’t go on living like that.
I’ve got to quit playing this stupid role. That isn’t me. If you play stupid for too long you might remain like that forever. I’ve got a life to start living.
First of all, he owed it to himself, to that honest, idealistic, optimistic, and romantic young man he had been once. And then, he owed it to his child. He intended to become involved in the upbringing of his little girl. He wanted to be a father.

   
Senator McLean dialed the phone number of his assistant. The young man answered on the first ring.

    “Joe
, please call the local TV station and let them know that I expressed my intention to make a public announcement tonight. I will be at my office in less than one hour.”