Regrets Only (36 page)

For a moment Lucy thought to intervene. Inebriation wouldn’t help, of that she felt certain, but the power of his father’s words wasn’t lost on her. She could drive Archer back to Center City.

“Once the court proceeding ended, Morgan quickly faded away. She’d decided to go back to school. She told me she was even considering medical school. At the time, the suggestion was humorous. She hadn’t spent a single day of her life gainfully employed. The hours alone would be staggering. But I also knew to keep my thoughts to myself. She’d never listened to me and she wasn’t about to start now.”

“And what about Archer?”

“Archer?” Rodman stared at his son, as if just now recognizing his presence. Archer stepped forward in anticipation of the answer. “This is a very difficult subject. I still don’t see—”

“Just answer her question,” Archer instructed.

“Oh my.” He raised his hand to his mouth and covered his lips with a fist. “How shall I put this? It was difficult for her to let him go, don’t misunderstand me, but difficult on an intellectual level. You see, she felt no emotional connection to him. She had no natural instincts. He was a stranger with whom she couldn’t imagine how to deal. She kept saying, ‘He’s your child,’ as if she’d had nothing to do with the process and I was solely to blame.”

Lucy knew that Archer had never heard the truth before. This conversation contained a level of candor that the Haverills hadn’t shared.

“What about the first years?” Archer asked. “When she was still here.” He spoke softly, the prior hostility gone.

“I hired a series of nannies to help. I thought she needed some free time. She could go to the City or the club. Her schedule wouldn’t be encumbered. But nothing changed measurably.” He turned away from his son, and stared at a small oil painting over the butler’s table. The image was a round vase of white peonies.

“One evening, I came home early and found her standing in the doorway of the playroom, watching as the nanny read to you. You were in her lap, quite an adorable little boy in your pajamas, listening intently to a book called
The Story of Ferdinand
. It was about a bull that wouldn’t fight. He only wanted to sit and smell flowers. It was your favorite—not surprisingly.” He laughed briefly. “From the threshold, Morgan stood, weeping, her whole body shaking. I thought someone must have died. She was not a particularly emotional woman, or should I say she kept her emotions extremely well controlled. When I asked what had happened, she turned to me and said, ‘Why is it so difficult? You’re paying someone ten dollars an hour to do what I can’t. What’s wrong with me?’ She was tormented by guilt over her shortcomings. She knew her feelings were selfish, wrong, but she couldn’t change them. Life had always been about her, and her alone. Less than a month after that night, she walked out, and I knew she was walking away from both of us. Forever.”

The room filled with silence. Nobody stirred. After a moment, Lucy mustered the courage to continue. His explanation wasn’t over. “When did you stop communicating?”

Rodman seemed to have forgotten Lucy’s presence. Her follow-up question seemed to confuse him, and he took more than a few moments to reply. “I gave her what she wanted in the divorce because I wanted the process to end. It was extremely unproductive. After everything was finalized, she occasionally sent a brief note. I knew she was off to medical school. I heard when her mother passed away. She informed me that she’d decided to become a psychiatrist. And she sent a change of address when she purchased her home in Bryn Mawr. That’s about all. Even those notes stopped coming ages ago.”

“So she never mentioned other children?”

“No.” He shook his head. “Nor a husband. As I said, when I did hear from her, it was only in the tersest way. I can’t say I didn’t wonder about her personal life, but she never asked after mine and I wasn’t about to inquire into hers.”

“And then out of the blue you got the call about the insurance?”

“That’s right. As I relayed to you at . . . when we met previously.”

“If your divorce was so acrimonious, why thirty years later were you her personal reference on her application for the position at the Wilder Center?”

“I didn’t know I was,” he said, sighing audibly. “It’s not a surprise, though. I know several of the major investors, as well as the chairman of AmeriMed. Despite what my son thinks about me, I have a very good reputation in the business community. I am respected. No doubt she listed my name because she knew it would help her cause. As I said, I would never expect Morgan’s selfishness—or should I say self-absorption—to disappear. In this case, I suspect her connection to me was perceived as an asset.”

“But they never called you. From what we gathered, she was offered the job without any check of her personal references except for her secretary.”

He shrugged. “I can’t explain the conduct of the nominating committee. All I can say is that Morgan would have been confident that my reference would be complimentary.”

“Why?” she asked, remembering Dixon’s remarks about Rodman’s temper.

“She knew me. She knew what I stand for. And I may have learned a bit along the way, but I haven’t changed since the day we shared an aisle.” He sat down next to her on the love seat. “You’re young. But take my word—it’s difficult to hold that much animus in your heart for any prolonged period. My anger gave way to grief, and the sadness eventually ended, too.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew a handkerchief. Turning his head away, he dabbed his eyes. He seemed fragile, as if the conversation itself had aged him.

Archer had covered his face with his hands. Lucy watched his fingers press into his eyes.

“Can you think of anyone who would have wanted to hurt her? Anyone at all?” Lucy asked after a moment.

Rodman finished his drink. “I don’t know the details of where her life took her, so I can’t provide you with names, but I wouldn’t be surprised if you discovered a queue. As I’ve told Archer more times than I can recount, when you live the type of reckless existence that she did, you make enemies along the way. She was a hurtful woman. No doubt she tried to put her heart in the right place, but she was a hurtful woman nonetheless.” He met her stare. “If I had your task, I’d be looking for someone else she discarded along the way. Not everyone is as charitable as I am.”

11:17 p.m.

In front of her wood-burning stove, Lucy sat with legs extended so that Archer, lying beside her, could rest his head in her lap. He rubbed her left foot as she gently caressed his forehead. The lines seemed more pronounced than she’d ever noticed before, and she could see a few gray hairs sprouting prematurely from his scalp. When he closed his eyes, the veins in his lids glowed in the light from the Duraflame.

“Are you sure I can’t make you some dinner?” she asked, knowing his response.

He shook his head. “Having your body as a cushion is much more important to me at the moment than a full stomach,” he said without opening his eyes.

“You need your strength.”

“For what? Running a bar? Yeah,” he added, sarcastically.

“Look, Archer, just because your father doesn’t understand your work, or just because he’d choose something else, it doesn’t mean it’s not worthwhile.”

Archer rolled over and pressed himself up with his hands. “Do you honestly believe that?”

“I do. And I don’t think you should beat yourself up. You work hard. You enjoy what you do. There’s nothing dishonorable about that. Not everyone can produce world peace or invent the toaster or find the cure for soft-tissue cancer. Sometimes I think all of us would be better off if we’d embrace reality instead of focusing on how we fall short of expectations.”

“How’d you end up so sane?”

She smiled. “I didn’t. But it’s a good act. One I learned early on from my parents.”

He sat back on his heels and leaned toward her. “Do you realize that if you hadn’t confronted my father today, he might never have told me about my mother? All my life I’ve begged him for information, and you learned more in an afternoon than I did in thirty years.”

“Sometimes it’s easier when the probing comes from a relative stranger.”

He didn’t respond. Instead he kissed her, then reached his arms around her and pulled her toward him, kissing her again. She felt his tongue inside her mouth and tasted his saliva, still scented with the scotch he’d drunk hours before.

“Thank you, Lucy. I mean it. I might have died never knowing, not understanding. And it’s because of you, your persistence, your inability to be bullshitted.” He smiled. “I saw my father today. I listened to him. He actually seemed human. I’ve built up so much resistance to him, his intolerance, his arrogance, that maybe I’ve never tried to understand. It was easier to believe my mother left because she couldn’t tolerate him the same way I couldn’t. I’ve wanted to blame him.” His eyes widened with animation and he shook his fist. “You know, he remembered the Ferdinand story. That bull was the best! When he said that, I realized, shit, he
is
my father. He may be a far cry from perfection but he was the only parent I had. And for that, for giving me that insight, I love you even more.”

She leaned toward him and kissed his cheek. Playfully, she whispered in his ear, “So how will you show your gratitude?” Then, realizing how deeply serious he was, she added, “I love you, too. And I’d do anything I could to help you through this nightmare.”

The telephone interrupted their discussion. Lucy stood, feeling a stab of stiffness in her knees as she straightened her legs. “I’ll get it,” she said, grabbing the receiver from its cradle on the kitchen table.

“Hey there,” Jack said. “Ben and I interviewed Sherrill Nichols, the wife of Tripp. We’d hoped to find him, too, but apparently AmeriMed is having some emergency meeting so he’s out. Sherrill says Tripp was away on business last weekend—something in Atlantic City. She couldn’t tell us where he was staying because he’d only called from his cell phone. But he left Saturday morning, was supposed to come back Monday, but then showed up at home a day early.”

“That can’t be right. He was at the Rabbit Club Saturday night. He’s a member. Why hide his attendance from his wife?”

“We asked if she knew he was a member of the Rabbit, and she said, ‘Yes, of course.’ Kind of like it was a source of pride. So get this. Ben and I then checked with the nicer downtown hotels. Turns out the Hyatt had him registered for two nights, although he didn’t stay for the second. He made no phone calls and drank most of the minibar. Had a three-hundred-dollar bill for incidentals. He got one telephone message from someone named Avery on Saturday around five
P.M.
”

“He would’ve been at the Rabbit Club by that time.”

“Right. But listen, it gets weirder. An Avery
Nichols
had a confirmed reservation for Saturday night, too, but she never checked in. Tripp’s credit card was billed for the room.”

“So was this their tryst?”

“Maybe. But we can’t prove that anyone stayed in his room with him.”

“How about the notion that it’s easier to run up a huge minibar bill if you’re not alone?”

“Hey, if it works for you, it works for me,” Jack said, chuckling. “It’ll be interesting to hear what old Tripp has to say about all of this. I’ll see you in the morning. Good night, O’Malley.”

After replacing the receiver, she walked back to the stove. Archer had removed his clothes. He lay on the floor, staring at the ceiling. The flames from the fire cast shadows on his body.

“What are you doing?” she asked, leaning over him and raising her eyebrows.

He smiled. “You were the one who wanted me to show my gratitude.”

“I didn’t need that big a show.” She knelt beside him, ran her hand along his leg, and then kissed his belly button.

“Try and live with it.”

28

Friday, May 23rd 12:45 p.m
.

T
he morning had been spent reviewing documents and reports of interviews in preparation for the confrontation with Tripp Nichols. Lucy was eager to go and felt restless as Jack pulled into a Mobil station to fuel up the car. While she waited, she wandered into the adjacent convenience store, bought a pack of Dentyne, and tucked the seven cents of change into the back pocket of her pants. Feeling her cell phone reminded her that she’d failed to turn it on that morning. But although the message envelope appeared in the window, she ignored it; the morning headline had caught her attention:
ELLERY RESIGNS FROM PINNACLE POSITION; WILDER CENTER SEARCH FOR DIRECTOR CONTINUES.

She picked up a paper from the stack, dropped a dollar bill on the counter, and began to read. Despite the article’s length, it provided little information on the momentous turn of events. Ellery had resigned for unspecified personal reasons, according to the press release. And the doctor couldn’t be reached for comment. Most of the two-page spread recited the hospital’s development and its search for leadership. Dixon Burlingame was quoted briefly: “We are saddened by Dr. Ellery’s decision, but we know we can find a suitable replacement. The Center will open on schedule.”

Lucy brought the paper out to the car and handed it to Jack just as her cell phone rang. Caller ID showed A. Baldwin.

“I thought cops always answered their phones,” Amanda said. “I’ve been trying to reach you for more than an hour.”

“Why? What’s up?”

“If I tell you, I expect you’ll let me know what further details you find out.”

“Is that blackmail?”

“Just a quid pro quo—a favorable one for you since I don’t see any men in blue monitoring Ellery’s comings and goings.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I was outside Ellery’s house in Haverford trying to get a scoop on the resignation story. But nobody was talking or even answering the door. Then about an hour and a half ago, a Town Car pulled up. Ellery came out of the house with three large suitcases and a laptop, and got in. My cameraman and I wanted to follow him, but when we got back in our van, the tire was flat. Slashed, if you can believe it. So much for parking in a good neighborhood. Well, I could hardly ask Ellery to wait up. Who knows where he’s headed, but it certainly appears he’ll be gone for a while.”