Alice in Jeopardy: A Novel (22 page)

She could not believe it.

She had religiously inserted the diaphragm two to twelve hours prior to intercourse each and every time. She had made certain it remained in place for at least six hours after sex. She had never left it in place for longer than twenty-four hours. She had washed it carefully with warm soapy water and stored it in a clean dry place. And now this?

Pregnant?

She absolutely could not believe it.

Ashley was born nine months later.

The Okeh Diner is
in a row of stores in a strip mall on the west side of the Trail. The mall itself attempts to emulate Old Florida, and almost succeeds in doing that. Turreted and balconied, shuttered and terraced, the pink-stuccoed and orange-tiled shops partially re-create an aura of graciousness, reminiscent of what Cape October must have been like in the 1920s. Flanking the diner’s entrance, a potted umbrella tree stands opposite a dragon tree and a corn plant, all arranged around a sidewalk flower cart massed with purple, white, and pink gloxinias, mums in yellow and lavender, spinning wheels with bright yellow centers and white petals. There are two cars parked in front of the diner. One of them is a white Caddy. Alice wonders why she thinks it belongs to Rudy Angelet.

He is sitting in a booth at the rear of the place, facing the entrance door. He rises the moment he sees her come in. She considers this an ominous sign: he knows what she looks like. Which means he’s been watching her. She walks toward the booth.

“Mrs. Glendenning?” he asks.

The same nicotine-ravaged voice she heard on the telephone.

“Mr. Angelet?” she says.

“Please,” he says, and opens his hand, using the palm to invite her into the booth beside him. Another man is sitting on the other side of the booth. He is a black man with a sceloid scar running the length of his jawline on the left side of his face.

“My partner,” Angelet says. “David Holmes.”

“No relation to Sherlock,” Holmes says, and shows white teeth and pink gums in a wide grin. “Sit down, Mrs. Glendenning.” It is more a command than an invitation. She sits alongside Angelet and opposite Holmes.

“What happened to your foot?” Angelet asks.

“I hurt myself.”

“How?”

“I got run over.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Is it broken?”

“Yes.”

“That’s a shame,” he says. “Cup of coffee? Something to eat?”

“Just coffee,” she says. “Thanks.”

Angelet signals to a waitress wearing a pink uniform.

“Another cup of coffee, honey,” he tells her.

The waitress smiles and goes off again. She is back with Alice’s coffee not three minutes later. She smiles again at Angelet. It occurs to Alice that she is flirting with him. He is not a bad-looking man. In his late thirties, early forties, Alice supposes, with dark brown eyes and a pale complexion for a Floridian—if indeed he’s from Florida. His voice on the phone sounded more like Brooklyn than Cape October. Alice suddenly wonders if he knew Eddie while they were still living in New York. On the phone, he said, “I’m an old friend of your late husband.”
How
old? she now wonders.

“I’m glad you could make it,” Angelet says.

“This is a serious matter here,” Holmes says. “Your husband owed us two hundred thousand dollars when he met with his unfortunate accident. He
still
owes us that money.”

“Which is a lot of money,” Angelet says.

“A whole fucking
lot
of money,” Holmes says.

“I can’t imagine my husband owing—”

“Imagine it, lady,” Holmes says.

“How… how could he possibly…?”

“The puppies, lady,” Holmes says.

“The
what
?”

“The hounds.”

“I don’t know what—”

“The
dog
races. Your husband liked to bet.”

“He liked to bet big.”

“Too big.”

“Losers shouldn’t bet so big.”

“He was into us for two hundred large when he drowned,” Holmes says.

“Drowned too
soon,
” Angelet says.

“Too
fucking
soon,” Holmes says, and both men laugh.

Alice gets up to leave.

“Sit!” Holmes says, as if he is talking to a disobedient dog. “And don’t get up again.”

Alice sits. She looks across the table at him.

“I don’t believe a word you’re saying,” she says. “I don’t believe you knew my husband, I don’t believe he owes you money, I don’t believe—”

“Want to see his markers?” Holmes asks.

“Markers?”

“Show her the markers, Rudy.”

“What…?”

“His betting slips,” Holmes says.

Angelet reaches into the inside pocket of his sports coat. When his hand emerges again, it is holding a sheaf of three-by-four white papers, some two inches thick.

“They’re all dated,” he says. “They go back a year and a half. That’s when he started betting with us. We were carrying him a long, long time.”

“We since found out he stiffed half a dozen other bankers in town.”

“We shoulda been more careful,” Angelet says.

“You’ll probably be getting a few more calls,” Holmes says.

“Once word gets around there was insurance.”

“What do you mean? How do you know…?”

“A check went out from Garland last week. Seems your lawyer threatened them with a lawsuit…”

“How do you know that?”

“It’s true, ain’t it?”

“How do you—?”

“I’ll tell you how we know,” Angelet says. “One of the people who bets with us happens to work for Garland, and he also happens to owe us a little money. So when we mentioned to him one day that this fucking deadbeat Eddie Glen—”

“Don’t you
dare
—!”

“Stay put, lady, I warned you!” Holmes says, and pulls her down into the booth again.

“When we mentioned to this man, whose name is Joseph Ontano, if you’d care to check, that your husband owed us two hundred large, but he was already dead and we weren’t about to let some little pissant like Mr. Ontano stiff us for a mere five, he said the name rang a bell, and he looked up the file when he got back to the office, and sure enough a check went out.”

“No, it didn’t.”

“Lady…”

“I haven’t received any check.”

“You will.”

“I hope so. I can use it just now.”

“So can we. When that check arrives, we want two hundred of it.” “Before the
other
sharks start circling.”

“We’ll call you tomorrow,” Angelet says. “And we’ll keep calling you every day until that insurance check is in your hands. Then we—”

“I don’t know
when
a check is coming. I don’t even—”

“
Whenever
it—”

“I don’t even know
if
one is coming. I haven’t heard they’re paying. Your Mr. Ontano must be mistaken. When did he say this check went out?”

“Lady,” Holmes says, “
whenever
that fucking check gets to you, we want our piece of it. Or we’ll break your
other
foot, you know whut I’m saying?”

“You don’t frighten me,” she says.

“How about your kids? Do
they
frighten you?” Angelet asks.

“Are you in this with the others?” she asks.

Their faces go blank.

“What others?” Holmes asks.

“To each his own,” Angelet says, thinking he understands.

“Let them collect their
own
fuckin markers,” Holmes says, picking up on it.

They have no idea what she’s talking about. With an enormous sense of relief, she realizes they have nothing whatever to do with the kidnapping, Eddie’s gambling was not responsible for—

“We’ll call you this afternoon,” Angelet says. “After the mail comes.”

“Keep an eye on the mailbox,” Holmes says.

Both men rise in the same moment, as if by prearranged signal. Alice sits alone in the booth, watching them as they go. The waitress in the pink uniform walks over.

“Who’s getting this check?” she asks.

Outside, Alice hears an automobile starting. She looks through the blinds on the diner window. The white Caddy is moving out of the parking lot.

Too late, she thinks of writing down the license plate number.

The car is gone.

She calls her lawyer
at home from the cell phone in her car.

“Andy,” she says, “hi. It’s Alice Glendenning, can you hear me?”

“Hello, Alice, how are you?” he asks.

“I’m fine. If we get cut off, I’ll call you back. I’m in the car.”

“What’s up?”

“Have you heard anything more from Garland?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Because some people seem to think a check to me has already been cut.”

“Really?”

“So they say.”

“What people?”

“Some people who knew Eddie.”

“I haven’t heard anything to that effect. You’d be the first to know, Alice.”

“I know that. But they seemed so positive…”

“I can call Garland again, if you like.”

“Could you, Andy? It’d be nice to know if a check is really on the way.”

“I’ll do that right now. Are you on the way home?”

“Yes, I am.”

“I’ll call you there. Say half an hour or so?”

“Thanks, Andy.”

When she hangs up, she realizes she’s forgotten to give him Joseph Ontano’s name.

She tries to call him back, but she can’t get a signal.

I’m in a dead zone, she thinks.

Again,
she thinks.

Ashley was five months
old when the call came from Alice’s best friend in film school. Denise Schwartz had set up a low-budget production deal with an independent producer named Backyard Films, who were ready to finance a script Denise herself had written and planned to direct
—and
would Alice care to come in as her partner?

What?

What!

Her heart stopped.

Denise elaborated. The budget was only $850,000, which meant they would both have to wear many hats. Denise would be director and executive producer. Alice would work the camera and serve as line producer…

“You were so good with the camera, Alice, please say yes.”

“Well, I…”

She could barely speak.

“Where will you be shooting?” she asked.

“Toronto,” Denise said. “For New York.”

“How long is the shooting schedule?”

“I haven’t worked it out yet, but I’m assuming six, seven weeks— seven weeks tops. Neither of us will be drawing salaries, Alice, but we’ll share in the profits, if there are any. And if we bring this one in on budget, and win a few prizes…”

“Oh sure, prizes.”

Her heart was racing.

“Why not?” Denise said. “What I’m saying is it’s a start, there’ll be other ones in the future. Alice. Please.”

“I’ll have to talk to Eddie,” she said. “I’ll get back to you.”

Eddie didn’t think it
was such a good idea.

Things weren’t going too well at Lowell, Hastings, Finch and Ulrich; he wasn’t becoming a millionaire quickly enough. In fact, he wasn’t making anywhere near the kind of commissions he thought he should be making by this time.

“So how can we afford your being away for two, three months, whatever it is…?”

“Seven weeks tops,” Alice said.

“Seven weeks, okay, even so. We’d have to get a nanny for Ashley, where are we supposed to get the money for a nanny? Line producer and cinematographer are very nice titles, Alice, but you said yourself there wouldn’t be any salary while you’re…”

“If the film shows a profit…”

“Oh sure, how many of these indie films make any money?”

“It’s what I trained for, Eddie!”

“I know. I’m not saying don’t put your training and your expertise to use, Alice, I’m only saying don’t do it right this
minute.
Do it sometime in the
future.
This just isn’t the appropriate time for you to be running off to Canada.”

“But the opportunity is here
now,
Eddie. Not sometime in the future. And why
isn’t
this an appropriate…?”