Celebration (41 page)

“You got any questions, Woodie?” Steve asked as he pressed the power button on his cell phone. “I've seen that guy somewhere and just recently. Can't place it, though.”

“He said he was getting treatments at George Washington. Have you been there lately? Maybe visiting someone or maybe you saw him in the parking lot. Kristine said he goes in twice a week for dialysis.”

“No, it was more of a social scene. For some reason I don't think it was recently. I did see him though. I remember thinking he had a super suntan.”

“That was back around Christmas time. That's when he arrived here. Kristine said he had been in DC for a week or so before he went out to the farm on Christmas Eve. Maybe you saw him around town.”

“I went to half a dozen cocktail and Christmas parties around then. Two were at the Ritz Carlton, one at the Ambassador. That was pretty stuffy. There were a couple at the Hyatt on Capitol Hill. Yes! It was at the Hyatt. He was sitting with a guy who had a portable oxygen tank and a . . . Jesus, it was with your ex-wife Maureen.”

“Tell me you made that up. How in the hell could he know Maureen? She called to wish me a Merry Christmas and she didn't say anything about meeting him.”

“Think about it, Woodie, why would she tell you something like that? You're divorced. They were just sitting there drinking. I remember thinking they were probably together, and the old guy with the oxygen was one of their parents. Talk about a small world.”

“Mr. Clovis is my ex-wife's husband,” Woodie said.

“At the risk of repeating myself, it really is a small world. Listen, Woodie, let's stop by the hospital and make some inquiries about Mr. Kelly. By the way, how can we get in touch with Maureen? We need to nail this stuff down. No point in going off half-cocked and blowing the whole thing.”

“I have no idea. She said Stedman wanted to come back for the holidays. I think they travel all the time. She said she was going to come out to the house, but she never did. She never called again, either. I don't feel right about this, Steve.”

“I'm trying to save your ass, buddy. What the hell does that mean, you don't feel right about this?”

“I don't want to be the one to jam all this into Kristine's face. It should be something she does on her own. She made her choice.”

“Are you saying you want me to drop all this? The guy's a fucking crook. We have the means to nail his ass to the wall. He ripped Danela off for five mil. He stole his wife's money. He's probably going to do it again. On top of that, the guy is a consummate liar. We've got him by the short hairs. If you need a clincher, how about this one? He's into some African banks for close to ten million dollars. It's all sitting in that numbered Swiss account.”

“That's not my problem.”

“The hell it isn't. It's my business, too. He's ripping off the IRS. He hasn't filed returns in over eight years. Are you condoning that, along with ripping off those banks and my friend Danela?”

“No.”

“Then what the hell are you saying, Woodie?”

“I don't know what I'm saying other than my instincts were right about Logan Kelly.”

“Are we going to the hospital or not?”

“I'm okay with that part of it. It will probably just confirm that Logan isn't dying. However, I don't think hospitals give out that kind of information.”

“All we're asking is if he's an outpatient.”

“I still don't think they'll tell us anything,” Woodie said.

“Then Brian will hack into their system. We'll find out. I don't get it, Woodie, you want to know all the information but you don't want to do anything about it. It doesn't make sense.”

“Kristine has to see all this for herself. I understand how she feels. She was married to Logan for a long time. They had three children. She thinks he's dying, and she wants to do the right thing. It's me that can't accept the situation. Let's just play this by ear and see how it goes, okay?”

“It's your life, buddy,” Steve said, slumping down in the seat.

“Yeah, it's my life,” Woodie muttered.

The rest of the long drive into the city was made in silence.

“Okay, we're here,” Woodie said, pulling into a parking space. “I think this is a waste of time, but let's go for it.”

“Let's try Admitting first,” Steve said. “If we don't find out anything there, we can try the business office. If you offer to pay someone's bill, they rear up and listen.”

“I never would have thought of something like that,” Woodie said, his voice full of awe. “I'll catch up with you. I want to stop at the men's room.”

Woodie was reading the overhead signs and trying to decipher the colored zones on the wall when he felt someone tap his arm. He turned. “Maureen! What are you doing here?”

“Stedman is here,” she said wearily. “We never left after the holidays. This is the third time he's been admitted since Christmas. He doesn't have long, Aaron. A week, maybe two, but that's it. I really don't understand what I'm feeling. Part of me wants him to live forever. He's been so good to me, so kind, so gentle. He's a wonderful man. I never once heard him complain. I don't know what to do.”

“Let's go in the coffee shop and have some coffee. We can talk there. First I have to go to the business office to tell my friend where I'll be. Are you okay?”

“Look at me, Aaron. Do I look okay to you?”

Woodie really looked at her then. Her hair was disheveled, she wasn't wearing makeup, and she looked like she'd slept in her clothes.

“I've seen you look better. That's not to say you look bad. You're under stress right now.”

“I stay here all day and night. Stedman is in ICU, and they only allow me to see him ten minutes on the hour. I brought changes of clothes with me. Do you want me to order you some coffee?”

“Sure and maybe an egg salad sandwich. Hospital coffee shops always serve the best egg salad. I don't know why that is.”

Maureen smiled wanly. “That's what Stedman said. He can't eat now. He's hooked up to an IV gizmo. Most times he doesn't even know me.”

“Get the coffee. I won't be long.”

Woodie loped down the long hallway, one eye on the colored zones and the arrows and his other eye on the small protruding signs that announced each office. When he met up with Steve Douglas, Douglas winked at him, and said, “I'm getting something. I just don't know what it is.”

“Listen, Steve, I ran into Maureen outside the coffee shop. Her husband is in Intensive Care. He's dying. Right now she's in need of a friend. Here's the car keys. I'm going to stay with her for a while, and I'll take a taxi to your house.”

“Okay, but don't forget to ask her about Kelly.”

“Get off it, Steve. I'm not asking her any such thing.”

“Then get her damn phone number, and I'll call her. I'll see you at the house. Christ, I hate hospitals. People
die
here.”

“Yeah,” Woodie said, walking away.

“It's nice to see you again, Aaron,” Maureen said as he slid into a chair beside her. “Not under these circumstances, though. I really meant to drive out to see you after Christmas, but Stedman took a turn for the worse. I know you didn't really want to see me. I don't know why I need the . . . security of knowing I can call you from time to time. It's not like we were married forever. I do like you, Aaron. I always will.”

“I'm flattered. Is there anything I can do for you? Does your sister still live in the area?”

“No. She moved to Argentina when she married that soccer player. I haven't heard from her in years. I don't make friends easily. When the . . . when the time comes, will you help me?”

“Of course. Why don't you go home, Maureen, and get some rest. If you want, I'll sit with your husband.”

“You can't. Visiting is only ten minutes on the hour for the immediate family. I am all the immediate family Stedman has. Besides, I promised I would stay here. I've never, ever broken a promise to Stedman.”

“Do you just . . . sit?”

“I read a little. I knit.”

“You knit!”

“Surprise, surprise! I made Stedman argyle socks, a sweater, and a couple of mufflers. It keeps my fingers limber. I'm not a bimbo, Aaron.”

“I never said you were.”

“You thought it, though. I admit to ... having a few... trysts. Stedman knows, but we don't talk about it. He trusts me to be discreet and I am. I was just as good to Stedman as he was to me. It's important to me that you believe me.”

Woodie reached across the table for Maureen's hand. “I do, Maureen.”

“How will I get over it when Stedman . . . goes?”

“Time will take care of everything. Do you know anything about your husband's business? Could you step in and work at something? I know work will interfere with getting your hair and nails done, but it is good therapy.”

Maureen shrugged. “I haven't had my hair or nails done in over a month. You know what, Aaron, it doesn't matter. I think maybe I grew up a little these past few months. It is funny, though, that you mention working. Stedman has been trying for the past few years to get me to take an interest in things. We more or less committed to a project just recently. We're going to build a resort on Peter Island. The Brits own it. Stedman handed over a chunk of money sometime in February, a couple of hundred million. He wants me to oversee it. It's really a grand project. There won't be anything like it anywhere. Really, really pricey. It's about set to go. Starting date is sometime in May, I think. Do you think I'd look good in a hard hat? Stedman says I will. He's counting on me. I think that's what really pushed me over the edge. He trusts me to do it and to finish it even though he won't be here. I know diddly-squat about things like that.”

“Then what you have to do is hire people who can be trusted to do what you can't do. Then you ride their asses twenty-four hours a day. You stay on top of it all the way. I think you can do it, Maureen.”

“Do you really, or are you just saying that to make me feel good?”

“I never lied to you.”

“No, Aaron, you never did. When this is all over, will you be my banker?”

“No. I'm retired. I just do a little consulting these days to keep my hand in. I can, however, turn you over to some people you can trust.”

“Okay. I appreciate your taking the time to talk to me tonight. I have to get back upstairs. I hope we can be friends forever and ever.”

Woodie nodded. “Hey, Maureen, did you ever wear that belt your husband gave you for Christmas?”

“Once or twice. It itches. See you around, Aaron.”

“Call if you need me.”

“Count on it.”

Woodie walked out of the hospital into the spring night. It was cool now, chilly, actually. He wondered where Kristine was and what she was doing. Was she sitting in front of the fire with that lying bastard who was once her husband? Were the dogs curled up on their laps? What were they talking about?

Woodie hailed a cab that was sliding to the curb. Whatever they were doing, it was none of his business, even though Stephen Douglas thought it was.

None of his business at all.

 

 

“I'll say good night, Logan. It's been a long day and I'm tired.”

“It was nice, though, wasn't it? Remember how we used to search out Chinese restaurants because they were your favorites? I thought it was like old times. Every man in the restaurant eyed you up and down. You smelled as delicious as you look. That's a great perfume. Is it new?”

“Yes,” Kristine said carefully. “It was a gift.”

“From Woodie?” Logan asked just as carefully.

“Yes. He gave it to me for my birthday.”

“Do you still use gardenia bath salts?”

“Why are you asking me these questions, Logan?”

“I don't know. I guess to have something to say. I don't want the evening to end. Lately, more and more, I realize what I've been missing. I wish . . . oh, Kristine, I wish so many things. I wish we were still married. I wish you could forgive me. I wish the kids liked me. I wish I wasn't . . . I wish life would go on and we could be happy.”

“Logan, did you ever love me?”

He took so long to respond that Kristine had to prod him for a reply.

“In the beginning I loved you with all my heart and soul. I wanted it to be that way forever. Things cooled a little for me when the kids came along. You got more and more dependent on me. At the time I didn't know if I liked that or not. You never argued with me. You never put up a fight, and you never said a cross word. After a while I started to feel suffocated. Sometimes I felt like I couldn't breathe around you. It seemed at the time, anyway, that there were no more challenges. I wanted and needed more excitement. I'm sorry now. I can't get those years back. Right now I would give anything if I could. I still love you, Kristine. I need you to believe me. If there's anything I can do or say to convince you, just tell me. I'll do it in a heartbeat.”

“I don't love you, Logan. All my feelings for you are gone.”

“That's not what that kiss said by the kitchen sink. Let's try, Kris.”

“No.”

“Don't be afraid of me, Kris.”

“I'm not afraid of you. Why can't you understand? I love Aaron Dunwoodie. My feelings for you died a long time ago. This situation we find ourselves in is not good; it was probably a mistake, but I couldn't turn you away. Please don't confuse my generosity with feelings of love.”