Monahan 02 Artificial Intentions (3 page)

As a member of the board of directors and the corporate secretary of Phoenix Technologies, Cleve had to attend all of their board meetings, and the one scheduled for the following week, in New York, was planned to be a regular, run-of-the-mill, quarterly meeting. The agenda he had prepared for the meeting contained all of the standard stuff: approval of the minutes of the last meeting; review and approval of quarterly financial statements and the 10-Q; five-year forecasts; executive bonuses, etc., etc. The meeting was scheduled for early Wednesday morning, so Cleve flew out late Tuesday night. We had booked him a hotel in Manhattan, near the Phoenix offices.

Feelings of deja vu overwhelmed me as I worked on the file before the meeting. They weren’t good feelings but I brushed them aside, trying to re-establish the feelings of excitement I used to have whenever I worked on the file. All I could remember though was feeling like a failure because when my marriage fell apart, I left Scapelli’s for good and had my mid-life crisis, early. I had worked temp for a while, hopping from job to job, trying to overcome the depression.

The day before he left for the board meetings in New York, Cleve had asked me to call Tommy and speak to him about the agenda and any last minute changes. Tommy was in a meeting and I ended up speaking with his secretary, Carrie.

“Tell him it’s Kate Monahan at Cleve Johnston’s office. Cleve needs to know if there have been any last minute changes to the agenda.”

“I’ll give him the message,” she said. “And Kate?” She hesitated for a moment.

“Yeah.”

“He’ll be pleasantly surprised to find out you’re working with Mr. Johnston.”

“Pleasantly surprised?” It was the first time I had spoken to anyone at Phoenix since I started with Cleve.

“He speaks fondly and very highly of you.” Her manner of speech was somewhat stilted, and I pictured an older woman, sitting primly at her desk with her steno pad centered on her blotter with a sharpened pencil at the ready.

“Uh, thank you. Did Mr. Johnston not mention that I was working with him?” I knew this was going to be awkward and when she had said Tommy was in a meeting, I had been glad not to have to speak with him.

“Not that I’m aware of. Thank you for calling and I’ll make sure Mr. Connaught gets the message.”

When I returned from lunch later, there was a message on my voicemail from Tommy. It made me blush.

“Kate, Kate, Kate. Surprise, surprise, surprise. I couldn’t believe it when my secretary told me you were working with Cleve. That’s great news.” There was a long pause in the message and I was about to hang up when he spoke again. “Come to New York for the meeting. We could renew old acquaintances.” He chuckled into the phone. “Call me back.”

He’d finished the message speaking in that soft, sexy voice that I remembered so well. I quickly hung up the phone and buried my head in the filing cabinet while I waited for my face to return to its original colour. I didn’t tell Cleve about the phone call because I had no intention of going to New York.

Cleve called exactly at five the next day.

“Checking up on me?” I teased him.

“Uh no,” he said, sounding distracted.

“Why are you calling? You’re supposed to be on a plane. Did you miss it?” I had booked him on a 4:00 p.m. flight out because the board meeting had been scheduled to finish by 2:00.

“No. I’m still at Phoenix’s offices. Listen, Kate. Are there any messages for me?” I heard voices in the background.

“Nope. Want me to check your voice mail?” I offered.

“No. I already did. Tommy didn’t call?”

“Tommy? Isn’t he there with you?”

“Just a sec.” Muffled sounds came through the phone and then he was back on the phone. “Thanks,” was all he said. Then he hung up the phone.

I couldn’t believe what had just happened and I stared at the receiver when the dial tone started. My fingers flew as I punched in the phone number at Phoenix’s offices. I asked for Tommy’s secretary.

A voice that I didn’t recognize answered the phone. “Mr. Connaught’s office.”

“Carrie?”

“No. She’s not available at the moment. May I take a message?”

“It’s Kate Monahan at McCallum & Watts. Can I speak to Cleveland Johnston?”

“I’m sorry ma’am.” The voice became officious. “I can’t disturb the board meeting in session.”

“I understand. But this is an emergency.”

“I’ve been given strict instructions. Let me have your number and I’ll give Mr. Johnston the message.”

“He has it.” I forgot my manners and didn’t say good-bye as I quickly hung up the phone.

The next hour dragged as I waited for a return call and when my phone didn’t ring, I tried calling Phoenix again. The main switchboard was on voice mail and the electronic voice told me to either dial the extension of the person I was calling, or spell their name into the phone, starting with the last name. I had no idea what Carrie’s last name was so I pressed the sequence of numbers that spelled out
Connaught
. The phone rang five times and Tommy’s voice mail picked up. I dialed zero hoping that it would bump me to his secretary’s phone but I ended up back at the switchboard. Voice mail hell. I hung up in disgust and went home.

chapter four

When Cleve wasn’t at the office the next morning by 9:15 I called his house. There was no answer.

I spent the better part of the next hour opening boxes of files that had come over from Scapelli’s and putting the contents away in the four-drawer filing cabinets. Mindless work. My mouth had a metallic taste which I knew was from a nervous stomach. And I wanted a cigarette. Bad. What the
hell
was wrong with me?

When the phone finally rang at 10:30 I knew it was Cleve and a sudden feeling of foreboding came over me. As anxious as I had been to talk to him, I couldn’t pick up the phone. I just stood there and
watched
it ring. Four rings and then it kicked over to voice mail. I turned my back on the phone and stood in front of the file cabinet, wondering why I had just done something so stupid. My phone rang again and I turned around to look at it. The intercom was flashing.

It was the receptionist on our floor.

“Oh Kate. You’re there. Hang up and I’ll put Mr. Johnston through.”

My finger pushed the red release button and I disconnected her.

“Kathleen Monahan,” I said into the phone, pretending I didn’t know who it was.

“Hi.” That was it. A simple
hi
. But that one syllable word said so much. Just the way he kind of dragged it out. I pretended to ignore the tone of his voice.

“Hello yourself. Need me to book you a flight back?”

“No. I’ll be here a while. Kate, something’s happened. Can you transfer this call into my office and take it there?”

Linda Beeston, the personnel manager, was standing outside Cleve’s office when I opened the door. The look on her face told me that she knew about the call and that someone had forewarned her.

“We’ve got a driver outside, Kate, to take you home to pack a bag and take you to the Island Airport. Is there anything I can do for you here?”

Like a deaf mute I shook my head.

“Well, please call us if there’s anything you need here in Toronto. And let Mr. Johnston know that we’ll look after things here in his absence.” She was telling me this while I rummaged in the desk drawer for my purse. I was really looking for cigarettes and remembered that I’d quit.

She escorted me down to the front of the building and over to the waiting car. It was a navy blue Lincoln Continental sedan and the driver was standing at the rear door, holding it open.

Linda gave a weak smile and patted my arm before I got in the car.

“I’m sorry Kate.”

“Thanks,” I whispered back to her.

The driver obviously knew my address and we didn’t speak until he pulled up to the curb in front of my house.

“I’ll wait here, ma’am,” he said to me as he held open the back door.

“I won’t be long.”

My bedroom was in a shambles and most of my work clothes were in a heap on the rocking chair beside the bed, waiting to be taken to the dry cleaners. I grabbed a few outfits and jammed them into my suitcase along with my sweat pants and several pairs of socks and underwear. Most of my pantyhose were in sad shape but I managed to find a new pair, still in their package at the back of my dresser drawer. My running shoes and windbreaker were in the front hall closet and they were the last things to go in the suitcase.

I looked sadly at my latest goldfish, Beulah, and said good-bye. Probably for good. By the time I got back from New York, she would no doubt be dead, along with the other twenty or so goldfish I had managed to kill over the last couple of years. I had no luck keeping them alive and with a forced exit from the city and no one to come in and feed her, she was a goner for sure. God forbid the SPCA ever found out about me. I pinched an extra dose of fish food into her bowl and waved.

The driver was smoking a cigarette and lounging beside the car when I came out. He quickly butted it under his shoe and came towards me to take my suitcase.

“Got another one?” I asked him.

His face was a question mark.

“Cigarette.”

“Oh. Yeah.” He dug in his breast pocket and handed me a pack of DuMaurier’s. I greedily took one and dragged a little too deeply when he lit it for me. I held back a cough and put my hand on the side of the car to steady myself. The nicotine shot through my system and I felt my blood tingle. The second drag felt familiar, and the smoke stung my nostrils. I didn’t care.

“You can smoke in the car, ma’am. If you like.”

I had two more on the way to the airport and when we arrived at the private terminal after crossing a short piece of Lake Ontario on the ferry, he proffered a new package of DuMaurier’s with matches. The matches had his company name stamped on them.

A small man in a dark, navy suit met me at the car and walked me through the private terminal, directly out onto the tarmac. A sleek aircraft waited for me. I wished the circumstances were different and I could pretend that I was a celebrity or just a plain old billionaire. He followed me up the staircase into the plane and stowed my suitcase for me.

I could see two people sitting in the cockpit and the man in the left-hand seat turned around when we boarded. He pried himself out of his seat and came into the cabin. He offered his hand.

“Captain Floyd, ma’am. Thanks Alfred,” he said to my escort.

I watched as Alfred left the plane and manhandled the staircase up into the plane. Captain Floyd secured the door and turned back to me.

“Please. Sit.”

I closed my eyes tightly and scrunched up my face to try and get my concentration back. The only words I had spoken to anyone since Cleve’s phone call were to the limo driver to ask for a cigarette.

“Right. Sorry.” I turned around into the cabin and looked about. There were four seats on each side of the aisle, and I took one of the seats facing the front by a window. The total seating capacity was eight, with four seats facing front and four facing back. There was a polished wood table in front of the seats which looked as wide as most boardroom tables.

“Please make yourself comfortable,” the Captain said as he reached over to help me with my seatbelt.

“We’re flying into Teterboro, New Jersey and our flying time is less than two hours. The co-pilot will be back as soon as we’re airborne and get you some refreshments.”

“Thank you. I’ll be fine.”

We were in the air at our cruising altitude within a few minutes and the pilot’s voice came over the speaker. It was weird having him speak directly to me and I paid attention, unlike the times I travel on a commercial aircraft and I ignore all the announcements.

“Ms. Monahan. Captain Floyd speaking. We’re at our cruising altitude and I’ve turned off the seatbelt and no-smoking signs. In case you didn’t notice when you boarded, the restroom is at the rear of the aircraft.”

My hand went automatically to my pocket and I lit a cigarette. As I dragged on it I thought about how easy it was to go back to the habit. No will power whatsoever. The first sign of stress and I fell back in the trap. What a weakling.

The sky was cloudless outside the window and I stared into the nothingness. My thoughts finally returned to my phone conversation with Cleve and a glance at my watch reminded me that it had only been a little over an hour since we had spoken.

“The news isn’t good, Kathleen,” he had started.

“What? What’s happened?” I demanded.

“They found Tommy’s body early this morning.”

“What do you mean, Tommy’s body?”

“He was missing yesterday.”

“Why didn’t you tell me when you called at five?”

“We didn’t know there was anything wrong at that time.”

“Bullshit Cleve.” My blood pressure was rising and I wasn’t sure if it was from fear or frustration.

“Kate. Leave it. I’m sorry, but Tommy’s dead. The police won’t tell us anything yet. We’ve sent the Phoenix corporate jet for you and it’s ready to leave as soon as you are.”

I didn’t answer him. I couldn’t. Sweet Tommy was dead and I couldn’t file the information anywhere in my head.

I finally answered him. “I’m not coming.”

“What?”

“I’m not coming,” I repeated. My stomach was doing triple flips remembering my encounter with death a few short months ago. I looked under Cleve’s desk for the recycling bin in case my breakfast decided it wasn’t staying put. Death and I didn’t do well together.

“Tommy and I were friends. That’s all,” I continued. “We’ve been divorced for years. You know that Cleve.”

“But you’re listed as his next of kin,” Cleve said.

“His next of kin? I don’t think so. We were
divorced
years ago.”

“I know that Kate. But his papers list you as next of kin.”

“Be that as it may, Cleve, I’m not coming. I can’t. I’ll just hang out here and look after things for you,” I said helplessly. My brain felt like it was enveloped in a fog and I just wanted to be by myself, not talking to anyone.