THE TAINTED TRUST: A DOUGLASS CRIME AND ROMANCE THRILLER SERIES (THE KING TRILOGY Book 2) (21 page)

Visconti paid the bill, then frowned at Kerri. “You sure you won’t reconsider this afternoon?” he asked, pouting and pretending to be on the brink of tears.

“I’m sure, but not because I don’t want to.”

“Then back to work it is. If you’ll wait here for a minute, I’ll call George and tell him to meet us out front.”

Five minutes later, the white limousine glided to a stop in front of the restaurant.

Kerri and Visconti climbed into the rear section before George could get out. Kerri sank into the white leather rear seat and turned to face Visconti. “Thank you, Louis. It’s been a long time since I’ve had so much fun.”

“You’re welcome. It was fun for me, too. I found myself telling you things I’ve never told anyone,” Visconti replied, convinced beyond all doubt that he had at long last found the woman of his dreams.

CHAPTER 54

Toronto. Tuesday, April 3, 1990.

Terry Lippert escorted Phillip and Gary Matheson into Mike’s office, closed the door, then took a seat on the couch near Mike’s desk.

Matheson, a tall gangling red head, fidgeted nervously as Mike glared at him and Phillip from behind his desk.

Phillip, unconcerned, marched to the couch and prepared to sit beside Lippert.

“Don’t even think about sitting down!” Mike shouted.

Phillip bristled as he turned to challenge Mike. “What are you going to do, spank me?” he asked, flashing a defiant smirk.

“Go ahead. Sit down and watch what happens,” Mike warned.

Phillip resisted the temptation.

Mike leaned forward and placed both forearms on his desk. “In case you two don’t know why I asked Terry to bring you here this morning, let me tell you. We’ve recently received telephone calls from a number of our customers who were anxious to complain about discrepancies in their credit card statements. We initiated an investigation to determine why the discrepancies existed and discovered that someone had fraudulently altered credit card drafts. The alterations were obvious attempts to steal money.” Mike’s eyes darted back and forth between Phillip and Matheson, searching for reactions. “Would either of you care to comment?”

Matheson shot a nervous glance at Phillip, then the floor. Phillip continued to glare at Mike.

“I’m waiting,” Mike said, his voice raised.

“I did it,” Matheson admitted, barely loud enough to be heard.

“What did you say?” Mike asked.

“I did it,” Matheson repeated, his lower lip quivering.

“Was anyone else involved?”

Matheson looked away.

“So you did it all by yourself?”

“Yes sir,” Matheson replied, continuing to look away.

Mike turned to face Phillip. “Do you have anything to say?”

“Nope.”

Rage and disappointment invaded Mike’s mind. The fact the Phillip would steal disappointed him. The fact that he would lie about it and allow Matheson to take the heat enraged him. “Phillip, why do you think we brought you in here?”

“I don’t know. Why did you?”

“Because we think you do have something to say… Now I’m going to give you one more chance to answer. Do you know anything about this?”

“Nope,” Phillip replied without hesitation, continuing his remorseless stare.

Mike turned to face Matheson. “Gary, since you’ve admitted your involvement, and it’s a first offense for you, I’m going to let you keep your job. I’m also prepared to let this remain a secret between us, so long as there’s no repetition of this or any other theft. Of course, all of the stolen money will be deducted from your pay.”

Relieved, Matheson exhaled. “Thank you Mister King. I’m very sorry.”

Again Mike turned to Phillip. “Still nothing to say?”

“Nope.”

Mike pounded the desk with his fist, then sprang to his feet, pushing his chair backward with his legs. “Three times you’ve denied your participation in this scam! Furthermore, you’ve allowed your co-conspirator to take full responsibility for the repayment of the money you helped him steal! In my opinion, what you’ve just done is far worse than stealing the money!”

“There’s no way you can prove I was involved,” Phillip retorted, stone faced.

“That’s probably true, but you and I will always know you were,” Mike retorted, fighting the urge to hit his step-son. “Get out!” he shouted. “Get the hell out of here before I do something I’ll regret!”

Again Phillip smirked, oozing contempt. “You haven’t got the balls.” He turned and left the office, slamming the door with force.

CHAPTER 55

Long Island. Friday, April 6, 1990.

“Not again!” Tina groaned when she entered her living room.

Brian was unconscious and spread-eagled on her green leather couch, his mouth opened wide, drool hardened on his right cheek. His loud snoring meshed with the sound of Dan Rather, delivering the CBS Nightly News on the television set in front of him. Newspapers, magazines and numerous empty beer cans littered the coffee table surface and the floor below the couch.

She moved to the kitchen and winced at the sight of the sink, stacked beyond the brim with unclean dishes. The smell of decaying food boosted her Latin temper to critical mass. “What a pig!” she hissed. She reached into the sink and lifted as many dirty dishes as her arms could carry, then marched back to the living room. She stopped in front of Brian and dropped the dishes on the coffee table. Most of the dishes shattered with a loud crash.

“What the hell!” Brian shouted, jerking himself to an upright position, rubbing his eyes and struggling to focus on Tina.

“How can you live this way?” she screamed, lifting her arms above her head in protest. “Don’t you ever clean anything?” she shouted, kicking beer cans and broken dishes in all directions. “I go out and work my ass off all day and night, and all you ever do is lie around here and live like a pig!”

Brian reached for the large pitcher of water he had left on the floor beside him. He lifted it, took a long drink, then placed it on the table. He glared at Tina with extreme contempt in his bloodshot eyes. “You broads are all the same,” he said hoarsely.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re control freaks, telling me how to live my life. It means you’re no different than my wife.”

Further enraged by the criticism, Tina lifted Brian’s pitcher and threw the remaining water in his face. “I’m not telling you how to live your life! I’m telling you how to live in this apartment! It’s my place and I like to keep it clean! If you can’t live that way, then get the hell out!” she yelled, continuing to kick beer cans and broken dishes in Brian’s direction.

“What a bitch,” he moaned, still intoxicated by the large quantity of beer he had consumed that afternoon. He hoisted himself from the couch and stepped toward Tina, crunching a beer can under his foot. “I must have been out of my mind to think you were different. What the hell is it about broads that makes them think they can control a man’s life? The way I live mine is my business, not yours.”

Tina bared her teeth, then slapped Brian’s face as hard as she could. “Don’t you dare call me a bitch! If this is the way you want to live your life, then do it somewhere else!”

“You may be a bitch, but you’re still the best lay I ever had,” Brian said with a malicious sneer. “How about one more time before I get out of your life? Would a blow job be out of the question?”

“Not with a pig like you,” Tina snorted.

Brian’s lips tightened and his eyes closed to a squint. “Thanks for the memories, bitch!” he said, then cocked his right arm and slapped Tina’s face as hard as he could, the force of the blow knocking her backward but not off her feet.

With anger suppressing pain, Tina stepped forward and tried to hit Brian with her right fist, but Brian’s hand caught her wrist before she could make contact. He squeezed hard. “Go take off your clothes for some other sucker,” he hissed, then hurled her to the couch. He raised the middle finger of his right hand, then turned and hurried from the apartment.

CHAPTER 56

Beer was Brian’s first priority when he entered his apartment thirty minutes later, hoping to find at least one in the refrigerator. “Disaster!” he groaned, finding nothing but a half-emptied bottle of white wine. He extracted it, pulled the cork and took a long pull. His thirst temporarily satisfied, he wiped his lips and placed the bottle on the counter below the telephone. “Reconciliation time, Brian baby,” he declared, then removed Kerri’s note from his wallet and dialed the telephone number.

“May I speak to Kerri, please?”

“Who’s calling?” Andrea asked, her eyes focused on Kerri, no more than five feet away.

“Brian.”

“Please hold for a minute,” Andrea said, then cupped her hand over the mouthpiece. “It’s your husband,” she whispered, frowning and shaking her head, attempting to discourage Kerri from accepting the call.

“I’ll take it,” Kerri said, reaching for the receiver.

“You want me to leave?” Andrea asked.

Kerri shook her head, then pushed the hair away from her right ear to make room for the receiver. “Hi,” she said, already experiencing the shame of being unable to suppress her curiosity.

“Kerri, I need to see you tonight? It’s really important.”

“Why?”

“There’s so much I want to say to you… I want to do it in person.”

“Just do it on the telephone.”

“I can’t. I really want to see you… I miss you.”

“Have you been drinking?”

“Not a drop,” Brian lied, rolling his eyes. “Please let me see you. I promise I’ll behave myself.”

“Brian, seeing me won’t change a thing. I can’t just sweep the past under the…”

“I’m desperate,” Brian interrupted. “I’m right on the edge. I don’t know what I’ll do if I can’t see you.”

The tone of Brian’s voice reminded Kerri of the most romantic time she had ever experienced with him, the night they sat in his car on Mount Seymour, near Vancouver, the loving and incredibly persuasive way he asked her to go to New York with him. The memory softened her resolve. “What do you want to talk about? I can’t imagine…”

“Please let me see you, Kerri. I’ll tell you when I get there.”

Kerri remained silent.

“Please,” Brian pleaded. “I can’t begin to tell you how important it is to me.”

“You can’t stay long. I have work to do.”

“I’ll be there in less than thirty minutes.”

“Just ring the doorbell. I’ll come out,” Kerri said, then hung up and stared forlornly at the telephone.

“I don’t believe it,” Andrea said, continuing her frown. “You’re addicted to pain.”

“I won’t let him come in,” Kerri promised, too embarrassed to make eye contact with Andrea. “We’ll talk on the verandah.”

“You know that’s not what I meant. What I can’t understand is why you agreed to see him. I would have told him to screw himself.”

Kerri turned to face Andrea. “Would you understand if I told you I feel sorry for him?”

“How could you possibly feel sorry for a bastard like him? What does he have to do to make you realize he’s a loser?”

“Maybe I’m a slow learner, or maybe there’s a part of me that just can’t let go.”

CHAPTER 57

Kerri opened the door almost an hour later. Conflicting emotions tormented her as she stared at the man she once loved with an intensity she could never forget.

“May I come in?” Brian asked with an awkward smile.

“Let’s talk outside,” Kerri replied. She stepped onto the verandah, a large wooden structure, painted gray and tastefully decorated with white wooden furniture and numerous hanging plants and flowers. “What did you want to talk about?” she asked, glaring into Brian’s puffy and reddened eyes.

“Us,” Brian replied, then reached for Kerri’s hand.

Kerri withdrew her hand from his reach. “Let’s walk,” she said.

The two walked in silence along the sidewalk of the brightly lit and well treed avenue.

“How have you been?” Brian asked, attempting only to break the silence.

Kerri’s lips tightened. “I’m sure you didn’t come all this way just to ask me that. I’m also sure you don’t really give a damn how I’ve been. What do you want, Brian?”

Tears appeared in Brian’s bloodshot eyes. “I want us to try again. I miss you and I can’t live without you any more.”

Kerri caught a whiff of wine mixed with toothpaste. “Are you still drinking?” she asked, offering Brian an opportunity to lie.

“I haven’t had a drink for days.”

“What happened between you and that stripper?”

“I don’t know what you mean. I’m not…”

“Brian, please don’t insult my intelligence. The whole world saw the picture of you with her in The Times.”

Brian looked away. “She’s just a friend. Nothing more.”

A deep and growing sense of revulsion enveloped Kerri as visions of the photographs in Visconti’s report flashed through her mind. “Did you ever make love to her?” she asked, allowing Brian another opportunity to lie.