Triple Pursuit (7 page)
The collapse of the prosecutor's interest in taking Austin to court was not bitter to Jack Gallagher. He had been publicly humiliated. But a suit would tell the world of the absurd rivalry for the attention of a seventy-five-year-old woman. Maud had retained her girlish ways, no doubt of that, and in his arms she had proved a marvelous dancing partner. His one regret was that his return from obscurity, if only at a parish dance, had been marred by Austin's unsportsmanlike behavior. This was the man who had once had the nerve to scold him about his behavior. Now he was panting like a teenager over the likes of Maud. When his daughter Colleen called and said she was dropping by that afternoon, his reaction was mixed.
“I'll take you to dinner,” she said.
“What's the occasion?”
“I'll tell you then.”
He had little doubt that she had heard of the contretemps at the St. Hilary dance and wished she would just come out with it. It would help if he had some inkling of her reaction. With apprehension he readied himself for dinner with his daughter. It was never clear to him how much his children knew of his checkered life as a celebrity. Could anyone who had not been in the same position appreciate how someone as famous as Jack had been then would be the target of amorous advances? It was never a question of going in search of occasions for dalliance. It would have taken an anchorite to be indifferent to the swooning females who had pursued him in those golden years. Perhaps not all of them knew what precisely it was they wanted, or expected, but he had been able to take his pick of potentially yielding female fans. This presented no danger. These were one-night standsâwell, one-afternoon standsâand never threatened his marriage or his professional life. It was simply one of the perks of the position, and he had felt he would have been a fool to scorn the opportunities. If Austin
were a rational man Jack could have explained that to him when he burst into the office and began to rail righteously about the folly of Jack Gallagher's ways.
were a rational man Jack could have explained that to him when he burst into the office and began to rail righteously about the folly of Jack Gallagher's ways.
Colleen's reason for wishing to see him came as a complete surprise.
“Tim?” He was shocked. For a moment Jack sensed what Austin's reaction had been on that memorable occasion.
“Oh, I don't blame him. This woman is unbelievable. You've met Mario.”
Earlier Colleen had brought the young man by to introduce him, and Jack had been affable if unbelieving that Colleen would at last get married. For years he had assumed that she was contemplating a religious vocation. Why else would an attractive young woman put off the joys of matrimony? This was not an ironical phrase. Jack, despite his weaknesses, considered that his marriage and family life had been exemplary. He had convinced himself that Julia did not know of his dalliances, but in her last illness she had looked at him ruefully.
“For God's sake, behave, Jack.”
He did not pursue it, but he had the sudden certainty that all his flaws and foibles had been known to her all along. Confessors had always been understanding, once he could assure them there had been no long-term relationship involved, just a moment of weakness. He had shopped around the city for a new confessor each time he fell, not wanting the priest to recognize his murmuring voice. Of course he had disguised his voice, certain that anyone with a radio would know who he was. One priest asked him if he'd had this trouble in the past.
“The flesh is my great weakness, Father.”
“Do you mean this is a habit?”
“I have confessed this sin before.”
“With the same woman?”
“Oh, no, Father.”
“Are they prostitutes?”
Jack became indignant. “Father, I have come here to confess a serious sin, not to provide you with an autobiography.”
“Then they are prostitutes.”
“They are not.”
Silence from the other side of the grille, then a sigh, and he was given his penance. He made special note of the priest's name when he left the confessional. He wanted his confessors to be as serial as his falls from grace, but there was always the off-chance of running into the same priest. He was particularly resolved not to tell his troubles to Monsignor Keefe again.
“You're sure you're not exaggerating Tim's danger?” Jack asked Colleen now.
“Uncle Austin agreed to look into it andâ”
“Austin!” The other diners looked at him as they once had for other reasons.
“I went to him with this.”
It was painful to listen to Colleen tell him how she had confided in Austin Rooney, and that the ass had actually gone downtown and spied on Tim in a bar. If Austin could have gotten near Tim, he might have assaulted him.
“Colleen, this is a family matter.”
“Austin is my uncle.”
“By marriage, dear. By marriage. I wish you had come to me in the first place. A father knows how to deal with these matters, efficiently and kindly. Your uncle has a hair-trigger temper and not the least understanding of the human heart.”
“The human heart has little to do with Aggie.”
“Aggie ⦔
“The woman. Agatha Rossner. She is a lawyer at Mallard and Bill.”
“Mallard and Bill?”
“The firm I work for. Had you forgotten?”
Actually he had. It occurred to him how little interest he had in his children's lives. The fact that Tim was now accused of engaging in the same peccadilloes as his father pained Jack. He felt a shame for his son that he had never felt for himself. How could he do this to Jane and the children? But of course he had managed to push thoughts of his own obligations from his mind when one of the yielding devotees had put in her appearance.
“I am not surprised that Austin failed.”
“He thought just finding Tim together with the woman was enough.”
“Well, we must come up with a more effective plan.”
In the course of listening to Colleen, Jack's interest had been piqued by her description of the woman. Vague memories of past encounters teased his mind. She sounded like a type he knew well. The plan formed naturally.
“I want you to introduce me to this woman.”
“To Aggie!”
“To Aggie. It must appear quite casual, I will come by the offices of Bullard and Millâ”
“Mallard and Bill.”
“Just so. You can introduce me around. My name may be known to some. It doesn't matter. And you can include this Aggie among them. I will take it from there.”
“But what will you do?”
“I shall find an occasion to speak to her as a daughter.”
“It won't work.”
“Trust me.”
Father Dowling had grown fond of his conversations with Austin Rooney, who had such resources of literary information and general culture, but his notion of the man had been inevitably altered when he saw him throw a punch at Jack Gallagher, sending him crashing to the floor. And then to hear that he had been at it again in the parking lot! A hot temper is not like freckles, a gift of nature, but something acquired by losing one's temper frequently. The image of a street brawler did not go well with that of the knowledgeable retired academic. To his credit, Austin was thoroughly ashamed of himself when at last he showed up at the rectory. Marie brought him to the study as if she felt her life was in peril from this testy pugilist.
“He is the only man I ever struck in my adult life, Father. And I have floored him three times overall.”
“Good Lord.”
“You have to know the man to understand. First, I've known him since we were kids. Second, he is my brother-in-law. Third, he was an inveterate womanizer during the years of his fame. Women fell over him, he said. That was meant to be an excuse. I suppose they did, I'll grant him that. He is an attractive if wily rascal. But he was married to my sister Julia and I made up my mind to do something about it. His reaction was too much for me. I hit him and he went down under a pile of records.”
“And that brought an end to his misbehavior?”
“No.”
“I never tried that remedy on anyone but I don't think I would have had much confidence in its curative effect.”
“There was the satisfaction of hitting him.”
“Fleeting, I am sure.”
“My fear was that Julia would hear of it. It was never clear that she was aware of Jack's reputation, and I didn't want to be the cause of burdening her with the knowledge.”
Was it possible for one spouse to so completely deceive the other?
“I suppose I am telling you this for its extenuating effect. The other night, when he was dazzling poor Maud Gorman, I was reminded of what Jack had always been and ⦠Well, you know what I did.”
“I was there.”
“The incident in the parking lot was different. There he attacked me. He came up behind me and tried to surprise me with a punch. It was easy to dodge. Then I dropped him in a puddle of water.”
Father Dowling did not want to give the impression that he approved of such behavior. The extenuating factor was the age of the men and of the woman over whom they were seemingly quarreling. It was difficult not to be amused at that, but he sensed that Austin would not appreciate being made to seem doubly foolish.
“I will tell you something in confidence, Father. Now his son seems to be up to the same tricks.”
And Austin told the story of Tim Gallagher and the young lawyer whom he had seen together in a Loop bar, having been asked to look into the matter by his niece Colleen.
“It runs in the family, Father.”
“The human family. We're all affected by Original Sin.”
“Jack Gallagher doesn't have an original bone in his body. His
fame rested on the accomplishments of others, the musicians and singers he played. His accompaniment was a sort of
Reader's Digest
uplift philosophy and a knack of imitating the voices of singers. As an imitator, he was good. You heard him the other night.”
fame rested on the accomplishments of others, the musicians and singers he played. His accompaniment was a sort of
Reader's Digest
uplift philosophy and a knack of imitating the voices of singers. As an imitator, he was good. You heard him the other night.”
Hearing about the son and of Colleen going to her uncle with the story, hoping he could bring the young man to his senses, saddened Father Dowling. The doctrine of Original Sin did not lessen the tragedy of the actual sins it disposes us to. What if Colleen had come to him with that story? What would he have done? It seemed further evidence of Original Sin that he was glad he had not had to face that challenge.
“I am told that the prosecutor has dismissed all thought of bringing charges against you.”
“The prosecutor!”
“Jack Gallagher went to the police with the story of what had happened.”
A dark cloud came over Austin's face, and Father Dowling was sure that if Jack Gallagher were there he would have been knocked down one more time.
“It was simply a zealous junior prosecutor who wanted to pursue it. But he was vetoed and that's an end of it.”
“Thank God.”
“Indeed. Quite apart from your own discomfort, it would not have been the kind of notice the Senior Center needs.”
“I am truly sorry this happened, Father Dowling.”
At Matthew Skinner's insistence Cy Horvath had come out to St. Hilary's and spent some time speaking to the old people and to Edna Hospers, and then he came by the rectory.
“A tempest in a teapot, Father Dowling.”
“Still, a pretty good tempest for a teapot.”
“Gallagher attacked Rooney in the parking lotâany number of people say so. It sounds like he got what he deserved. The prosecutor would have been an idiot not to stop Skinner.”
And Cy gave Father Dowling a thumbnail sketch of the avid prosecutor.
“So now you can go back to serious business. How are you coming on the Linda Hopkins investigation?”
“The coroner is waffling.”
“How so?”
“He's not prepared to say with any certainty that there was foul play. The girl may simply have tripped and fallen into the path of traffic.”
“But weren't there witnesses who said that she was pushed?”
“They're having second thoughts too. It doesn't help that we have no suspect.”
“No luck finding Harry Paquette?”
Cy never indicated by his expression what he was thinking so his next remark was a bit of a surprise. “These things take time.” But Cy had the look of a man who would not let go. Perhaps he was remembering the girl's parents in Appleseed. And he had interviewed the women Linda had worked with at the Hacienda Motel.
“A woman named Ruby Otter was her boss. She liked Linda and she hated Paquette. She's sure Harry killed her because she wouldn't live with him.”
“Do you think he did it?”
“One witness is positive she can identify the man she saw push the girl into traffic.”
“Because of the picture on Paquette's application for a chauffeur's license?”
“She's not sure there's a match.”
But if that witness did not think the application photo was that of the man she saw push Linda, finding Harry Paquette seemed less urgent. “Any other possibilities?”
“I'm on the Jack Gallagher thing now.” And Cy permitted himself the slightest alteration of expression. There was little doubt which matter he thought should take priority.
Jack Gallagher was an enigma even to himself. In the days of his celebrity he had often thought of himself as a spectator to his own career, attending to the mellifluous voice that enthralled listeners as if it were that of some stranger, not his own. This separation of self from self had made his intermittent affairs possible. He loved his wife, he loved his family, but the Don Juan who took advantage of women so eager to be taken advantage of did not seem quite himself. Oh, he took responsibility, of course, confessing his falls, but the role he seemed to be playing made demands that could not be ignored and he had not ignored them. When he retired, the station had made a great thing of it, and his last weeks on the air had been the most triumphant of all. The banquet at the Palmer House had been grand and it was pleasant to hear all the speeches. His children were there to hear their father praised, but he felt sorrow that Julia had not lived to see this send-off. Her words to him as she lay ill had had their effect on him, but the obscurity into which retirement plunged him also had removed those tantalizing occasions of sin. He did not regret their going. He no longer felt a divided man, but simply the Jack Gallagher he thought he had always basically been.
From time to time the thought came to him that he could have had his way with the ladies even independently of his celebrity, but he had never put this to the test. He had retired as a womanizer as well as the toast of late-night radioâor so he had thought until Colleen mentioned Aggie.
His daughter's very horror of the woman whom once would have been called a homewrecker made her a fascinating creature in
Jack's imagination. When he had suggested that Colleen introduce him to Aggie he had known a moment's fear that his daughter would suspect his motives. But what were his motives? He was seventy-one years old, and if his mirror gave back to him an image of a vigorous man who still had his looksâsilver hair is one of age's giftsâhe knew otherwise. Or thought he did. The recent popularity of pharmaceutical aids to cancel the effects of waning desire filled him with distaste. But there was a question whether he was up to the task of lover, illicit or otherwise. Austin Rooney might amuse himself with the improbable Maud Gorman, but there was little threat that this would advance beyond what amounted to a schoolyard romance. It was with such confused thoughts and troubling questions that Jack betook himself to the Loop one afternoon and called at Mallard and Bill.
Jack's imagination. When he had suggested that Colleen introduce him to Aggie he had known a moment's fear that his daughter would suspect his motives. But what were his motives? He was seventy-one years old, and if his mirror gave back to him an image of a vigorous man who still had his looksâsilver hair is one of age's giftsâhe knew otherwise. Or thought he did. The recent popularity of pharmaceutical aids to cancel the effects of waning desire filled him with distaste. But there was a question whether he was up to the task of lover, illicit or otherwise. Austin Rooney might amuse himself with the improbable Maud Gorman, but there was little threat that this would advance beyond what amounted to a schoolyard romance. It was with such confused thoughts and troubling questions that Jack betook himself to the Loop one afternoon and called at Mallard and Bill.
Colleen was expecting him, of course, and he was pleased with the way she paraded him around, introducing him to Messrs. Mallard and Bill as well as to a bevy of lesser partners. And then they had come to Aggie.
The young lawyer was in conference with a fellow named Fremont and had been facing away when he entered the office with Colleen.
“I want you to meet my father,” Colleen trilled, and the two lawyers looked up.
Aggie was everything he had been led to expectâlithe, mannishly dressed, but in such a way that her essential femininity was enhanced. The expression in her eyes when she looked at him was one Jack Gallagher recognized. She extended her hand and Jack pressed it with apparent indifference, looking about the room they were in.
“Where are all the law books?”
“They're in the library.” Aggie meant the firm's law library. “Hasn't Colleen shown it to you?”
“Why don't you?” Colleen said.
Jack realized why his daughter made this suggestion, but the ostensible purpose of his visit had faded from his mind as soon as he set eyes on Aggie.
“Let's go,” she said cheerily, putting her arm through Jack's and taking him down the hall to the library. She closed the door after them.
“And here are all the books.”
“âHere's the church, and here's the steeple,'” Jack said.
She looked puzzled.
“Surely you know that.”
“Tell me.”
So he interlaced his fingers, repeated the words, and then turned his hands over to reveal his wriggling fingers. “âAnd here's all the people.'”
Her laughter was throaty, as if he had just confided something intimate and personal. She stepped back from him, wearing a quizzical little smile.
“Now I know where Tim gets his good looks.”
“He took them all,” Jack said. Increasingly he felt on familiar ground with this voluptuous wench.
“Oh, I wouldn't say that. I think it's the silver hair.”
“Yeats's poem to Lady Anne Gregory.”
“You say the most mystifying things.”
“âOnly God could love you for yourself alone and not your yellow hair.'”
“Or silver.”
“You were going to show me the books.”
“I have. Surely you don't want to read them.”
From that point, it was Aggie who escorted him on the tour of the offices. It was then four o'clock. Jack frowned at his watch.
Aggie said, “Are you taking Colleen home?”
“We go in different directions.”
“I have an idea.”
Why didn't they leave now and go somewhere for a drink? Jack felt that his celebrity days had returned. When they left the office and were saying good-bye to everyone, Jack gave Colleen a small conspiratorial smile.
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