“Where are we going?” she asked as they started to drive away from the apartment building.
“ ‘The Mansion’. It’s on a bluff overlooking the lake in the north end of the county. It’s very picturesque and the food is good, too. It’s about an hour’s drive.”
It was also an unlikely place for them to be seen by anybody from Glen Park at that time of the year, on a weekday night. If anybody had seen them together last night at ‘The Sanctuary’, it could have been easily and logically explained. But, dressed as she was now; in the black, sleeveless, short-skirted dress, with the high neckline and single strand of pearls; it was obvious that their meeting had been prearranged.
“It sounds nice,” she said, “and it gives you plenty of time to tell me what you’ve learned about the accident. My curiosity has been growing by leaps and bounds ever since you called.”
For a moment he hesitated, wondering how much he should or could tell her about what he had learned during the day, and quickly decided that there was no reason why she should not know it all. Omitting only the venality of the sheriff over the matter of the towing charges for her car, he told her of the coroner’s suspicions; Ben’s revelation of Closter’s connection with the wrecked trailer; his visit to the office of Affiliated Distribution Systems and the gist of his conversations with Closter and his assistant; the unexpected and peculiar meeting with Wanda, and her obvious fear of the truck-stop manager; the message from Closter; and, finally, his second visit to the sheriff’s office and the frustrating, but rather mystifying, reaction of the fat man to the information he had given him.
She listened quietly, interrupting only for an occasional clarifying question, but with mounting horror. He drove slowly through the alternating brilliance and shadows of the fading sunset, avoiding the main roads and heavier traffic. It would take longer to get to the restaurant, but it was easier to talk, and he could be alone with her that much longer. He was only sorry that the things he had to tell her about the death of the truck driver were hardly conducive to the mood he had hoped to establish with her. But, he understood her eagerness to know what he had found out and; considering her own almost fatal part in the tragedy; was glad to have her alive and sitting next to him, so he could tell her. Besides, the evening was young and there were many other things that he wanted, and hoped to get the chance to say to her before it was over.
“How perfectly awful!” she exclaimed as he finished. “It was bad enough last night when it seemed the driver was unable to help himself because he was ill. But, it’s absolutely ghastly to think it was because somebody had tried to kill him earlier and-and that Mr. Closter knew about it-maybe was even one of the ones who did it!”
He shook his head. “I doubt that, Elise. I can’t see Closter in the role of a killer, although I’m certain he is involved in some way, deeply involved.”
She was silent for a moment. “Yes. I suppose you’re right. He certainly didn’t look or act the part last night. In fact, he really was very kind and considerate.” She turned to face him. “And that’s what I don’t understand, Mark. If he was, or is involved, why did he stop at all? Why was he even there? I would think he wouldn’t want to be anywhere in the vicinity.”
They were the same questions he had been asking himself all day, ever since Ben had told him who Closter was. Now, for his own benefit, as well as hers, he tried to piece together some answers to explain the traffic manager’s puzzling behavior.
“I can’t be sure, Elise, but it seems likely that when he left his office, he drove to the Central States terminal and parked somewhere nearby to wait while the load was manifested and the tractors changed. When it left again, he followed. I rather doubt that he actually followed the driver into the truck stop, but maybe I can find out from Wanda when I talk to her again. Chances are, he waited outside or along the road and resumed following him when he came out. He probably saw the truck pull off and stop when the drug began to take effect on the driver. Maybe by then, he had also spotted the hijackers and, in order not to arouse their suspicions, kept going and waited somewhere ahead. It’s a limited access highway, and he probably waited at the first exit. He had probably reasoned-and I’m inclined to believe-that the hijackers wouldn’t break into the trailer right there on the highway. In any event, he evidently managed to avoid being spotted and then followed them to wherever they drove the truck to remove the sweaters and caviar. He undoubtedly saw the hijacking and the attack on the driver who possibly had regained enough consciousness by then to recognize one, or more, of the hijackers. Then, maybe he decided he’d seen enough-or maybe he was afraid they had seen him-or maybe he just lost them. Whichever it was, he started for home and when the truck came barreling down the hill behind him he was probably as surprised as you were. I’m sure his first reaction when he saw it was to get as far away as possible, and I’m sure he would have, if you hadn’t been in his way. But, he didn’t have time to pass you and had to stop when you did or he might have killed you both. Once he had stopped, he was trapped because there must have been a number of other cars on the scene within a matter of seconds. If he had made any attempt to leave before the sheriff’s deputies arrived, it would have aroused immediate suspicion, which is the one thing he wanted to avoid most of all.”
She considered his reasoning in silence for a few moments. “Yes. I can see how it could have happened that way. But, why did he follow the trailer in the first place?”
This, of course, was the key to the entire mystery, and he said so. “Obviously he knew, or had good reason to expect, that the trailer was going to be hijacked. There had been other hijackings-I know of at least two, but there could even be more. The big question is, what did he intend to do about it? He apparently didn’t intend to try to prevent it, or he would have alerted the police. Even if he was only acting out of suspicion, it would have been the logical thing to do. No. It’s more likely that he simply wanted to observe it in order to find out who was doing it and, possibly, how it was done, in order to use the information for his own purposes. Maybe, if he was already involved in the hijacking operation-as blackmail, to demand a bigger cut or-if he wasn’t-to force them to give him one.”
She frowned. “But, if he was already involved, wouldn’t he know who the hijackers were and how they operated?”
“It’s a logical assumption, but it’s also possible that he is only a middle man who made the shipping arrangements, and then notified somebody else who controlled the actual hijacking.”
“But, didn’t he only draw suspicion to himself by not saying anything about his connection with the trailer at the time of the acci.. .the crash?”
She had started to say ‘accident’ but after what he had told her, realized it was a misnomer. “In the long run, he did, but there was the bare possibility that it would never come out at all. Actually, I think he expected that it would, but was stalling for time. I think he realized that his being there simply by coincidence was so unlikely that to mention it would have immediately raised a lot more questions than he was prepared to answer there and then.”
“He evidently wasn’t any better prepared when you talked to him today.”
“No, But as implausible as his story sounds, if he sticks to it, nobody can disprove it except, possibly, the hijackers themselves. He isn’t dependent on any other witnesses to back him up, so it’s just his word against my guesswork.”
“But Mark, dar...” She paused, flustered, and he realized she had started to call him ‘darling’. After a small, embarrassed pause, she began again. “But, why did he bother to call attention to.. .to the way the driver looked before he crashed?”
It was a good question, and another one that had puzzled him throughout the day. “Well, the deputy took his report of the crash first and he couldn’t be sure of what you had seen, Elise. With the top down on his car, it would have been difficult for him to deny that he had gotten a good look at the driver as the truck passed him. By the same token, since you were driving a sedan, the roof of your car and the height of the cab, would have restricted your view of him-but, Closter couldn’t be sure to what extent. Besides, I believe he was honestly stunned and badly shaken by what he saw. He had started out to witness a relatively ordinary hijacking, and wound up as a possible accessory to murder. Under the circumstances, I have to give him credit for the way he handled himself-and I’m particularly grateful that he had the presence of mind to warn you to get out of the way.”
“Yes. He did, didn’t he.”
She fell silent, apparently pondering the incongruity of her life being almost forfeited and then redeemed, within the space of a few seconds, through the action of a man she had never seen before. After a few minutes more, he saw the entrance to ‘The Mansion’, and turned off the road onto a graveled drive winding between twin rows of poplars.
The restaurant was a converted, crenellated, Victorian mansion set well back from the road on a high bluff overlooking the lake. It had been built as a summer ‘cottage’ by a former railroad magnate, long deceased. His widow, now over ninety, still resided on the upper floors of the multi-storied structure and, in warm weather, could occasionally be seen, wrapped in blankets, on one of the many balconies. It had been her grandson who had persuaded her to convert the main floor into a restaurant; and now managed the establishment; when the income from her husband’s estate had declined with the fortunes of the railroads after the war.
He pulled up in front of the short flight of broad, shallow, stone steps leading to the main entrance and, getting out, gave his keys to the parking attendant. As they walked toward the door and entered the spacious foyer, he explained how the restaurant was divided up into the various rooms that made up the ground floor. The ‘library’ to the right; still lined with books that regular patrons were permitted to borrow without charge; was actually a thickly-carpeted, softly-lit cocktail lounge furnished with deep, plush upholstered furniture and low tables, positioned in small groupings, discreetly separated for maximum privacy. The ‘living room’ to the left was used for after dinner dancing on weekends and had a small bandstand in one corner on which stood a grand piano in lonely silence. Regretfully, there would not be any music for dancing this evening. The main dining room beyond the living room, was usually reserved for private parties, and the balance of the restaurant actually consisted of a series of small rooms, containing no more than six tables each, stretching across the back of the house, and facing onto the broad terrace and landscaped garden that sloped down to the edge of the bluff. Each room had its own door leading to the terrace, which was also used for cocktails and dancing during the summer months.
The maitre d’ led them to a small remote settee on the far side of the library and took their order. During the ride in the car, she had sat primly on the far side of the seat. Now, she sat almost touching, and partially facing him.
“I thought ‘The Sanctuary’ was no nice,” she said, “but this is really lovely, and unique.”
“Yes. It really is a beautiful old place. The food isn’t quite as interesting as Jim’s but it’s every bit as good, and I think I like the atmosphere better.”
“It’s very-romantic. I feel as if we’ve taken a time machine back to the turn of the century.”
“I’m glad you like it. But, right now, I’m more interested in the romance of the future than the past.”
Her eyes met his and she smiled. “Yes. The future is all that really matters, isn’t it?”
Their drinks arrived and lifting them, they touched glasses. “To the future,” he said.
She repeated it and they each took a sip. Over the rim of her glass, she looked at him speculatively.
“Why do you think Mr. Closter wants to see you later?”
He took another sip before answering. “It probably depends on what arrangements he’s been able to make during the day. If, whoever he’s been working for-or with-is somehow able to guarantee his safety, or provide him with a more plausible alibi, he may not want to see me at all, and I’ll just be wasting my time to go there. On the other hand, he may be hoping to make a deal in exchange for the information he can provide regarding the hijacking operation and the death of the driver.”
“But, why doesn’t he just go directly to the authorities? You’re not in any position to guarantee him immunity.”
“No. But, anything he tells the authorities can be used against him. Anything he tells me, he can later deny, and it would be just my word against his. If he has a deal in mind, he probably wants me to set it up for him, before he surrenders himself.”
She gazed at him thoughtfully and he felt her hand on the back of his where it rested on the settee between them. He turned his hand over, and she gripped it firmly.
“Take me with you.”
His first reaction was an emphatic no. But then it occurred to him that if Closter was considering making a confession, the sight of Elise and the memory of what had almost happened to her, might be the catalytic factor. She was a sympathetic and understanding listener and her presence might make it easier for him to talk. Besides, it was on their way and would save him the trouble of doubling back again to Plainville. And-most persuasive of all-they could be together that much longer.
“All right. I’ll take you along, but it could mean getting home rather late.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’d rather be with you than wonder about what might be happening to you.”
The depth of her concern was obvious, and emphasized by the pressure of her fingers. It both elated and puzzled him.
“What could happen? Closter’s harmless, no matter what he’s mixed up in.”
“Perhaps. But, you don’t know about the people he’s mixed up with.”
“If I thought there was any chance of anything happening, like you seem to be afraid of, I wouldn’t take you with me.”
“Then, let’s say no more about it. I wouldn’t want you to change your mind.”
Her fears had disturbed him but, in a few moments, as they sat talking quietly, hands clasped, shoulders touching, faces only inches apart; as if they were now joined in some secret pact separating them from the rest of the world; his qualms subsided. The waiter reappeared and he ordered fresh drinks and asked for a menu. By the time the drinks arrived, they had made their selection and he gave the waiter their order. As he left again, they resumed their quiet conversation and he told her something of the history of the restaurant and of the surrounding countryside. In a little while, the waiter returned to tell them their table was ready and led them to where it had been prepared in the ‘study’. This was one of the smaller dining rooms opening onto the terrace, and contained only four widely spaced tables, one in each corner. Only one of the other tables was occupied, by another couple, so deeply engrossed in their own affairs that they did not even look up as they entered.
Within a few minutes, they had become equally oblivious of them and; as the food arrived, and the empty dishes were removed, and the dinner leisurely progressed to its natural conclusion they would alternately laugh together quietly, over some inconsequential and not very amusing comment; and then, be suddenly and intensely aware of each other-hands reaching across the table for reassurance-eyes searching for and finding the still unspoken words in the depths of the other’s eyes. By the time that the waiter brought their second cup of coffee, they each knew-and knew that the other knew-that they were rapidly and irresistibly falling in love.
She asked if they could walk in the garden and he told the waiter to bring her coat from the checkroom. Despite the earlier cloudiness, the evening had remained comfortable and she had kept it folded across her lap during the ride up. But now, as he looked through the window, he could see that the clouds had thickened and darkened, and were moving rapidly across the moonlit sky. Faintly, he could hear the dying leaves of the trees rustling in the breeze off the lake. When the waiter brought the coat, he settled the check and they walked out through the French doors onto the broad terrace and down a short, curving flight of stairs to the garden.
The air was noticeably cooler and the moon was only fleetingly and mistily visible through the swiftly, scudding clouds. They strolled slowly; the gravel crunching softly under their feet; following the winding path that led to a white stone balustrade that ran along the edge of the bluff. She walked close to him, matching his stride, holding onto his arm with both hands. He felt-and sensed that she did too-that the balustrade somehow represented a turning point in both of their lives and that, as they drew nearer to it, they were coming to a decision that would drastically and irrevocably change their destinies. But, there was no hesitation in her step and no thought of turning back in his mind.
As they reached the railing, he put his arm around her shoulders and they stood silently looking down at the dark, breeze-rippled surface of the lake. It seemed as forbidding and unfathomable as their future together. They were only seconds away from their first embrace-an embrace that he knew would, in essence, signal an end to his life with Marie, and the beginning of a new life with Elise. But, what would it do to her life? He had everything to gain-she had everything to lose. It was an unfair bargain, perhaps even more unfair than the one he had entered into with Marie; because he knew himself better now and because she had more to give, and he did not know if he could match her generosity and unselfishness. Could he be to her what he wanted her to be to him? Could he, finally, say the words that had been forming in his mind since the moment he first saw her-not just because he thought they were what she wanted to hear, but because they were true and expressed what he really felt for her?
She turned toward him, and he could feel her studying him. Softly-almost inaudibly mingled with the whispering trees-she spoke his name.
“Mark”.
He turned his head to meet her gaze. Her eyes glowed luminously as the moon appeared briefly between the clouds, and her lips parted slightly to receive his kiss. He bent his head and their lips touched, gently, tentatively at first, and then with increasing intensity and fierceness as their arms tightened about each other. Then, slowly, reluctantly, their mouths separated, but still, they clung to one another. After a little while, he took her face in his hands and kissed her tenderly on her eyelids, cheeks, the tip of her nose and, finally, again and again on her lips. She laughed sweetly, joyously.
“I knew it would be like this,” he told her.
“Like what?”
“Like nothing I’ve ever known before.”
“Is that good?”
“It couldn’t be better, but it frightens me, too.”
“Why darling?” The much abused term of endearment sounded fresh and new from her
“Because it makes me want to say things to you-things that I have no right to say”
“What sort of things?”
As the moon reappeared momentarily between the clouds, he saw his own image reflected in her pupils. It gave him the feeling of being a part of her-and suddenly, as if a secret chamber in some secluded corner of his mind had been opened, and the emotions that had been imprisoned there for so long rushed forth to freedom, he knew what he wanted to say to her, and knew that he could say it truthfully and without reservation.
“I love you. I want you. I need you.”
She put a hand behind his neck and pulled his face down to her, kissing him long and lingeringly.
“And I love you, my darling,” she said breathlessly, as their lips parted again. “It doesn’t frighten me. Why should it you?”
“Because I’ve said the same things before-or something very much like them-with disastrous results.”
“To your...wife?”
“Particularly to my wife.”
“Did you mean what you said?”
“No. But they seemed to be the right things to say at the time.”
“And is that why you’re saying them now?”
The breeze blew her hair across her face and he brushed it back with his hand. “No. No, Elise. I’m saying them because, for the first time in my life, I believe them. They’re true-but, I’m afraid, because I don’t have the right to say them; and they could prove just as disastrous for you, if you believe them.”
“I do believe them, Mark, darling. And I’m not afraid.”
He put his hands on her shoulders, holding her slightly away from him. “I do love you, Elise. It’s fantastic, illogical and almost totally incomprehensible-but true. I think you knew it, even before I admitted it to myself. I’ve no right to love you, and no right to your love. But, I’ve never been very good at self-sacrificing, and there is no way that I could stop myself from loving you-or would if I could. And, I won’t ask you not to love me-because, I want your love-because, I need it, and you, as I’ve never needed or wanted anything or anyone before in my life.”
Their lips and their bodies came together again in another long, hungry embrace, and they drew apart more flushed and breathless than before.
“Oh, Mark! My darling! I did know. I saw it in your eyes, in the way you looked at me-and felt it in your touch, in just being near you. And, I wanted you to love me, because I wanted to love you. I-I knew you were married and, perhaps, because of that, it is wrong. But, I don’t believe I could feel the way I do, or believe you, if there was any chance that you and-and your wife were still in love with each other.”
He brought her close to him again. “We never were in love, Elise. I knew at the time that I wasn’t and I didn’t really care if Marie was or not. Judging by what’s happened since, I’m sure she wasn’t either. I didn’t think it was important as long as we were otherwise compatible. But, now I know that without love, there simply isn’t the interest, or understanding, or concern, or appreciation necessary to sustain compatibility. Sooner or later-and, in our case, it was sooner-the selfishness and thoughtlessness breaks through, and then there is nothing left to fall back on. I was a fool not to have realized it from the beginning.”
She put her hand on his cheek. Her fingers were cold. It was getting chillier by the minute, and they would soon have to be leaving. But he was reluctant to break the spell.
She grinned reassuringly. “If you were, you weren’t alone. She should have known, despite anything you said to her, that you didn’t love her, especially if she really loved you. A woman in love couldn’t be fooled by mere words, unless she was willing to be.”
“I wish I could excuse myself as easily as you seem able to.”
“Why shouldn’t you, Mark dear? Everyone acts according to their own conscience. You did what you believed was right at the time. Because it turned out not to be, is no reason to condemn yourself-or to deny yourself another chance.”
He sensed, in her words, that she wanted to console him for the human frailty of his error in judgment in marrying Marie, even if she could not condone it.
“I don’t intend to deny myself another chance, if you’ll take it with me.”
“Oh, yes, Mark, darling! Of course I will.”
Their mouths and bodies were locked again in a straining, breathtaking embrace that left them both shaken. She looked at him gravely, her breasts rising and falling rapidly in deep, quivering breaths.
“Oh, Mark, dearest! I knew.. .I was sure even before I saw you tonight, that we were falling in love, and that somehow, despite any.. .any obstacles, we would make a life together. But.. .oh, my darling.. .I do hope.. .I don’t want to hurt anybody.. .especially Cassandra.”
“I know, Elise, and I really don’t think we.. .that there is any need for anybody to be hurt. Marie and I have nothing left for each other, and I’m sure that even she will realize that it would be better to end it. And, I know that Cassandra would be better off and happier with you than she ever has been with Marie. I’m sure she already loves you and has felt the same.warmth and responsiveness that I have. Marie doesn’t love her-and Cassandra is beginning to recognize it-and she’s a child that needs love. No my darling”.. .the word felt fresh and new on his tongue, too.. .”nobody will be hurt.”
It sounded convincingly reasonable and plausible as he was saying it but, as he kissed her again, he knew they would both be vulnerable and, if Marie wished, she could destroy them all-unless she herself was vulnerable.
He continued to hold her as, once more, they gazed in silence at the black, rippling water below. In the space of a few minutes, their lives had undergone a radical transformation while, all around them, the water and the trees and the hills had remained immutable. It was disappointing to be so universally ignored at such a moment. Some sign-an acknowledgment by the Almighty of the miracle that had just taken place (she loved him! My God, she loved him!) seemed to be in order, But, nothing happened and nothing changed-yet, everything was different.
He felt her shiver against him and became aware that the air was now uncomfortably cool and damp. A fine mist now hid the lights on the opposite shore of the lake. Glancing at his watch, he saw it was almost nine-thirty, and spoke softly into her hair, “Elise, darling, I’m afraid we have to go.”
She sighed deeply and tightened her arms around him. “Yes, Mark dear, I know. But hold me just a little while longer before we do.”
Their lips sought, and found each other, again and again, and, incongruously, he heard her laugh softly, pleasurably, even as he tasted her salty tears on his tongue.