Slice and Dice (20 page)

M:
My assumption is that Arthur was suffering from some form of schizophrenia, or possibly manic depression.

Wells:
(Nods)

M:
So, what happened to him?

Wells:
He was lost for many years. I don’t know where he was or what he did, but I’m sure it was quite an odyssey. After Connie married Wayne, she had the money to hire private investigators, and that’s just what she did. It took many years, but finally one of them located this Zippo. He was living under the Tenth Avenue bridge at the time. He said he knew a man named Jadek and that for a certain amount of money — I think around a thousand dollars — he would take Connie to where Jadek
was
living. He said the man was pretty sick, so if she wanted to see him before he died, she’d better hurry. For some reason, he refused to deal with anyone but Connie. That’s why he showed up on her set that day. She left with him immediately because she thought her brother was on his deathbed. Turns out he was sick, but it was just the flu. He was living in a flophouse on Washington Avenue, if you want to call it living. He didn’t recognize her, but she wasn’t a penniless young woman any longer. She knew what needed to be done and she had the money to finance it. She had him admitted to the best psychiatric hospital in the state. Once he got on some antipsychotic drugs, his memory started to come back to him. It took many months, but amazing as it sounds, he did recover. This was all very hush-hush, you understand. Connie didn’t tell her husband or kids the truth. I think she was afraid they’d ostracize him or be afraid of him. Back then, and maybe even now, mental illness carries a terrible stigma. She didn’t want the kids to know there were any mental problems in the family gene pool, because there was some thinking that there might be a genetic component.

M:
Why did she confide in you? It seems strange that she’d chance it.

Wells:
We were having drinks together one night and she got really weepy. I think she felt guilty that she was spending so much time fussing over her brother and not enough time worrying about her husband s health.

M:
Was that true? Did she?

Wells:
(Shrugs) I know she did everything she could to get Wayne to exercise and eat less, but she was awfully focused on Arthur.

M:
When you first met Arthur Jadek what did you think of him?

Wells:
I found him to be a delightful, intelligent, charming man. Later, after I found out the truth about his history, it was hard for me to believe he had ever been the man Connie described. When he moved into the Buckridges’ house, Connie told her family that he’d been working out of the country for years, governmental secrecy stuff. A CIA operative. Whatever. That’s why she never mentioned him. He couldn’t talk about what he’d been doing, and nobody was supposed to ask I think because James Bond was so big at the time, everyone bought the story. Paul and Nathan thought he was utterly fascinating. To this day, I don’t believe any of them know the truth.

M:
So Arthur went back to school.

Wells:
From what Connie said, he wanted to study his disease, find out what really happened to him. He also wanted to help others with the same problem. I mean, he understood it from the inside out. lean only believe that insight made him a highly gifted clinician.

M:
I was told that Wayne Buckridge didn’t like Arthur Jadek.

Wells:
Yes, I think that’s true, although he didn’t put up much of an argument when Connie wanted Arthur to move in. And believe me, Wayne could have. There was just a coldness between them. Most of it came from Wayne, I’m sure. The first few weeks after Arthur was let out of the hospital, he was feeling quite tenuous. At the time I didn’t really know why, but he was thin and drawn, looked almost as if he’d been in some kind of concentration camp. That was all part of the CIA security stuff nobody could ask him about. But as time went on, and his physical health returned, he really bloomed. I’m sure that irked Wayne, because his own health was on the decline. Arthur was a good ten years younger than Wayne, and for some reason Wayne seemed jealous of that fact. He didn’t want any man close to Connie, not even her brother. I’d never seen that part of Wayne before, and it took me by complete surprise. Again, I think he felt Connie was too concerned about Arthur and not concerned enough about him. Typical male selfishness. They don’t just want a wife, they want a mother.

M:
I understand that Wayne suffered a heart attack about six months after Arthur came to stay with them.

Wells:
That’s correct.

M:
Can you tell me what you know about it?

Wells:
Well, the night it happened, Connie was in her study preparing the menu for the following week’s show. Arthur wasn’t home. He was at the library. Wayne never got home before seven, so Connie wasn’t expecting him. I guess she had some music on, so she didn’t hear him come in. She found him shortly after seven in the upstairs bathroom. He’d been trying to get to his medication but died before he could reach it.

M:
It was a heart attack?

Wells:
Yes, a massive one. Everybody saw it coming. It wasn’t a surprise.

M:
The police didn’t find anything suspicious about his death?

Wells:
Heavens, no. What are you suggesting?

M:
Just asking.

Wells:
No, there was never a question that his death wasn’t entirely natural. I may not think very highly of Connie, but I don’t for a minute believe she’s capable of murder.

M:
You mentioned a falling-out. When did that happen? And why?

Wells:
(Takes a moment, seems to relish this part of her story) It all started when Connie got her PBS show. I was once again asked to do the setups and I said I would on the condition that she’d have me on her show at least once a month. The first month came and went. I wasn’t included. The second month came. Nothing again. This went on for a good four months before I exploded. I told Connie that she was afraid to share the limelight with me, afraid that I might steal her show. She responded that I was just being a prima donna. She intended to include me in her broadcasts, but she had to get her feet on the ground first. I said fine. Give me a date. She thought about it for a moment and then said in two weeks I could prepare something, a ten-minute segment. The date came and went and I still wasn’t allowed in front of the cameras. So I quit. I told her she was selfish and a liar, and I’d had enough. She was furious, of course, mainly because I hadn’t started my prep work yet for the next day’s taping. I told her I couldn’t believe she’d treat a friend with so little respect, especially since I’d been with her from the very beginning. She said I was ungrateful. She was the star and I was just a helper. I tossed my apron on her desk and walked out. I hoped I’d never see her again. That night she came over to my house. My husband was out of town and she knew it. To this day I don’t know if she came to apologize or to tell me where I could pick up my final check. I guess it’s moot because when she knocked and didn’t get an answer, she let herself in with her key. She found me in the living room, naked on the sofa. I wasn’t alone.

M:
(Wants to be prodded) Who were you with?

Wells:
(Smiles) Her son Nathan. (Another smile, this one of triumph) You can imagine how upset she was. Nathan grabbed his clothes and ran home. He was twenty years old at the time, and a beautiful young man. Between you and me, I taught him everything he knows about the female body. He was an eager student and I was a willing teacher. Nathan had a natural sensuality I’ve rarely seen in a man. He was very tender but also very strong. It’s an explosive mixture. We didn’t love each other, of course. There was never any talk of that. But we were bound together by our desire for each other’s bodies.

M:
Did you ever sleep with Paul?

Wells:
(Shudders) Never. He wasn’t my type. Too arrogant. And too dirty.

M:
How long had you been sleeping with Nathan?

Wells:
Since he was fifteen. Connie knew nothing about it. Neither did my husband, although at the time, I didn’t think it would have mattered much. Over the period of our marriage, he’d had dozens of affairs. I just had one. At the beginning, Nathan was simply a sweet boy, a diversion. He was willing and full of youthful lust, but untrained. By the time he met his special young woman, he really knew how to make love to a woman.

M:
Special young woman?

Wells:
Her name was Sophie, I believe. Poor Nathan. The night Connie caught us together, he finally told me about his trip to California in September. He’d followed Sophie there hoping to change her mind about marrying him. Three months later he was still depressed. I’d never seen him so down. He needed me that night. I was glad he’d come. And when Connie charged into the room like an angry bull, shouting and breaking things, I thought she finally got a little of what she had coming. I was sorry for the embarrassment it caused Nathan but glad that Connie had to face the truth. She couldn’t control the whole world, even though, by that time in her life, she thought she was entitled to try. I doubt she learned her lesson that night, but it was a start in the right direction.

M:
What did she do?

Wells:
Oh, she blustered and fussed for a couple of days. She forbade Nathan to ever see me again. And then when my husband returned from his business trip, she told him what I’d been up to. Needless to say, I could have killed her with my bare hands. It never occurred to me that she’d have so little class. I didn’t think it was any of her business in the first place, but to go behind my back and inform my husband, well, that was the very last straw. Connie was too embarrassed to tell him how long her son and I had been sleeping together, but Gary got horribly huffy about it, anyway. He filed for divorce the next week. I had so many of his mistresses’ names and addresses that it was a standoff. I got the house and a nice monthly allowance, and he got his freedom. I guess, in the end, we both got what we wanted. In a way, Connie did me a favor, but I never spoke to her again. And I never will.

M:
And did Nathan stay away from you?

Wells:
(A smile pregnant with meaning) Why, Ms. Damontraville. A woman never answers a question like that.

“Make it something really memorable,” said Yale McGraw, clasping his hands behind his neck. He leaned back in his leather chair and gazed at Sophie with an expression of wistful sadness. “That’s the least we can do. Gildemeister was an institution around here for two decades.”

“But are you sure I’m the best person to write the feature?” Sophie had found a memo on George’s desk, her desk now, summoning her to Yale’s office as soon as she got in. She’d arrived at the paper shortly after three, hoping to complete some organizational chores before Rudy arrived home.

“You’ll do a fine job,” said Yale. “Doesn’t have to be too long. Just hit the highlights of his career. Assign a researcher to help if you need it. Don’t forget to include some photos. The researcher can check the photo archives, come up with something suitable. I want the full piece on the feature editor’s desk by Friday afternoon.”

“The paper’s still working four days out, right?”

He nodded. “I plan to run it next Wednesday. Oh, and don’t include anything on the murder investigation. I’ve got the crime beat covering that.”

With all the other work facing her, writing a glorified obit for George was hardly a welcome task, but she could hardly say no to her new boss. It was a onetime job, and if she could just find some quiet time after someone else gathered the significant details, she could hammer out the story in a few hours. “Okay, I’ll get right on it.”

“Good. And, Soph, there’s a staff meeting tomorrow afternoon that I’d like you to attend. Three o’clock in the sixth-floor conference room. Shouldn’t take more than an hour.”

Her mind raced. She was pretty sure there was nothing on her schedule at the hotel tomorrow afternoon. She might as well face it. From now on, she couldn’t go anywhere without her daily appointment calendar. “Sure. I’ll be there.”

As she left the office, hurrying through the newsroom, she prayed that nothing would prevent Rudy’s plane from landing at Twin Cities International on Sunday morning. This was her first real day at the paper and already she felt the need for an assistant. She could hear Bram’s voice inside her head.
I’d never see you if you took on a second job. I already have to make a date weeks in advance if I want to have a five-minute conversation with you.
Well, it wasn’t true. Her life simply took a little juggling right now.

Once back upstairs in George’s office, she punched in Bram’s private extension at the radio station. He should be done with his afternoon show, which meant he was sitting behind his desk, eating some sweet but empty calories and reading the
New York Times,
his daily reward for a job well done.

He picked up the phone after die second ring. “Bram Baldric.”

“Put that chocolate doughnut down!”