His mom trying to make him feel more at ease asked, “What will you be doing for them?”
“Just checking books, sorting, shelving and some sales.”
“That sounds great Steve,” Morgan said in a “let’s end this” tone.
Morgan knew this was going to be awkward at best, but it had to be done. She wasn’t exactly sure how to get it started, but thought maybe her dad should say something first.
“Dad, we’re all here like you wanted, so go ahead and say what you need to.”
He looked terrible - tired, miserable and humiliated. He sort of sat up straight and looked each one of them in the eye. “It’s impossible to explain what I did, or why I did it. Just please know, I love you all very much and had no intention of hurting any of you.”
Steve just couldn’t contain himself, “Really, well that’s exactly what you did, especially to mother. You have no idea…”
Morgan jumped in, “Steve! Let him finish.”
“Sorry, it’s just hard to listen to…go ahead, I’ll be quiet.”
“You know Steve, I certainly owe you one of the biggest apologies. After the way I treated you and the things I said. I read your letter and you had every right to condemn me. I had that coming. But I’d like for us, all of us, to start anew. I’m not sure how to do that, but there’s nothing in the world I want more.”
He suddenly bent over and started crying. Jennifer went and sat next to him, offering to hold his hand. Steve found it revolting and contrived. He got up and left the room. Morgan, exhaustedly ran out of the room after him.
“Steve, wait, don’t leave.”
“Morgan, are you buying any of that - I’m sorry, but can’t we just forgive and forget and move on?”
“You saw him,” she said pleadingly. “Does he look like a man trying to pull another political maneuver? Come on Steve, he’s beaten. Give him a break. He’s still your father.”
“Don’t go there Morgan. He’s your father, not mine. I only did this for you and mother. He and I have had nothing to do with each other for years, and I hope it stays that way. So don’t think he can apologize and everything is going to be wonderful. I will never forgive him for what he did to me and how he’s treated you and mother.”
“Okay, but come back in, hear him out and then you can go. I’ll talk to him after that and explain that things are probably not going to change between the two of you.”
“Probably? Never! Alright, I’ll come back in. I’ll hear him out and then I’m gone. I can’t give you more than that Morgan.”
Morgan was disappointed, but she understood. It was the best Steve could do. She really didn’t know his hurt, but could see it was real.
“Okay Steve, if that’s all you can do, I’ll make it work.”
Cornell had composed himself some and continued on about guilt and pressure from the job. In the end, he said he had no excuses for his actions and begged for forgiveness and, in the end, he got it from his wife and daughter – but not his son.
* * * *
The Chef had followed Sonja off and on for days. Through his contacts at the police department, Jack Johnson found out where she was staying. From there it had been pretty easy to tail her. He was not surprised when she went to Tyler Flynn’s apartment. They figured they’d let her do the snooping and if the police got wind of who Flynn was, her fingerprints, not theirs, would be everywhere in his apartment. They certainly knew who Mr. Flynn was and were just as anxious to find him as she was. He’d even stood right outside the door of the apartment - even thought about going in and “getting” the information out of her, and then…well that would be overstepping his authority. No, he’d wait and follow her. Mr. Marks was right. She’d lead him right to Tyler Flynn.
She’d stayed for quite a while, and when she left, she was in a hurry. That was a good sign. It meant she’d found something and was going to act on it. At last they might finally get this show on the road and find Flynn and finish this. Marks and Johnson hadn’t handled this quite the way he would have, but they were in charge, so he had to adhere to their rules…for now.
In the excitement of packing her bag, she realized she’d never been to Paris. She knew it was a very big city and she spoke no French. This was going to be a challenge. She’d actually called the hotel saying she was looking for her brother, describing the man from her pictures. They told her there was such a man registered. She asked them not to tell him because she wanted to surprise him. It was a long flight from Chicago to Paris, so she’d have plenty of time to study maps and make her plans. If the hotel on rue Vaneau was fairly large, she’d stay there. Tyler Flynn, if in fact he was there, would never know, but she’d know him from the pictures. Then what? She couldn’t just follow him around. He’d notice that and take off again. Maybe she should just go right up to him and tell him who she was and what had happened? No - he’s already suspicious and might think she’s there to bump him off, then disappear again. The best thing to do would be to stay a discreet distance and just play it by ear for a few days. Maybe he’d do something that would allow her to approach him. If it wasn’t Tyler Flynn, well, she’d have to start over. They’d been in the air for a few hours and she was tired. She laid her seat back and fell asleep.
Chapter 14
Jack Johnson sat in his car outside their office, worried. There was a part of him that was anxious to tell Mr. Marks that they’d found and followed Sonja Bartlett. There was also a part of him that was deeply concerned. Once they found Tyler Flynn…well, what was going to happen to her? A voice in his head told him she’d be alright. She was smart and could handle herself. She’d been doing this for several years and had learned to be cautious. But, was she a match for the Chef - especially if she didn’t know he was coming? Probably not, but he was at a loss as to what to do.
Well, first things first. He had to tell Marks what was going on. Maybe from that he could get a feel as to what the plan was. Mr. Marks' door was closed, which meant “stay out,” but Jack could hear him on the phone. He couldn’t tell who it was, but the conversation was definitely contentious. Marks slammed down the phone and it grew very quiet.
Great, Jack thought, I hate when he’s like this, because I sometimes have to pay the price for things going wrong elsewhere. He’d waited what he thought was a sufficient amount of time for Mr. Marks to calm down and knocked on the door.
“Come!”
Jack hoped his good news would sooth the savage beast, or at least pacify him a little.
“Good news Mr. Marks. We found her. She’s on her way to Paris.”
Mr. Marks just stared out the window.
“Mr. Marks, did you hear me? We found…”
“Yes Jack, I heard you – and yes that is good news. Tell me about it.”
“The Chef had been following her off and on for several days. She finally went to Tyler Flynn’s apartment. She was there digging…”
“Jack, cut to the chase. How do we know she’s on her way to Paris and are we with her?”
“Sorry sir. She boarded a plane for Paris late yesterday and, yes we are with her. Chef is on the same plane.”
“Now Jack, you have to guarantee me he is not going to act until I say so.”
“He won’t. He told me he’d call in daily and report what was going on and wait for instruction.”
“Good, make it very clear he is to do nothing until I tell him to – understood?”
“Yes sir. Sir I do have one other question.”
“What is it Jack?”
“Once we find Tyler Flynn, what happens to Ms. Bartlett?”
“You know, Jack, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you had a soft spot in your heart for her.”
“No sir, not a soft spot. But you know, we hired her and have sort of trashed her life, and well, sir, I’d hate to see anything happen to her.”
“Jack, what could possibl
y happen to her? She’ll lead us to Mr. Flynn; we’ll make sure he takes the fall, along with Eastman, and she can go her merry way.”
There was a disquieting tone in his voice, but Jack had no choice but to go along with this for now.
“Fine sir, I was just curious.”
“Jack, on another matter, I just got off the phone with Bill Woodburn. He’s absolutely chomping at the bit to get rolling with this story. I told him about the affair between Eastman and White and he went nuts. He wanted to know what could possibly be better than that. I told him to hold his horses, that this could also involve a murder. Well, that shut him up…for a minute. Then he was back at it, ‘Come on, come on, let me run with this.’ But, you know, after I explained the juicy prospect of a homosexual affair and a murder, he agreed to wait. But I don’t think for long. We’ve got to get to Flynn soon.”
“We will sir. Chef thinks Bartlett knows exactly where he is. My guess is we should know something in a couple of days.”
“Good. Keep me posted, no matter what time of the day or night.”
“I will sir.”
Jack left, still uneasy about the future of Sonja Bartlett. But there was one consolation. Chef would only be getting his instructions from him, so the possibility did exist that he had some control over her fate.
* * * *
Cornell Eastman had decided to take some time off. He was tired, humiliated and emotionally drained. He moved into one of the spare bedrooms at the house and told his office he was not taking any calls. They informed him the press was starting to call, wanting to know what was going on - especially one reporter from the Tribune, a Bill Woodburn. He was forced to issue a press release, which stated he was having some health problems, nothing serious and would have more to say in the near future. He was just too exhausted to think about how he was going to handle the inevitable. He knew it wouldn’t be long before the story broke about the affair. What worried him the most though was, he knew they would somehow try to tie him to Eugene’s death. All he could do was try to convince his family that he had nothing to do with it. Hopefully, Jennifer and Morgan would be sympathetic – Steve, however, was going to be different story.
Morgan called Steve and asked him to meet her for dinner. She just wanted to see if there was any way he would soften his stance and forgive his father, at least a little. He agreed to meet her. She was also hoping that, with their dad not around, he might be more open to the prospect. They met at a nice, quiet bistro just off of Michigan Ave.
“Steve, thanks for meeting me. I’m sure you have a lot to do, especially with the new job.”
“No, it’s fine Morgan. I’m glad we could do this.”
“Well, tell me about your new career.”
“Let’s see, I’ve been there two days, haven’t been paid yet, the people I work with seem fine and I like being around books. So, I guess I like it so far.” They both laughed. What little bit of tension that had existed, vanished.
“So, tell me about Tim,” Morgan asked trying to understand and accept her brother’s lifestyle. She did empathize with him more, given what had happened with their dad. But in some ways, it still seemed strange. She just couldn’t imagine having a relationship like that with Mattie.
“Oh, he’s wonderful. We, strange as it may seem, met at one of father’s fundraisers. Tim was there protesting the Eastman stand on Gay Rights. Is that unbelievable? I mean…”
“Steve, can we please leave that alone. I know you and dad have been at odds for years and he’s made a horrible mistake. I was actually hoping we could talk about that.”
She could see Steve was somewhat gloating in their father’s misery. But she also knew there was a side of him that was compassionate. She was going to appeal to that side.
“I said all I needed to at the house, Morgan.”
“I know, and I won’t ask you to say any more to him. All I’m asking is that if the press, or just people in general, talk to you about him and what’s eventually going to come out, that you be respectful and decent.”
He started shaking his head and had that look on his face, “Nope, no way.”
“Steve, I know it’s a lot to ask, but the harder he falls, the greater the impact on all of us. You know I feel different about dad than you do, and that’s fine. I’ll never know how much he hurt you, but all I can say is I’m sorry. Please, put all your hatred and anger aside, at least for now, so the whole family doesn’t go down with the ship.”
He stared at her with an almost vacant look. For a second, it made her feel a little uneasy, but he seemed to snap out of it and got a slight grin on his face.
“Okay, but I’m only doing…”
“I know, for me and mom, and we love you for it.”
This was actually the best and warmest conversation they’d had in years. They were truly enjoying each other's company.
“So, you told me how you met Tim, but I forgot, what does he do for a living?”
“He travels and buys rare and collectable books for various bookstores. As a matter of fact he’s out of the country right now on a buying trip.”
“Really, does he have to travel often?”
“No, not too much, I’d say every month or two.”
Morgan could see Steve missed Tim and was anxious for his return.
“You really care for him don’t you?”
“I do Morgan. More than I’ve ever cared for anybody. Are you alright with that?”
“Of course I am. After what you’ve been through, it’s great to see you so happy. When he gets back, maybe the three of us can go out for dinner. I’d love to meet him.”
Steve almost started crying - what a turn around. His bond with Morgan wasn’t ever great, it just wasn’t. Here for the first time he actually felt like he had a sister. He couldn’t help thinking how sad it was that their relationship was growing out of a family disaster, rather than a sense of family love - just another reason to blame his father.
Chapter 15
It had been a long flight and it was still about two hours before they would get to Paris. When she awoke she discovered she’d slept right through dinner. She was hungry, but felt like she could make it to Paris and then get something to eat at the airport. She always kept some crackers in her purse and they’d just have to do the trick.
The young girl, who was on her way to Paris to “find herself,” was not in her seat next to Sonja. As she dug through her purse, a cordial looking man across the aisle leaned over and said, “You missed dinner, huh?”
“Yes, I guess I did.”
“Well, I kept some of the carrots and celery sticks and I have one cookie left. You’re more than welcome to them.”
“No, thanks, I’ll be fine. These crackers should hold me over.”
“Are you sure? They’ll probably just go to waste – please take them.”
“Really? Well, okay, if you insist,” she said with a thankful grin. “Are you going to Paris on business or pleasure?”
“Business – although it’s difficult not to have a pleasurable trip when in Paris. Is this your first time?”
“Yes, I’m really looking forward to it. I hear it’s absolutely beautiful.”
“Absolutely! And why are you going?
Sonja could hardly get the word, “business” out, when her young seatmate came back and sat down, and worse yet started talking, again…incessantly. Sonja leaned forward and nodded a thank you to the helpful man across the aisle. The plane touched down at de Gaulle. Sonja’s life was about to change, forever.
As Sonja waited at the taxi stand, she could see her friendly food provider from the plane several taxis down. He nodded a polite goodbye. She jumped in a cab, requesting a quick trip to 86 rue Vaneau. She was bubbling over with excitement and apprehension. What if he’s there? How would she handle it? And what if he isn’t there, then what? As the cab zipped through the traffic the anxiety began to bu
ild. About the time she thought she was going to explode, the cabby said, “Madame, 86 rue Vaneau.”
She’d made it, and there set the Sevres – Vaneau Hotel. She paid the cabby and stood outside the hotel for several minutes, just looking around. She’d done all kinds of stakeouts and searches. Found people who didn’t want to be found, but had never been involved in anything like this. She could almost feel the adrenaline rushing through her veins. She’d called ahead and made a reservation, just in case. She was able to get a room for only three days, so she’d have to move fast. She decided her best approach would be to sit in the lobby reading, and watch for him. After all, he had no idea who she was. There was also a small brasserie at the corner, which would provide a good observation post. It was mid-day and she was hungry, having not really eaten on the plane. She’d brought another novel with her and took it to the sidewalk café.
She could sense the excitement of Paris. Even though she seemed to be off the beaten path, it was there - the traffic, the noise, people walking everywhere eating long, warm baguettes of French bread. It was wonderful.
She’d been there over an hour, drinking in the sights along with her cappuccino, when she noticed a familiar face heading toward the hotel.
“What are the odds?” she wondered. “My first day here and I spot him. Am I good or what.”
Then she realized, before she became too intrigued with her own craftiness, she’d better come up with a strategy to speak to him. Still, she was feeling pretty good about her investigative skills. I mean, this guy disappears from Chicago and she finds him her first day in, Paris! It was enough to make Hercule Poirot proud. She waited a few minutes so he could get up to his room, then took out 20 francs and walked up to the receptionist.
“Pardon me, the gentleman who just came in dropped this outside the door. Could you please tell me what room he’s in, so I can give it back to him?”
“Certainly mademoiselle. He’s in room 204.”
“Merci beaucoup,” she said hoping she’d pronounced it correctly.
Up the stairs she went. She knew this was probably too lame of an excuse, because he was bound to be highly suspicious and anyone approaching him could set him off…running again. No she’d have to work it such that he opened the conversation. The best way to do that was to try to bump into him, literally, in the lobby, coming in the front door, or maybe follow him and set it up at a café. Then see what happened.