Part Four continued...
“Louise…Louise for the last time, will you marry me?” Kim asked one of the older cooks Chloe Treadwell always hired for her parties.
The woman shook her head. “I won’t…but I’ve saved some chicken livers for you,” and she gave him a small saucer.
“Oh, you’re an angel. In the meantime, darling…you think you could get this spot out for me?” and he pointed at a stain on his evening jacket. “I can afford a blemish on my character, but not on my clothes….Mmm…couldn’t eat another mouthful,” and he swallowed more of his particular favorite dish.
Louise shook her head. “I’m afraid it’s rouge.”
Kim sighed. “I’m afraid it’s liquor….Louise…” but right then, Savannah Hunt entered, and all thought of the spot was gone.
“Excuse me. Louise, may I have a glass of milk for Mr. Lydecker?”
“Of course, Miss Hunt.”
And now was the time to act, while that haughty Lydecker was out of sight for a change. The man was way too protective of her; no wonder she was not currently attached to any man of her immediate age. Lydecker was a mother hen, nanny, puritanical chaperone and prison guard rolled into one. Putting on his best smile, Kim started talking as if their conversation was never interrupted. “I forgot to tell you: I also read palms, I cook, I swallow swords, I mend my own socks, I never eat garlic or onions. What more can you want of a man?”
“Don't listen to that scalawag, Miss Hunt,” the cook said, filling an empty glass with the bottled milk.
“I didn't expect to find him here, Louise.”
Kim looked aghast. “What do you mean? We're old friends. She feeds me, humors me, repairs me...and refuses to marry me, don't you, honey?” He kissed Louise’s cheek.
“I do.”
Savannah smiled and headed for the kitchen door. “She has good sense. Thank you Louise.”
“Now, wait just a minute,” Kim started, but the girl of his desires – and plans – had already disappeared. “Thanks Louise.”
“You’re wasting your time. She’s got good sense too.”
“You’re jealous!” he called out as he returned to the party.
It did not take long to locate Savannah – she could not help but stand out, and after a few moments of playing more the perfect Southern gentleman and less the obnoxious cad, she joined him on the balcony while he had a smoke.
“And what does it feel like, Mr. Barrett?” she asked, hands gracefully placed behind the svelte curve of her back as she relaxed against the brick wall.
Kim blew a smoke ring, once more admiring the beautiful figure in front of him. Not too skinny, not too plump. He loved the way the gown clung to her, leaving much to the imagination, but revealing just enough…. If he had the talent, he would have written a poem in her honor. Did men still do that? No, now they wrote songs. And men like that Maximus Meridias had the honor of painting her, and he wondered whether it even caught what he saw before him. “What does what feel like, Miss Hunt?” he replied, hoping she did not realize that every part of his lower regions felt on fire. He propped one foot higher, feeling incredibly relaxed around her.
“Living on the income from an estate.”
Well, that was like a cold shower. “Well…I…uh…I…”
“Or don’t you know?” Savannah bluntly said.
Kim chortled. “Well I did…until the sheriff took it over ten years ago.”
She nodded as they laughed, but appeared puzzled. “So why maintain the fiction? Why not work?”
Barrett briefly thought about it. He hated work, especially when someone of his pedigree should not have to, but regrettably the Fates had intervened – not due to the Civil War or the Depression, but his own spending and waste. Now, instead of enjoying the fruits of his birthright, he was like any other spoiled, minimally college educated neer-do-well, scraping by and living off the kindness of others. “Believe it or not, I asked one of my many friends for a job once….Executive of a big company…2500 employees. He could have pressed a button and done it, but he just laughed. He thought I was joking.”
Savannah seemed doubtful herself. “Weren't you?”
“No. When I convinced him, he got embarrassed; said he'd phone me. That was months ago. Now whenever he sees me, he looks the other way.”
They laughed, but Kim could see that Miss Hunt was thinking, measuring him up.
“Do you really want a job?”
His own seriousness matched hers. “Yes.”
“Oh, here you are.” Sid’s voice – albeit soft – caught their attention, and the tension was broken as the young woman turned his way. “Savannah, dear, I cannot stand these morons any longer. If you don't come with me this instant, I shall run amok.”
She tenderly smiled. “All right, Sidney,” but she approached Kim, took his hand to shake and in a most businesslike voice said, “Ten-thirty tomorrow, Bullitt and Company. You’ve got a job, Mr. Barrett. Good night.”
Kim was so pleased he did not notice the glare that Sid gave him as the pair told the nearby Chloe Treadwell good evening.
I concealed my annoyance with masterly self-control...but I sensed a situation which would bear watching.
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“Savannah, take a look at this.”
That autumn evening at the Treadwell party had given way to a bitter New York winter, and now segued to a glorious spring and eventually summer. Kim Barrett was now a full-time member of the Savannah Hunt advertising team…and many suspected, something more. To the surprise of nearly everyone but his boss, Kim had revealed talent, both in art and slogan creation, so instead of being an encumbrance he became an asset and someone they all enjoyed working alongside.
Late one July evening, he was showing a series of artwork to her as she sat at her desk, going over some paperwork.
“Do you like it? Do you think it'll make people want to bathe more often?” He sounded like an eager little boy, desiring approval.
Savannah smiled. “It should. It's excellent,” and after signing the last page in a folder, she handed the latter to her assistant. “There you are.”
“Thank you. Good night, Miss Hunt.”
“Good night, Terri.”
“Good night, Mr. Barrett.”
“Good night, honey.”
Savannah’s attention returned to his work: the clip art, the catch phrases, the manner in which he worked in the photographs of a youthful brunette cutie with the bar of soap. “No, honestly, Kim, it’s really very good. Who’s the model?” She stood, stretched and went to the coat rack. It had been a long, but successful day and she was ready to relax.
“The model? Oh, a girl named Diane Redfern. You hired her yourself last week – don’t you remember?”
Savannah thought for a second and then said, “Oh yeah, yeah I do. I see so many of…”
“I know and you really ought to hire someone to do that for you. Take that duty off those lovely shoulders.”
“But I enjoy it, Kim. If I’m going to use them in my ad campaigns, I’d like to have some say in who works for one thing and who doesn’t.”
“If you say so,” and he kissed her on the forehead. “Well, let’s go moon of my delight. I am starved.”
“You usually are,” she joked.
“And I approve of that hat.”
“You do?”
“Mm-hmm. And the girl in it too,” he added, giving her a gentle squeeze.
“Thank you.”
************************************************************************
“I knew there was something on my mind.”
Savannah put down her martini, looking across to where her boyfriend was sitting. “What is it?”
For the millionth time since becoming acquainted with her, Kim loved where his life was right now. It was not only the fact that he was dining at El Morocco, one of the best establishments in the city, but that the world was revolving around everything he prized and brought the meaning of success. At least there was no mother and siblings back home to care for and send money to. Whatever he earned, whatever he did, it was for him and him alone, and nothing gave him greater pride than to know that he was the most envied man in New York, and one of the most fortunate.
That in part was due to Savannah: selfless, devoted, and loving Savannah. Through her he became as recognized as she had because of Sid’s influence. The other was in part to…well…he would think about her later, but he realized he was getting to an age when it was past time to settle down and enjoy whatever a lovely wife – or lovely patroness – might offer. These debonair looks would not last forever….
He realized that his beloved was waiting for a response, while he was busy gathering wool. “Oh, yes,” he finally said, reaching over to touch the back of her left hand. “Will you dine with me tomorrow night?”
“Maybe.” There was just a tiny more to complete their latest campaign, and then Mr. Bullitt was giving her not only a well-deserved bonus, but a long holiday as well, and even now at dinner, little ideas were flitting through her agile brain. “I’ll need to check my appoint…”
“No, that isn’t what’s worrying me,” Kim continued, a twinkle in his eyes. “It’s the next night.”
Savannah suddenly realized what he meant by all this and she giggled, blushing. “But Kim, I can’t be…”
“Good! What about three weeks from tonight and all the nights in-between?”
“Don't you think I have any other engagements?”
“What about two months from now and the month after that?” he persisted.
She was won over. “What about next year?”
“That's all settled. What about breakfast?”
Rolling her eyes she stood up, taking both his hands in hers. “What about dancing?” and she tugged him onto the floor where several couples were moving to the tune of Working Can Wait.
It could have been his theme song, Barrett thought. Who the hell needed to work when one was with the most gorgeous woman in town, especially when she was so willing to overlook his little faults, and so giving too? “What about lunch…beautiful lunches, day after day after day after day?”
Savannah smiled. “What about work…beautiful work, day after day after day?”
“Why Miss Hunt, the way you talk…you’d think I was in love with you.”
The couple laughed…neither noticing that Sid was at a table behind one of the wide marble posts, his right hand tightening more and more about the gold of his stick.
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“Yes, Savannah, I heard everything he said,” Lydecker told her the next day when they met at his penthouse after work. The moment he saw her, looking so innocent and lovely in her new asymmetric suit, he nearly put the entire matter aside for another time, wanting only to be in her company, but the second she spoke of how well Kim was doing at the office, Sid realized that the time was now. “I went to call for you at your office and was told that the two of you had already departed for the evening.”
“I’m sorry, Sid.” She was sincerely apologetic – never wishing to hurt him, which encouraged him to continue with his plans.
“I know you are….” He did not blame her, which was why his tone remained calm; he blamed that rascal who had slithered his way into her life. “And that reminds me, my dear….Old Mother Hubbard has something in the cupboard.” He returned to the desk, holding up a thick dossier. “The results of my private investigation of that sterling character, Mr. Kim Carpenter Barrett.”
Sid never thought to see Savannah so angry with him until she refused to accept the ‘gift’ he held forward.
“By stooping so low, you only degrade yourself, Sid,” she said, her voice a rumble.
But Lydecker was not done. “Did you know that he almost went to jail for passing rubber checks?....That he was suspected of stealing his hostess' jewels when he was a house guest in Virginia?”
Savannah turned away, irritably crossing her arms. “Naturally they'd suspect him because he isn't rich.” She pointed at the file. “Those are only insinuations...the cheapest kind.”
“These aren't only insinuations, my dear.” He threw the documents on the desk. “There you are. Read them, Savannah.”
She shook her head, cheeks burning with rage, but Sid was aware that no matter how much she protested, she knew the truth was revealed in the pages. “What of it? I already know his faults. A man can change, can’t he? This is what I hate about way too many of our acquaintances. People are always ready to hold out a hand to slap you down, but never to pick you up.”
Sid said nothing, continuing to accusingly watch her.
“All right…” she declared. “I’m helping Kim, but you likely knew that already. As far as I’m concerned, his past is his own affair. I only care about the present.”
“Uh-huh.” Lydecker looked straight ahead, unmoving. “Speaking of the changed Mr. Barrett in the present tense…he’s now running around with a model from your own office….Her name is Diane Redfern. Know her?”
The second he said it, he saw the hurt in Savannah’s eyes, as well as the rage, but not at Redfern, and definitely not at Kim. “I’m closer to despising you than I thought I ever would be.” She took a few steps, thought momentarily, then returned to his side. “I’m sorry Sidney…I should have told you before. Kim and I are going to be married next week.”
He expected that too. All the nonsense about tomorrow night and three months and a year from now; and all the breakfasts and lunches and dinners – of course it was the con’s way of proposing to her. As though Kim Barrett could stay faithful to any woman – even Savannah – for longer than a day. Quite calm, Sid stood, walked to one of the numerous cabinets, withdrew an item, and placed it on top of the folder. The second he did, he saw his protégé’s face go pale. “I believe you presented him with a cigarette case on his last birthday. Rather valuable, isn’t it?”
Savannah nervously touched it with one fingertip, disbelieving that the solid gold holder was there. “Where did you get it?” she gasped.
“From the pawn shop…where Diane Redfern took it after he gave it to her.”
“I don’t believe it! He probably needed money and was too proud to borrow.”
Sid gave a short laugh. “Barrett proud? Perhaps that is why the pawn ticket was in her name.”
She nearly stumbled out of her shoes, the blow felt so real, and shaking, she rushed to the telephone. “Before this goes any further,” she said, dialing Kim’s number, “I’ll just…”
“He isn’t home,” Sid bluntly told her. “He’s dining at Chloe Treadwell’s.”
Savannah hung up, stunned. “He…He can’t be. He asked me to dinner.” Even in her ears that sounded pointless.
“He would have canceled his appointment with her if you had accepted.” He sighed. “It’s such a shame. He treats her rather badly these days.”
Savannah started dialing again, Sid – without looking – knowing that it was her aunt’s number this time.
“I’m afraid she’ll say he isn’t there.”
The receiver was slammed down in revulsion as the young woman groaned, her stomach knotting. When she faced her mentor once more, Sid could see the tears beginning to brim in her eyes; the expression one of uncertainty…about everything and everyone. There were few times in their relationship for him to see her so at a loss, and Lord knew, he would have preferred it be something important, such as her career, than mourning that worthless Kim Barrett.
“Sidney…why are you doing this?” she whispered, the words choked.
He stepped nearer, placing his hands on either side of her arms. “For you, Savannah….” It was time. “Shall we pay them a visit?”
She nodded, but as he prepared to change into something more suitable, she grabbed one of his wrists. “He won’t be there, Sid,” she assured him. “I know he won’t.”
Lydecker knew she was saying it more to convince herself than him. Why were the innocent ones always the last to know? But instead of teasing her or scolding her, he placed a hand against her left cheek and lightly patted it. “All right, dearest – we’ll see…but…” and he picked up the cigarette case, “don’t you want to take this little bauble along in case he is there?”
Savannah hesitated then snatched it, tossing it into her handbag.
“I’ll only be a few moments,” he said, slipping out of his smoking jacket. “Wait for me.”
************************************************************************
The maid, Paula, answered the door, and as instructed, she followed her “Good evening” with “I’m sorry, Mrs. Treadwell is not at home.”
“Good evening and we know, dear,” and before the servant could answer, Lydecker eased by her, Savannah on his arm. Without pause, they proceeded through the drawing room and to the balcony. The male and female voices – their words unclear except for ‘But of course none of this…’ – suddenly ceased; silver struck the dishes, and Kim, grinning, stood. Only Chloe remained seated: staring, flabbergasted.
“Hello darling,” Kim delightedly welcomed. “I didn’t expect to see you tonight.”
“There you are, my dear,” Sid sighed. “In a moment of supreme disaster he’s trite.”
Kim remained unruffled. “You’ve been reading too many melodramas, Sidney.” His attention focused upon Savannah, who had neither spoken nor let her eyes leave her fiancé’s face. “I was just telling Chloe about our getting married.” No response, and despite pretending that it was the most normal thing in the world for his girlfriend and his girl friend to be together, he could not help noticing that he had never seen Savannah so cold and distant. “Well, have you two had dinner?” Nothing. “Would you like a glass of wine?” Still nothing, but now he pulled out a chair. “Why don’t you sit down, dear heart?”
There was the sound of a zipper as the purse was swiftly undone, then the gold cigarette case crashed against the tabletop. Her face filled with rage, abhorrence and hurt, Savannah stormed off the balcony, heels clicking across the pavement until the carpet muted them.
Sid smiled smugly and triumphantly, jokingly touched his stick to the brim of his hat, then departed right behind her.
************************************************************************
I couldn’t find out if she saw Barrett in the meantime. All I know is that on Friday she had lunch with Diane Redfern. What came of it, I hoped to hear that night….
It was to be their normal Friday night together, and Sid was carefully organizing things for the dinner, carefully selecting the dishes and wines, even the music, wanting even the slightest detail to bring her well-being and calm. He figured that after this long week, she deserved it.
I alternated between moods of over optimism and over pessimism. When the phone rang, I had a foreboding of disaster.
“I called to tell you, Sidney – I’m frightfully sorry,” the columnist heard on the other end. “I can’t have dinner with you tonight….Oh no…no, I’m not sick. I’m just dreadfully nervous….I’m going to the country for a few days….Yes…Yes, I’m afraid it’s about Kim….Oh, no…please…there’s nothing you can do….I’ve got to think this thing out for myself….I’m sorry….I’ll call you when I get back….Good-bye.”
It was the last time I ever heard her voice.
Over two hours later, the restaurant was vacant except for the staff, Lydecker and White. The dessert plates were empty; the last of the coffee gone, and Sid twirled the remaining port in the snifter, unable to finish as he completed the tale. “I was sure she had too much pride to forgive him, but…” He shrugged.
Bud rubbed his chin. He expected his host to talk, but this had been an earful. Now to sort it out….Another sleepless night…. “Where does this Diane Redfern live? You know?”
“Brooklyn somewhere, the private investigator told me. I imagine she’s in the phone book.”
The lieutenant nodded. “Come on – it’s late. Let’s get going.”
“All right….Waiter? Check, please.”
“Yes sir.”
The bill was paid, the waiter chimed, “Thank you, Mr. Lydecker….Good night, sir. Come again.”
The men moved onto the front sidewalk, but while Bud was enjoying the breeze finally stirring the once motionless, hot air, Sid was present only in body.
“I shall never forgive myself for letting her become involved with Kim,” he said aloud to anyone listening. “It was my fault – entirely my fault. I should have stopped it…somehow.”
“Well, it’s too late now.”
Sid nodded, then without another word, wandered away.
“Thanks for the drinks!” Bud called. He watched Sid enter his chauffeured sedan, and continued to watch until the car was gone from sight.
