The Osterman Weekend: A Novel

  The telephone rang in the study. The sound was jarring to everyone but Alice. There was an extension phone on the table behind the sofa, but John ignored it as he crossed in front of the Ostermans towards the study door.

  “I’ll take it out here. It’s probably the studio.”

  As he entered the study he heard Leila speak to Ali, her voice lowered.

  “Sweetie, Johnny seems tense. Is anything the matter? The way Bernie drawls on no one can get a word in.”

  “Tense is understating it! You should have seen him yesterday!”

  The telephone rang again; Tanner knew it wouldn’t be normal to let it ring further. Yet he wanted so much to hear the Ostermans’ reaction to Ali’s story of the Wednesday terror.

  He compromised. He picked the phone out of the cradle, held it to his side and listened for several seconds to the conversation.

  Something caught his ear. Bernie and Leila reacted to Ali’s words too quickly, with too much anticipation. They were asking questions before she finished sentences! They did know something.

  “Hello? Hello! Hello, hello!” The anxious voice on the other end of the line belonged to Joe Cardone.

  “Hello, Joe? Sorry, I dropped the phone.…”

  “I didn’t hear it drop.”

  “Very soft, very expensive carpets.”

  “Where? In that study of yours with the parquet floor?”

  “Hey, come on, Joe.”

  “Sorry.… The city was rotten hot today and the market’s going to hell.”

  “That’s better. Now you sound like the cheerful fellow we’re waiting for.”

  “You mean everybody’s there?”

  “No. Just Bernie and Leila.”

  “They’re early. I thought the plane got in at five.”

  “They flew in a couple of days ago.”

  Cardone started to speak and then abruptly stopped. He seemed to catch his breath. “Funny they didn’t call. I mean, they didn’t get in touch with me. Did they with you?”

  “No, I guess they had business.”

  “Sure, but you’d think.… ” Again Cardone stopped in the middle of a sentence. Tanner wondered whether this hesitation was meant for him; to convince him of the fact that Bernie and Joe hadn’t met, hadn’t spoken with each other.

  “Bernie’ll probably tell us all about it.”

  “Yeah,” said Cardone, not really listening. “Well, I just wanted to let you know we’d be late. I’ll grab a quick shower; be there soon.”

  “See you.” Tanner hung up the phone, surprised at his own calm. It occurred to him that he had controlled the conversation. Controlled it. He had to. Cardone was a nervous man and he hadn’t called to say he’d be late. To begin with, he wasn’t late.

  Cardone had phoned to see if the others had come. Or if they were coming.

  Tanner returned to the living room and sat down.

  “Darling! Ali just told us! How dreadful! How simply terrifying!”

  “My God, John! What an awful experience! The police said it was robbery?”

  “So did The New York Times. Guess that makes it official.”

  “I didn’t see anything in The Times,” stated Bernie firmly.

  “It was only a few lines near the back. We’ll get better coverage in the local paper next week.”

  “I’ve never heard of any robbery like that,” said Leila. “I wouldn’t settle for that, I really wouldn’t.”

  Bernie looked at her. “I don’t know. It’s actually pretty smart. No identification, no harm to anyone.”

  “What I don’t understand is why they didn’t just leave us in the garage.” Ali turned to her husband. It was a question he hadn’t answered satisfactorily.

  “Did the police say why?” asked Bernie.

  “They said the gas was a low-yield variety. The thieves didn’t want Ali or the kids to come to and see them. Very professional.”

  “Very scary,” Leila said. “How did the kids take it?”

  “Ray’s a neighborhood hero, of course,” said Ali. “Janet’s still not sure what happened.”

  “Where is Ray?” Bernie pointed to a package in the hall. “I hope he hasn’t outgrown model airplanes. That’s one of those remote-control things.”

  “He’ll love it,” said Ali. “He’s in the basement, I think. John’s turning it over to him.…”

  “No, he’s outside. In the pool.” Tanner realized that his interruption, his sharp correction of Ali, caused Bernie to look at him. Even Ali was startled by the abruptness of his statement.

  So be it, thought Tanner. Let them all know the father was aware, every second, of the whereabouts of his own.

  The dog began barking in front of the house; the sound of a car could be heard in the driveway. Alice walked to the window.

  “It’s Dick and Ginny. And Ray’s not in the pool,” she added, smiling at John. “He’s in front saying hello.”

  “He must have heard the car,” said Leila for no apparent reason.

  Tanner wondered why she made the remark; it was as if she were defending him. He went to the front door and opened it. “Come on in, son. Some other friends of yours are here.”

  When he saw the Ostermans, the boy’s eyes lit up. The Ostermans never arrived empty-handed. “Hello, Aunt Leila, Uncle Bernie!” Raymond Tanner, age twelve, walked into the arms of Leila and then shook hands manfully, shyly, with Bernie.

  “We brought you a little something. Actually your buddy Merv suggested it.” Bernie crossed to the hall and picked up the package. “Hope you like it.”

  “Thank you very much.” The boy took the gift and went into the dining room to unwrap it.

  Virginia Tremayne came in, the picture of cool sensuality. She was dressed in a man-styled shirt with multicolored stripes and a tight knit skirt which accentuated the movements of her body. There were women in Saddle Valley who resented Ginny’s appearance, but they weren’t in these rooms. Ginny was a good friend.

  “I told Dick you called Wednesday,” she said to Tanner, “but he says you never reached him. The poor lamb’s been holed up in a conference suite with some awful merger people from Cincinnati or Cleveland or somewhere.… Leila, darling! Bernie, love!” Ginny pecked Tanner’s cheek and choreographed herself past him.

  Richard Tremayne came in. He was watching Tanner and what he saw obviously pleased him.

  Tanner, on the other hand, felt the look and whipped his head around too quickly. Tremayne didn’t have time to shift his eyes away. The news director recognized in the lawyer’s stare the look of a doctor studying a medical chart.

  For a split second both men silently, unwillingly, acknowledged the tension. And then it passed, as it had passed with the Ostermans. Neither man dared sustain it.

  “Hey, John! Sorry I didn’t get your message. Ginny mentioned something legal.”

  “I thought you might have read about it.”

  “What, for God’s sake?”

  “We didn’t get much coverage in the New York papers, but wait’ll you read next Monday’s weekly. We’ll be celebrities.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “We were robbed Wednesday. Robbed and kidnapped and chloroformed and God knows what else!”

  “You’re joking!

  “The hell he is!” Osterman walked into the hallway. “How are you, Dick?”

  “Bernie! How are you, buddy?” The men grasped hands, but Tremayne could not seem to take his attention from John Tanner.

  “Did you hear what he said? Did you hear that? What happened, for Christ’s sake? I’ve been in town since Tuesday. Didn’t even have time to get home.”

  “We’ll tell you all about it. Later. Let me get your drinks.” Tanner walked away rapidly. He couldn’t fault Tremayne’s reaction. The lawyer was not only shocked by what he’d heard, he was frightened. So much so that he had to make clear he had been gone since Tuesday.

  Tanner made drinks for the Tremaynes and then went into the kitchen and looked out pa
st his pool to the edge of the woods. Although there was no one in sight, he knew the men were there. With binoculars, with radios, probably with tiny speakers which magnified conversations taking place in any section of his house.

  “Hey, John, I wasn’t kidding!” It was Tremayne walking into the kitchen. “Honest to God, I didn’t know anything about it. About Wednesday, I mean. Why the hell didn’t you reach me?”

  “I tried. I even called a number on Long Island. Oyster Bay, I think.”

  “Oh, shit! You know what I mean! You or Ali should have told Ginny. I’d have left the conference, you know that!”

  “It’s over with. Here’s your drink.” Tremayne lifted the glass to his lips. He could drink any of them under any table.

  “You can’t leave it like that. Why did you call me in the first place?”

  Tanner, stupidly, wasn’t prepared for the question.

  “I … I didn’t like the way the police handled it.”

  “The police? Fat-cap MacAuliff?”

  “I never talked to Captain MacAuliff.”

  “Didn’t you give a statement?”

  “Yes … yes, I did. To Jenkins and McDermott.”

  “Where the hell was old law’n’order himself?”

  “I don’t know. He wasn’t there.”

  “Okay, Mac wasn’t there. You say Jenkins and McDermott handled it. Ali told me they were the ones who found you …”

  “Yes. Yes, that’s what I was pissed-off about.”

  “What?”

  “I just didn’t like the way they handled it. At least I didn’t at the time. I’ve cooled it now. I was hot then, that’s why I tried to reach you.”

  “What were you figuring? Police negligence? Abridged rights? What?”

  “I don’t know, Dick! I just panicked, that’s all. When you panic you want a lawyer.”

  “I don’t. I want a drink.” Tremayne held Tanner’s eyes. Tanner blinked—as a small boy defeated in a game of stare.

  “It’s over with. Let’s go back inside.”

  “Maybe we ought to talk later. Maybe you have some kind of case and I don’t see it.”

  Tanner shrugged, knowing that Dick didn’t really want to talk later at all. The lawyer was frightened, and his fear arrested his professional instinct to probe. As he walked away, Tanner had the feeling that Tremayne was telling the truth about one aspect of Wednesday afternoon. He hadn’t been there himself.

  But did he know who had been?

  By six, the Cardones still hadn’t arrived. No one asked why; the hour passed quickly and if anyone was concerned he hid it well. At ten minutes past, Tanner’s eyes were drawn to a car driving slowly past his house. It was the Saddle Valley taxi, the sun causing intermittent, sharp flashes off the black enamel. In the rear window of the automobile he saw Joe Cardone’s face for a moment. Joe was making sure all the guests had arrived. Or were still there, perhaps.

  Forty-five minutes later the Cardones’ Cadillac pulled into the driveway. When they entered the house it was obvious that Joe had had several drinks. Obvious because Joe was not a drinker, he didn’t really approve of alcohol, and his voice was just a degree louder than it might have been.

  “Bernie! Leila! Welcome to the heart of the eastern establishment!”

  Betty Cardone, prim, stoutish, Anglican Betty, properly added to her husband’s enthusiasm and the four of them exchanged embraces.

  “Betty, you look adorable,” said Leila. “Joe, my God, Joe! How can a man look so healthy?… Bernie built a gym and look what I got!”

  “Don’t you knock my Bernie!” said Joe, his arm around Osterman’s shoulder.

  “You tell her, Joe.” Bernie moved towards Cardone’s wife and asked about the children.

  Tanner started towards the kitchen, meeting Ali in the hallway. She carried a plate of hors d’oeuvres.

  “Everything’s ready. We can eat whenever we want, so I’ll sit down for a while.… Get me a drink, will you, dear?”

  “Sure. Joe and Betty are here.”

  Ali laughed. “I gathered that … What’s the matter, darling? You look funny.”

  “No, nothing. I was just thinking I’d better call the studio.”

  Ali looked at her husband. “Please, Everybody’s here now. Our best friends. Let’s have fun. Forget about Wednesday, please, Johnny.”

  Tanner leaned over the tray of hors d’oeuvres and kissed her. “You’re dramatizing,” he said, remembering Fassett’s admonition. “I really do have to call the studio.”

  In the kitchen, Tanner walked again to the window. It was a little after seven o’clock and the sun had gone down behind the tall trees in the woods. Shadows lay across the backyard lawn and the pool. And beyond the shadows were Fassett’s men.

  That was the important thing.

  As Ali had said, they were all there now. The best of friends.

  The buffet of curry, with a dozen side dishes, was Ali’s usual triumph. The wives asked the usual questions and Ali slighty embossed the culinary answers—as usual. The men fell into the normal arguments about the relative merits of the various baseball teams and, in between, Bernie revealed further the humorous—and extraordinary—working methods of Hollywood television.

  While the women cleared out the dining room, Tremayne took the opportunity to press Tanner on the robbery. “What the hell was it last Wednesday? Level with us. I don’t buy the burglary story.”

  “Why not?” asked Tanner.

  “It doesn’t make sense.”

  “Nobody uses gas on anybody,” added Cardone. “Blackjacks, blindfolds, a shot in the head, maybe. Not gas.”

  “Advanced thinking, perhaps. I’d rather it was a harmless gas than a blackjack.”

  “Johnny.” Osterman lowered his voice and looked toward the dining room. Betty came out the kitchen door and began removing several dishes and smiled. He smiled back. “Are you working on something that might make you enemies?”

  “I imagine I always am in one way or another.”

  “I mean something like the San Diego thing.”

  Joe Cardone watched Osterman carefully, wondering if he might elaborate. San Diego had been a Mafia operation.

  “Not that I know of. I’ve got men digging in a lot of areas, but nothing like that. At least I don’t think so. Most of my best people have a free rein.… Are you trying to tie in Wednesday with something at work?”

  “It hadn’t struck you?” asked Tremayne.

  “Hell, no! I’m a professional newsman. Do you get worried if you’re working on a sticky case?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “I read about that show of yours last Sunday.” Cardone sat down on the couch next to Tremayne. “Ralph Ashton has friends in high places.”

  “That’s crazy.”

  “Not necessarily.” Cardone had trouble with “necessarily.” “I’ve met him. He’s a vindictive man.”

  “He’s not crazy,” interjected Osterman. “No, it wouldn’t be anything like that.”

  “Why should it be anything, period? Anything but a robbery?” Tanner lit a cigarette and tried to watch the faces of the three men.

  “Because, Goddamn it, it’s not a natural way to get robbed,” exclaimed Cardone.

  “Oh?” Tremayne looked at Cardone, sitting next to him on the sofa. “Are you an expert on robbery?”

  “No more than you are, counselor,” said Joe.

  18

  There was something artificial about the start of the weekend; Ali felt it. Perhaps it was that the voices were louder than usual, the laughter more pronounced.

  Usually, when Bernie and Leila arrived, they all began calmly, catching up with each family’s affairs. Conversations about this or that child, this or that career decision—these always occupied the first few hours. Her husband called it the Osterman syndrome. Bernie and Leila brought out the best in all of them. Made them talk, really talk with one another.

  Yet no one had volunteered a single important personal experience. No one ha
d brought up a single vital part of their recent lives—except, of course, the horrible thing on Wednesday afternoon.

  On the other hand, Ali realized, she was still concerned about her husband—concerned about his staying home from the office, his short temper, his erratic behavior since Wednesday afternoon. Maybe she was imagining things about everybody else.

  The other women had rejoined their husbands; Alice had put away the left-overs. The children were in bed now. And she wouldn’t listen to any more talk from Betty or Ginny about maids. She could afford a maid! They could afford a maid! But she wouldn’t have one!

  Her father had had maids. “Disciples” he called them. “Disciples” who cleaned and swept and brought-in and …

  Her mother had called them “maids.”

  Ali stopped thinking and wondered if she’d had a drink she couldn’t handle. She turned on the faucet and dabbed her face with cold water. Joe Cardone walked through the kitchen door.

  “The boss-man told me if I wanted a drink, I pour it myself. Don’t tell me where, I’ve been here before.”

  “Go right ahead, Joe. Do you see everything you need?”

  “Sure do. Lovely gin; beautiful tonic.… Hey, what’s the matter? You been crying?”

  “Why should I be? I just splashed water on my face.”

  “Your cheeks are all wet.”

  “Water on the face does that.”

  Joe put down the bottle of tonic and approached her. “Are you and Johnny in any trouble?… This Wednesday afternoon … okay, it was a crazy type of robbery, Johnny told me … but if it was anything else, you’d let me know, wouldn’t you? I mean, if he’s playing around with sharks you wouldn’t keep it a secret from me, would you?”

  “Sharks?”

  “Loan-sharks. I’ve got clients at Standard Mutual. Even a little stock. I know the company.… You and Johnny live very well, but sixty thousand dollars after taxes isn’t that much any more.”

  Alice Tanner caught her breath. “John does very well!”

  “That’s relative. In my opinion, John’s in that big middle mess. He can’t take over and he won’t let go of his little kingdom to try for anything better. That’s his business, and yours. But I want you to tell him for me.… I’m his friend. His good friend. And I’m clean. Absolutely clean. If he needs anything, you tell him to call me, all right?”