Sometimes on a weekend when Davey was free to get away, Martin would send the company plane to pick up the Davises and bring them to Westchester for country sports or to New York for the theater, to which he was always able at the very last minute to procure the best seats. He loved putting his ample houses to use, and they were rarely empty of guests.
One fall afternoon during Thanksgiving vacation, while Davey and Sue were at the Central Park Zoo, the little girls, now three, were playing in Connie’s Fifth Avenue drawing room while their mothers, along with Thérèse’s Scottish nurse, watched over them. Martin had been right. Thérèse was like Melissa, pale, small sized, and serious. The child looked up at her now out of Martin’s brown-gold eyes, but unlike his, hers were wistful. And within Connie two feelings struggled with each other, resentment and also a fierce, determined love. She must protect Thérèse, although against what, she could not really say, except that she would teach her how to take care of herself.
Lara’s child was chuckling over a ball that kept rolling out of reach. Two large dimples appeared in her cheeks; her red-gold hair curved loosely about her charming face. And Connie wondered what Lara would be feeling if Thérèse were hers.… A sudden restlessness came over her. Lara could sit all afternoon with the children, but Connie needed to move.
“Do you still feel like going to the galleries with me?”
“I wouldn’t mind. What are you looking for?”
“There are a few things I’ve had my eye on. I’d like to see them again before the bidding tomorrow.”
“I can’t see where you have room for one more thing in here.”
“These are for the country place. Or maybe for Palm Beach. We’ve gotten rid of a few awful things that Doris put there, and now we need replacements. I’ll tell you something,” Connie said, “half the fun is in the doing. I’m really sorry that this apartment’s finally finished.”
After four million dollars’ worth of improvements it was magnificent. And she looked around at the moss-green antique tapestries, the gilded moldings, and the coral silk that festooned the windows. There was no drawing room in the city, none that she had been in, and she had been in the best, that could surpass it.
“There’s a Cézanne that I love,” she said. “But I’m not sure about it. Of course, it’s a fortune, so Martin will have to see it first. Who knows? He just might not like it.” She stood up. “Shall we go? Mrs. Dodd’s going to take these girls for their naps, anyway.”
Sculpture on pedestals and paintings on walls filled the long galleries. Furniture and bibelots, antique treasures from every continent, filled lofty rooms. Lara followed Connie, who was examining and making notes.
“My decorator told me to look at a table for the Westchester house. It’s to stand behind the sofa in the yellow sitting room. Here it is. Chippendale. It should go for about a hundred thousand, he says. That’s quite a lot, isn’t it?”
Lara was silent.
“Of course, it is a marvelous piece. Look at the pierced fretwork, Lara. Well, I’m not going higher than ninety. These decorators always exaggerate. Still, maybe I ought to consider—oh, for goodness’ sake, what are you doing here?” she cried to Eddy, who had just appeared around the corner.
“Same thing you’re doing here,” he replied. “Looking to buy.”
“Buy what?”
“A Corot. A jewel. I’ve been wanting one, and this one is a treasure. Want to see it?”
Eddy had become a connoisseur, and not of art only. He knew about wines and horses. He knew where the finest chefs were to be found, where to get the best pedigreed Shar Pei, and how to choose a diamond. Connie was sometimes in awe of his accomplishments.
“Lara,” she said, “are you aware that our brother is a Renaissance man?”
The three went back to where the paintings were ranged. Two or three separate estates had been assembled for this sale, so that the display was varied. When they passed a wall of buttocks, of various other naked organs, and unattractive bodies of both sexes in bold embrace, Eddy grimaced.
“What they do is their business, and I don’t care, but I sure as hell wouldn’t pay to look at them on my walls!”
Connie peered at the name. “He’s one of the rising stars. You could buy one as an investment and keep it turned to the wall in your attic until the right time to sell.”
“You’re laughing, but I’ll tell you, I’ve been reading Barron’s charts of auction prices, and there seems to be no limit, even for stuff like this. Maybe especially for stuff like this. Seriously, I’ve been going in for something new—to me, at any rate. Russian antiques. You can mix them with practically anything, and they add sparkle. What do you say, Lara?”
“I don’t know anything much about art,” Lara answered. “We don’t see much where we live, do we? We were at the National Gallery last year when we went to Washington for Davey’s birthday. I think it’s so wonderful to have those precious things in museums where everybody can look at them.” Then she flushed, as if she had become aware of the unintended rebuke. And making quick amends, she said, “Do let’s see the Corot. Where is it?”
“I’ve changed my mind. And I don’t want to go near it, or I’ll weaken again and buy it.”
“But if you wanted it so badly, why not get it?” Connie said.
Eddy’s eyes wandered, searching the room. He looked vague. “I don’t know. I’m sort of cutting back a little. A temporary blip in the cash flow.”
Connie was astonished. “You? Cutting back?”
“Not really. Just temporary, I said. No room for a Corot this particular month, that’s all.” He brightened and flashed a smile, showing his fine teeth. “There’ll be other things coming along next month.” He looked at his watch. “I’ll have to be going. Got an appointment. But say, why don’t we all get together and make a date for a long weekend in Bermuda, or anywhere?”
“Not a long weekend,” Lara told him, “but a short one sounds possible. Davey’s got to work, you know.”
“He works too hard. He should get away more often before he tires himself out.”
“You look tired yourself, Eddy,” Lara said.
He straightened up. He puffed his tie and smiled again. “Do I? Well, it’s nothing that a good night’s sleep won’t fix. Hey, I’m late. Be in touch.”
“He really doesn’t look well,” Lara insisted as soon as he was out of hearing.
Connie shrugged. “I don’t know. The other night Martin thought that he looked harried. But Martin can’t figure him out, anyway. He likes Eddy, although he can’t understand how he’s made money so fast. Of course, Martin came up the long road himself.”
“I’m worried about Eddy. The way he acted just now—”
“He’s probably been up all night. They live a kind of crazy life, if you ask me. Disco half the night, horseback riding—they’ve got a thing about dawn riding on the beach. Now Pam says he wants to buy a sloop, wants to get into the Bermuda races. He thinks Martin should get one too.” Connie giggled. “Can you imagine Martin tugging on ropes in a rough sea? Goodness knows what Eddy will think up next. I can’t imagine. Can you?”
No, Lara could not. So much of what she saw, in both Connie’s and Eddy’s lives, was far outside of her ken. And it always seemed excessive, regardless of its propriety. However, to each his own, and she would not judge.
“I can’t imagine, either, Connie,” she said. “It’s all foreign to me.”
Eddy strode rapidly across Madison Avenue to his office. He had dawdled too long at the gallery. Damn, he’d had his heart set on that Corot! It was such a beautiful thing. But he wasn’t in the mood. Face it, he told himself, you wouldn’t have any real joy in it, the way you feel right now.
Bad luck, that’s all it was. It had always worked before. Or almost always. And it would have to be those folks out in Ohio who got caught. You never knew with the IRS. Dealing with them was like sticking your hand into a grab bag. You could come across a commonsense, reasonable examine
r, or, just as easily, some troublemaking nitpicker. The law was whatever the person who happened to be interpreting it said it was.
Well, but Abner Saville would know. Abner was one of the smartest accountants in the city. And Eddy hastened his steps toward his office, where Abner, in his calm, rational way, would surely quiet his jangling nerves.
“You sounded awfully upset when you asked me to come over,” Abner began as soon as he entered the room. “You worried me.”
“Did I? Well, I guess I was a little upset. It’s not like me, is it? But I’ve had a couple of nasty telephone calls in these last few days, that’s why, and I’m not used to stuff like that.”
Abner’s black eyebrows rose in mild surprise. “Nasty? What about?”
“I sold a bunch of tax shelters a few years back when I was in Ohio. My sister’s husband has a business with ten or twelve stockholders, all his friends. And they all bought limited partnerships from me. Now it seems the IRS is going to disallow the deductions.” Eddy sighed. “God damn, the deal was beautiful too. Ten to one.”
The black eyebrows rose higher into a troubled, puckered forehead. A low whistle came from Saville’s lips.
“Ten to one, Eddy! What the devil! They can’t have been real estate partnerships.”
“No. Lithographs.”
“Oh, for God’s sake! I could have told you that would never wash.”
“It has washed.”
“Yes? How many times.”
“Well, once. It’s been five years, and not a word from the government.”
“So it slipped by once. A fluke. You should never have inveigled people into buying such garbage. I have to tell you so.”
“Garbage isn’t a nice word, Abner.” Eddy’s tone was sorrowful. “And inveigled isn’t either.”
“Maybe not, but you’re a most persuasive salesman, Eddy. And you’re also a keen investor. You should have known that deductions like those make no financial sense and that the government was bound to catch up with them.”
This was not the comfort that he had expected to receive from Abner.
Next Abner said, “I note that you don’t personally invest in such stuff.”
“No. I make my profits from the commissions.” And as Abner offered no comment, he protested, “Nobody’s done as much successful business in shelters as I have, and the whole city knows it.”
“I’m afraid the government knows it too.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Eddy, the IRS is starting to go after fake losses in a big, big way. And you are a most conspicuous purveyor of fake losses.”
“They’re not ‘fake’ losses!”
“Eddy, you know better. You’ve been my client for a long time, a very important one, and a very good friend besides. It’s no pleasure for me, I assure you, to disagree with you.”
“Yes,” Eddy grumbled, “everything’s fine when it’s fine. Then everybody loves you. But let something go wrong once, and it’s another story.”
“Tell me about the phone calls.”
“Oh, these people are in a frenzy. One woman called me a fraud and started to cry, another said his accountant told him he would never have let him buy in if he had been consulted and that it was a disgrace, and so on and so on. A bunch of hysterics. And as I said, unfortunately, they’re all friends of my sister and her husband. It’s a small-town affair—they know each other inside out, they know what everybody had for breakfast yesterday.”
There was a silence, during which Eddy felt the pounding of his heart; then the prime question burst.
“All I want to know is: Can they sue me for anything?”
Abner grimaced. “No, it wasn’t fraud on your part. You just gave them terrible, terrible advice. But it surely doesn’t do much for your reputation, Eddy, when you go peddling stuff like that.”
“Fortunately, they’re all far away in Ohio. No, come, I don’t mean that. I’m really sorry for them all, sorry it turned out badly.”
“It will be bad, all right. Back taxes, penalties, and interest besides. No fun.”
“But they can’t sue me, you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.” Abner stood up. “But before I leave, I’d like to give you some advice, Eddy.”
Momentarily more cheerful, Eddy managed a smile. “What? Again?”
“Yes, again. I’m not happy about your tax deferrals. Some of your figures puzzle me. They’re on the edge. I need to go over your books very, very carefully during the next few months. I advise you to stop playing at brinkmanship, Eddy. You know what I mean. A word to the wise, and all that.”
Saville gave with one hand and took away with the other. It was a vast relief to know that he wasn’t going to be sued. But the talk of “brinkmanship” left him with a feeling of insecurity, compounded with a certain resentment at being challenged. Arriving in the outer hall at home, he did not announce himself with his customary signal whistle.
Pam greeted him with a kiss. “Smell the paella? That’s your dinner. Crabs, chicken, ham, fish, and plenty of garlic. I think we’ve got ourselves a marvelous cook at last. Why, what’s the matter? You look bushed.”
He wished people wouldn’t always comment on his appearance, so he answered merely, “I’m fine, but it was a long day.”
A man didn’t bring his troubles home with him, especially when there was nothing a wife could do about them. It would be like Pop’s thumping heavily up the stairs with yet another burden of bad news. Remembering, Eddy shuddered.
They were having their after-dinner coffee when the telephone rang. Pam answered.
“It’s Davey. He wants to talk to you.”
Eddy stifled a sigh. “I’ll take it in the den. Please hang up.”
Anticipating another long, defensive explanation, he settled into an armchair and cheerfully covering his dread, began, “Hello, Davey. How’s everything?”
Davey’s answer was glum. “Bad. Very bad.”
“Bad? What’s happened?”
“Eddy, let’s not play games. You know what’s happened.”
“About the partnerships, you mean? The tax examiners?”
“Every single person who bought one has been called for an audit. And every one has been told by his accountant that he doesn’t stand a chance. Not a chance.”
“Wait, hold on! I think you’re jumping at conclusions. The principals here in New York, the guys who produce the lithographs—I know they’ll put up a fight, you can bet on that. They’ve got more to lose, after all, and—”
“That’s bunk, Eddy. I myself went up to Cleveland to check with a friend, a fellow I knew at school, who works for the IRS, and that’s bunk.”
Eddy’s first thought was: He went to Cleveland before he even talked to me; he has no confidence in me. His next thought was: What does he want of me now?
The accusing voice grew louder as Davey resumed. “My friend Tony will lose the whole inheritance from his aunt and more besides because, to make things worse, he borrowed from his cousin—hell, the details don’t matter. But his cousin’s not speaking to him, and Tony’s not speaking to me.”
“That’s ridiculous. Why should he be sore at you?”
“I’m the one who recommended your judgment, remember?”
What does he want of me? An apology? Well, all right, he’s entitled to one, if that’s what he wants.
“Davey, I’m sorry as hell,” Eddy said softly. “God knows my intentions were of the best. But that doesn’t do anyone much good, I know. And still you have to admit that there are risks in any investment, whether it’s a horse, or a house, or—anything.” He finished stumbling, pushed as he was into an unfamiliar defensiveness and resenting it.
“It seems that this was less an investment than it was a gamble. The deal was so badly structured that every man who looked at it was dumbfounded.”
“That’s a matter of opinion. I don’t happen to agree. I’ve built a reputation in this city doing deals for hundreds of millions of dollars, deal
s that your people, I don’t care who they are, never saw and never dreamed of.”
“I don’t think you should be resentful, Eddy. If anyone should be, I should. And I am resentful. Every one of my stockholders, my trusting friends, is my enemy now because of this.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Eddy repeated.
“You may think so, but that’s how it is. Lara can’t even walk into Levy’s to buy socks for the kids, she’s so ashamed to face Ben.”
Never in all their years had he known Davey to be so agitated. Davey, gone over to the attack! This thing was escalating.…
“I’m sorry. I’ve said I am. What more do you want me to do? I don’t know what else to do.”
The reply was cold. “Don’t you?”
“No, I don’t.”
“I know what I would do if I were in your position.”
“Suppose you tell me, then.”
“If I had the wealth you are reputed to have, I would make it up to those people.”
Eddy jumped in the chair. “What? You can’t mean that.”
“I mean it. I most surely do.”
“Well, if you do, that’s the most goddamned stupid thing I’ve heard in a long time. You expect me to reach into my own pocket? For God’s sake, Davey! Look here, they made an investment, it went sour, and that’s too bad. I have no legal obligation to any of those people, and if they have any such ideas—”
“I’m talking about a moral obligation. When a widow puts her trust in you, and at my recommendation—”
“Don’t preach, Davey. Get real. I’ve always admired your principles, but there comes a point when they become unreal. Do you think I have no principles? It’s naive to—”
“So you don’t intend to do anything. Just let them all down. That’s it, is it? You led them to the water, and you’re going to let them drown.”
Oh, my God, what a day! That weepy widow, and Abner, and now Davey’s loud complaints ringing in his ears. Eddy’s nerves, those steady, healthy nerves that so seldom even made their presence known to his body, were quivering.