Master of the Game

"What can you tell me about George Mellis’s wife?" he asked Harley.

"Alexandra? She’s lovely. I’ve taken care of her and her sister, Eve, since they were babies." He chuckled. "You hear about identical twins, but you never really appreciate what that means until you see those two together."

Peter asked slowly, "They’re identical twins?"

"Nobody could ever tell them apart. They used to play all kinds of pranks when they were little tykes. I remember once when Eve was sick and supposed to get a shot, I somehow wound up giving it to Alexandra." He took a sip of his drink. "It’s amazing. Now they’re grown up, and I still can’t tell one from the other."

Peter thought about that. "You said Alexandra came to see you because she was feeling suicidal."

"That’s right."

"John, how do you know it was Alexandra?"

"That’s easy," Dr. Harley said. "Eve still has a little scar on her forehead from the surgery after the beating George Mellis gave her."

So that was a blind alley. "I see."

"How are you getting along with Mellis?"

Peter hesitated, wondering how much he could say. "I haven’t reached him. He’s hiding behind a facade. I’m trying to break it down."

"Be careful, Peter. If you want my opinion, the man’s insane." He was remembering Eve lying in bed, in a pool of blood.

"Both sisters are heir to a large fortune, aren’t they?" Peter asked.

Now it was John Harley’s turn to hesitate. "Well, it’s private family business," he said, "but the answer is no. Their grandmother cut off Eve without a dime. Alexandra inherits everything."

I’m worried about Alexandra, Dr. Templeton. Her depression seems to be worse. She keeps talking about drowning. I couldn’t stand it if anything happened to her.

It had sounded to Peter Templeton like a classic setup for murder – except that George Mellis was the heir to a large fortune of his own. There would be no reason for him to kill anyone for money. You’re imagining things, Peter chided himself.

A woman was drowning in the cold sea, and he was trying to swim to her side, but the waves were too high, and she kept sinking under them and rising again. Hold on, he shouted. I’m coming. He tried to swim faster, but his arms and legs seemed leaden, and he watched as she went down again. When he reached the place where she had disappeared, he looked around and saw an enormous white shark bearing down on him. Peter Templeton woke up. He turned on the lights and sat up in bed, thinking about his dream.

Early the following morning, he telephoned Detective Lieutenant Nick Pappas.

Nick Pappas was a huge man, six feet four inches and weighing almost three hundred pounds. As any number of criminals could testify, not an ounce of it was fat. Lieutenant Pappas was with the homicide task force in the "silk stocking" district in Manhattan. Peter had met him several years earlier while testifying as a psychiatric expert in a murder trial, and he and Pappas had become friends. Pappas’s passion was chess, and the two met once a month to play.

Nick answered the phone. "Homicide. Pappas."

"It’s Peter, Nick."

"My friend! How go the mysteries of the mind?"

"Still trying to unravel them, Nick. How’s Tina?"

"Fantastic. What can I do for you?"

"I need some information. Do you still have connections in Greece?"

"Do I!" Pappas moaned. "I got a hundred relatives over there, and they all need money. The stupid part is I send it to them. Maybe you oughta analyze me."

"Too late," Peter told him. "You’re a hopeless case."

"That’s what Tina keeps telling me. What information do you need?"

"Have you ever heard of George Mellis?"

"The food family?"

"Yes."

"He’s not exactly on my beat, but I know who he is. What about him?"

"I’d like to know if he has any money."

"You must be kiddin’. His family – "

"I mean money of his own."

"I’ll check it out, Peter, but it’ll be a waste of time. The Mel-lises are rich-rich."

"By the way, if you have anyone question George Mellis’s father, tell him to handle it gently. The old man’s had several heart attacks."

"Okay. I’ll put it out on the wire."

Peter remembered the dream. "Nick, would you mind making a telephone call instead? Today?"

There was a different note in Pappas’s voice. "Is there anything you’d like to tell me, Peter?"

"There’s nothing to tell. I just want to satisfy my curiosity. Charge the phone call to me."

"Damn right I will – and the dinner you’re gonna buy me when you tell me what the fuck this is all about."

"Deal." Peter Templeton hung up. He felt a little better.

Kate Blackwell was not feeling well. She was at her desk talking on the telephone when she felt the sudden attack. The room started to spin, and she gripped her desk tightly until everything righted itself again.

Brad came into the office. He took one look at her pale face and asked, "Are you all right, Kate?"

She let go of the desk. "Just a little dizzy spell. Nothing important."

"How long since you’ve had a medical checkup?"

"I don’t have time for that nonsense, Brad."

"Find time. I’m going to have Annette call and make an appointment for you with John Harley."

"Bloody hell, Brad. Stop fussing, will you please?"

"Will you go see him?"

"If it will get you off my back."

The following morning Peter Templeton’s secretary said, "Detective Pappas is calling on line one."