Master of the Game

Peter picked up the phone. "Hello, Nick."

"I think you and I better have a little talk, my friend."

Peter felt a sudden anxiety stirring in him. "Did you talk to someone about Mellis?"

"I talked to Old Man Mellis himself. First of all, he’s never had a heart attack in his life, and second, he said as far as he’s concerned, his son George is dead. He cut him off without a dime a few years ago. When I asked why, the old man hung up on me. Then I called one of my old buddies at headquarters in Athens. Your George Mellis is a real beauty. The police know him well. He gets his kicks beating up girls and boys. His last victim before he left Greece was a fifteen-year-old male prostitute. They found his body in a hotel, and tied him in with Mellis. The old man bought somebody off, and Georgie boy got his ass kicked out of Greece. For good. Does that satisfy you?"

It did more than satisfy Peter; it terrified him. "Thanks, Nick. I owe you one."

"Oh, no, pal. I think I’d like to collect on this one. If your boy’s on the loose again, you’d better tell me."

"I will as soon as I can, Nick. Give my love to Tina." And Peter hung up. He had a lot to think about. George Mellis was coming in at noon.

Dr. John Harley was in the middle of an examination when his receptionist said, "Mrs. George Mellis is here to see you, Doctor. She has no appointment, and I told her your schedule is – "

John Harley said, "Bring her in the side door and put her in my office."

Her face was paler than the last time, and the shadows under her eyes were darker. "I’m sorry to barge in on you like this, John, but – "

"That’s all right, Alexandra. What’s the problem?"

"Everything. I – I feel awful."

"Have you been taking the Wellbutrin regularly?"

"Yes."

"And you still feel depressed?"

Her hands were clenched. "It’s worse than depression. It’s – I feel desperate. I feel as though I have no control over anything anymore. I can’t stand myself. I’m afraid I’m – I’m going to do something terrible."

Dr. Harley said reassuringly, "There’s nothing physically wrong with you. I’ll stake my reputation on that. It’s all emotional. I’m going to switch you to another drug, Nomifensine. It’s very effective. You should notice a change within a few days." He wrote out a prescription and handed it to her. "If you don’t feel better by Friday, I want you to call me. I may want to send you to a psychiatrist."

Thirty minutes later, back in her apartment, Eve removed the pale foundation cream from her face and wiped away the smudges under her eyes.

The pace was quickening.

George Mellis sat opposite Peter Templeton, smiling and confident.

"How are you feeling today?"

"Much better, Doctor. These few sessions we’ve had have helped more than you know."

"Have they? In what way?"

"Oh, just having someone to talk to. That’s the principle the Catholic Church is built on, isn’t it? Confession?"

"I’m glad you feel the sessions have been helpful. Is your wife feeling better?"

George frowned. "I’m afraid not. She saw Dr. Harley again, but she’s talking about suicide more and more. I may take her away somewhere. I think she needs a change."

It seemed to Peter that there was an ominous foreboding in those words. Could it be his imagination?

"Greece is a very relaxing place," Peter said casually. "Have you taken her there to meet your family?"

"Not yet. They’re dying to meet Alex." He grinned. "The only problem is that every time Pop and I get together, he keeps trying to talk me into coming back and taking over the family business."

And at that moment, Peter knew that Alexandra Mellis was in real danger.

Long after George Mellis had left, Peter Templeton sat in his office going over his notes. Finally, he reached for the telephone and dialed a number.

"I want you to do me a favor, John. Can you find out where George Mellis took his wife on their honeymoon?"

"I can tell you right now. I gave them some shots before they left. They went to Jamaica."

I have a friend who beats up whores… I remember once we were in Jamaica together. This little black whore took him up to a hotel room, and after she got his pants off, she told him she wanted more money… He beat the shit out of her. I’ll bet she won’t try that on anyone again.

Still, there was no proof that George Mellis was planning to kill his wife. John Harley had verified that Alexandra Mellis was suicidal. It’s not my problem, Peter tried to tell himself. But he knew it was his problem.

Peter Templeton had had to work his way through school. His father had been the caretaker of a college in a small town in Nebraska, and even with a scholarship, Peter had not been able to afford to go to one of the Ivy League medical schools. He had been graduated from the University of Nebraska with honors and had gone on to study psychiatry. He had been successful from the start. His secret was that he genuinely liked people; he cared what happened to them. Alexandra Mellis was not a patient, yet he was involved with her. She was a missing part of the puzzle, and meeting her face-to-face might help him solve it. He took out George Mellis’s file, found his home number and telephoned Alexandra Mellis. A maid summoned her to the phone.

"Mrs. Mellis, my name is Peter Templeton. I’m – "

"Oh, I know who you are, Doctor. George has told me about you."

Peter was surprised. He would have bet that George Mellis would not have mentioned him to his wife. "I wondered if we could meet. Perhaps lunch?"

"Is it about George? Is something wrong?"