"No, no, not at all. I've completed a report and following your instructions for hard facts as soon as possible, I thought I would give you the highlights verbally. During the past week, your sister was in Boston twice. She checked into the Admiral's Inn, which is just north of the city, and signed her real name."
"Belinda is not a spy," I reminded him. "She's my sister."
"Yes, of course, but when people conduct clandestine affairs, they usually take some basic precautions."
"Not my sister," I muttered. That was painfully true now, I thought.
"Yes, I see. Continuing," he went on in a rather nasal tone, "she was soon visited by a prominent Province-town attorney." He paused. "Are you sure it's all right to give you this over the phone?"
"Please finish this," I snapped. "I have a desk covered with business that cries for my immediate attention."
"Yes, I'm sorry. You surely know the gentleman to whom I refer, Nelson Childs. I think he was recently appointed to a judgeship. He remained at the location with your sister for nearly three hours the first time and a little more than four the second," he added.
What could possibly keep Nelson there that long? I wondered. It surely couldn't have been Belinda's conversation. Were men really that easily amused? Making love for three or four hours didn't seem a possibility to me either. Even with Samuel's groping and wet, sloppy kisses, we never had sex more than ten or fifteen minutes at the most. What could Nelson possibly do with Belinda for three or four hours?
"These meetings between the two are somehow confirmed?" I followed.
"I took some pictures of him entering and leaving." "You took his picture?"
"From some distance, of course," he quickly explained. "I wasn't seen, I'm sure. It's what I do for a living, Mrs. Logan."
"I'd like those pictures today," I said quickly.
"Very well. I did some discreet questioning, Mrs. Logan. These . . meetings . . . were not the first.
They've met at this location a number of times before these two occasions. I have certain indisputable evidence and . . ."
"All right. There is no need to go into any more detail over the phone. However, I don't want you coming to the office," I told him and gave him directions for our rendezvous in two hours. When we met he handed me a packet that contained detailed information and the pictures and I gave him his check.
"Thank you," I said. "I have no more need for your services."
He nodded, gazed at me for a moment with a little curiosity and then left. I felt dirty using him. Despite his polite ways and businesslike manner, his profession and purpose seemed as sleazy as a peeping Tom who had turned his depravity into his life's work. I shuddered at what I had him do, but then I sat in my car and went through the documents.
Mr. Koson was meticulous with his details, going so far as to describe the weather conditions at the time of the assignations. Somehow he had gotten copies of the room receipts as well. He had more than a dozen in the envelope, covering a period of four months. It took my breath away. What a good liar Belinda had been, and what a better liar Nelson Childs was.
Having the confirmation in black and white as well as pictures didn't make me feel any better, any stronger, or any more complete. It left me with a stomach that resembled a washing machine, tossing and turning its contents. There was a deep emptiness in my chest as if my heart had shrunken and left a cavern echoing with the heavy thump, thump, thumps. I took deep breaths to bring in cool air and turn down the furnace under my breast. It had been one thing for Belinda to make her confession, but another to gaze at a clear color photo of Nelson lumbering along toward the entrance of the Inn, his face bright with
expectation, eager. When he left, the pictures revealed he wore the look of a satisfied, confident man, his shoulders back, his head high, pride rippling across his lips.
I returned to my office and worked as hard as I could for the remainder for the day, trying to chase back those images. Toward the end of the afternoon, Samuel stopped by to remind me that tonight was his weekly card game with his fishermen cronies down at the Wharf Ale House.
"Unless you have something else in mind for us," he added. He always added that and I always said, "No, nothing."
"I'm too tired to do anything tonight anyway," I said. "You do look down, Olivia. Aren't you feeling well?"
"I'm just tired, Samuel. I had a lot to do today. If you were here more, you would notice."
"I wish you would let me do more here, Olivia. I really do," he said in-that whiny, pleading tone of voice I had come to despise.
"We'll see," I said.
He nodded again, skepticism filling his face.
As soon as he left the office, I sat back and thought about what I would do next regarding Belinda's situation. There was no sense in putting it off, I decided. I got up to close my office door and then called Nelson's office.
"Just one moment, Mrs. Logan," his secretary said, "I'll see if he's available."
Oh, he's available, I thought and waited, my heart puttering like an outboard motor.