Roadwork - Stephen King [96]
"Not at all, instant's fine. I always drink instant. Can't tell the difference. Okay to put some papers on this table?"
"Go right ahead. Do you take cream?"
"No, just black. Black is fine." Fenner unbuttoned his topcoat but didn't take it off. He swept it under him as he sat down, as a woman will sweep her skirt so she doesn't wrinkle the back. In a man, the gesture was almost jarringly fastidious. He opened his briefcase and took out a stapled form that looked like an income tax return. He poured Fenner a cup of coffee and gave it to him.
"Thanks. Thanks very much. Join me?"
"I think I'll have a drink," he said.
"Uh-huh," Fenner said, and smiled charmingly. He sipped his coffee. "Good, very good. Hits the spot."
He made himself a tall drink and said, "Excuse me for just a minute, Mr. Fenner. I have to make a telephone call.' '
"Certainly. Of course." He sipped his coffee again and smacked his lips over it.
He went to the phone in the hall, leaving the door open. He dialed the Galloway house and Jean answered.
"It's Bart," he said, "Is Mary there, Jean?"
"She's sleeping." Jean's voice was frosty.
"Please wake her up. It's very important."
"I bet it is. I just bet. I told Lester the other night, I said: Lester, it's time we thought about an unlisted phone. And he agreed with me. We both think you've gone off your rocker, Barton Dawes, and that's the plain truth with no shellack on it. "
"I'm sorry to hear that. But I really have to-"
The upstairs extension was picked up and Mary said, "Bart?"
"Yes. Mary, has a lawyer named Fenner been out to see you? Kind of slicktalking fellow that tries to act like Jimmy Stewart?"
"No," she said. Shit, snake-eyes. Then she added, "He called on the phone." Jackpot! Fenner was standing in the doorway now, holding his coffee and sipping it calmly. The half-shy, totally cheerful, aw-shucks expression was gone now. He looked rather pained.
"Mamma, get off the extension," Mary said, and Jean Galloway hung up with a bitter snort.
"Was he asking about me?" he asked.
"Yes. "
"He talked to you after the party?"
"Yes, but I didn't tell him anything about that."
"You might have told him more than you know. He comes on like a sleepy tickhound, but he's the city council's ballcutter." He smiled at Fenner, who thinly smiled back. "You've got an appointment with him?"
"Why yes. " She sounded surprised. "But he only wants to talk about the house, Bart-"
"No, that's what he told you. He really wants to talk about me. I think these guys would like to drag me into a competency hearing."
"A what? " She sounded utterly befuddled.
"I haven't taken their money yet, ergo I must be crazy. Mary, do you remember what we talked about at Handy Andy's?"
"Bart, is that Mr. Fenner in the house?"
"Yes."
"The psychiatrist," she said dully. "I mentioned you were going to be seeing a oh, Bart, I'm sorry."
"Don't be," he said softly, and meant it. "This is going to be all right, Mary. I swear. Maybe nothing else, but this is going to be all right."
He hung up and turned to Fenner. "Want me to call Stephan Ordner?" he asked. "Vinnie Mason? I won't bother with Ron Stone or Tom Granger, they'd recognize a cheap prick like you before you even had your briefcase unsnapped. But Vinnie wouldn't and Ordner would welcome you with open arms. He's on the prod for me. "
"You needn't," Fenner said. "You've misunderstood me, Mr. Dawes. And you've apparently misunderstood my clients. There is nothing personal in this. No one is out to get you. But there has been an awareness for some time that you dislike the 784 extension. You wrote a letter to the paper last August-"
"Last August," he marveled. "You people have a clipping service, don't you?"
"Of course."
He went into a harried crouch, rolling his eyeballs fearfully. "More clippings! More lawyers! Ron, go out and snow those reporters! We have enemies everywhere. Mavis, bring me my pills!" He straightened up. "Paranoia, anyone? Christ, I thought I was bad."
"We also have a public-relations