THE TAINTED TRUST (Volume 2 of The King Trilogy)

CHAPTER 45

         Visconti telephoned Nick Benedetti, a private detective who had been enormously helpful to him in the resolution of a number of his previous and unfortunate affairs. Benedetti received the call in his Staten Island office. "Louis, baby! Good to hear from you. What's shaking?" he sang, resting his feet on his cluttered desk and flicking cigar ashes to the floor.

"I've got a job for you. You busy?"

"Never too busy for you, Louis. You know that. What've you got?"

"You know the Jets' quarterback, Brian Pyper?"

"Who the hell doesn't? I saw his picture in The Times today. Looks like he's running with a Cuban squeeze."

"I want you to follow him. Stick to him like wet underwear. I want the whole book on this dude, Nick. I want pictures. Real good ones. None of that kissy face crap. Give me skin, enough to nail him to the wall."

"This guy got something on you?"

"No. His wife does."

"You care to tell me what?"

"I'm in love with her."

"That's a lot to have on a man. I'll give it my undivided attention, Louis. Count on it."

Kerri raced through a breakfast of toast and coffee, frequently glancing at her watch. With less than enough time to avoid being late for work, she hurried from the kitchen. To her surprise and horror, she saw Brian removing his jacket in the foyer. He appeared to have recently awakened, his face unshaven, his hair ruffled, and large puffy circles sagging below his bloodshot eyes.

Brian dropped his empty night bag on the floor. "What are you doing here?" he asked with a raspy voice.

"In case you've forgotten, I live here," Kerri challenged.

"I thought you left...I phoned here at least five times and there was no answer."

"Did you phone my office?"

Brian nodded. "All they would tell me was that you were out of town."

"...I went to Vancouver for two days."

"How did you pay for the flight?" Brian asked with an antagonistic scowl.

"I put it on the credit card." Kerri anticipated a confrontation, but almost welcomed it, hoping it would clear the air.

"How much was it?" he asked, raising the decibel level of his voice.

"A little over six hundred."

Brian placed his hands on his hips and tightened his lips. "Six hundred! Where do you plan to get six hundred dollars? I'm sure as shit not going to pay for it."

"Brian, maybe instead of telling me what you aren't going to do, you should tell me what you are going to do. Maybe you could start by telling me if you're coming or going." Anger prodded her to be more specific, but instinct inhibited her.

"You really care?"

"Sure I do, and I think we should talk about what's going to happen to our marriage."

Brian smirked. "Aren't you the same girl who told me we have nothing to talk about unless I'm prepared to admit I have a drinking problem?"

"Yes, but when I said it, I assumed it was the only problem we had."

"So now you're saying it's okay for us to talk because we have more than one problem. Is that it?"

Brian's belligerent and deliberate attempts to provoke Kerri had come very close to succeeding. She struggled with an almost overwhelming urge to scream. "Don't you find it difficult to live with uncertainty?" she asked.

"What do you mean by uncertainty?"

"Let's start with the obvious. If you're planning to live somewhere else, I've got to make other arrangements."

"That's completely up to you. There's no way I'm coming back here if you're going to hassle me about the way I live my life."

"You still don't see it," Kerri said, exasperated. "I'm trying to help you and save our marriage, but I need a little cooperation."

"Well that's the problem right there. It isn't about drinking, or uncertainty. It's all about you trying to get me to live my life according to your standards. Forget it!" Brian shouted. "It isn't going to happen!" He stormed past Kerri and climbed the stairs behind her.

Confused, angered and frustrated, Kerri left the apartment and headed for the bus stop, a block and a half away.