Chapter 18

I sat down, leaning into the coffee table where he had it rewinding. “What took you so long?”

Mathews sat down beside me and offered the second drink he’d poured. “Sobel’s very talkative. Here, you’ll enjoy the show more with this.”

I shook my head as the tape stopped rewinding and he pushed play. “This first part is just garbage,” he said. “I wanted it on before I went into her office.”

“Mr. Randall, how good to see you.”

“Thank you,” said Mathews in his most business-like voice.”

“That doesn’t sound like her,” I said.

“It isn’t,” said Mathews. “Receptionist putting on the charm bit. She’s coming up now, after I take this long walk through the bank of offices and secretaries. We could retire just on the computer insurance she must be carrying. Must have been seventy or eighty stations along the way.”

“You talk as if it’s her company,” I said.

“If it’s not, she’s right up there. Her name’s on the front door in bronze letters, along with two others. Her office was executive in size and appointments, and the door...

Listen right here, at least ten feet of two inch rose wood.”

The “cachunk” opening definitely wasn’t a utility door. “Please.  Right in here, Mr. Randall,” said her secretary. “May we get you some coffee or juice?”

“Coffee, thank you.”

The new voice coming toward the recorder said, “At last we meet. A pleasure, Mr. Randall. We certainly have had our misses, haven’t we?”

“You might say that, Ms. Sobel.”

“Here, sit down. I’ll just close the drapes a bit. That building over there reflects the sun into my office about this time every morning.”

“Thank you. That is better,” he said.

“Listen here,” said Mathews in a whisper.  “Thought she was going to nail me. You didn’t tell me she’d mailed you the box keys.”

“I got a registered…”

Shhhh, Charlie,” Mathews interrupted me.

“You did receive the registered parcel with the keys, right?” she continued. “Aaa...yes. Thank you,” Mathews said.

“So...” she tapped her cigarette on the table and continued, “What prompted you to fly to New York. Mr. Randall? Certainly not just to meet me.”

“Actually… here let me.” He struck the match. “I just happened to be coming here on business today, so it worked out.”

“Thank you. You have nice hands for a man your age. Oh, would you care for one?” she said.

“No, I don’t smoke. ‘A man my age.’ Were you expecting someone younger?” he said.

“Well, I wasn’t sure just what to expect. Mr. Stevens’ eccentricities are always a source of surprise to me. He could have had me putting the money in his own account under another name for all I knew. That does happen, you know.”

“Yes, so I’ve heard,” Mathews said. “But, here I am. Flesh and blood. I want to thank you for the professional way you handled the proceeds.”

“Thank you. I would hope our firm might be able to handle other transactions you might need taking care of. What kind of business are you in, Mr. Randall?”

Mathews tapped my knee, “I couldn’t believe this came out of my mouth, but it worked.”

“Import, export,” Mathews answered. “Scientific equipment, a lot of classified material, you know.”

“Of course. I won’t ask another word,” she said. “Sounds like Charlie parlayed his luck at Baccarat into another fine legitimate enterprise. He’s such a remarkable man.”

“Good, sound business sense, for sure. How long have you known him, Ms. Sobel?” “Oh, Charlie and I go back a couple of years. Ran into each other in Hong Kong, of all places,” she chuckled to herself, “at a casino on the water. That was some afternoon... “

Mathews put the recorder on pause for me and said, “This is significant. Listen carefully.” He released the button.

“...Charlie was winning big at the tables and I was just observing the way he knew, just knew when to go big with his bets. He was something to watch. I guess he noticed me observing him because he asked the pit boss to ask me to leave or stand to the side. I remember being a bit embarrassed at the time. I’d never been in a casino and I guess I must have looked peculiar staring at him. He was a charmer, though. Came up to me afterwards, apologized and asked why I found it necessary to stare at him. I told him I was just a woman with a little money managing course I was selling through the mails... “

Mathews interrupted the tape again with the pause button. “Sobel’s money managing commercials on the VCR in your recall? Remember this. It gets better.”

“...and,” Sobel continued, “we talked and had a few drinks and before I knew it, he was offering to set me up with some money to prove the money managing value of my course. The rest just happened. We bought this building last year and business is ‘bullish’ as they say.”

There was a pause in the recording and Mathews qualified his next bit on the tape with, “I took another chance right here with a bogus statement. She liked talking. Listen.”

“You must be the partner in New York real estate he mentioned,” Mathews said.

“Well, we...” The knock at the door was her secretary bringing the coffee. “Thank you, Sylvia. Cream and sugar Mr. Randall?” “Black, thank you,” said Mathews.

“We aren’t exactly partners, although I have increased his real estate holdings somewhat.” She gestured to the room.

“This building?” said Mathews.

“This was his most recent.  Just before he got the news.”

     “News?”

“The cancer.  You didn’t know?”

 “Are you joking?”

“Hardly, Mr. Randall. I think he must be in remission now, although he may not be altogether up to par. I briefly ran into him the same morning I missed you at the Hyatt, and well, it had been awhile. The shock of seeing him looking so healthy and then his... he was in a hurry. It was all sort of confusing that morning. I’m not surprised, really, that he didn’t tell you. Charlie isn’t the kind of man to whine or cry the blues. It’s his throat, though. He was back and forth to Mexico several times this past year and told me he was into a long-term cure that could go on for years. I probably saw him at the Hyatt as he was traveling back from Queoxo or whatever it was called where he went. Oh, I can see I’ve upset you. I’m sorry. I think he’s doing fine now, really. He wrote me a couple of times while he was there, saying how well everything was going. Even kept his sense of humor. Said the doctors down there didn’t know how to play poker, but ‘sure know how to make one hell of a great potion,’ I think is how he put it. When did you hear from him last?”

Mathews’ voice quivered a bit as he said, “It’s been awhile. That’s one of the reasons I was anxious to talk with you. Last time I saw him, he sounded a bit different.”

“I can understand,” she said. “When I saw him for that brief moment in LA, I noticed his voice was different as well. Probably the treatments. I’m sure he’ll turn up again soon, ready to make another killing. That’s Charlie. He’s too popular at the casinos for the mob to let him die. I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m expecting an international call about now, and...perhaps we could have dinner or something and talk some more.”

“Oh, that’s quite all right. I’ve taken up enough of your time. Some of the business I’m here for might prove profitable, however, so maybe we could connect again and you could tell me how you made Charlie’s money grow.”

“I’d be delighted. Please feel free to call anytime. Best of luck. It was really a pleasure sharing this time with you.”

“You’ve been very kind. Thank you,” said Mathews.

Mathews shut the recorder off and poured himself another drink. I hadn’t expected to hear what I’d heard...especially what he said next.

“Charlie.  You look fully cured to me.”

I wasn’t sure how to feel at that moment. I found myself swallowing...then swallowing again. Was I taking a new perspective on my throat? He had those eyes of his fixed on me. “I might look like him to some people, but I sure as hell don’t feel like the ‘him’ everybody describes.”

“It is curious, though,” Mathews said. You spend 5 months wandering around not knowing who you are, but when certain people, and I’m not just referring to Sobel, address you as Charlie Stevens, you run away from it. Maybe we should be spending a little more time proving you’re HIM and shelve Charles Randall for awhile.”

I stepped up to him and opened my mouth with a big “AHHHHH...Just tell me if you see anything even remotely resembling throat cancer?”

He obliged me, or patronized me, I don’t know which, and looked in. He did adjust the table lamp light though... had to give him credit for that, and he did take a real look as I continued the “Ahhhhhhh.”

“A specialist is needed for this. I don’t see anything,” he said.

“Oh Jesus, Mathews, we don’t need a specialist to tell me my throat is fine. Is that a throat ravaged with disease? You heard her say the Charlie she knows is in a long-term cure. ‘Years’ she said. So, I can’t be HIM. I HAVE TO BE ME! Somebody’s crazy, but it’s not me.”

I turned in anger and grabbed my glass, gulping the remainder of my drink. “Right Doc?”

He didn’t answer. My hand was trembling as I focused on putting the glass down without incident. “Am I going crazy? Answer me, Doc.”  My hand started shaking again. “I’m feeling...I’m feeling one of those attacks coming on...God damn it!”

He was up in an instant, gently laying me down on the couch and telling me to “Relax...relax... “ His voice was that voice I knew so well. The quiet therapy voice that could always make me feel safe.

The enjoinment was quick, swift and ever so quiet, like always. “Let’s take a trip,” he whispered.

My eyelids fluttered shut. The sunlight faded as I heard him pulling the drapes shut.