Random Hearts by Warren Adler Page B

accused him of listening with half an ear. His anxiety receded. Probably
his own fault. She would be coming home tomorrow. Maybe even Saturday. He had
flogged himself for nothing.
    The agent's voice came on again. "I'm terribly sorry,
sir. No Davis on any flight all week."
    "That's impossible," he exploded. "It's
those damned computers. They drop stuff all the time. I know she was on a
flight that left at noon from Dulles to L.A. on Monday."
    "I can only relate what the computer tells me,"
the agent said apologetically. "Are you sure you have the right
name?"
    "The right name? She's my wife."
    "I don't know what to say."
    "Say? What's there to say? Your computers are all
fucked up!" He slammed down the phone. He felt his throat constrict. Again
the brunt of his anger focused on Lily. Why was she putting him through this?
Getting up, he began to pace the apartment, trying to remember the names of her
co-workers at Woodies. He looked through an index file of telephone numbers
trying to recall a name. Halpern, Milly Halpern. He had met her on a number of
occasions, a middle-aged woman with frizzy hair. For a moment he hesitated,
looking at his watch. It was 1:30. How awful to do this to someone, he sighed,
but it did not stop him from dialing her number.
    A woman's voice, heavy with fear, croaked at the other end
of the connection.
    "I'm terribly sorry to call you at this hour, Mrs.
Halpern." He tried to be soothing.
    "Who is this?"
    "Edward Davis, Lily Davis's husband..."
    "You call me at this hour? Are you crazy?"
    He let her agitation recede. "I'm so sorry, Mrs.
Halpern. Really I am. Scaring you like this."
    "My God, it's one-thirty."
    "I hadn't realized," he lied, pausing. In the
silence she had obviously regained her composure.
    "What's wrong?"
    "Nothing's wrong," he said soothingly. "I
seem to have forgotten what day Lily's slated to come home."
    "Come home?" He caught a note of caution in the
woman's tone.
    "From L.A.," he added to prompt her.
    "L.A.?"
    "The L.A. fashion design festival. That's where she
went."
    "The L.A. fashion festival?" The woman was
exasperating him, answering a question with a question. There was a long pause.
    "Please, Mrs. Halpern," he pressed into the
silence.
    "I didn't think they had that until March. But I could
be wrong," she added quickly.
    "Do you know who would know?"
    "Maybe Mr. Parks?" she said.
    That would be Howard Parks, the vice-president in charge of
her division. He had another vague recollection. It amazed him how little he
knew of her business life. Had she simply not told him, or had he not been
listening?
    "It must be me, Mrs. Halpern," he said
apologetically, trying to appear calm, although his palm was sweaty holding the
phone.
    "I'm sure there's no problem, Mr. Davis. Lily is a
very responsible woman. Perhaps she—"
    "I'm sure," he interrupted, offering a quick,
pleasant good-bye. He didn't, after all, want to subject Lily to questions
about her crazy husband. Nor did he want to hear any of Mrs. Halpern's possible
scenarios. He had concocted enough of his own by then.
    He began to search for Howard Parks's name in the telephone
directory. Finding it, he started to dial, then hung up the phone. He was sure
to sound paranoid, maybe even hurt Lily's chances for future advancement.
Besides, he might have gotten it all wrong. L.A., the fashion festival, the
times and dates. He cursed his indifference and lack of attention. Maybe he was
suffering from information overrun, when the mind can't take any more input.
    Calm down, he told himself. She might have taken a plane to
visit people in San Francisco. Perhaps she had mentioned it. He tried to
remember. I'm being ridiculous, he decided. He went to the bedroom and lay
down, still dressed in his clothes. His heart was pounding, and he felt his
pulse throb in his head. Please, Lily, he begged in his heart, come home.

7
    On Thursday, Vivien decided to have lunch with her friend
Margo Teeters at the Windjammer Club on top of the