Overboard

By Roger Arsht

Read previous episodes here.

       Heavy traffic caused Annie to arrive at the yacht club later than planned. She lifted her suitcase from the trunk and wheeled it to where Secrets Kept should have been berthed but wasn’t. She couldn’t imagine that Bertie would have left without her. The odd situation reminded her, once again, of the abnormality of their relationship. ‘What the hell,’ she muttered to herself. She didn’t even have Bertie’s or Captain Ed’s cell phone numbers. She thought about calling Brooke to get Bertie’s number. Instead, Annie sat on a bench and reviewed the conversations she had with Bertie two weeks earlier regarding their next engagement, trying to recall if there was anything she might have misunderstood. She wondered if somehow the phone call she had made to his office in Manhattan had caused him to cancel their weekend plans. Being alone on the pier fueled the anger Annie had felt weeks earlier when she was faced with the vagaries of Bertie’s rules. She felt like a concubine who was expected to come and go as he directed. She was about to return to her car when a voice called her name. 

       “Ms. Peterson. Ms. Peterson. Are you Annie Peterson?” a man said with urgency as he hustled down the pier to where she was sitting.  

       At first glance, Annie thought he was Bertie, except that she had never seen him look so officious. Strictly based on what he was wearing, Annie was sure the man rushing toward her was a lawyer or banker.  

       “I'm Alex Sandman,” he said as he caught his breath. 

       “Who are you?” 

       “I'm Bertie’s brother. Sorry, Richard Sandman’s brother.” 

       “Are you Bertie’s brother or are you Richard Sandman’s brother?” 

       “Well, both. Richard Sandman is Bertie’s real name. Give me a minute. I drove like a madman to get here in time.” 

       Annie ignored his request. “Richard Sandman, the author?” 

       “Yes. This must be terribly confusing. My apologies. Richard is sorry he isn’t here.” 

       “Where is he?” Annie asked. 

       “On Secrets Kept. It’s at sea.” 

       “I’m supposed to be on the yacht.” 

       “That was the plan. Richard isn’t always able to keep his commitments,” Alex said while rolling his eyes. 

       Annie could see the man was thinking on his feet and legitimately flustered.  

       “Can we get some dinner? This must be very confusing,” he finally said. 

       “Can I see your identification or something that proves who you are before I go anywhere with you?” 

       Alex fumbled with his wallet. “He sent me to find you,” he said and pulled out a business card that said, ‘Alex Sandman, Esq.’ It had the same address as Bertie’s Manhattan office. “This is the best I can do. Some people say that Richard and I look alike.” 

       “That’s not good enough,” Annie said, testily. “What type of law do you practice? Who are your clients?” 

       “I have one client. My brother. Richard. He’s an industry. His needs are enough for any lawyer. Maybe more than one,” Alex sighed. “Will you feel comfortable going somewhere well-lit and public? I have important matters to discuss with you. Again, my apologies, this is all very strange and unexpected.” 

       “You don’t know half of it.” 

       “I know the whole of it. And, frankly, Ms. Peterson, I could really use a drink. It’s been a long week.” 

       The two strangers walked two blocks to the Quincy Grille where Bertie and Annie had dinner on their first date.  

       “Why here?” Annie asked. 

       “It’s familiar. It’s Friday night. I think we can get a table because Richard is famous and both of us are regulars.” Alex sounded frazzled and exhausted. Recognizing Alex, the maître de said he would have a table for them in fifteen minutes. This impressed Annie since the restaurant was mobbed. They went to the bar. 

       “J.B. on the rocks with a twist of lemon, Mr. Sandman?”  

       “Yes, and a crab cake appetizer,” Alex nodded and turned to Annie.  

       “Dry vodka martini. Extra olives. And a shrimp cocktail.”’ 

       “My pleasure,” the bartender responded. 

       The two sat quietly until their drinks arrived. Each of them seemed to exhale some of their tension after a sip or two. 

       “Is everything okay with Bertie?”  

       Alex didn’t respond at first.  

       “Will you please be honest with me? What is going on?” Annie asked, again, with ever-increasing frustration.  

       “Maybe,” Alex said. When Annie started to rise, he continued. “That’s not what I meant. When I say maybe it’s not that I won’t be honest with you. It’s quite a story and it’s going to take a while. You might think an omission is a deception on my part. It’s not. I don’t want you to think I twist…alter…reality like my brother does. Also, let’s call him Richard for convenience.” 

       Annie retook her seat on the barstool.  

       “If you can indulge me. I’d like a second drink and an appetizer before we get started. Like I said, it’s been a long week.” Alex said just before his phone rang. He answered the short call. “That was Captain Ed. Secrets Kept will be docking in two hours. That means we can have a relaxing dinner and I can tell you Richard’s story, in detail. Is that okay?” 

       Annie nodded just as the maître de put their drinks on a silver tray and led them to a table where their appetizers were waiting. Annie noticed the angry looks of dozens of guests who had arrived before them and were still waiting for a table. Alex never looked in their direction. Annie made a mental note that only someone who was used to having his ass kissed and that he could be as oblivious as Alex. 

       Alex began. “Richard is…troubled. I’ll get more specific as the story unfolds. Ever since his wife, Kimberley, died, Richard is a different person. He used to be easy-going, energetic, and fun.” 

       “That’s the person I know,” Annie said with incredulity. 

       “That’s the person you see because your visits are scheduled to coincide with his good periods.” 

       “Which means there are bad periods.” 

       “Yup.” Alex took a bite of crab cake appetizer. “Eight years ago, Richard and Kimberley had a smaller, if you can call a forty-eight-foot yacht small. Richard wanted a yacht that just the two of them could manage without a captain or staff. Kimberley acquiesced to his wishes. She wasn’t a strong swimmer and didn’t have a lot of experience with boats. Frankly, neither did Richard. It was his fantasy. I don’t know what you know about yachting or the Chesapeake Bay, but storms can strike quickly. The weather reports and even the yacht’s radar can’t always provide enough warning.  

       “They never went out on the boat without their dog. His name was Wheels. He was their child. When the storm hit, the rear doors of the salon blew open, Wheels jumped from Kimberley’s grasp, and went to search for Richard who was directing the boat from the flybridge. Richard shouldn’t have been there. He should have been captaining the vessel from the bridge. Like I said, the storm came up suddenly. Richard couldn’t get from the flybridge console to the bridge controls. Wheels was pushed overboard by the wind and the water that poured over the sides. Seeing Wheels getting swept away, Kimberley dove in to save him. Richard, from his position on the flybridge, the wind…the waves, he never saw anything. When the storm receded as quickly as it came, he couldn’t find Kimberley or Wheels. He radioed the Coast Guard. They both cruised the region for hours until Richard’s yacht ran out of fuel. Eventually, the Coast Guard had to restrain Richard because he wanted to go in the water and dive below the surface in hopes of finding their bodies. Kimberley’s body was found a week later. Wheels was never found.”  

       Annie sat speechless for a while. “I don’t know what to say. I suspected there was a tragedy at the root of Bertie’s…Richard’s behaviors. I never thought it would be something so awful.”  

       “How would you?” Alex held his glass aloft. His signal to the server that he needed another. “He was traumatized. For a few years, all he did was write.” 

       “When did you say Kimberley and Wheels died?” 

       “Eight years ago.” 

       “Which coincides with the rise of his career as a writer.” 

       “Monumental rise. Eight years ago, my brother was an apartment developer. Quite successful. Nothing compared to his success as a writer. The tragedy turned his focus inward. He began a quest to understand why things happened the way they did. He wanted to know why the tragedy befell him. Mostly, he wanted to understand how Kimberley made the decision to follow Wheels into the waves when she must have known that her death was as likely as the dog's.” 

       “He wants to understand how someone risks everything for love,” Annie said 

       Alex simply nodded his head. “He believes that Kimberley didn’t hesitate to go after Wheels. That there was no internal debate or misgivings. She acted out of love, out of pure instinct to preserve the dog’s life.” 

       “I suppose he questions whether he could have done the same," Annie considered. "What she did is remarkable.” 

       They sat silently. There were a myriad of questions racing through Annie's head. She chose to ask only one. “Does he know you are telling me his story?” 

       “He told me to tell you everything,” Alex smiled. “He’s also told me that you are the last one.” 

       “What does he mean when he says that I’m the last one.” 

       “I’ve dissolved Secrets Kept. He asked me to get rid of any trace of it. He told me that since he’s met you he doesn’t feel like he needs to maintain that deception.” 

       “It’s delusional more than deceptive.” Annie said with her own eyeroll. 

       “We all have our delusions. I’m going to let your call to his New York office be our little secret.”  

       “You know about that?” 

       “Jenny, his assistant, told me. Don’t worry. Richard doesn’t know. When you know more about Richard, you’ll understand why his privacy is so important and why your call would upset him. One of my jobs is to anticipate troubling situations…and intervene.” 

       It was the third scotch or the stress of fielding his brother’s personal issues, but Annie was legitimately surprised by the intimacy of what Alex shared next with a stranger. “I love my brother. I’d do anything for him. I hope you feel the same way.” 

       Annie reached across the table and took the tumbler of scotch from Alex’s hand. “I think that’s enough for now.”