“Do you know why I like the Royal Game, Rita?” He waved exuberantly at the chessboards resting on the long polished table.
Huh? “What?”
“Chess. I like it because of what it teaches us about battle, about conflict. It originated as a game of war, you know, in India, in the sixth century. One of the grandmasters, Lasker, said that chess was a fight in which the ‘purely intellectual element holds sway.’”
“Really.” Between him and Kate it was a regular university around here.
“It didn’t occur to me until today, until I saw the headline calling me ‘embattled.’ I thought, that’s what I am. In battle.” He looked up and smiled. “In battle.”
I get it. “Fiske, listen-”
“There’s power in these pieces, properly used. Take this one, for example.” He held up the White Queen. “She has the greatest range, the greatest striking power, on an open board. A full twenty-seven squares at the center of the board.” He twisted the piece between his thumb and forefinger. “She may take from one or two squares away, but she may also take from a great distance. Then she is the most effective. You don’t see her coming, she blind-sides. Just like a woman, eh?” He set the Queen down and laughed, but I didn’t.
“Fiske-”
“Do you know what Ben Franklin said about chess, Rita? That it can teach us life lessons.”
Wrong. Chess is not life, poker is life. When games collide.
“I have Franklin’s essay right here. I was reminded of it after I saw the headline.” He reached for a book on the shelf behind him and thumbed through it. “Here we go. Franklin, in The Morals of Chess, writes that chess teaches us perseverance, for one ‘discovers the means of extricating one’s self from an insurmountable difficulty’ and ‘one is encouraged to continue the contest to the last.’ Isn’t that wonderful, Rita?”
“I guess.”
He snapped the book closed. “Well, I’m extricating myself. The King is powerful, too, and although his striking distance is shorter than the Queen’s, he takes justly. Face-to-face, not from a distance. Each time he attacks, he places himself at great risk, simply because of his proximity. Nevertheless, he looks his enemy in the eye-and he takes.” Fiske inhaled as if inspired. “Did you know that in the endgame, the King cannot be mated in the middle of the board? He must be driven to the edge. Now I ask you, why should I permit myself to be driven to the edge?”
“You shouldn’t.” It had finally happened. Fiske had turned into a White King.
He slammed the book to the table so hard the chesspieces wobbled. “But I have, Rita! By the press, by the chief judge, by Julicher, by every women’s group in the city. By every minor player on the board. And I’ve had it! So I’m fighting back, and I’ve already made the first move.”
“Telling Kate?”
He paused. “Why, yes. She told you?”
“Yes.”
“An aggressive gambit, my own application of the Sicilian defense. Do you know what she said, my lovely wife? She was terribly hurt, but she said she’d forgive me.”
I still couldn’t believe Kate would react so calmly, no woman would. At least I didn’t. “That’s all she said?”
He smiled. “What else was there to say? People are not chesspieces, they move unpredictably. I would never have guessed that Kate would understand this, but she has. She’s promised to stand by me, and she will. My next move was to invite Patricia’s lawyer, Mr. Julicher, to the house-he should arrive at any minute-and I intend to deal with him. Honestly. Justly. Face-to-face.”
“Stan Julicher? Here?”
“I’ll tell him the truth and ask him to back down. If my own wife has no cause for complaint, why should he?”
What? Fiske was making a bad move and ruining my own game. “Wait a minute. Julicher won’t let up.”
“Even after he’s made aware that he’s persecuting an innocent man?”
Talk about naive. “Come on, he’s a publicity hound! He couldn’t care less.”
Fiske’s mouth made a determined line and he folded his arms like a regent. “Then he’ll be made to understand whom he’s dealing with. He’ll understand if he doesn’t cease and desist this harassment in the media, I’ll make my next move. We’ll exchange pieces, I’ll take King for Pawn.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ll file suit for libel and defamation. Julicher has gone far beyond any privilege to discuss this matter. I’ll join in suit every radio and television station on which he appeared, every newspaper that carried the words. Checkmate!”
“Fiske-”
“Don’t fret now. My initial strategy is to take the high road. I invited him here, with his women’s groups to boot. But no press, that was my stipulation. He agreed.”
I shook my head. Things were happening too fast. I didn’t know whether to go forward with my own plan or not. Then I remembered my father, and LeVonne. “Fiske, listen to me. I have something to tell you and Kate.”
“I’m right here,” said a clipped voice from the door. It was Kate, followed by Stan Julicher. “Look what the cat dragged in,” she said drolly, and showed Julicher to a wing chair. Then she perched on the arm of her club chair and lit a cigarette.
“Mr. Julicher, I don’t believe we’ve met,” Fiske said, extending a hand. “I am Fiske Hamilton. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Julicher shook it, glancing around at his elegant surroundings. “Good to meet you, sir.”
Fiske cleared his throat. “As I believe I mentioned, I called you here to discuss the Sullivan case as frankly and freely as possible.”
“Fiske,” Kate interrupted, “Rita said she has something to tell us.” She cocked her head toward me. “Don’t you, dear?”
An awkward moment. I didn’t want to tell them with Julicher here. “What I have to say is privileged, Kate.”
“Attorney-client privileged?” Fiske asked.
“Yes, of course.”
Fiske squared his shoulders. “But I have absolutely nothing to hide, Rita. I see no need for secrecy anymore. I’m about to tell Mr. Julicher the truth about Patricia and me. I am innocent of any other wrongdoing. So, please, speak as freely as if we were alone.”
Unthinkable. “Fiske, you’re still a murder suspect. Anything we say here is discoverable if you waive the privilege. Mr. Julicher, if he wanted, could testify-”
“I told you, so be it. Let it come out that I called Mr. Julicher here to clear my name. Let it come out that I met with him, man-to-man, to settle this thing once and for all.”
Julicher edged forward on his chair. “Anything I hear in this room stays in this room.”
I almost laughed. “Come on, Stan. You won’t tell the press as soon as you hit the driveway?”
His eyes went rounder. “I swear it.”
“Bullshit.” There was no reason to trust him. Then I remembered what my mentor Mack had said about publicity, and it gave me an idea. “Tell you what, Stan. You can tell the press everything you hear in this room, but not until Monday afternoon. And I’ll give you an interview about it, an exclusive interview. Imagine it, you interviewing me-former adversaries-on how we broke a murder case.”
Julicher almost fell off his chair. “An exclusive?”
“Yes, on the condition that you can’t breathe a word until I call you on Monday afternoon. If you do, I’ll deny the whole frigging thing. There’ll be egg all over your face.”
“Agreed.”
It would stick, I felt reasonably sure. I glanced at Fiske. Time to start play. “This conversation is confidential, then, to everyone but Paul.”
Smoke curled around Kate’s silver hair. “We haven’t seen Paul today,” she said. “Have you?”
Did she know about us or not? It didn’t matter anymore. “You’ll see him for Sunday brunch, as usual?”