The following is the first chapter of a long story. I have two warnings: First I haven't finished it yet, and only the first chapter has passed a final edit. Second I wrote what I wanted, and I didn't try to adhere to some arbitrary form. Accordingly, there is a long backstory before the main story begins.
This story begins before the action in Crime and Punishment and involves the other characters Steven Fitzgerald and his wife. I do bring Jimmy O'Reilly into the story at about midway.
I want to thank my friend John (JMC) who did the original edit on this chapter so long ago that he has probably forgotten it.
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The Latham Inn was the kind of low-end, out of the way place where you could expect to avoid any awkward meetings with relatives, friends, or business associates. One night a week, the Inn did karaoke and, on another, trivia, but usually, it was just dark and relatively discreet. They had a small band on the first and third Fridays of each month. It was a good discreet place to have dinner and then dance clandestinely, which made it a good place for Susan to enjoy her current boyfriend while risking no embarrassment to her husband. That was the kind of considerate woman Susan was. She might cheat, but she would never knowingly hurt or embarrass. After all, she loved her husband. He was the type of caring and considerate man a worldly woman needed.
She was Susan DeVoe Singleton, the wife of Steven Fitzgerald, and the younger of the two DeVoe Singleton daughters. She had those DeVoe looks that the New York press had been so fond of for generations. Some called them statuesque, other classical beauties, but the cruder modern photographers had terms like sultry, hot, and babes. The DeVoe women were now found more often on page three in a bathing suit than in the society section.
Of all the DeVoe heiresses, Kathrine DeVoe, the wife of Joseph Singleton, had been the most captivating and the richest. Her daughters were the most beautiful—and the most fortunate, since their wealth was vastly enhanced by their father's insurance empire. In every respect, they were blessed, with only one, small affliction. Along with wealth and beauty, the Singleton ladies inherited the DeVoes' well-earned reputation for promiscuity. This, too, was a legacy enhanced by their Singleton father.
Susan and her sister had embraced all their inheritance, but they remained good, respectable wives to their husbands. Susan believed a married woman who had an understanding husband should be discreet. People had a habit of gossiping about such things, and image, after all, was important. Susan should know; she worked in Public Relations and was, in fact, a senior partner in Kopf & Bradley. She was currently running the Albany Office, although most of her work was still performed in the great city to the south. Manhattan remained the center of her universe.
Susan's principle prospect at the moment was New York Governor Edward Kincade; her goal, a senior position during his possible presidential bid. If New York was the mountain, the White House was the peak, and Kincade was a skilled claimer.
Most of the eyes in the little dinner club were on Susan, including the members of a small band who were setting up at the back of the room. It was a fact of Susan's existence that wherever she went, people stared. At 32, she was among the most stunning of women. Only when with her sister Mary was she at risking of finding herself anything less than the most desirable woman in a room. Then, it was a toss-up—but, lately, Mary had gotten overly thin due to the trouble in her marriage.
Fortunately, Susan's husband was far more reasonable and controllable. Steven made little money as an attorney. She often felt he was ill-suited to a profession that required so much in the way of self-promotion. Steven was a shy, introspective individual. He came alive only in a courtroom. In day-to-day existence, he was too retiring for the kind of social climbing necessary for success as a lawyer.
Susan's job supported them, and, if it did not, she could always fall back on the fabulous wealth of the DeVoe Singletons. But, as with her sister Mary, a senior partner in a prestigious Wall Street law firm, Susan was ambitious to a fault. This fault was often blamed on her plebeian father, but the greed of the DeVoes was infamous, too, and Susan was a greedy woman down to her genes. She had an avarice for life. She was the most jealous and possessive with regard to her greatest possession, her husband.
As her cell phone chirped, she leaned back and hooked her stiletto heels into the bar stool. She was a tall woman married to a short man, but she loved heels and couldn't feel dressed without them. She swung her tightly closed legs to one side and read the text.
"Trf NYC bd will B late meet u"
The text was from her lover, Tony Greco. He was the Governor's chief political advisor. It was how they had met. Tony was the kind of man she fancied—tall, strong, self-assured. He was a handsome fellow, good with women. What they refer to as an Alpha male. He lacked her husband Steven's physical beauty, though; Steven was a small man, but he had exquisite looks. Steve had those classic features that some Irishmen had. He was a dark-haired Peter O'Toole, a short Pierce Bosman. Steven was the sort of man you fell for on sight.
If Susan had been a one-man woman, Steven Fitzgerald would be that man. She loved her husband to distraction, but she would never be satisfied with a single male partner. She could be no more faithful than her sister Mary, who serially cheated on her loving and utterly selfless husband. It bespoke no lack of affection. Susan and Mary were the products of an intact home and two loving parents. Heredity inclination might cause them to stray, but they were bound to return. The DeVoe Singleton girls might wander, but they would never leave, and they would never put another man, no matter how much more manly, before their husbands. But, they did love to play.
Tony Greco was a fascinating and vigorous playmate. He was truly the most dominant and satisfying of her long list of lovers. The list was indeed long. Men pursued Susan. They were an unrelenting aspect of her life. At first, she feared them. At thirteen, she had begun to understand how powerful her looks were. Boys and men would do anything she asked, but their desires she feared. Male lust was mysterious and dangerous. As she grew, the male pressure increased as did the pressure from within herself.
At seventeen, she gave herself to a forty-four-year-old investment banker, a married man who went out of his way to make sure the young girl enjoyed the experience. When it was over, she had to wonder what all her worry was about. She had enjoyed herself, and, she reflected,
really, what harm was there in it?
It was when she met Steven Fitzgerald that Susan learned the true power of physical desire. He was shy, almost painfully so, but handsome beyond description. She quickly discovered he was a twenty-year-old virgin, four years her junior. He should have been an easy lay, but he wasn't. She had to work to get him. The younger Steven was afraid of sex. It seemed an impossible relationship and an odd one. She was the pursuer, he the prey.
The more he resisted, the more she wanted him. In the end, she proposed and would not take no for an answer, her womanly power overcoming the handsome boy's reluctance. The wedding night was a first, for both of them, his virginity a new experience for her which she thoroughly enjoyed. Men had taken her; now she ruled her own bedroom. It was good, and it was love. But it wasn't everything, and she was a woman who wanted, and could get, all.
"Turn it up, please," Susan said to the bartender, who was idly enjoying staring at the gorgeous brunette.
The local evening news was just coming on the TV over the bar. The banner that passed over the screen read, "BREAKING NEWS—Verdict in the Hamilton trial."
The lawyer for Roger Hamilton was Steven Fitzgerald more by process of elimination than any other reason. Hamilton was so clearly guilty, the evidence against him so overwhelming. Roger, as arrogant as Susan remembered him from her undergraduate studies at Yale University, had refused all plea deals. He was sure that somehow, miraculously, his wealth and old family name would preserve him.
No attorney wanted the stigma of the crushing defeat that was to be handed out. Hamilton went through several high-profile attorneys, firing them one after the other, until, through some misfortune, Steven's firm found itself stuck with his case. The senior criminal attorney soon shuffled the loser off onto his junior.
Hamilton was unhappy with his attorney, but the judge was fed up with the delay and forced the matter forward. Roger griped ceaselessly over his trial counsel, but the case moved forward, and now had reached a verdict after weeks of witnesses and arguments. The news coverage had been extensive, even breaking into the national press. Susan, on the theory that any press is good press, had pushed her husband to stand in the glare of the camera lights.
"Just get in front of them; if not for yourself, then do it for me. Make your wife proud."
Steven was his usual, shy self, but he did give one or two brief interviews. No one expected victory. Susan prayed for some modest success. Say a second-degree verdict or, if God was merciful, manslaughter. Something to attest to the excellent courtroom skills her husband supposedly possessed.
The studio camera zoomed in on the male news anchor, "'Not Guilty,' said the Jury, and now here is Cokey with the story."
