Reading Online Novel

Fletch(10)



Leaning over the clips spread out on his desk, Fletch worked the on-off button on the tape recorder microphone.

“Let’s see. From the News-Tribune clips, the Alan Stanwyk file, we have the following:

“Engagement is announced, Joan Collins to Alan Stanwyk, November, six years ago at a big bash at the Racquets Club.

“She is the daughter of John and Marion Collins. The only child. Graduated from The Hills High School, Godard Junior College, and took a year at the Sorbonne. Won Tennis Juniors when she was fifteen and sixteen. Since her year in France, worked in the International Department of Collins Aviation.

“The lady sounds dull.

“Alan Stanwyk, son of Marvin and Helen Stanwyk, Nonheagan, Pennsylvania. Colgate College, Bachelor of Arts degree. Captain, United States Air Force, flew twenty-four missions in Indochina. Purple Heart. Graduated from Wharton Business School.

“At the time of the engagement he was assistant vice president of sales for Collins Aviation.

“January first, it is announced on the financial page that Alan Stanwyk is named executive vice president of Collins Aviation. The old man wanted to see how the boy worked out as a big man in the office before finding out how he worked out as a son-in-law.

“In April, Alan Stanwyk announced a multimillion-dollar government contract for Collins Aviation.

“Big wedding in June at the Collins family home in The Hills. Biographies are the same, but there is no reference to Stanwyk’s family attending the wedding. Best man is Burt Eberhart, Colgate graduate, same year as Stanwyk.

“The Stanwyks, the Stanwyks … it is announced … Joan Stanwyk, Junior League, Symphony Friend … A dinner-dance benefit the Symphony at the Racquets Club, in fact, once a year: each October. Julia Collins Stanwyk born in March the year after the wedding. All very proper.

“But interesting: she’s here, she’s there, she’s everywhere at first after becoming Mrs. Alan Stanwyk—teas, lunches, dinners, openings, cocktails. Yet either her activity declined steadily, or the society writers didn’t find her very good copy. Which would be unusual, as she is nee Collins and the average American blonde who takes a good picture.

“Apparently she has done very little the last six months.

“Oh, Mrs. Stanwyk … why have you withdrawn … at thirty?

“Alan Stanwyk. Sails as navigator on his father-in-law’s yacht, the Colette, in the Triangle Race every year. Never won. Never placed. Skippered by John Collins. A sailing as well as a tennis-playing family. A very rich family.

“Alan Stanwyk becomes member of Racquets Club executive committee. Three years. Treasurer, Racquets Club, the last three years. Makes it to finals tournaments in both tennis and squash. Never wins. Never places.

“Becomes a member of the Urban Club. Reads a paper urging city police to return to foot patrols. Key phrase is: ‘Get the cops out of their cars and back into the community.’ Yeah, Stanwyk. The police chief answers. The mayor answers. People listen to Alan Stanwyk.

“The next year the paper he delivers to the Urban Club is in defense of jet noise around Collins Aviation. In answer to an earlier paper read to the Urban Club by my boss: News-Tribune editor-in-chief Frank Jaffe. Wonder who wrote it for him. Probably Clara Snow, over a cup of Ovaltine. No one answered Stanwyk that time.

“Stanwyk Speaks on F-111. He’s in favor of them. Stanwyk Flies F-111 Simulator. Stanwyk Flies this and Stanwyk Flies that. Stanwyk tests Collins cold-weather private-plane equipment in Alaska.

“Stanwyk honored by U.S. aviation writers.

“Stanwyk, Stanwyk, Stanwyk … more of the same. I see why his father-in-law married him. There are no flies on Stanwyk. If there were, short of murder, somehow I doubt our sterling journal would print them …”

The telephone rang.

Fletch said into it, “So glad you called.”

“Fletch, can’t you do anything right? Like grow up?”

“Clara, darling! You sound relaxed and subdued, like just after sex. You just fired someone.”

“As a matter of fact, I just did.”

“Who?”

“A kid in the city room. He had been calling people up and asking them stupid questions, saying he was someone from the Associated Press.”

“Really? How awful! I always tell people I’m from the Chronicle-Gazette, myself.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“How did you catch the jerk?”

“He called the French embassy in Washington and asked how to spell élan. We got the bill.”

“What awful snoops you are.”

“He admitted it.”

“And you fired him after he admitted it?”

“We can’t have people doing that. AP complained.”