Fletch(62)

“He paid for her hospitalization and has been supporting her ever since. I would estimate this affair has been going on about two years.

“Sandra Faulkner does not deny that she and Stanwyk have a sexual relationship.

“Joan Collins Stanwyk is unaware of the fact of this relationship, as she is quick to refer to her husband’s working late at the office on Mondays and Wednesdays.

“However, I have subjective knowledge that Joan Collins Stanwyk herself is unfaithful to her husband.

“Returning to Sandra Faulkner: Stanwyk’s mistress is unaware that Stanwyk is terminally ill, if he is. She is unaware of any change in the relationship in the foreseeable future, such as the possibility of sudden death.

“Her apartment and other belongings show no sign of being packed up.

“She is of the opinion that Stanwyk’s health is excellent, and that their relationship will continue unchanged for the foreseeable future.

“Otherwise, I would characterize the relationship of Stanwyk and his mistress as generous on his part, even noble. Here is a woman of no great attraction, a heavy drinking and emotional problem, who desperately needs a friend. Stanwyk, really from a great distance, perceives that problem and becomes the friend she needs. He has no real reason to exercise such a sensitivity toward the widow of a man he never knew, or toward an unknown and unimportant ex-employee of Collins Aviation.

“Yet he does.

“This is the most consistently surprising element in Alan Stanwyk’s character. The man has a peculiar principle and a unique sense of profound loyalty.

“Evidence of this rare personality trait can be found in his extraordinary, frequent, and reasonably secret trips to his hometown, Nonheagan, Pennsylvania, where his mother and father still live; in his refusing to join a fraternity at Colgate until the fraternity had made his roommate, Burt Eberhart, equally welcome; his subsequent loyalty to this same ex-roommate, Eberhart, in virtually setting him up in a business, supporting him royally as his personal and corporate insurance man, when the two men really have nothing in common at this point, if they ever did have; in his relationship with a mistress from which the mistress has benefited far more than he, and not just in worldly goods, but in mental, emotional and physical health.

“Despite Stanwyk’s obvious personal ambition, which may be evidenced by his marrying the boss’s daughter, which remains possible as a result of genuine love, as Amelia Shurcliffe pointed out, one really must conclude that Alan Stanwyk is a remarkably decent and honest man. What he says is true.

“Nevertheless, I am professionally obliged to retain my skepticism to the ultimate moment.

“It is entirely possible I have not assembled the right facts, or noticed them, or put them in the right order. It is possible I have not asked the right questions.

“I must continue to believe that Stanwyk’s basic statement, that he is dying of cancer, is not true until I have proved it true.

“So far I have not proved this basic statement true.”

Fletch turned off the tape recorder and stood for a moment in front of the divan, studying the Disderi—four photographs of a dreadfully unattractive woman in nineteenth-century bathing costume. In it were so many truths: the truth of momentary fashion, the truth of what the woman thought of herself, thought of the experience of being photographed, the hard truth of the camera.

Fletch put down the microphone and rewound the Alan Stanwyk tape.

Wandering around the room, he listened to the tape, his own voice droning on, at first against a background of traffic noise, then in the silence of this same room, remembering that at first, less than a week ago, he wasn’t sure who Alan Stanwyk was. The voice continued, not always succeeding in separating fact from speculation, observation from intuition, but nevertheless cutting through to a reasonable sketch of a man, his life and affairs: Alan Stanwyk.

Fletch played the tape again, going over the six days in his mind, trying to remember the smaller observations and impressions he had failed to record on the tape—clearly irrelevant matters. Joan Stanwyk was visibly lonely and drinking martinis before lunch on the Saturday her husband was flying an experimental airplane in Idaho. Dr. Joseph Devlin had answered the phone too fast when he heard the call concerned Alan Stanwyk—and he did not appear to question that the call had come from the insurance company. Sandra Faulkner’s apartment had been burglarized, apparently by a child. Burt Eberhart thought Alan’s daughter, Julie Stanwyk, a brat. Alan Stanwyk did not use the cigarette lighter on the dashboard of his car. He, Fletch, had not yet bought a pair of gloves. Fletch sat on the divan again and picked up the microphone.