Fat Tuesday(33)

For weeks this problem had been nagging him with the persistence of a toothache. Remy had become uncommonly withdrawn. Uncommonly being the operative word, because, on occasion, she retreated into herself and nothing could touch her, not lavish gifts, not teasing, not sex, not threats to snap out of it. These spells were usually shortlived and she always got over them. Except for that one character flaw, she was as perfect as a woman can be.

But this period of despondency had lasted longer than most, and it was more profound. When he looked into her eyes, they were shuttered.

When she laughed, which was rarely, it seemed forced. She was distracted when he talked to her, and vague when she talked to him.

Even in bed, it seemed he couldn't touch her, no matter how tender or how forceful he was. She never refused him, but, at best, her performance could be described as passive.

Her symptoms were those of a woman having an affair, but that was impossible. Even if she'd met another man, which was highly improbable. she couldn't rendezvous without Pinkie knowing about it.

He could account for how she spent every minute of her day.

He doubted that Errol's loyalty had shifted. The man was too afraid of him. But, even supposing Remy had managed to bribe her bodyguard or otherwise put something over on him, someone within Pinkie's wide network of acquaintances would tattle on her. He had already asked the house staff about incoming and outgoing telephone calls. Besides those to and from Flarra, there'd been none. No one had come to the house to see her. She'd received no packages, no personal mail.

Rule out an affair.

Then what in God's name could be the matter? She had everything a woman could want or dream of wanting. Although, he reminded himself, she might think differently.

After they married, she had sulked when he told her that college wasn't in her future. That's when she began taking courses by correspondence and reading every goddamn book she could get her hands on. He'd indulged her quest for knowledge until it became so tiresome he forced her to ration her studies and to read only when he wasn't in the house.

A few years after that, she had become obsessed with the notion of joining the work force, at least on a part-time basis. That whim had been squelched soon enough.

So was this current mood just another female "passage" that he must endure before she returned to normal?

Or was this something more serious?

On impulse, he pulled up a card from the Rolodex on his desk."Dr. Caruth, please." After identifying himself, the call was put straight through to Remy's gynecologist."Hello, Mr. Duvall."

The broad greeted him tersely, like she had better things to do than take his call. He'd heard from doctors he played golf with that she was a real ball-breaker, the scourge of the hospital. She was one of those women who seemed to work at making herself unattractive and unlikable, especially to men.

Pinkie had never liked her, and he knew the feeling was mutual.

But Remy was her patient because he sure as hell wasn't going to give another man, any man, that kind of private access to his wife.

"Are you calling on behalf of Mrs. Duvall?" she asked."There's nothing wrong, I hope."

"That's what I'd like to know. Is there something wrong with her?"

"I can't discuss a patient with you, Mr. Duvall. That would violate professional privilege. As an attorney, you should understand that."

"We're not talking about a patient. We're talking about my wife."

"Even so. Is she ill?"

"No. Not exactly."

"If Mrs. Duvall feels she needs to see me, have her call in the morning and set up an appointment. I'll work her in. it would be improper for me to carry this discussion any further. Good night." She hung up on him.

"Goddamn dyke! " Her abrupt manner made him furious, but the call had told him what he needed to know. Dr. Caruth had always talked down to him. She talked down to everybody. She'd been no different tonight.

If Remy had recently been diagnosed with a serious illness, the doctor would have been much more alarmed. She would have put aside her low opinion of him to find out what symptoms he had noticed to prompt the call.

Contacting the doctor had been a long shot, anyway. Remy's problem wasn't health related. It was mental, emotional. There was something weighing heavily on her mind that she wanted to hide from him.

Whatever it was, he would find out. Eventually it would surface, and when it did, he would quell it.

These minor insurrections were of no lasting consequence. They were irritations, like a mosquito bite that itched like hell for a few days, and then it vanished, not even leaving a scar to remember it y office Beyond further.

by.

He could reshape Remy's attitude as easily as he could remold warm clay. With a few words, he could cleanse her mind of any dissatisfaction. He had the extinguisher that would put out any fires of rebellion that might burn in her heart.

Because he knew what she feared most.

Pinkie was reading a legal brief when Remy came from her dressing room and joined him in bed. He removed his reading glasses and set the brief on the bedside table."Remy, I want to know what's going on with you."

"What do you mean?"

He'd never struck her, but he came terribly close then to slapping the phony innocence off her face. Instead, he reached for her hand and squeezed it hard, but not as hard as he felt like."I'm tired of this game. I was tired of it weeks ago. It ends tonight."