Worst Fears Realized

looked thoughtful. “Of course,” he said, “that’s what we all said when Herbie murdered his wife.”

26
    HOWARD MENZIES LEFT HIS APARTMENTbuilding at the stroke of 9:00A.M. , dressed in his most conservative suit, unconsciously fingering his rather recently grown Van Dyke beard.
    The doorman greeted him warmly, “And how are you and Mrs. Menzies today?” he asked.
    “I’m very well, Jeff, but I’m afraid Mrs. Menzies was taken ill last night while visiting a friend, and she spent the night over there. I’m just on my way to see her now.”
    “I hope she’s better,” Jeff said. “Would you like a taxi?”
    “No, I think I’ll walk,” Menzies replied. “Oh, by the way, some men will deliver some boxes this morning and will be doing some installations. Please let them into my apartment.”
    “Of course, sir.”
    He strolled over to Fifth Avenue and walkedbriskly down the west side of the street, taking in Central Park. At Fifty-ninth Street, he walked into the Plaza Hotel, was given a table by the window in the Edwardian Room, and ate an enormous breakfast. Thus fortified, he crossed Fifth Avenue and entered the Bergdorf Goodman Men’s Store, just as it opened, marveling at the handsome new shops, which had not existed when he had last been in the city. He stopped in the Charvet shop and bought a dozen shirts and neckties, taking one of each with him and sending the others. He took the elevator upstairs and after touring the clothing shops, walked into the Oxxford shop and bought four suits, noting with pleasure that a size thirty-eight still fit him perfectly. Only the trouser lengths needed altering. He requested that one suit be made ready to wear immediately, then walked around the store for half an hour while the work was done, making other purchases. When he returned to the Oxxford shop, he went into a changing room and got into his new suit, shirt, tie, and shoes, instructing that his old clothing be discarded. Finally, he bought a new hat and, on the way out, his eye was caught by an antique ebony walking stick with a silver handle.
    Swinging his new stick, he crossed Fifth Avenue and, feeling quite the boulevardier, strolled west on Fifty-seventh Street until he came to the address his researches on the internet had provided. He took the elevator to the top floor and emerged into a comfortable, if anonymous waiting room. He gave his name to the receptionist and was conducted to another room, where he was seated in a barber’s chair.

    Two hours later he emerged, having been fitted with a small, very becoming hairpiece—one that matched his gray hair perfectly and cleverly showed a lot of forehead, making it seem all the more real. Now fully equipped, he found a photography shop and had two passport photos taken. Finally, he visited a service that specialized in the quick obtaining of visas and passports and left them with his photos, his completed passport application, his name-change documents, and a fee. He was promised his new passport the following day.
    He walked back to Fifth Avenue, then downtown, and entered the Cartier store, where, after a careful viewing of their merchandise, he bought a gold Tank Francais wristwatch with the matching bracelet. Wearing his new jewelry, he continued his jaunt, shopping as he went. He bought new luggage at T. Anthony on Park Avenue and pajamas at Sulka; he bought soap and toiletries at Caswell-Massey on Lexington and ordered stationery and calling cards from Dempsey & Carroll. He finished up at the Mercedes-Benz dealership on Park Avenue.
    He stood for a moment and gazed at a silver S600 sedan, revolving slowly on a turntable.
    “May I help you, sir?” a salesman asked, covertly noting the customer’s fine clothing.
    “I believe,” Menzies said, pointing with his stick, “that is the car with the V-12 engine, is it not?”
    “It is, indeed, sir. The world’s finest automobile, in fact.”
    “And how much is it?”
    The salesman quoted the price. “Plus sales tax,gas-guzzler tax, and luxury tax,” he said.
    “I’ll take it,” Menzies said.
    The salesman tried not to hyperventilate. This was his second truly breathtaking sale inside of a week; his Christmas bonus was growing quickly.
    “Please have a seat at my desk, sir,” the salesman said, “and we’ll complete the paperwork and registration.”
    Menzies sat down, answered the man’s questions, and wrote him a check.
     
    Later, on his way back to the Park Avenue apartment,