Dorita wisely said nothing.
I changed the subject. I talked about books, movies. I couldn’t bear the thought of silence.
We talked about meds. I gave her my list. She gave me hers. Zoloft for depression; lithium so the Zoloft didn’t make her manic; Inderal for the tremor induced by the lithium; Clonodine for the sweating and Nexium for the nausea brought on by the Zoloft; Klonopin for the panic attacks, which she occasionally confused with the Clonodine, with
unfortunate effects; Provigil to stay awake because all that other stuff induced narcolepsy; Seroquel to get to sleep.
Wow, I said. You are one crazy babe.
That’s why you love me, honey.
Somewhere into the third bottle of Burgundy we started talking about her. She’d never opened up before. She didn’t then, either, really. But she said a few things. Enough for me to know that she hadn’t had it easy. That she had her monsters too.
Dorita pulled her chair around to my side of the table. Put her arm around my shoulder.
We’ll get through this, she said.
We?
You and me. Together. We’ll get you through it.
Damn, I said. I don’t feel sad enough.
What
do
you feel? Dorita asked softly.
I hung my head. I wasn’t going to say it.
You need some good old-fashioned comfort, she said.
We’re on the third bottle already.
Not that kind.
I looked at her. Oh dear. She’d read my mind.
Please don’t say what I think you’re going to say, I said.
Okay. I won’t say it. Let’s just do it.
Please. I really don’t think that’s a good idea.
Why not? she asked.
More reasons than I can count. You got a couple hours?
Sure.
I was afraid you’d say that.
Come on, Ricky. If you’ve been truthful with me …
You know I have.
…which I have no reason to doubt, you haven’t done it in years.
Not for lack of trying.
Sure. Not for lack of trying. Once in a while. But you can’t keep on like that. There’s a lot of life left on those old bones.
I was silent.
Well, isn’t there?
No comment.
Getting cagey, are we? Come on, Ricky, it’s written all over your face. You hate it. You want to get out of this thing. You want to live again.
I thought awhile. She was right, of course. I couldn’t cling to the martyr thing forever.
I can’t argue with that, I said.
Well, we agree on that much. So what’s wrong with your best friend taking care of you?
Precisely that. Because you’re my best friend. Because if we do it, God knows what will happen then. You’re not only my best friend. You’re really my
only
friend. And what if I lost that? Where would I be?
Darling. I’ll always be your friend. No matter what. You know that.
I looked into her eyes. They were sincere, I had to admit. They radiated sincerity. I felt a warmth creep up my body, from my toes, that I hadn’t felt since …well. I’m not sure I’d ever felt it before.
Okay, I said. I’ll think about it.
Think about it? These moments come but once, my neurotic friend. Whatever makes you think the offer will stay open while you think? There’s a lineup for these favors, darling, she said, turning to the crowd at the bar.
Next! she called out.
Heads turned.
Jesus, I whispered. Keep it down. This is bloody blackmail.
Yes it is. And if I were you I’d fork it over pronto. The consequences could be dire.
I couldn’t really argue with that, either.
All right, I said. I’ll try.
Try. I’m not at all sure that will be enough. But I guess I’ll take my chances.
Your
chances? Maybe I’m missing something, but it seems to me that
I’m
the one taking all the chances here. Jesus, do you understand the enormity of what I’ve just learned?
Ricky, she said in a soft voice, what in God’s name makes you think that
I’m
not taking any chances?
Had I not known her better, I’d have thought that her eyes had tears in them. I felt a fool. Again.
Oh God, I said. I’m sorry.
It’s okay. I’m used to it.
Her smile was warm and giving.
Let’s go to my place, she said.
I’d like to. But Kelly.
Let’s go to your place then.
But Kelly.
Don’t worry about Kelly. I’ll take care of her.
We went to my place. Kelly was out. I called up Francis, told him to send over the Grande Dame 1988. I’d asked him long ago to save it for me. For a special occasion. One that never seemed to come. I pulled out the handblown Riedel glasses that I’d bought in Germany, years ago. Before they’d made the wine press highlights, started mass production. I’d tried the new ones since, the ones they sold all over now, at reasonable prices. They didn’t have the same effect for me.
Kelly came home. She saw the champagne glasses. She looked at Dorita. Dorita winked. Kelly looked at me.
She shook her head.
Okay, she said. I get it. I’ll go to Peter’s.
And off she went. Without a backward glance.
My God. What had I done?
Dorita took me to the bedroom. She took me to my own bedroom. She pressed me up against the wall. She kissed me. Gently, yet with passion. I fell to my knees. I kissed her stomach. She laughed. She pulled me up, and to the bed. She undressed me, slow and gentle. She undressed herself. I watched, transfixed. All these years of coveting. Of sublimation.
And I wasn’t disappointed. Those breasts I had so long imagined, full and languorous, impossibly imposing on her slim and muscular frame. Her legs, finally revealed from toe to waist, long and strong and graceful. Her stomach smooth and cool as ivory. She laid it all out for me.
And I was afraid.
She was utterly desirable and smooth, exquisitely constructed. I knew, I knew beyond certainty, that even had I been a normal man, with normal lusts and fully functioning libido, I’d be in so much awe of her that I’d be utterly unable to function.
But she took care of that.
She lay down beside me. I was exposed. She was radiant. She put her head on my shoulder. She asked me to read to her. I chose Dylan Thomas. I read poems of rage and defiance. ‘Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night.’ ‘And Death Shall Have No Dominion.’
Rage, rage against the dying of the light, I read.
And it gave me the power.
And she was gentle, and giving, and warm, in the face of the rage. She stroked me softly, like a whisper in the night. We lay by candlelight.
Her mouth hovered and touched and rose again to attack with abandon my most sensitive, my grieving places.
She was a miracle.
I came alive.
She devoured me.
And when it was over, we lay back. We smiled. We touched. We held each other.
For the first time in memory, all felt right with the world.
IN THE MORNING I WAS CONFUSED
. Confused and disturbed. But Dorita was there. So I couldn’t call Sheila.
I had to get out of the house. I had to get Dorita out of the house. Before Kelly came back. Before my head exploded.
Time for a change of scenery, I said.
We went to Starbucks.
Okay, Dorita said once we’d settled down with our coffee. Enough with the sentiment. It’s time to get to business.
Damn, I said. You always want to ruin my fun.
It’s my job.
You and the rest of humanity.
Heaven doesn’t exist in a vacuum.
True. You need a little hell. To spice it up.
So, back to business. Question one: Do we believe him?
I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it. I’ve been trying not to think about it.
That’s not the answer. Think.
I thought.
If he’s lying, he’s a damn good liar.
Oscar material.
Which belies his lack of success in the field.
True. Very true.
Let’s proceed on the assumption that he’s legit.
We can do that. We can also check it.
You want to go to Podunk?
Not today. I just meant we can always do that if we have to.
Sure. We can do that.
Okay. So, let’s assume he’s foursquare.
Let’s.
And the physical evidence bears him out.
At least it’s not inconsistent.
Correct. He was in the house. Behind your back, he hugs her. They’re overwhelmed to see each other. He leaves a hair behind. Follicle attached.
Sure. He was next to her on the couch when I came back from the kitchen.
Another detail you left out.
I did?
You did.
Sorry. Anyway, it fits.
We need to look at other suspects then.
I’m not sure that ‘suspects’ is the right word. But the …
Semen. You can say it.
I don’t want to say it. But I guess you can.
We thought for a while.
It has to match somebody, I said.
Who?
That’s the million-dollar question.
Sixty-four thousand, I think it was.
Let’s not quibble. Who’s next on the list? The twins?
That’s the other case, darling.
Right. Just testing.
The AA guys.
A possibility.
But messy.
A smorgasbord of suspects.
And they all seemed so sincere, you said.
Not in any way conclusive.
Of course not.
Let’s remember Occam’s razor.
The simplest explanation is usually the best.
Not quite.
Right. The simplest explanation
that explains all the facts
is the best.
Dorita looked steadily into my eyes. She didn’t say a thing.
It was a challenge.
I thought. I pondered. In my head I shuffled the index cards.
One popped out.
Jesus, I said. You’re right.
He was the last man she was seen with.
Other than me.
You’ve been cleared.
He’s weird.
So you’ve said.
She was in his thrall.
It appears.
The last time Kelly and I picked her up from the hospital, two or three months ago?
You never told me about that.
When we were leaving?
Yes?
He hugged her.
Well, that’s not necessarily unusual.
Maybe not. But I remember thinking there was something strange about it.
Yes?
I don’t know. I couldn’t put my finger on it. It made me uncomfortable.
We sat in thought.
And then there was the day I came home, I said. Her last relapse. And he was on the couch with her. Holding her hand.
That couch seems to get a lot of action.
She lived on it. He told me he needed time with her alone.
Jesus H. Christ.
That was
my
reaction, at first. But then, I figured it was just a therapeutic thing. That my reaction was just paranoid. Insecurity. That he was helping her. And I could never help her.
Damn your neuroses, Ricky.
And then, when I came back into the living room, he couldn’t get out of there fast enough.
Hmm. You’d think he’d want to talk to you and Kelly for a while, no?
Sure. Explain the situation. Reassure the family. Though he never was that kind of guy, I have to say. With him it all seemed to be about power.
Dorita gave me the under-the-eyebrows look.
Yes, I said. Yes. Damn. It fits.
It does appear to.
Jesus, I just remembered something else, too. That night, when he was at my house? When I went up to Kelly in the dining room? One of the first things she said was that Melissa had been asking for him.
Asking for Steiglitz?
Steiglitz. Everything fits. Goddamn everything.
It does appear to.
Let’s check him out. I’ll do it. Damn. I don’t even have to. I
know
it was him.
Whoa, said Dorita. Slow down. Let’s make a plan.
I don’t need a plan, I said. I know what to do.
She raised her eyebrows.
Trust me on this one, I said. Did I single-handedly win the Case of the Red Car Door?
You did. I have to admit it.
So trust me.
I CALLED STEIGLITZ’S ASSISTANT
. The good doctor was at the clinic in Westchester. He’d be free after five.
What to do til then? I was jumping out of my skin.
My cell phone rang. Laura.
I think I know what you’re going to tell me, I said.
Really?
Yes. But go ahead.
It’s really strange, Rick. Which is why I wanted to double-check. But the hair?
The hair. Yes. I know. It’s a close match to Melissa’s.
Rick, how in God’s name did you know that?
I have my ways, Laura. Anyway, thanks for the help. Really. You’ve been great. Gotta go.
I hung up.
Distract me, I said to Dorita. Or I’m going to have to do something antisocial.
Why should today …
Yeah, yeah. Come on. Distract me.
We’ve got to break the Jules logjam, she said.
Jesus, you’re right. Less than a week. Shit.
We talked it through. Everything we knew. We couldn’t find a weak point to attack. We couldn’t find a pattern that felt right.
FitzGibbon, I said.
You said that before.
You’ve got a better idea?
No.
Then let’s go.
Maybe Dorita could add a frisson to the mix. Unsettle him a bit. Who knew what might come out?
We took a cab. It smelled of apple cores and filth.
As it happened, the twins were there. Both of them. Our first dual sighting. Ramon looking tight and edgy. Raul smooth and well tailored.
They didn’t look a bit alike.
Pleased to see you, Raul said.
Sure.
I considered asking FitzGibbon if we could meet in private. Get him alone. But I thought better of it. It would be interesting to see the interaction of the three. We might learn more by watching than by anything the cagey bastards had to say.
If there was anything to learn. I still wasn’t convinced that Jules hadn’t chased Larry Silver to the alley. Stove his head in.
Nice of you to make the time to see us, I said.
Sure, said FitzGibbon, with a quizzical glance at Dorita.