Afterwards, she slept, but I couldn’t. I lay awake, listening to her breathing and wondering. Wondering what, if anything, the disappearance of Raphael had to do with my current case. Wondering why Jessie was so terrified of the mysterious man I had seen at Sally’s house. And, in particular, wondering how long I could resist temptation and ignore the bourbon that sat out in the kitchen.
At least the answer to the third question was obvious—not long at all. I got out of bed and tiptoed into the kitchen. I downed both glasses and then tried to sneak back into the bedroom, but I wasn’t quiet enough. As I slipped into bed, Jessie rolled over and raised her head.
“What are you doing?”
“I can’t sleep, Angel,” I said. “There’s too much on my mind. Too many things that don’t add up, and too many people who aren’t what they claim to be.” I looked pointedly at her as I said it, but as the room was dark, it probably didn’t have the effect I hoped for.
“Does it have anything to do with Raphael’s disappearance?” she said.
“I don’t know. It might. Can you tell me about him?”
Jessie sighed. “I guess he means well. It’s just that he really gets on everyone’s nerves. He’s always trying to set up community groups and charities that nobody else is the slightest bit interested in.”
“Including you?”
“I suppose so. I try to be nice to him, but every so often, well, you just can’t help yourself. When he has an idea, he won’t let it go. Every day he comes up to you. ‘Can you help set up a secondhand clothes collection drive? Will you sponsor me in a read-a-thon? Would you like to become a member of my harp band?’”
“I would have expected harp bands to be pretty popular in these parts.”
“I doubt that harp bands will ever be popular in any parts. But look, I really don’t dislike him. I’ll always try my best to be friendly to him, I guess because that’s just the way I am.”
Just the way she was. So gentle and caring. Her words had all the sincerity of a beauty pageant finalist.
I said, “I have a confession to make, Angel.”
“What would you need to confess to me?” As she spoke, I had to admire her. She really had that sweet and innocent act nailed.
“Do you remember that picture in my office? The one sitting on the desk?”
“The picture of your wife?”
“That’s the one. Only she wasn’t my wife.”
“She wasn’t?” The surprise was genuine. “Then who is she?”
“I have no idea. The picture came with the frame. I picked it up in a shop yesterday, mainly to decorate the office. The truth is, I’ve never been married. There was no wife. No smooth-talking shoe salesman.”
“And your arches?”
“They rise with the best of them.”
“So what was the point of that story? Why would you deceive me?”
“What was the point of that story,” I repeated, speaking very slowly for effect. “I can give you a one word answer to that question. Credibility.”
“That makes no sense. How does telling a lie increase your credibility?” The voice was still soft, but it had acquired a harder edge. One I hadn’t heard before.
I said, “One of the keys to being a successful private investigator is to be an absolute screwup in pretty much every other aspect of your life. Nobody would trust a detective with a happy home and family. They would have no credibility.”
“Why not just say you’ve never been married? For a man your age, that seems to represent a certain level of failure.”
“That’s true, but it’s still not enough. The detective game is a tough business. I can’t afford to go for any half measures. This way, not only do I have a failed relationship in my past, but by keeping the picture of the wife that betrayed and humiliated me, I reveal that I still carry the torch. The clients love that sort of stuff. It allows them to feel superior, no matter the nature of their own problems. Cutting a wretched, broken, and tragic figure is the only way I can maintain the competitive edge I need. And I can assure you, Angel, I really need it.”
She was silent for a moment. Then she spoke.
“So why are you confessing this to me now? Aren’t you afraid you’ll lose your credibility with me?”
“I have no interest in retaining that sort of credibility with you. The reason for this confession is simply to make a point.”
“What point?” She was still doing her best to sound like a sweet young schoolgirl, but that schoolgirl was growing up fast.
“When I pull that ex-wife routine on my clients, it’s because I want to give them a particular impression about myself. It’s an act, a character I hide behind so the client can’t find out too much about the real me. Now the most important part about putting on an act like that is making sure you don’t leave any gaps. Every possible aspect of the character must be covered, so nobody can see through it.”
“That all sounds very clever, but I don’t see why you need to make this point to me.”
“Because one of the advantages of becoming adept at this act is that it’s much easier for me to see through other people when they try to pull it on me. Especially when they’ve left gaps. Big ones.”
“What do you mean by that?” In the darkness, I could sense her pulling away from me.
“Before I saw Sally, I went to the library.”
She was sitting up now, her head propped on her hands. “You really have a strange style of conversation. Do you always prefer changing the subject, rather than explaining yourself?”
“Don’t you want to know what I found?”
“Is it pertinent to anything we’ve talked about so far?”
“I’ll leave that for you to decide. What I was looking for were historical records. Initially, I was only interested in one particular record, but as I searched I had the chance to see many others, and they revealed some very interesting details.”
“Such as?”
“Each of those records represented minutes from the executive meetings of the Heavenly Council. As far as I can tell, this council is comprised of God himself, His sons, St Peter, a number of less significant deities, and you angels. Certain members of the council seem to play a more prominent role in discussions than others. Peter, for instance, plays a relatively minor role, which given his work commitments is no surprise. Sally and Raphael, on the other hand, are both highly involved. However, oddly enough, motions presented by Raphael are rarely successful, while those put forward by Sally are almost never defeated.”
“That is interesting, but not all that surprising.”
“You’re right. It isn’t surprising at all. What is surprising is the total lack of involvement by someone who I would have expected to care quite a lot about how Heaven is governed, especially given the comments she made to me only yesterday. I didn’t see your name mentioned in any of the minutes. Not even once.”
Jessie sat very straight. I could feel her eyes boring into me.
“I guess there are some matters I’d rather leave to others.”
“Leave to others like Sally?”
“I didn’t say I was happy about it. I’d like to be able to go into the council and stand up to Sally. I guess I just don’t have the confidence.”
She didn’t have the confidence? That didn’t just take the cake. It took the icing and the candles as well. The time for game-playing was over.
I said, “You don’t have the confidence, and I have the credibility of a goose.”
Jessie stood up. “Perhaps you’d prefer it if I left.”
I grabbed her by the waist and pulled her back onto the bed. “You’re not leaving until you tell me the truth. You came to me yesterday, acting all flighty and mysterious, then disappeared when the questions got too difficult. You reappeared tonight and pulled this wilting rose petal act. You did it pretty well, but I‘ve seen it a hundred times before. Now call me a sucker, but I actually believe your fears are genuine and I’d like to help. But until you start giving me some information that vaguely resembles the truth, I don’t see how I can.”