The mess in the hall flashed before my eyes. I looked from the soaked magazines to a heap of clothing at the foot of the bed, and then to the cat, who still cowered behind the chair. With a sweeping gesture, I stepped forward, snatched the bottle, and hurled it against the opposite wall.
The bottle shattered. The cat shot under the bed. Liquor dribbled down to the baseboard.
Linnea’s eyes grew wide, and her mouth opened soundlessly.
“Look, you bitch,” I said in a low, furious voice, “I have absolutely had it with your whining and your crying. And your drinking. And your filthy habits.”
“Sharon, I’m upset! My husband left me, and I don’t have enough money, and...”
“Oh, Linnea, cut it out and grow up! Your problems aren’t worth all this drama!”
“How can you say that? I’ve been through a tragedy!”
“Tragedy?” I exclaimed. “Look, Linnea, two nights ago I saw Molly lying up there with the life choked out of her. That’s tragedy — not your petty little problems!”
She shrank back in the chair, lips parted.
“From now on, don’t give me any more crap about how bad off you are and how lousy your life’s turned out,” I went on. “At least you’ve got life. If you want to throw it away, that’s your business. But don’t expect any more sympathy from me, because I’ve given you all I’ve got!”
I picked up my bag, put on another pair of shoes, and walked out.
In the lobby, I leaned my head against the wall, breathing hard. I hadn’t done Linnea any good. She’d only reach for another bottle. And I hadn’t done myself any good, either. All I’d done was lose my battle against the death of friendship.
A door slammed upstairs, and slow footsteps descended. Gus’s voice spoke.
“Miss McCone! What’s wrong?”
I faced the little gray man. “I had an argument with Linnea, that’s all.”
He nodded knowingly. “She drunk again?”
“Yes.” I was too distraught to cover up for her.
Gus peered anxiously at my face. “You look terrible. Maybe you could use a drink yourself.”
“I probably could.”
“Look, why don’t you go upstairs to my... to Molly’s place? Sebastian’s up there, and he’d enjoy the company. I’ve got to go to the funeral parlor to make the arrangements for Molly, and I’ll be gone an hour or two.”
“Are you sure he wouldn’t mind?”
“Positive.”
“I’ll do it then.” I gave his arm a grateful squeeze and started upstairs.
Sebastian’s voice answered my knock. The door was unlatched, and I let myself in. I would have been more careful in an apartment where a murder had recently taken place, but maybe the brush man subscribed to the theory of the already-stolen horse. He certainly seemed relaxed, in Molly’s favorite chair, listening to classical music on her FM.
I explained why I was there, and Sebastian nodded sympathetically. “There’s a bottle of brandy in the kitchen. Help yourself. And get me a little more while you’re at it, would you?”
The glass he held out was one of Molly’s best crystal set. As I poured the liquor — an excellent brand that she probably had been saving for a special occasion — I reflected that Gus and Sebastian had slipped into a very confident attitude of possession toward Molly’s things. When I returned to the living room, I said, a little bitchily:
“Well, you two seem all settled in.”
A smile distorted Sebastian’s scarred face. “Gus invited me for dinner — Kentucky Fried Chicken. Somebody’s gonna have to teach him to cook. Anyway, I said I’d wait here until he got back from the undertaker, to save him the trip to the Center until afterwards.”
I was glad he couldn’t see the dubious look on my face. I sat down on the couch and asked, “How’s Gus holding up?”
“As well as you could expect. He moped around here all day, and I was surprised he didn’t want me to go along to the undertaker, but he said he should do it alone.”
“You haven’t been working, then.”
“No, but we got to make rounds tomorrow. The racks’ll be getting low, and Mr. Clemente hates to have them that way.”
“Speaking of him, he gave me a tour of the Center today. I hung around there for a while afterwards. You should really be more careful who’s watching when you eavesdrop.”
His lips quivered. “You saw me, in the bushes?”
“I sure did.”
“Was anybody else there?”
“Nope. Your guilty secret is safe with me. What was going on in Clemente’s office?”
Nervously, he stroked the front of his yellow sweater. “Just a bunch of talk about Neverman’s woman problems.”
“It must have been interesting; you listened long enough.”
“Miss McCone, let me explain. I kind of like to keep an ear to the ground at the Center. You never know what’s happening there, and I was worried about whether the new grants had been approved. When it’s the only home you’ve got, you like to know what’s going on, but nobody ever tells us anything.”
“Well, just don’t get caught.”
“I never figured anybody would see me in a place where almost everybody’s blind. I’ll take more care in the future.”
Sebastian continued to stroke his sweater. It looked like cashmere, silky and soft to the touch. I recalled that he had another like it, a red one. To a blind person, tactile pleasure was important, but it seemed an expensive way to enjoy oneself. The oil company personnel man had commented on Sebastian’s fondness for betting on horses. Perhaps that was now transformed into a liking for luxury.
I asked, “How come you still live at the Center, Sebastian? Herb tells me you were there when he arrived, and most residents leave within a year of being admitted.”
“I came a little after Mr. Clemente did. The reason I stay is I’ve got no place to go. Most of the others have resources or family, but I’m alone in the world.”
“You don’t have any money? Surely your former company must have made you some sort of settlement.”
“They did.” He sipped his brandy, licking his lips appreciatively. “Sixty thousand dollars worth. It was a nice nest-egg, but some of it I spent and the rest I made a bad investment with. I lost it all. Never was very lucky with money.”
“What kind of investment?”
“Oh, one of those get-rich-quick schemes. I don’t want to talk about it. It depresses me.”
He’d probably invested in Arizona desert land or a Ponzi scheme. I finished my brandy. It was time I got on with my search for whatever Molly had hidden away.
“Thanks for the drink, Sebastian,” I said. “I have to be going now.”
“So soon?”
“Duty calls.”
“You working tonight?”
“Yes.”
“You’re an ambitious young lady.”
But it wasn’t ambition that drove me right now. It was curiosity, coupled with a strong desire to see justice done.
15
Madame Anya answered my knock quickly, her eager, flushed face a contrast to the gun in her hand. At the sight of me, she shrank back in disappointment. It was several seconds before she recovered herself and put on a polite, professional smile.
“Good. You’ve come about the candles.”
“No. I need to talk to you about Molly.”
“Now? So late?”
I looked at my watch. “It’s not yet nine.”
“Isn’t it? Somehow it seems so much later.” It always did, if you were waiting for someone as I suspected Anya was for Jeffrey. “Please — this is important.”
She sighed heavily. “All right, but first let me put Hugo in his cage.” She turned, slipping the gun into the table drawer as she had last night, and shut the door briefly before admitting me.