“Mom, when will we get back from Ireland?”
“I’m not sure. When the project is finished or the grant money runs out.”
“By June?”
“Long before,” I said. “Casey, you don’t have to decide about Ireland for a while. Wait and see how you feel when you come home from Dad’s after the holidays.”
“Okay. Mom, I have to hang up. We’re going to some kind of Christmas party.”
” ‘Bye. Have fun.”
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“I love you.”
I said good-bye and hung up, because one more word from her would have done me in. She was so far away and I really needed to hold her. Small uncomfortable insight here: I didn’t think I could get through the Ireland project without her company. What must it be like for Scotty, I wondered, month after month with only phone calls to connect them? I hoped he had a nice baby.
I gathered what was left of the change and poured it into my pocket. When I turned to leave, I walked face first into the broad chest of Flint’s partner, Detective Bronkowski. Surprised, I stumbled back and he caught me by the arm.
“Thought that was you I saw coming in,” he said. “McGee, right?”
“MacGowen,” I said.
“Right.” He hung on to my arm above the elbow. “I hear you’ve been out looking for scalps.”
“Just talking to old friends,” I said, thinking this surprise encounter was no accident. “Have you found out anything useful?”
“This and that,” he shrugged. “Case hasn’t broken yet. But it will.”
“Sure,” I said.
“Are you still staying at Emily’s?” he asked.
“At least through tonight.”
He handed me his card with its gold-embossed detective shield. “If you move, or you have anything you want to talk about, give me a call. You can reach Flint at the same number.”
“Thanks.”
“Come on. I’ll walk you out,” he said. We were in a big, empty lobby. He filled up his share of it with physical bulk rather than idle chatter while we walked. I knew he had something he wanted to say. He was awfully slow getting around to it. Maybe it was his technique, I thought. When he finally opened up, I was expecting him to say something like keep your nose out, or don’t track up the evidence. He surprised me again.
“Mike Flint’s a decent guy,” he said out of the side of his mouth, somewhere short of hostile.
“Yes,” I said. “He seems to be.”
“A good cop. I’d hate for him to get hurt.”
“So would I.”
“Uh huh.” Bronkowski tapped his chest above the tie tack. “I worry he might take a direct one right here. You know, from someone who was just fooling around.”
“You mean like a drive-by shooting?” I said.
“You know what I mean.”
“Flint’s a big boy. I suspect he can take care of himself.”
“He can,” Bronkowski said. “When he’s playing in his own league.”
I left Bronkowski in front of the courthouse. I turned once and saw him lumbering up the hill toward Parker Center, police headquarters. He had certainly given me something new to think about. I wasn’t aware that all that much had passed between Mike Flint and me. Some kissing and touching. He had been rougher than I expected. And I had liked it more than I thought I would. It was all vaguely disturbing.
The clouds began to clear just as I drove out of the parking structure. The sky was God-speaks-to-Moses stuff, straight out of the film files of Cecil B. DeMille. I had a lot of time to admire it. Though official rush hour didn’t begin for hours yet, traffic downtown already approached gridlock. I could have walked from the courthouse to French Hospital in the time it took me to drive.
It would have been nice to walk, I thought, to get a little fresh air to spur the thought processes. I simply couldn’t afford to walk. The parking lot charged three dollars an hour and I was down to the last twenty I had borrowed from Max.
At the hospital, I followed the sound of music to Emily’s room-Wagner played at top volume, the way it should be played. Emily used to argue with my father about Wagner. He insisted that one could appreciate Wagner without being a Nazi, no matter how Hitler had used his music. Emily disagreed noisily until Dad confiscated the keys to her VW bug, reminding her that the original bug was a product of the Third Reich. Even Emily had a price.
Because of the music, I expected to find my father inside. My mother was alone with Emily.
Lohengrin covered the sound of the door closing behind me. I paused for a moment and just watched her as she massaged lotion into Emily’s hands. No matter what she did, there was always an air of elegance about my mother. Her gray hair was pinned into its usual bun, a loose arrangement that always looks as if it’s ready to unravel, though it never does. She wore pleated gabardine trousers, loafers, a handknit sweater – a faculty wife’s uniform.
Emily inherited her long legs from Mother. They’re too thin and bony to look like much bare. But they do fabulous things for pants. Mother sat with one leg gracefully draped over the other, seeming very calm, considering the situation.
“Mother?” I said, reluctant to interrupt.
“Hello, dear.” She turned down the volume of the tape player and raised her cheek for a kiss.
“How are you?” I asked.
“I’m not sure.” She smiled. “I think I’ve had rather a lot of Valium. Dr. Song has been an angel about it. Once I get home, I’ll probably sleep for two days. Ask me how I am once I’ve wakened again. The hysterics are doubtless waiting for a more chemically friendly atmosphere.”
I laughed. “Is Dad stoned, too?”
“No, the poor dear. He and Max are out making preparations to fly Emily up to Palo Alto. The doctor thinks more can be done for her in a larger hospital. If she must move, we might as well have her closer to home. Don’t you agree?”
“Yes,” I said. “How is she?”
Mom touched Emily’s cheek. “No change.”
I went to the bed and leaned over Emily. The expression on her face was exactly as it had been the night before, her lips puckered into the same tight O. 1 felt discouraged. I sat down on the edge of the bed and patted her leg through the thin blanket.
“You look tired, Margot,” Mom said.
“I had a long night.”
“Have you learned anything useful?”
I shook my head. “I’ve collected more questions than answers. It’s maddening.”
“Aleda was very anxious to speak with you.”
That snapped me to attention. “You spoke with her?”
“Very briefly. I always thought the world of that girl. So did Marc. I always hoped something would develop between them. Such a shame what she’s going through.”
“Start at the beginning, please,” I said. “Where, when, who… “
“Let me think.” Mother glanced at her watch. “She telephoned rather early. She had been very sick during the night, she said. She didn’t sound well. The long trip across country and then incarceration just exhausted her. Jail always seemed to knock out Emily, too. The smell of the place, and all that racket, I suppose. I never much liked having a turn at bailing her out. Thank God you never put us through that.”
“Mother?” I prodded. “Aleda?”
“As I said, she was awfully sick. Rod Peebles-remember him? Awkward sort of duck. Rod was able to pull some strings. Privileges of office, I suppose. Maybe it’s not quite the fair thing, but now and then it is nice to have some influence on your side. Rod managed to get a judge out of bed for a quickie arraignment on compassionate grounds. Aleda was released into his custody. Nice of him. Odd, though. Of all that mob Em hung with, I never expected Rod to amount to much. Sometimes people surprise you.”
“Where is Aleda now?”
“Seeing a doctor, I hope,” she said with some force.
I called Rod’s assembly district office downtown and got a recording telling me the offices were closed for the day. I must have shown my disappointment. Mother took my hand.