Something softened in her face. A motherly concern, the reality of what I was saying? “You know, don’t you, that I’m on your side?”
“You have a funny way of showing it. You aren’t looking out for me, Nina, but for the institute.”
She frowned. I could see hurt mixed with returning anger.
I stood up. “I have another patient. And this isn’t going to get us anywhere. You have to trust me on this.”
She stood, too, so we were facing. Neither of us moved to embrace the other. One of us should have.
And then the moment was interrupted by a knock on the door.
“Dr. Snow, Detective Jordain is on the phone.”
Fifty-Six
Dulcie was standing in the middle of the living room. I was on the couch, more relaxed than I had been in days. Jordain had Paul Lessor in custody. The danger was over. Dulcie was telling me about her rehearsal.
“Once we were all there, Raul sat us down in a circle and we went over everything that had happened in Boston.”
She wasn’t just telling me what had happened but performing for me, as if it were a scene from the play. “He asked each one of us what we thought, both positive and negative. No one mentioned me freezing up. No one.”
“Well, Dad said it wasn’t something he thought many people even noticed. I’m sure it felt to you like it lasted for hours, but he told me it was only a minute or two.”
“It did feel like hours, sort of like time had just stopped. And it was so quiet and everyone was looking at me and I couldn’t figure out what to do next.”
“It sounds really awful,” I said. “My mom told me about it when it happened to her.”
“Did she ever throw up because she was so nervous?” Dulcie asked. “Raul said some really big actors and actresses throw up even after years of performing. Can you imagine that? If I kept throwing up, I’d quit. Don’t you think you would?” But she didn’t really give me a chance to answer. There was more to tell about the healing that happened this day. “So then Raul told us there were more reviews and he read them to us.”
“Were they good?”
“All three of them said that I was going to be a star. That I had everything it takes.”
“Did they mention your stage fright?”
She shook her head. “No. Pretty amazing. I really thought they would.” Dulcie was more serene than I’d seen her in the past few weeks. The opening was still eight weeks away. The writers were reworking two of the songs and some of the dialogue. The cast and director were reblocking some of the numbers that had tripped them up in Boston.
I’d talked to Raul for a few minutes while Dulcie was gathering up her stuff that evening, and he assured me that her stage fright was much less severe than he’d seen in far more experienced performers.
“I wouldn’t worry about her,” he’d said.
“If you can find me a mother who doesn’t worry about her daughter, then she’s not much of a parent.”
I looked around, making sure Dulcie wasn’t nearby and couldn’t overhear me, and broached the subject of the suspected crush. “It seems perfectly natural to me but I wanted to mention it. To let you know.”
“Goes with the territory,” he said matter-of-factly. “First time it happened I was floored. Had no bloody idea what was going on. But that was a while ago. I’ve gotten awfully good at spotting it. And if I do say so, I’ve figured out how to strike a good balance of staying involved without appearing interested.”
After Dulcie finished recounting her day, we’d gone into the kitchen to make real hot chocolate, with melted bittersweet chocolate and milk. Actually, Dulcie was preparing it to ensure its success. I was sitting at the table and keeping her company.
That was when Noah called and asked if it would be okay if he came up.
“Is this business…?”
“Or pleasure?” He finished the part of the sentence I hadn’t asked, partly because Dulcie was in the room and partly because it was easier for me to assume it was business.
“I think you have to tell me,” I said.
“Tonight, it’s business. But it’s always a pleasure to do business with you, Dr. Snow.”
There was a playfulness back in his tone that seemed appropriate. I could only imagine how relieved he must be to have detained the man who had eluded and confounded him and the rest of the department for almost a month.
I didn’t ask him if it could wait until the next day. If it could have, I knew he wouldn’t have called.
“Do you like hot chocolate?”
“Are you making it?”
“No, Dulcie is.” They’d never met, but he knew about her, had seen photos of her, and had been interested in her drama career.
“Then the answer is yes.”
Fifty-Seven
“So, you’re the actress,” Jordain said as he took Dulcie’s hand to shake it. “Tough gig. How are you holding up?”
“Okay,” she said.
I could tell that she was curious about him. I’d explained that he was coming over to talk about a current case, but she wasn’t quite sure. She had some sixth sense about him. The same sense, I supposed, that I always had about her. So she hadn’t just inherited my mother’s love of acting, she’d inherited my intuition.
“I think openings are just the worst,” he said.
Dulcie looked at me with a crease between her brows, silently throwing accusations across the room like darts. I shook my head at her.
“I didn’t tell you that, Detective, did I?” Dulcie asked.
“No. I play piano, Dulcie. Jazz. I’ve done some big gigs. I know the drill. I know the shakes.”
“How long did it take you to get over it?” she asked in a fascinated voice.
“Never got over it, but learned to live with it. Lots of deep breathing. And focusing. Waiting to go on, I ask myself why I’m doing this to myself. And I always have the same answer. Because I want to make the music. Damn the audience.”
He was so good at being charming that it was almost suspect. I was glad I wasn’t going to have to see him anymore now that the case was solved. He was probably very good at lying, too. The other night with him had been an aberration. One I was not going to put myself in a position to repeat. He’d taken advantage of how stressed I was. How worried I was.
“Hey, it’s getting late,” I said, seeing that Dulcie had finished her hot chocolate. “Why don’t you get ready for bed?”
She gave me the pouty-mouth look that was the precursor to an argument, and I intercepted whatever it was that she was about to say.
“This is nonnegotiable.”
“Yes, Dr. Sin,” she retorted with just a shade too much sarcasm. I let it ride and repeated the suggestion that she take herself off to bed. She stopped at the door and turned to Noah. “It was really cool that you told me that stuff. Thanks.”
“It was nice meeting you. And I’m really looking forward to seeing you in that play,” Jordain said.
“Are you coming?” She seemed pleased, which really surprised me. Her response was immediate and heartfelt.
“If your mom invites me.”
“If she doesn’t, I will.”
I’d never seen my daughter flirt, and it shocked me. Not pleasantly, either. I had a jolt of foresight: in one split second I jumped from this one comment to her dating and me being home at night waiting to hear her key in the door.
Jordain and I went into the den.
“Is it him for sure?” I asked.
“Not sure. We think it’s him. One very interesting development is that he’s got that tattoo on his right foot, like the victims.”
“He does?”
Jordain nodded. His gaze focused on me. Unwavering. Intense. I wanted to look away but knew that would be suspect. I wanted to tell him, too. Just two words. But he didn’t need to hear them. He’d get them out of Paul Lessor now.