“You liked him,” Jacob said.
“I didn’t like him or dislike him,” MacIldowney said. “I thought, ‘Well, this is what fate has ordained.’ He showed up in my life again and it seemed wrong to disregard that.”
“What about when he wasn’t with you? What kind of company did he keep?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea.”
“Relationships?”
“He was guarded about his personal affairs. I recall something about traveling for continuing education.”
“Did he say where?”
MacIldowney shook his head.
“That didn’t strike you as strange?” Jacob asked. “He works a few months max, but he’s pursuing continuing education?”
“Odd duck,” Des said.
“None of us is without his foibles,” MacIldowney said. “And no, it’s not strange. It can take eons to become certified, and if you’re attempting to do it part-time, all the longer.”
“You let him stay,” Des said.
“Here?” Norton said.
MacIldowney hesitated. “He had no place else to go.”
“It was like having a giant lizard in the house,” Des said.
“Stop it,” MacIldowney said.
Jacob said, “How long was he here?”
“Not long, perhaps—”
“Ten weeks,” Des said.
“It wasn’t that long.”
“I assure you it was. I counted every day.”
“Did he leave clothes?” Jacob asked.
“He lived out of a suitcase,” MacIldowney said. “It was temporary.”
“Allegedly,” Des said.
MacIldowney shook his head. “I asked you to stop, please.”
The architect’s voice had begun to hitch, the burgeoning intuition that he had picked the wrong horse. Jacob unrolled the drawings. “Any idea who this is?”
Des shook his head. MacIldowney studied the page at greater length, but appeared equally at a loss.
“Is he — that’s not the person who, who harmed him?”
“I don’t know. I found it in a bunch of Reggie’s old drawings. It’s dated around the time you knew him. I thought possibly a friend.”
“I don’t remember him having very many friends,” MacIldowney said.
“He wasn’t what you’d call a social butterfly,” Des said.
“Come to think of it,” MacIldowney said, “there was this one fellow, about the only person I remember ever seeing him in the company of. What was his...” He picked up the drawing. “I — no. I mean... I don’t think it’s the same person.”
He frowned. “No. But — well, no, I don’t think it is, though.” He paused. “This fellow, Reggie’s friend — he was American. What was he called? Perry? Bernie? Something like that.”
“Not the person in the drawing.”
“I’m fairly certain it’s not. What was his name.” MacIldowney began raking his scalp.
Des put a hand on MacIldowney’s back. “It’s all right, Charles. It’s been thirty years.”
Jacob said, “Do you remember where in America he was from?”
MacIldowney shook his head.
“But you remember that he was American.”
“Well, I saw them around together — it’s a small town, you know — and I have this idea that I bumped into them in a... restaurant, or — no. It was at the library.”
“Which library?”
“The Bod, I reckon. I suppose I must have exchanged pleasantries with them. I wish to God I could remember his name. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Is it important?”
“Not necessarily,” Jacob said.
At his side, Norton nodded faintly, appreciative of the courtesy.
“I’ll tell you what I do remember: this other chap was quite good-looking. He and Reggie made a rather curious pair.”
“Reggie wasn’t one for the ladies,” Norton said.
“No, but — I mean, he might have had a friend, I suppose. As I said, I saw very little of him after that first year.”
Jacob said, “Let me ask you something else. Was Reggie ever in any sort of trouble?”
“Trouble?”
“Legally,” Norton said.
“Not that I know of,” MacIldowney said.
“Has he done something wrong?” Des asked.
Norton and Jacob looked at him.
Des shrugged. “I don’t otherwise reckon you’d be telling us he’s murdered and showing us pictures and asking questions about him being in trouble with the law.”
A silence.
“Before he was killed, he tried to rape a woman,” Jacob said.
He watched then as MacIldowney’s composure began to flake away; the architect tilted his head back as if to keep bits of it from getting into his eyes. “My God,” he said.
“You sound surprised,” Norton said.
“Well, wouldn’t you be?”
“It depends,” Norton said. “Some people, when you find out they’ve done something horrid, it’s no surprise at all.”
“I never knew him to be involved with anything like... that.”
“Do I get an opinion?” Des asked.
“Sure,” Norton said.
“I wouldn’t think it impossible.”
MacIldowney made a sharply irritated noise. “It’s one thing to resent him because he was a bad houseguest. Quite another to accuse him of rape.”
“I didn’t accuse him of anything. I said it wouldn’t be beyond imagining.”
The doorbell rang.
“That’ll be the florist,” Des said. “Excuse me.”
MacIldowney said, “He really did that?”
“Afraid so,” said Jacob.
There was a silence.
At the door, Des was saying, “We asked for orchids. Those are calla lilies.”
“If you remember anything else,” Jacob said, writing down his number, “you’ll be sure to contact me.”
MacIldowney nodded. “Certainly.”
“Or if you think of someone who might know. I can send you a copy of the drawings. Maybe it’ll come back to you.”
“They are not remotely similar,” Des said.
MacIldowney said, “You don’t suppose there’s anything I could have done differently?”
Jacob shook his head. “Not a thing. Don’t waste time worrying about it.”
“Charles. My love. Do you mind.”
MacIldowney rose. He looked frailer than when he had greeted them. He smiled queasily.
“Well,” he said. “Party time.”
They’d gone half a block when they heard Des calling for them to wait.
“Sorry,” he said, jogging up. “I was dealing with idiots.”
“What’s up?” Jacob asked.
“I thought of something,” Des said. “It slipped my mind before. When Reggie stayed with us, it began with him ringing us from the train station, asking us to come collect him. He’d just returned from Edinburgh and he’d had an accident.”
“What sort of accident?” Norton asked.
“He said a motorcyclist ran over his foot. He was limping and bloody. I told Charles, ‘Don’t bring him here, take him to hospital,’ which I think you’ll agree is the logical response, but Reggie was adamant about not wanting to go. He spent the whole night moaning like a zombie. It was three or four days before he would agree to see a doctor. Charles went with him, and on the way back, they went shopping for a new pair of shoes for when the cast came off. I was furious.”
“I don’t blame you,” Jacob said.
“I wanted him out immediately, but Charles said we couldn’t put him out on the street. Anyway, after he’d finally gone, I went down to the cellar — I drew the line at his sleeping upstairs — I went down there to clean up, and I saw the old pair of shoes. I think he tried to scrub the blood out, but it didn’t work, so he left them behind. I intended to chuck them, but I couldn’t bring myself to touch them. As far as I know, they’re still there.”
An arriving caravan of rental chairs blockaded the front walk. Des led them around to the side of the house via a brick path lined with peonies. Though MacIldowney was out of view, his voice could be heard, cajoling the florist.