"Sorry, Alex. I'll call back-"
"No," I said. "How're you doing?"
"I'm fine," he said. "Aimee is… she'll eventually come to grips with the loss. We'd begun dealing with it, because Bill didn't have long, and I was trying to prepare her. Despite that, of course, the shock was traumatic. For her sake, I'm emphasizing the quickness of it. His feeling no pain."
"I can back you up on that. It was instantaneous."
"You saw it… you must be-"
"I'm fine, Bert."
"Alex, I should've been honest with you all along. You deserved better from me."
"You had your obligations," I said. "Patient-doctor confidentiality-"
"No, I-"
"It's all right, Bert."
He laughed. "Listen to us, Alex. Alphonse, Gaston, Alphonse Gaston… you're really okay, son?"
"I really am."
"Because you bore the brunt of it as I stood by like a-"
"It's over," I said, firmly.
"Yes," he said. Several seconds passed. "I need to tell you this, Alex: You're such a good young man. I find myself calling you 'son' from time to time, because if I'd… oh this is silly, I just called to see how you were getting on and to let you know we're coping. The human spirit and all that."
"Indomitable," I said.
"What's the alternative?"
Milo had come by last night, and we'd talked through sunrise. I'd been thinking a lot about alternatives. "Thanks for calling, Bert. Let's get together. When things settle down."
"Yes. Absolutely. We must."
He sounded old and weak and I wanted to help him, and I said, "Soon you'll be getting back to your instruments."
"Pardon- oh, yes, definitely. As a matter of fact, I did get on-line early this morning. Came upon an old Portuguese gitarra on eBay that looks intriguing, if it can be restored. Tuned differently than a guitar, but you might be able to get some sound out of it. If I get it at the right price, I'll let you know and you can come up here and we'll make music."
"Sounds like a plan," I said. Happy to have any.
CHAPTER 50
The next few days degraded to a blur of solitude and missed opportunity. I took a long time to muster the energy to call Robin, never found her in.
She didn't call back, not once, and I wondered if a new level had been descended.
I tried not to think about Janie Ingalls or any of the others, did a pretty decent job of cutting myself off, knew it was unlikely Allison Gwynn had read about Michael Larner's death in the Santa Barbara News-Press and that I should tell her. I couldn't dredge up the initiative for that, either.
I buried myself in housecleaning, yardwork, clumsy jogs, TV hypnosis, obligatory, tasteless meals, perusals of the morning paper- not a word of print about the bloody night in Ojai, the Larners, the Cossacks. Continued sniping at John G. Broussard by politicians and pundits were the only links to what had been my reality since receiving the murder book.
On an uncommonly mild Tuesday, I took an afternoon run and came back to find Robin sitting in the living room.
She had on a black T-shirt, black leather jeans, and the pair of lizard-skin boots I'd given her two birthdays ago. Her hair was long and loose, and she was made up and lipsticked and looked like a beautiful stranger.
When I went over to kiss her, I kept the bruised side of my face out of view. She offered me her lips but kept them closed. Her hand rested briefly on the back of my neck, then dropped off.
I sat down beside her. "Tour over early?"
"I took a day off," she said. "Flew in from Omaha."
"How's it going?"
She didn't answer. I took her hand. Her fingers were cool and limp as they brushed against my burnt palm.
"Before we get into anything," she said, "I'm going to tell you about Sheridan. He knew to bring a Milk-Bone because he'd met Spike before, has dogs of his own."
"Robin, I'm-"
"Please, Alex. Just listen."
I let go of her hand, sat back.
" Sheridan comes on strong," she said, "and his job puts him in close proximity to me, so I suppose I can understand your suspicions. But just for the record, he's a born-again Christian, married, has four kids under the age of six. He brings his entire family on tour with him, it's kind of a running joke with the rest of the crew. His wife's name is Bonnie, and she used to be a backup singer before she and Sheridan found religion. Both of them are what you'd expect from new converts: way too joyful, zealous, upright, quoting scripture. It's annoying, but everyone puts up with it because Sheridan 's a nice person, and he's about the best tour coordinator in the business. When he does try to influence me it's in the form of not-so-subtle little asides about accepting Christ into my life, not sleazy little ploys to get in my pants. And yes, I know religious observance doesn't necessarily prevent bad behavior, but this guy means it. He's never come within a mile of anything remotely sexual. Most of the time when he's in my room, Bonnie's right there with him."
"I'm sorry," I said.
"I wasn't after an apology, Alex. I just wanted to tell you in person. So you wouldn't torture yourself."
"Thank you."
"What happened to your hand and your face?"
"Long story."
"The same story," she said.
"I suppose."
"That's the other thing. The other reason I came by. Our situation. It's not simple, is it?"
"I missed you," I said.
"I missed you, too. Still do. But…"
"There has to be a 'but.' "
"Don't be angry."
"I'm not. I'm sad."
"I am, too. If I didn't care about you, I'd have spared myself seeing you. Still, I'm not staying, Alex. A car is coming by to take me back to the airport and I'm rejoining the tour and remaining till the end. Which may stretch longer. We've been doing great, raising a bundle for the cause. There's been talk of a European extension."
" Paris?" I said.
She began to cry.
I would've liked to join in, but there was no juice left in me.
We held hands for the rest of the hour, not moving from the couch except for the time when I got her a wad of tissues to wipe her eyes.
When the taxi arrived, she said, "This isn't over. Let's see how it plays out."
"Sure."
I walked her to the door, stood on the terrace, and waved.
Three days later, I phoned Allison Gwynn's office and told her about Larner.
She said, "Oh, my- it's going to take me some time to integrate this… I'm glad you told me. It was good of you to tell me."
"I thought I should."
"Are you okay?"
"I'm fine."
"If you ever need someone to talk to…"
"I'll bear that in mind."
"Do that," she said. "I mean it."
Jonathan Kellerman
Jonathan Kellerman is one of the world's most popular authors. He has brought his expertise as a child psychologist to numerous bestselling tales of suspense (which have been translated into two dozen languages), including thirteen previous Alex Delaware novels; The Butcher's Theater, a story of serial killing in Jerusalem; and Billy Straight, featuring Hollywood homicide detective Petra Connor. His new novel, Flesh and Blood, will be published in hardcover in fall 2001. He is also the author of numerous essays, short stories, and scientific articles, two children's books, and three volumes of psychology, including Savage Spawn: Reflections on Violent Children. He and his wife, the novelist Faye Kellerman, have four children.
