"For some reason I put the two events together. The night your mother died, I couldn't find the right house. When I got out to check a street sign, someone on a red motorcycle came by. He saw me flagging him down and hesitated, but then rushed on past me."
She could feel Gregory's steady, rapid breathing on her forehead. He held her so close, she could hear the quick beat of his heart.
"Later I thought I had found the house — I had narrowed it down to two houses. One of them had a big picture window, and someone was standing inside, but I couldn't see who it was. I thought it might be the person who was waiting for my delivery. Then the door to the house next door opened — and that's where I was supposed to be."
It was strange the way the details of that night were slowly coming back to her.
"Don't you see, Gregory? That's the window I keep coming up to in the dream and trying to see through.
I don't know why."
"Do you know if it was Eric you saw that night?" he asked.
Ivy shrugged. "It was a red motorcycle, and the rider had a red helmet. But then, I guess a lot of people do. If it had been Eric, wouldn't he have stopped for me?"
Gregory didn't answer.
"Maybe not," said Ivy. "I mean, I know he's your friend, but he's never really liked me," she added quickly.
"As far as I know," Gregory said, "Eric's really liked only one person in his life. He can make things very hard for the people around him."
Ivy glanced up, surprised. Gregory saw Eric more clearly than she had realized. Still, he had remained a loyal friend to him, just as he was a friend to her now.
She relaxed against him. She was getting sleepy now, but was reluctant to pull away from die comfort of his arms.
"Isn't it strange," Ivy mused, "that I should put your mother's death and Tristan's together in one dream?"
"Not really," Gregory replied. "You and I have been through a lot of pain. Ivy, and we've been through it together, helping each other get by. It seems pretty natural to me that you would link those events in your dream." He lifted her face to his once again, looking deeply into her eyes. "No?"
"I guess so," she said.
"You really miss him, don't you? You can't help but keep remembering."
Ivy dropped her head, men smiled up at him through her tears. "I´ll just have to keep remembering how lucky I am to have found a friend like you, someone who really understands."
"This is better than any flick coming out of Hollywood this summer," Lacey said.
"Who invited you in here?" Tristan asked.
He had been sitting by Ivy's bed watching her sleep-he didn't know for how long. At last Gregory had left him alone with her. At last Ivy looked at peace.
After Gregory left, Tristan had sorted through what he'd learned, and tried hard to keep himself conscious. The dreamless darkness had not come upon him for a while now. It did not come upon him as swiftly and as often as when he first became an angel, but he knew he could not keep going without rest. Still, as tired as he was, he could not bear to give up these moments alone with Ivy in the quiet of the night. He resented Lacey's intrusion.
"I was sent by Philip," she told him.
"By Philip? I don't understand."
"In Manhattan today I found this funky guardian angel statue, a baseball player with wings." She flapped her arms dramatically. "I got it for him as a little gift."
"You mean you stole it?"
"Well, how would you like me to pay for it?" she snapped. "Anyway, I was just dropping it off.
He saw my glow and pointed, directing me in here. I guess he figured his sister needed all the help she could get."
"How long have you been here?" Tristan asked. He hadn't noticed Lacey's arrival.
"Ever since Gregory brushed back her hair and lifted her face up to his," she replied.
"You saw that?"
"I tell you, Hollywood could use him," Lacey said. "He's got all the right moves."
Lacey's view was both welcome and frightening to Tristan. On the one hand, he wanted Gregory to be doing nothing more than playing a romantic game with Ivy; he didn't want anything real to be happening between them. On the other hand, Tristan feared that there could be a darker reason behind such a game.
"So you heard it all. You've been here all this time."
"Yep." Lacey climbed up on the headboard of Ivy's bed. Her brown eyes glinted like shiny buttons, and her spikes of purple hair were pale and feathery in the moonlight. She perched above Ivy's head.
"I didn't want to disturb you. You were so deep in thought," she said. "And I figured you wanted time alone with her."
Tristan cocked his head. "Why are you suddenly being so thoughtful? Have you finished your mission?
Are you getting ready to leave?"
"Finished?" She almost choked on the word. "Uh… no," she said, glancing away from him. "I doubt I'll be shoving off to the next realm anytime soon."
"Oh," he said. "So, what happened in New York?"
"Uh… I don't think I should tell you. It'll probably be in the papers tomorrow, anyway."
Tristan nodded. "So you're earning back a few points now."
"Take advantage of me while you can," she urged.
Tristan smiled.
"I get points for that," she said, just touching his lips with the tip of a long nail, but his smile had already disappeared. "You're really worried."
"You heard the dream," he said. "It's pretty obvious. There's some connection between Caroline's death and mine."
"Tell me about Caroline. How'd she croak?" Lacey asked.
"Shot herself, in the head."
"And they're sure it was a suicide?"
"Well," said Tristan, "the police found only her fingerprints on the gun, and her fingers were still twisted around it. She left no note, but she had torn up photographs of Gregory's father and Ivy's mother."
Lacey sprang off the headboard and began to pace the room in a circle.
"I suppose someone could have set it up to look like a suicide." Tristan said slowly. "And Ivy was in the neighborhood that night. She could have seen something. Lacey! What if she saw something she shouldn't have—" "Did I ever tell you I was in Perry Mason?" Lacey interrupted.
"— and what if she didn't even realize it?" Tristan exclaimed.
"Of course, Raymond Burr is dead now," Lacey continued.
"I need to check out the address of Gregory's mother," Tristan told her, "and the address where Ivy made the delivery that night."
"As soon as I read the obit, I looked Raymond up," Lacey said.
"Listen to me, Lacey."
"I was sure he would be assigned some kind of mission."
"Lacey, please," he begged.
"I thought we could pal around together."
"Lacey!" he shouted.
"I mean, Raymond would make an awesome angel."
Tristan dropped his head in his hands. He needed time to think about what was going on and how he could keep Ivy safe.
"But he must have whisked right on," Lacey said.
"Must have," Tristan mumbled. He could feel his mind growing dim. He needed rest before he could figure things out.
"I can't tell you how disappointed I was!"
"You just did," Tristan observed wearily.
"Raymond said he'd never forget the episode I did with him."
There could be a lot of reasons for that, Tristan thought.
"Raymond always appreciated my talent."
Ivy was in danger, and he didn't know how to warn her or whom to warn her against, and Lacey was going on and on about a dead actor.
"So what I am saying is that I can probably help you on this matter," Lacey said.
Tristan stared at her. "Because you played a supporting role in one episode with another actor who pretended he was a lawyer who somehow ended up solving television crimes?"