She thought about Daniel Joseph, too, and Sarah-Jane Heilshorn, and the way in which Doug and Katie had let her down. She wasn't a bitter person. She wouldn't have been able to tolerate her deafness if she were bitter. But she felt deeply resentful about Doug's betrayal. He had used her as a scapegoat because she was deaf, and there was nothing she could do about it except despise him for it. All that bullshit about "the sweetest girl in the Children's Welfare Department."
Her cell phone vibrated.
"Meet me 6 pm Hugos Bar? Mickey."
Well, why not? she thought. She could use a drink, and a shoulder to cry on. It was 5:45 already, so she went to find her coat. Marcella was in the kitchen, ironing Daisy's blouses, and she said, "You going out, Ms. Summers? What time you come back?"
"Not late. But I've had one of those days."
"You don't worry. I always look after your Daisy."
Hugo's Bar was on Southwest Alder, a narrow building of chocolate-brown brick wedged between Esparto fashion store and a glossy new marble-front bank. Mickey was waiting for her right in back, at a circular oak table, under a low-suspended Tiffany-style lamp. All around the dark green walls hung mahogany-framed engravings of sternwheelers and steamboats.
He stood up when she arrived. He looked even more gaunt than usual. He said, "What'll it be?"
"A large glass of pinot noir. Averylarge glass of pinot noir."
"Something wrong?"
"I've been suspended. I quit."
He said, "You quit? I don't believe what I'm hearing." She told him all about Sarah-Jane Heilshorn, and he listened and nodded. When she had finished, her eyes were filled with tears of frustration, and he laid his hand on top of hers. "I always said Doug Yeats was an asshole, didn't I? Didn't I always say that? I'll bet when he was a kid he took an apple for his teacher every day,andpolished it with his own nose perspiration."
"Oh God, make me feel sick."
"Well, don't you worry about Doug, because I've got some good news for you: We picked up two guys outside the Robert Herrera Hair Salon just after two o'clock this afternoon."
"Really?"
"Caught them in flagrante: They were trying to force Mrs. Gillian Rossabi into a four-by-four at the curbside. One of them was a well-known psychopath from Bend called Jimmy Novak and the other was a local waste of space called Frederick Drendel. Novak was carrying a.45, a pair of nylon handcuffs, and a switchblade knife."
"That'sterrific!You actually got them! At least something's turned out good."
"Well, not totally good, not yet. We also arrested John H. Rossabi, Mrs. Rossabi's less-than-devoted husband, but Merlin Krauss contrived to be out when we called, although it's only a matter of time. I'm pretty confident we'll find your wood-pulp guy too."
Holly raised her glass. "Congratulations. Here's to you."
"Are you kidding me? We wouldn't have even known that this hit was going down at all if it hadn't been for you. Mrs. Rossabi would have been turned into cardboard boxes and nobody would have been any the wiser."
"Actually, they're not made of cardboard. They're made of linerboard with a corrugated medium sandwiched in between, one hundred percent recycled pulp."
Mickey frowned at her. "You're getting more like an encyclopedia every day, I swear it. What's the capital of Venezuela?"
They were still laughing and joking when Holly caught sight of somebody sitting in the booth on the opposite side of the bar, somebody so intensely black that they looked more like a shadow than a person. She couldn't see his face, because the Tiffany lamp hung in the way. All she could make out was a shoulder and an arm-or was it a cape and a hood? Or was it nothing but the way the light was falling across the buttoned banquette?
Mickey suddenly realized that she wasn't watching his lips.
"What's the matter? Something wrong?"
"I don't know . Over in the corner there. Can yousee somebody sitting there?"
"In the booth, you mean? No."
"You mean there's nobody there at all?"
He took another look and shook his head. "No. Nobody. Why?"
"I get the feeling that I'm being followed."
Mickey tipped back his whiskey. "Hasn't it ever occurred to you that you're more than worth following? I'd follow you myself, if I had the time."
Three Quiet Days
The next three days were so quiet that she felt as if time had stopped. She went shopping and bought herself two new sweaters at Pioneer Place, one rust-red and one navy. The rust-red sweater was too large when she tried it on at home so she had to take it back, and they didn't have a smaller one.
She sorted through her filing and shredded ten months' worth of credit-card bills and personal letters. She tidied the drawers in her bedroom, throwing away crumpled-up tubes of face cream and mascara brushes that looked like grumpy centipedes. She went out and bought three new imitation-leather photograph albums and emptied four shopping bags full of photographs onto the dining table so that she could shuffle them all into chronological order.
The trouble was, every photograph she picked up held her in a spell, and a whole afternoon went by before she had filled up even two and a half pages. Here was David, leaning against his new Porsche, grinning into the sunshine. Here was Holly, three weeks after his funeral, looking pale and cross. Here was Daisy, age eleven months, in nothing but a diaper, just about to topple sideways on the very first day when she started to walk.
And she thought to herself:What was this all for? Why did I live through all of those years of love and argument and agony and loss? To end up here, jobless, alone, unloved, in this apartment, putting all these photographs in order?
But she remembered then what George Greyeyes had told her about Raven.Raven is a scavenger, who takes away your luck. First your livelihood, then your home, then your loved ones, and then your happiness.
For the first time she acknowledged that she had been really cursed.
Casper's Warning
On Thursday evening she collected Daisy from school and took her to East Portland Memorial Hospital to visit Casper.
"Try not to be shocked, sweetheart: He looks very, very sick. But the doctors say that he's getting better."
Casper was out of intensive care, but he was still in a room of his own because he was so susceptible to infection. A small, bare room, with a view of the flat asphalt roof of the hospital kitchens, and the glaring sun going down over the Tualatin Mountains to the west.
Casper was propped up on three pillows, and he was being fed with a glucose drip. A dark fuzz was already growing on his head, and that made him look even more monkeylike than he had before. When she saw him, Daisy gripped Holly's hand and squeezed it tightly.
"Casper, this is my daughter, Daisy," said Holly, smiling. "How are you feeling today?"
Casper said, "Pretty tired, most of the time. I keep on falling asleep. Then I wake up and I don't know where I am."
"I talked to Dr. Arneson," Holly said. "He told me that you're doing real good. You've put on three and a half pounds since Monday."