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Ariel Gore: Santa Fe Noir

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Ariel Gore Santa Fe Noir
  • Название:
    Santa Fe Noir
  • Автор:
  • Издательство:
    Akashic Books
  • Жанр:
  • Год:
    2020
  • Город:
    New York
  • Язык:
    Английский
  • ISBN:
    978-1-61775-722-8
  • Рейтинг книги:
    3 / 5
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Santa Fe Noir: краткое содержание, описание и аннотация

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Santa Fe joins Phoenix as a riveting Southwest US installment in the Akashic Noir Series.

Ariel Gore: другие книги автора


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“I was so fucking stupid. I had no reason to trust him.”

“We often learn these lessons the hard way. That doesn’t make you stupid.”

“And now...” She bent over, her shoulders convulsing.

I wanted so badly to place my hand on her arm, to soothe her. Some therapists did, some didn’t. But after our innocent yet intense physical interaction earlier, it seemed innocuous enough.

I placed my hand on her shoulder.

She looked at me, tears streaming. “He just moved in next door to my parents’ house! I have to move. Either out of Eldorado or back to Europe.”

Her words licked through me like a flame. I would miss her so.

“What’s holding you here?”

“You.” She smiled crookedly.

A plume of warmth filled my aching chest.

“I want to get over this. I’ve never told anyone about Jacob before. I have only told the sandbox story.”

“The sandbox story shows how tenacious you are. You’re still that strong and determined.”

She looked up at me through damp eyelashes. “A friend of mine wants me to take over his lease, because he can’t afford the rent. But I have to do it tomorrow. My parents won’t be home then. I’ve never told them what happened, and they would just blame me if I did.”

“So it’s always been a secret between you.”

“Yeah, I left pretty quickly after that to go to Simon’s Rock, at Bard, where you can start college as a high school student.”

“Didn’t they find that to be odd?”

“My mother went there, so not really. I thought I could always come home again. But I never felt comfortable here after that. So when my best friend from college’s father fell in love with me, I traveled the world with him. When we broke up a few years later, one of his clients picked me up. It’s been like that ever since. Except it appears I’m aging out of this line of work. And I’m tired of it. I want to fall in love with someone real. Is it too late?”

“No,” I said vehemently.

She nodded. “But I need your help.”

“My help?” To fall in love? My heart juddered.

“I know this is ridiculous, you’re my therapist, but I don’t know who else to ask. My friend has to work. Will you rent a U-Haul truck for me? I can give you all of the money. I just don’t have a license. I can hire laborers, my friend knows some.”

“That’s a tough one, Delphine. You’re asking me to cross a therapist/client boundary.”

She looked crestfallen.

I thought of picking up the truck, entering the Hathaway compound, being useful. Delphine offering me a cold beer at the end of a long day. A stupid rule could keep Delphine trapped near Jacob. He could strike again. She could disappear from the Hathaway house, Eldorado, my practice, and my life.

“Then again, not helping you, knowing what I know about Jacob, seems even worse. Why don’t you have a driver’s license?”

“After the... you know, the thing with Jacob, everything seemed overwhelming. I never followed up with the paperwork.”

We made plans to meet at the hardware store the following morning at eight.


The next morning, I showed up in my best yard-work clothes. Todd of the pointed beard walked us out to the U-Haul cluster. Delphine’s clogs clonked against the macadam.

“That one,” Delphine said, pointing to a fifteen-footer.

I gave him my driver’s license.

He looked at Delphine’s credit card and my license and shook his bald head. “The credit card’s gotta match the driver’s license name.”

“Oh!” she said.

He stuck his pen in his mouth and worked it like a cigar. “Yeah, you know, we just gotta have these rules because people have all sorts of tricks up their sleeves, and it’s not fair but life ain’t fair, and these rules are here to protect all of us even if it isn’t always the most convenient thing...”

Unable to bear his pompous bloviating for one more second, I handed him my credit card. “Delphine, you can reimburse me. Not a problem.”

“Oh, thank you,” she said, and threw her arms around me. I gave her back a horridly proper psychologist pat, when I wanted to pull her even closer. Then I noticed Todd leering at us. He ran his stubby fingertips over his chest and cackled.

“Little Todd wants a hug too,” he said.

Delphine and I jumped apart. She turned toward the truck as I mutely signed the rental form, cheeks burning.

I slid my license and credit card back into my wallet and wondered, as we climbed into the truck that smelled of stale farts and coffee, how she’d gotten to the hardware store. Maybe she walked. I should have offered to give her a ride.


Delphine seemed somber as we carried boxes into the truck. The laborers handled her furniture. But the truck soon proved bigger than the job required. I was going to mention it, but she beat me to it.

“I’m pretty spatially challenged for a dancer,” she said. “We could have gotten away with the next size down.”

She told me her new place was down a long dirt road on the other side of 285. Most homes there were of the mobile variety, with appliances rusting out front, and adobe shacks with none of the grace of the houses of Eldorado. I suddenly appreciated the numerous covenants that ruled that land.

Delphine directed me to stop at a tall ranch gate crowned with an iron longhorn design. She hopped out, fiddled with the lock, and swung the gate wide open. I drove through, followed by the laborers in their ancient pickup truck, onto a rutted road. Horses grazed, alfalfa swayed.

After about a mile, she pointed to a tidy log cabin with a front porch.

“It used to be a ranch-hand cabin.”

We parked and carried the first load of boxes inside. Two old wooden built-in bunk beds barnacled the far wall. A small kitchen, potbellied stove, a flagstone floor.

“Home sweet home,” she said.

As I trudged back and forth with Delphine’s things in my arms, I felt a contentment I barely remembered. In sessions, I helped people, but I did it while sitting still. This was therapy too.

I wouldn’t tell my supervisor about it, because he was hidebound to traditional rules. Even if he did understand, he really couldn’t say so.


I swept out the truck and closed it up.

“If you leave now,” Delphine said, “you won’t get charged for another hour.”

“Are you sure you don’t want help unpacking?” I asked. “I don’t care about the money.”

I care about the money. I insist on paying you back. You’ve done too much as it is.”

“Okay,” I said, deflated. I nodded to her, and she nodded back. “You have cell phone service out here? And the door has a lock?”

“The door has a lock, and if all else fails, there’s always this.” She lifted her jeans cuff, flashing a mother-of-pearl-handled gun strapped to her ankle.

The male platypus has a venomous spur in his right leg.

She kissed her fingertips and placed them against my cheek. “Thank you,” she said.

In the truck’s mirror, a few yards down the road, I saw the red lipstick her fingertips had imparted. I raised my finger to the smear and rubbed it, then drew it roughly back and forth across my lips.


Todd walked the perimeter of the truck and shined a flashlight around the inside. It reminded me of the time that I rented a car from the Santa Fe airport, and they charged me for a broken windshield even though I had returned it undamaged.

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