Stuart Kaminsky - Vengeance

I must have looked dazed. I came back to the beach, the world, the beautiful dying woman and the boy trying to get away from his mother.

“Sorry,” I said.

I got up.

“That’s it, then,” I said.

“Almost,” she answered. “Adele.”

I sat again.

“Adele?”

“The file on your desk. The day I came to your office. I read it before you got there, remember I was just finishing it when you arrived.”

“I remember” I said.

“Is she all right?”

“Yes, I think so,” I said. “She’s going to a foster home, a good one. Her father’s dead.”

“I know,” she said, looking at me. “I killed him.”

“Oh, Holy Mother,” I said, closing my eyes.

“Did Carl tell you I took his gun, the one in his desk, when I left?”

“No.”

“I can see why. It was not purchased legally. After I left your office I thought about Dwight Handford. I must have decided to kill him while I was reading the file. The idea of what he was doing to… I’m leaving a relatively evil world, Lew. I didn’t want to leave it before a monster like Handford. Somehow it didn’t seem right that I should die and he should go on living. I memorized his address and got up enough nerve to kill him. I’d never fired a gun before. He had no idea who I was or why I was killing him.”

“Christ,” I said.

“You’re shocked?”

“Yes,” I said.

“But you’re not sorry Handford is dead?”

“No.”

My eyes were open now. Her hand was out, waiting. I got up and took it.

“You’re a good listener, Lew,” she said.

“My job,” I answered.

“Carl is not a good listener. He’s a talker. If he listened, he’d know where I might be.”

I let go of her hand and she put her sunglasses back on and returned to Tolstoy.

I headed back to Sarasota, considered making a stop for coffee, but I didn’t want to be with people. I kept seeing Melanie Sebastian sitting on that lounger in her wide-brimmed straw hat, reading and waiting.

In my room, I popped Prince of Foxes into my VCR. Not enough Orson Welles. Too much Tyrone Power.

In a few days I’d forgive Power and watch Blood and Sand.

The phone in my office rang on and off for more than an hour. I lay in bed watching the movie. I ignored the phone till the movie was over and then I answered. I didn’t want Carl Sebastian coming to my door or sending Luke Catano. It was Sebastian.

“Well?” he asked, sounding like a concerned and ill-treated husband.

“I found her, lost her,” I said. “I talked to her for a few minutes. All she said was she didn’t want to talk to you. I’ll keep looking for her, no charge. If you want your money back-”

“No, no. Work fast,” he said earnestly. “I’m worried about Melanie.”

“I’ll work as fast as I can,” I said.

When I hung up, I took out the photograph of Melanie and Carl Sebastian on the beach. They still looked happy. To the extent you can tell such things, they seemed to be very much in love.

I decided to wait a few days, drive around, ask questions in all the wrong places, let Catano keep up with me and then I’d give up and tell Sebastian I had lost her trail. I would send him a report. A few days after that, maybe a week or two, Catano and Sebastian would find her. Melanie would be dead. I hoped it would be on the beach but it would probably be a hit-and-run.

I tried not to think about it, but trying didn’t help.

Sally and I went to a movie, something at Burns Court, something in French set in the distant past, costumes, horses, palaces, love, tragedy. We ate popcorn. My mind was on a beach.

Both of us ate lightly at the Bangkok Restaurant. I couldn’t finish my pad thai. I always finished pad thai.

“Lew, where are you?” she asked.

“Sorry,” I said. “I’m coming back.”

“Remember,” she said. “I told you the kids are away for the weekend.”

“I remember,” I said.

She played with her food for a few seconds and looked at me.

“I’m not ready, Lew,” she said.

“I’m not either.”

The restaurant was Saturday-night crowded. No one was paying any attention to us. Sally had worn a blue dress with a wide belt. Her earrings dangled with blue stones that caught the light. Her dark hair looked different than it had the day before. It had been cut and brushed back off of her ears.

“Let’s be friends for a while,” she said. “See where it goes. See when we’re ready. I don’t even know if my body remembers how to do it.”

“I’ve heard you never forget.”

“Disappointed?”

“Yes and no. Relieved in a way. You want to talk about your husband?”

“Yes, if you want to listen.”

“I want to listen.”

“You want to talk about your wife?”

“I think so.”

“You want to go first?” she asked.

The waiter brought us more tea and I said,

“Catherine. Her name was Catherine.”