Билл Пронзини - In an Evil Time

“I meant with you, personally.”

“Well, I’ve got a date this weekend with a girl I met at one of the clubs. My hunch is she’s married, and I’m not sure I ought to—”

“I’m not interested in your love life, son.”

“... No, of course you’re not.”

“I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.” Handling this badly, dammit. He never seemed able to find the right words, the right approach when he was trying to have a serious talk with Eric. “I’m just wondering if there are any problems, anything important happening in your life.”

“Well, the answer to that is no. Why?”

“Would you come to me if there were?”

“I might, if I thought you could help.”

“How would you do it? Call or what?”

“Phone, e-mail, whatever.”

“You wouldn’t write a letter?”

“Snail mail? Come on, Dad.”

“So you’re sure there’s nothing you want to talk over.”

“Not a thing.”

“Nothing out of the ordinary that might’ve happened recently?”

“Other than the prospect of getting laid by a married woman, no. What’s going on? Why all these questions?”

Hollis thought: This is crazy, both of us tiptoeing around, pretending, playing the secrets game. It’s got to stop. For a moment he considered dragging the truth out himself, forcing Eric to admit his part; but he couldn’t do it. Not on the phone, not on the basis of what might be nothing more than a crank note. The important thing was that Eric was neither responsible for the note nor had received a similar one himself.

If he was telling the truth.

If all that calm wasn’t a front, like a layer of Sheetrock to hide a crumbling wall.

He said, “I worry about you, that’s all. Just want you to know I’m here if you need me.”

Longish pause. “That goes both ways, Dad.”

“Yes. Both ways.”

Tuesday Evening

He called Angela at her new apartment, to find out if everything was all right with her. Yes, fine. High spirits. She chattered on about the university, her job, how much Kenny liked day care, how well Pierce and the boy were getting along, how glad she was to be home.

It neither reassured nor cheered him.

Wednesday

He couldn’t work, couldn’t concentrate. Couldn’t sit still. He drove down to Mannix & Hollis for no good reason, came back and took Fritz for a walk, went by himself to McLear Park and spent an hour watching a middle-aged foursome play a bad set of tennis doubles.

What did you do with his body?

Like an endless echo in his mind.

Thursday

Gabe took him to lunch at a new Thai restaurant that had opened downtown. Mild pumpkin curry, steamed rice, a bottle of Singha beer. The food was tasteless — he had no appetite these days — and the beer did nothing for him. What he really wanted was a double Irish, but Stan Otaki had warned him against drinking hard liquor, even in moderation, during his cancer treatments.

They talked business for a while, the Dry Creek Valley project and a potential drainage problem the geologist’s report had pointed up with the rocky, nonabsorbent soil. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t seem to focus on the details. He kept losing the thread of the discussion, blanking out completely for a few seconds. Mannix was not the most observant or sensitive of men, but even he couldn’t help but notice.

“You seem preoccupied, Bernard. Something bothering you?”

“No. Just a little spacey today.”

“The cancer? Everything okay there?”

“Status quo.”

“Angela? Kenny?”

“They’re fine. I’m thinking of getting Kenny an iMac for his birthday.”

“He’ll love it. How’s her new job?”

“Just what she wants for now. She’s already signed up for evening classes in the fall — start working for her MA so she can teach.”

Mannix said reminiscently, as if he were picturing Angela in his mind, “She looks so much better now that that fucking psycho is out of her life. Her old self again.”

“Not quite, but she’s getting there.”

“You did the right thing.”

“... Right thing?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I don’t, Gabe.”

Mannix shrugged. “Status quo there, too,” he said, and signaled the waiter. “I don’t know about you, but I can use another beer.”

It wasn’t until later, after he’d been dropped off at home, that he realized what Mannix had meant by “the right thing.”

Gabe thought his advice had been taken after all; he thought Hollis was the cause of Rakubian’s disappearance.

Thursday Afternoon

He was resting on a chaise longue on the patio, the Thai food heavy in his stomach and an afternoon breeze cool on his skin, when he heard the truck pull into the driveway. Loud exhaust, rumbling engine — Ryan Pierce’s old Dodge.

Now what?

Reluctantly he stood and went along the side path. Pierce was just getting out of the pickup, wearing stained Levi’s, a khaki shirt, a battered straw cowboy hat. The Dodge’s bed was stacked with bags of feed and blocks of salt.

Pierce saw him and took off the hat. The way he stood there, hat in hand, made Hollis think of a none too bright farm boy. He shook the thought away. He was trying to be fair and equable with the kid these days, wasn’t he?

“How’re you, Mr. Hollis?” Still formal and polite. You had to give him that much.

“Holding up. What brings you here?”

“Well, I had to get some supplies and I thought I’d swing by, see if you were home. I’ve been wanting to talk to you.”

“Yes? What about?”

“Angela. Kenny, too.”

“What about them?”

“I guess you know I’ve been seeing a lot of them since they came back. Does it bother you and Mrs. Hollis?”

“Would it matter to you if it did?”

“I’d like to know.”

“You can hardly expect us to be jumping for joy, given your track record.”

“I suppose not. But my reasons aren’t selfish. It’s because I care about them and I want to do what’s right for them.”

“And just what do you think that is?”

“Start over again, the three of us. Be the family we never were before. I owe it to Angela, to my son.”

Hollis stared at him. “What’re you saying?”

“I’m going to ask her to marry me again.”

“Christ, Pierce! Are you crazy?”

“Never more sane. I love Angela, I love Kenny, I was a sorry damn fool for ever letting them out of my life. The three of us belong together. Whether you think so or not, Mr. Hollis.”

Anger kindled in him. He smothered it. Pierce was serious, earnest, and he was capable of the willful stubbornness of a mule. A show of anger would accomplish nothing, probably lead to a public shouting match.

He said slowly, keeping his voice even, “Does Angela know about this?”

“Not yet. I haven’t said anything, at least not directly. Seemed like a good idea to tell you first.”

“Ask me for her hand?” Hollis couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of his tone. “You never bothered the first time, you just went ahead and knocked her up.”

A muscle ticced on Pierce’s cheek; otherwise his face was stoic. “I made a lot of mistakes back then. I’m trying not to make any more, anyway not the same ones.”

“Trying to convince Angela to marry you again is a damn big mistake. You know what she went through with her second husband. The last thing she needs is another commitment, another go-round with you.”

“I understand how badly Rakubian hurt her,” Pierce said. “Makes me sick every time I think about it.”

“You hurt her, too, once. Remember?”

“I’m not likely to forget. It won’t happen again, I swear that to you. I want to make up for what I did and what Rakubian did.”