Билл Пронзини - In an Evil Time

It had to be Pierce. He wanted it to be Pierce, because then there was no immediate danger to anyone in the family and the solution to the problem was relatively clear-cut. The only real danger was in his sticking around, manipulating Angela. Confront him, then, and threaten him — with the law, but also with telling her he was a murderer. Point out that even if he tried to shift the guilt to Hollis, it wouldn’t work because she was still Daddy’s girl — she would never take his word over her father’s. Convince him that his only choice was to pack up and move away and never come near any of them again.

But be careful, don’t just bull ahead. Think through how he was going to handle Pierce, exactly what he would say to him. The more prepared he was, the greater the leverage to pry him out of their lives once and for all.

He felt better by the time he reached the Los Alegres exit — empowered again. He had decided something else, too, by then. He was not going to tell Cassie or Angela what he’d told Eric, not just yet. He was still committed to no more lies or evasions; he would simply withhold the truth a while longer. Until he talked to Pierce. Until he had him good and tight by the short hairs.

Sunday Morning

Cassie went to church at ten o’clock.

Hollis went to the garage to clean, oil, and load the Colt Woodsman.

When he was done he rewrapped the .22 and put it in the Lexus’s glove compartment. Then he left a note for Cassie, saying he’d gone on an errand, and drove to Angela’s apartment.

She and Kenny were there; Pierce wasn’t. But Hollis would have known he’d spent the night even if Kenny hadn’t blurted it out three minutes after his arrival. Angela was calm today, smiling, the picture of Sunday-morning domesticity. She poured him a cup of coffee, another for herself, while Kenny climbed onto his lap and chattered about some new video game Pierce had given him. That was when the boy made his slip.

“Dad’s gonna live with us all the time,” he said.

“Oh, he is. Did he tell you that?”

“Uh-huh.”

“When?”

“Last night when he tucked me in.”

Angela was staring into her cup, two spots of color high on her cheekbones. He watched her until she raised her head, but she wouldn’t quite meet his gaze. She said to Kenny, “Honey, you can watch the Cartoon Channel if you want to.”

“Hey, cool!”

And then to Hollis, “We can sit in the garden.”

The “garden” was a twenty-foot square enclosed by a board fence draped in scraggly wisteria. Brown lawn, a couple of pyracantha shrubs, two strips of flower bed that were mostly hard-packed dirt. She deserves better than this, Hollis thought. Kenny deserves better than this.

They sat in a pair of molded plastic chairs on a tiny rectangle of cracked concrete. Angela asked tentatively, “Are you mad at me, Daddy? About Ryan?”

“No.”

“I needed somebody. Not just for protection... I mean...”

“I know what you mean.”

“You understand, don’t you?”

“When is he moving in permanently? Be pretty cramped in such a small space, won’t it?”

“It’s not like that,” she said.” At least not yet.”

“He seems to think it is, from what he told Kenny.”

“He wants it that way, the three of us together again. Very much. Last night... he asked me to marry him again.”

Even though he insisted he wouldn’t yet . “And?”

“I didn’t give him a definite answer. I’m not sure it’s what I want. I still care for him... a lot. And Kenny does, too. But marriage so soon after David... and the situation the way it is... I don’t think it’s the right time to be making that kind of decision.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Ryan says he understands. But...”

“But what? Is he pressuring you?”

“Not exactly.”

“What then, exactly?”

“He’s so sure it’s the right thing. He swears he loves us, and I know he means it. I can’t be as absolutely certain of my own feelings, that’s all.”

“Did you tell him about the note?”

She nodded. “I felt he should know.”

“What was his reaction?”

“He said he’d make sure nothing happens to us.”

“Uh-huh. Where is he now?”

“He left about nine. He had some things to do.”

“What things?”

“He didn’t say.”

“Be back when?”

“He didn’t say.”

“Just went off and left you and Kenny alone.”

“He can’t watch over us every minute...”

“I want to talk to him,” Hollis said.

“About his proposal? Please, Daddy, don’t interfere. It won’t do any of us any good.”

“That isn’t what I want to talk about. You have any idea where he went?”

“Well, Rhona’s, maybe. Most of his things are still there...”

Right, he thought. No need to move them over here just yet. A razor, a toothbrush, some clean underwear, a couple of packages of condoms — what else would he need?

He stood. “I’d better be going.”

“Can’t you stay a while longer?”

This was the last place for his showdown with Pierce; it had been a mistake to think he could manage it anywhere near Angela and Kenny. Neutral ground, someplace where he could stay focused and maintain a tight grip on his emotions.

“Things to do myself,” he said. “We’ll get together again later.”

She seemed subdued as they went back inside; she probably thought he was mad at her, even though he’d said he wasn’t. Disappointed was closer to the truth. She was so damn dependent on men, the wrong kind, like Pierce and Rakubian. If only she had a little more backbone, a little better judgment.

She said, “Should I tell Ryan you want to see him?”

“No. I’ll take care of it.”

Kenny was paying no attention to them, sitting cross-legged in front of the television, up close, cartoon images assailing his eyes and cartoon voices assaulting his eardrums. Angela pried him away, brought him over for a quick hug and kiss good-bye. “See you, Granpa,” he said, and hurried back to the TV.

“He’s a cartoon junkie,” Angela said apologetically. “Cartoons and computers, that’s all he ever thinks about. But he loves you, Dad. So do I, a lot. Really... a lot.”

More than Pierce, I hope. Enough to forgive me when all this is over .

Pierce’s sister and her family lived on the east side, in one of the endless sprawling tracts that had spread like a blight over what had once been rich agricultural land. Tract houses, tract planning, even the more upscale variety, offended his architect’s eye. Bland conventional design, corner-cutting by greedy developers that too often resulted in slipshod construction and serious problems within a few years. Starter homes, some of them; fulfilled aspirations for other suburbanites. Little slices of the downsized American dream. He couldn’t fault those who were unable to afford something better; the high cost of living in California had forced many to settle for less. But the majority nowadays had been brainwashed into believing conformity and mediocrity were something better, all that they needed or deserved.

The only way to do battle against that kind of mind-set, in his professional view, was to try to educate the people by providing better home design, better overall planning, better construction, even if it meant shaving profits. Not the people like Shelby Chesterton, the affluent minority, who could afford the very best and for whom Hollis could now and then indulge his esthetic vision to the fullest. People like the seniors who would inhabit the Dry Creek Valley development, which was why he felt it was important for Mannix & Hollis to be given the job. And they would be, he was sure. Gabe felt the same way; they had agreed that a good portion of their profit margin should be sacrificed in favor of architectural integrity. Do quality work and you’d continue to get quality jobs, and in some small way maybe you could make a difference in the long run.