Perri O'Shaughnessy - Presumption Of Death

Let the cramming begin. She had always been a crammer in school.

All right, let hell break loose, she could prepare for that with ten days’ lead time!

“Hi, Nate.” The boy looked at her slackly. He had been watching afternoon soap operas on TV. An orderly at the facility hung around close by, curious.

“Hi.” A string of saliva ran from the corner of his mouth and he looked pale and wan. She thought, Maybe he was better off undermedicated.

“How are you doing?”

He watched the TV. Diamonique bracelets were on sale on QVC. “It’s okay. But they never gave me any ice cream.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll see if I can help with that. Nate, you remember, when we came and got you”-he was nodding-“you told us why you had been chained to the tree?”

“Chained to the tree. I was.”

“Could you tell me again about the phone call you overheard?”

“Wee-zull. The phone call I overheard. The phone made a song and he answered. His face got funny and he looked around for me, but I was outside listening inside. He said, Don’t try to stiff me. It’s that simple. Or else I’ll take the children.”

“Did he say anything else about the children? Which children, Nate?”

“No.”

“Do you remember calling me at the court?”

“You weren’t there. She wrote it down.”

“Right. And you mentioned fire in your phone call. And you said something about ‘the big one.’ Remember?”

Nina waited, biting her nail. Nate hadn’t turned his head from the TV. He sounded remarkably coherent compared with the last time she had talked to him. Nina had represented mental patients before and believed that antipsychotic medications, with their side effects, were often overused in the interests of the institutions, not the patients. But today Nate sounded almost normal: dulled out, drooling, but almost coherent. The medicine was helping him, she had to admit.

“Take the children. Take the children. Take the children. Take the-” Again, Nina felt the clutch of fear.

“Thanks, Nate. Thanks very much. A friend of mine will be coming to see you soon. Dr. Cervenka. You’ll like him. He looks like Santa Claus.”

“Okay.”

“Do you know where your brother might have gone?”

“He must be dead.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Or he’d come get me out of here.”

“You-you want him to come get you?”

“He always took care of me. I don’t like it here.”

Nina walked swiftly down the concrete-floored hall to the front and was let out. At the counter, she asked the attendant where she could find the nearest ice-cream place. She dropped off a half-gallon of Neapolitan for Nate before she headed for Carmel Valley down 68.

Another hot, perfect summer day. Mount Toro loomed on her left.

The cell phone rang, and Paul came on. “I’m still waiting to talk to Crockett. What are you doing?”

She told him, then said, “I’m going to Britta Cowan’s travel agency and see if I can catch her.”

“What for?”

She heard that tone again, the one that told her he didn’t like her coming up with ideas on her own. She bridled.

“Don’t be overbearing, Paul,” she said.

He seemed surprised. “All I asked was-”

“Debbie said that Britta had an affair with Danny last year. Maybe she met Coyote at some point.”

After a short silence, Paul said, “That’s a good thought.”

“I have them sometimes. I asked Nate if he knew where Coyote might be and he said the strangest thing-that he wished he would come and get him out. After the maltreatment he suffered, I was surprised.”

“I called the condo to pick up voice mail. Sandy wants an update. You or me?”

“I’ll call. I’ll call Joseph too.”

“Great. What time will you be home?”

Home, Nina thought. “Late afternoon.”

“What’s for supper?”

“Whatever’s around.”

“I’ll stop at the store,” Paul said, hurt-sounding.

Carmel Valley Travel was located in a small strip mall on the main road just before the Village. Siesta Court was right down the hill. A school bus stopped just in front of Nina and disgorged its freight of children bowed like porters under their heavy backpacks. She saw George’s granddaughter Callie grab her little sister’s hand as they crossed the street, and it gave her a tight feeling in her chest. She didn’t agree with Jaime. The parents should be warned about a possible threat to the children.

Inside the travel agency, frigid air-conditioning, the usual racks of cruise folders, maps on the walls, Britta Cowan and another woman on the phones. She saw Nina but gave no sign. Nina went back and sat down in the chair next to her.

Britta was saying, “The Bangkok leg has aisle seats but no window except over the wing. You want that? Okay. And vegetarian meal, right? Okay. I’ll see what I can do. What?” Nina looked over the desk. All she saw was travel brochures, tickets, notes, and schedules. No plant, no photos, nothing personal. How odd, she thought. On the wall she saw a poster for Icelandic Airlines.

Britta hung up. “So where are we going today?” she said in her mocking voice.

“I wonder if we could talk for a few minutes.”

“As you can see, I’m trying to make a living.”

“It’s important.”

“To you, maybe.” But curiosity got the better of her, and she said, “Irene, I’ll be out back.”

She led Nina outside to a small, sunny, flowery courtyard. They sat down on some ironwork patio chairs. Britta pulled out a pack of cigarettes, stuck one in her mouth, and lit it with her Zippo. She wore tight white pants and a polo shirt. Her arms were toned and tan and the gold bracelets she wore showed them off.

“Nice poster. By your desk. Are you originally from Iceland?”

“Yes. Home of hot springs and Bjork.”

“You don’t have an accent.”

“I speak four languages without an accent. I was a flight attendant for Icelandic when I met David. He was drunk and I was poor. A perfect match, I thought.”

“How long have you been married?”

“Eight years.” She inhaled the smoke with pleasure. Sun filtered through the trees and made a halo of her hair. “And here I am.”

Nina was having trouble finding an opening. She decided to try to match Britta’s bluntness.

“A happy marriage?” she said.

“Sure.” Britta smiled slightly, enjoying Nina’s discomfiture.

“But you had an affair with Danny Cervantes last year.”

“Yes. And Sam Puglia too. But Sam was only good for a few nights. He ran home to Mama.”

“And Danny?”

“A kid.”

“Was he in love with you?”

“No. In fact, I think he despised me. But we got along in bed. Are we having fun yet?”

“How did your husband take these affairs?”

“David doesn’t care.”

“Then why do you stay married to him?”

“Faithfulness is overrated. We have things in common. Next question.”

“All right. Danny. How did you leave it with him?”

“I told him to get lost. He was borrowing money from me. The thrill was gone.”

“Did Danny talk to you recently about making some big money?”

For the first time Britta’s eyes clouded. She smoked some more, then said, “Maybe. Maybe I don’t want to be a witness in court about any of this, though.”

“I can understand that.” I’ll take that as a yes, Nina thought to herself, and furthermore, I’ll subpoena you if you know anything. She went on, “Did you ever meet Robert Johnson?”

“Coyote? Yes.”

“Where?”

“At a bar.”

“Alma’s?”

“Very good!”

Nina chose her next words carefully. “What did you think of him?”

“A jerk.”