Lawrence Block - Hope to Die

"To go to the movies," she said. "I got bored and closed early. I decided I wanted to go to a movie in the middle of a weekday afternoon. It's the most decadent thing I can think of."

"What a sheltered life you've led."

"That's it exactly," she said. "Wanna keep me company, big boy?"

"What do you want to see?"

"There's an Adam Sandler movie at Worldwide Cinema."

"You've got to be kidding," I said.

"C'mon, it'll be fun. And it's only three dollars. That's our reward for missing it the first time around."

"Missing it was its own reward," I said.

She looked at her watch. "We've got seventeen minutes. Do you think we can get to Fiftieth and Eighth in seventeen minutes?"

"Yes," I said. "I'm afraid we can."

When we got home there was a message from Kristin. Could I call her? I called, and when the machine invited me to leave a message I identified myself and said I was returning her call. "Please pick up if you're there," I said. "Otherwise call me back when you get this message. I should be home the rest of- "

The evening, I would have concluded, but she picked up and said, "Mr. Scudder? Sorry, I was in the other room. The reason I called, well, I suppose I shouldn't have bothered you…"

"What is it, Kristin?"

"Well, I had a call earlier. From Peter."

"Peter Meredith?"

"Yes, that's right. I was standing right next to the machine when the call came in, and I thought, really, what's so terrible about picking it up?"

"And did you pick it up?"

"No, because you said not to."

"Good."

"But I felt really strange about it, you know? I mean, there have been all these calls from people I don't know, like newspaper reporters, and I just delete the message and that's that. I don't give it a second thought."

"There's no reason why you should. They'll keep pestering you, but they'll pester you less if you don't give them any encouragement."

"I know that. But Peter's different." She paused for breath, then said, "He wants me to call him back."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why?"

I gave her an answer, but it might have sounded more convincing if I'd had a reason. I just didn't want her talking to him, and I couldn't explain why. It's not as though I thought Nadler could morph into a handful of electrical impulses and shoot through the phone lines at her, but I still didn't want her on the phone with an old boyfriend or anyone else.

"Well," she said at length, and I didn't know what it meant. Ultimately, of course, it was up to her. Unless I had her phones ripped out, I couldn't stop her from taking whatever calls she chose to take.

"That policeman was here," she said. "Officer Wentworth?"

"Detective Wentworth."

"Oh, is that a faux pas, calling him officer if he's a detective? Not that I did, I don't think I called him anything. He's nice."

"He's a good man," I said.

"He said he would assign some police officers to watch the house, but that I wouldn't even know that they're there. So of course I keep going to the window and peeking out from behind the curtain, and I can't see anybody, but then he said I wouldn't be able to. So maybe they're there and maybe they're not."

"You'll be fine."

"I guess I'm not expected to give them milk and cookies," she said, "so I don't suppose it matters if they're there or not. I mean if I know if they're there or not."

"I know what you mean."

"Thank you. It's a little weird being cooped up like this. I wanted to order a pizza, but I didn't know if I should, because you said not to open the door. Is it okay to open the door for a pizza delivery boy?"

I was beginning to understand what a pain in the ass it must be to guard somebody in the Witness Protection Program. While I was thinking up an answer she said, "Never mind, there's plenty of stuff in the house. I must be driving you crazy. Am I? Tell me if I am."

"No, of course not. I know it's tough for you."

"It's just being cooped up with nothing to do but listen to my own head. Oh, I know what I wanted to tell you!"

"What?"

"I almost forgot. Remember I was supposed to see if there was anything missing? Anything taken in the burglary and not returned?"

"And is there?"

"I think so," she said, "but I don't know if it means anything. I mean, it's not valuable or anything. So if it is missing, that doesn't mean anybody took it. It could just be lost."

"What is it, Kristin?"

"Do you know what rhodochrosite is?"

"A gemstone?"

"Well, I guess they call it semiprecious. Or maybe not even that. It's sort of a rosy pink, but… you know what? Why don't you come over here and I'll show you?"

"If it's missing," I said, "how can you show me?"

"It's an earring," she said.

"Oh."

"And that's how I knew it was missing, because there's only one of them left."

"Yes, of course." I looked at my watch. I'd been thinking of going to a meeting, but the hell with it. "I'll be right over," I said. "And make sure it's me before you open the door."

"I will. Oh, Mr. Scudder? Do you think… no, never mind, it's silly."

"Say it anyway."

"Well," she said, "do you suppose you could pick up a pizza?"

I'd seen the stone before, in shop windows, but I'd never known what it was called. It was rhodochrosite, she told me, and it wasn't valuable, it was too soft and too fragile, but she thought it was pretty.

"Very pretty," I agreed, and turned the earring over, examining it from different angles. The stone was smooth, cool to the touch, the clip silver.

"I bought them for her," she said, "while I was still at Wellesley, but I bought them here in New York, in a little shop on Macdougal Street. They're not there anymore, I guess they went out of business. They weren't expensive. Maybe thirty-five dollars? Under fifty, certainly. I gave them to her for her birthday."

"And she still had both of them when…"

"As far as I know. But, you know, it's real easy to lose an earring. Especially clip-ons. She'd had her ears pierced, and most of her earrings were for pierced ears, but these only came with clips, and I thought they were pretty, and she liked clips sometimes. But they're easier to lose. And she might not have wanted to say she lost one, because I gave them to her, you know? Or maybe she just didn't get around to mentioning it."

We were in the kitchen, a pizza box open on the table between us. She'd already eaten two slices and was working on a third. "When you want pizza," she said, "nothing else really does it."

It wouldn't have been my first choice, but I hadn't eaten anything since breakfast, aside from a few handfuls of the popcorn Elaine bought as an accompaniment to Adam Sandler. It wasn't bad pizza.

I said as much, then held the earring to the light. "May I take this?"

"Yes, of course. Do you think…"

"That he took it? Probably not. But if we pick him up wearing it, it'll be interesting to hear him explain it."

I called Wentworth as soon as I got home, and was assured that he'd get the message. I don't know when he got it, but it was the next morning when I heard from him.

There was something in his voice I hadn't heard before, but I chalked it up to the hour and gave him my news. He was silent for a beat, and then he said, "An earring."

"One of a pair. Maybe it's nothing, and then again maybe he wanted a souvenir."

"Nadler, you mean."

"Of course."

" 'Of course.' Thing is, there's a problem. Nadler didn't do it."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean Seymour Nadler's a perfectly respectable psychiatrist who never even got caught jaywalking."

"That's not surprising, is it? We know he'd have to have a respectable front, and- "

"He's also got a respectable alibi. I spoke to him yesterday, couple of hours after I talked to you."