"She would prefer that I be discreet about the details. I'll send along your best wishes. Will that suffice for now? If any of these developments require your continued attention someone will be in touch."
He paused briefly. I thanked him.
"And your sweet wife? I hope she is well. Mary is full of nothing but praise for her efforts and her legal acumen."
"Lauren is fine, Kimber. I'll pass along the kind words from Mary and tell her that you said hello."
Satoshi's subtle paranoia was infectious.
Just in case someone-who?-had a way of monitoring Lauren's or my bank accounts-how?-it didn't feel prudent to give Satoshi the money she wanted from our savings at the credit union. Where would I go if I needed a large quantity of cash in a hurry? Easy. I walked across the lane and interrupted Adrienne as she was plucking slimy green bugs off the tomato plants in her garden. In the same tone of voice I would have used to borrow a cup of sugar, I asked if she would withdraw two thousand dollars from her bank for me. I promised to pay her back.
She, of course, demanded details. Adrienne trusted me; I knew she wasn't especially worried about her money being returned. Anyway, Adrienne had more money than just about any human being needed. She just liked having leverage. I spoon-fed her about half of the facts before she agreed to get me the cash. I had expected to have to tell her much more. She ran upstairs without bothering to kick off her garden shoes. While she was gone I played catch with Jonas with a pink-and-gray Nerf football. My mouth dropped open when Adrienne came back down to the family room with a stack of hundreds and fifties.
"That's eighteen hundred. I'll get you the rest tomorrow."
"You keep this kind of money in the house?"
"What other kind of money is there? I don't have time to be running to the bank every other day for petty cash."
Petty cash? The pile of money in my hand actually had heft.
"You have a safe up there?"
"If I did, would I want to advertise it? Stop poking at me and remember your manners. Say
"Thank you, Adrienne."
"Thanks, Adrienne. You're great."
"Yes, I am." She turned her back to walk away before she added with a devious smile, "And in lieu of interest, I want updates."
When my patients need to inform me of an emergency, the message on my voice mail instructs them that they must leave a verbal message before dialing my pager number and punching in the phone number of the location where I can reach them.
The system serves a myriad of S.S.S, purposes, one of which is to ensure that my patients think twice before categorizing a situation as an emergency.
Monday, at almost 3:30, my pager vibrated. I was in the process of concluding a session that had started at 2:45, so I waited a few minutes until my patient was out the door before I checked my beeper. The screen read an unfamiliar number. I tried my voice mail to look for a corresponding message that might explain the emergency. There wasn't one.
I picked up the phone and punched in the number on my pager screen. After half a ring a voice said, "Yes."
"This is Dr. Gregory. I'm returning a page to this number."
"Hi, it's me."
With those words, Satoshi Hamamoto let me know she had indeed decided to come to Boulder.
"Satoshi? You're in town?"
"I drove straight through. I'm so tired I'm shaking. But I'm all right. I decided I wanted to help. Did you keep your promise about… not telling my story?"
"Pretty much. My wife is part of Locard, so she knows what you told me. And to get you someplace to stay I had to tell the person I described to you the last time you called. Besides the two of them, yes, I kept my promise. I don't feel I have much choice. If I talk about the rape, you'll deny whatever I say, right?"
"Sorry. Right."
"How does my friend get in touch with you?"
"Does your friend have a pager?"
"Yes"
"I'll take that number."
I gave it to her.
"Would you please tell your friend to expect a call."
"He already does. And I'll get the money to him. I have eighteen hundred so far.
More is available."
I heard her yawn.
"That's probably enough for now, thanks. It's just a net; I'm not planning on needing it."
"Anything else I can do?"
She didn't answer my question. Instead, she said, "I hardly know you, yet I'm trusting you. That's not like me." She made it sound almost like an accusation.
"I know. And I'm doing my best to deserve it. There's another side to this, though. I'm trusting you, too."
She laughed.
"Funny, I hadn't thought about that. Yes, you are. That's good. I like that."
"Satoshi, do you really think Joey is sending somebody after you?"
"No. From what I've been able to learn about him over the Internet, I don't think he has the balls. I'm sure he has money people-agents, managers, people like that who are living off of him. They're more likely to come after me than he is."
"It could be one of his sponsors."
"What do you mean 'sponsors'?" I explained about the financial relationship between sponsors and young touring golf pros.
"I didn't know about that part of the business. So these sponsors have a lot to lose if Joeys career tanks?"
"Absolutely. They might even have more to lose than Joey does."
"You have their names?"
"No"
"Shouldn't be hard to find out. I'll look into it. I have some other ideas, too.
Some long shots. I've done nothing but think about this all night long. Do you have any idea how much empty space there is between San Francisco and Denver?"
Sam paged me a few minutes after six. I was packing up to go home for the day.
He said, "She's sleeping. She's safe. Neat kid. I like her. You? You're lucky I like her."
"Thank God. I've been worried. Where is she?"
"Just in case she has a reason to be worried, I don't think I should tell you that. Certainly not over the phone. Know what I mean?"
"Yes. I'm sorry I asked. I'm not used to this." I sighed.
"At least Sa-she's. safe. Listen, I need to get you that money. Should I drop it by the police department?"
"I don't think that's the best idea. Here's what we'll do instead."
I hadn't seen Sherry, Sam's wife, for months. She looked harried when, twenty minutes later, I walked in the door to her flower shop on the west end of Pearl Street, only a few blocks from my office.
I embraced her and commented that she was staying open late on a Monday evening.
"Spousal request. You know about those? It's been a hell of a day. My employee had an emergency root canal this morning so I've been by myself since eleven.
Anybody ever tries to tell you that retail's a fun way to make a living, don't believe them. Listen, you have something to give me for Sammy? I'm sorry to be so rushed with you, but I have to run and get Simon at child care. I'm already so late they're going to scream." She tapped her watch.
I handed Sherry the envelope. She stuffed it into her shoulder bag and offered me a bouquet of lilies to give to Lauren.
"Sam insisted," she said. I was about to say it wasn't necessary when I realized that Sam probably didn't want me to be observed leaving the shop empty-handed. I thanked Sherry for the flowers and stayed at her side while she locked the door.
Traffic was a bitch going home. Every decision I made was the wrong one.
Broadway was gridlocked by a car-bike accident on the Hill. The left turn signal at Table Mesa was short cycling. An old Mercedes in front of me on South Boulder Road was belching enough diesel exhaust to choke a herd of bison.
I knew I should have taken Ninth to Baseline and cut across on Fifty-fifth. I just knew it.
Lauren had been concerned about my late arrival home. She expressed her concern verbally when I walked in the door, yet the whole time her eyes were darting between my hands and my face. Her expression clearly communicated her disappointment that I'd apparently forgotten to bring home the spinach pizza I'd promised her for dinner.