For doing his time in Rahway like a stand-up guy, he had earned some favors upon his return. One was in his pocket; the other was locating Graham Rixley. It had surprised Jimmy that he had been living in Miranda’s apartment since her death; in fact, now owned it. It would be another question he would ask. He had several.
Stepping off the smoothly operating elevator into the hushed environs of the carpeted hallway, he turned left and walked east toward the corner apartment. The door was partially open for him. Returning his hand to the hidden Walther, he stepped inside.
Jimmy found that it no longer looked as it had in his memory — the furnishings were expensive, if worn-looking, and there were paintings on the walls, not posters; the windows clothed in heavy green drapes. Miranda had never covered her windows, done little decorating other than placing objects she had bought in various spots throughout the apartment, mostly brass pieces from India, colorful scarves used as lamp covers, oriental pillows — all gone now.
An old man eyed Jimmy from a table in the dining room. Without the hairpiece and rose-tinted glasses, Jimmy almost didn’t recognize Graham Rixley. He was surprised to see that he had bright green eyes, shiny as marbles. His bare head appeared lumpy and corrugated, his face drooping like softening dough. A walker stood at his left elbow.
“You know who I am?” Jimmy asked, pulling out a chair and taking a seat. He removed the gun from his pocket and placed it on the tabletop. Graham glanced at it, but remained expressionless as a lizard.
“It took me a moment to recognize your name, but yes... I remember you,” Graham wheezed.
“You know why I’m here?”
“You want to know what happened to Miranda.”
“I saw what happened to Miranda,” Jimmy replied. “I want to know why.”
Graham stared at him, his mouth partially open. “You saw... how?”
“From the bus stop across the street. I was waiting for her to come home; she had written me a letter.”
The older man nodded as he took in this news. “Yes...” he said, at last. “She told me she had written you, asked for your forgiveness. She was looking for her Galahad from the wrong side of town to rescue her! But you never came. What a joke.”
“I came.”
“Months after she had written you, it seems,” Graham responded.
“This isn’t about me,” Jimmy replied. “It’s about you... your hold on her... what you did that night.” The gun remained flat on the table, Jimmy’s hands in his lap. “She never would’ve done it if I’d been with her. It was you. You did something — drove her to it somehow.”
Graham regarded him quietly for several moments, his glassy eyes shining with moisture. “You really don’t know anything? She never told you about me, about our relationship?”
Jimmy shook his head, saying nothing.
“I almost feel sorry for you, then.”
“Don’t.”
“I was Miranda’s manager, just as she said that day we met. I was also her lover, which even you must have figured out. Yes, I was much older — in my late thirties when I met her, and recently divorced. She had a lot of talent, and I felt lucky to represent her — she was going to have a great career. But she was also a wonderful girl, vibrant, full of life, beautiful and giving. Like no one I knew.” His eyes took on a hooded look. “It was the same for you, I imagine.”
“Go on,” Jimmy urged.
Graham paused long enough to pour himself some water from a carafe. Some made it into the glass and he took a sip. “But there was more to her than just that — like everyone, she had a past. She mentioned once that she had almost confided in you about it... about her... father... but held back. She didn’t think that you would look at her the same way if you knew.”
Jimmy nodded, his gaze sliding away. “I thought... maybe... there was something.”
The old man pushed at his dental plate with a pale finger; then pointed the wet digit at Jimmy, chuckling. “Miranda was right... you didn’t want to know, did you?”
“You were nearly old enough to be her father...” Jimmy responded, letting it hang there.
“Yes, but I wasn’t... That’s an important distinction, isn’t it? And I was actually trying to help her... also important, I think.”
“You rented this place for her?”
Graham nodded. “I wanted to share it with her, but she wouldn’t agree. She liked to keep some distance. It was understandable. She was fragile. I figured in time she would come around so I didn’t mind waiting. My God, she was only twenty-two! It would have helped, though, with monitoring her therapy, her drug use, if I could’ve been close.”
“Therapy...?”
“Yes... for what she’d been through. You didn’t know that either?” Graham shook his head. “I paid for all that, and it was going pretty well... until you came along.”
“You were lucky I did.”
“Was I... was Miranda? Oh, she was smitten, all right, and after a while, maybe even a little in love with you. But you were exactly what she didn’t need.”
Jimmy stirred, locking eyes with the smaller man. “What does that mean... exactly?” He felt his jaw aching.
“The coke... the booze... the all-nighters and the parties... Did you think there was no penalty for all that? She lost her role on the soap... Got a reputation for being unreliable... Hell, she was unreliable! Sometimes she didn’t return my calls for days on end. I was having problems even getting her auditions. Didn’t you know that much at least?”
Graham didn’t wait for an answer. “And you had taken her about as far down as she could go. Couldn’t you see what you were doing to her — how fragile she was? That’s why she left you and came back to me. She needed help... and I was willing to give it to her. That’s what people who love you do, Jimmy — they forgive and they help.”
Jimmy saw spittle on the older man’s chin, the plate slipping once more. Graham went on, his voice clotted now and strained. “But it was even harder this time.”
“ This time...?” Jimmy asked, hating the little man.
Graham paused before replying. “Did you think you were the only one? She had strayed before, Jimmy; you weren’t the first. Miranda had relationship... issues.
“Even so, she had convinced herself that she loved you; that I was the problem! You can take some comfort from that if you need it. But when you didn’t come in answer to her letter, I finally got her to agree to sign herself in at a rehab clinic. I was going to pay for it all. She didn’t have to worry about a thing. We just had to collect a few clothes from her place... this place.” Graham looked around the apartment as if he, like Jimmy, was surprised at the changes.
“That was the night — the night I sat at the bus stop?”
Graham nodded, the flesh of his face jiggling, his eyes leaking tears. “It would seem so.”
It had never occurred to Jimmy that someone else might share his grief, least of all this man.
Drawing a ragged breath, Graham studied Jimmy’s face a moment before adding, “If you were ever given the opportunity to do a right thing, you bastard, that was your moment. But you just sat there nursing your anger and your pride and let her go by... didn’t you?”
Jimmy felt his face flushing with the guilt, the shame of his inaction. “But you were up here with her,” he accused Graham. “It was you.”
A bleak smile lifted the corners of Graham’s froggish mouth. “I never made it out of the lobby, you fool. She went ahead of me and told the doorman I was a stranger following her... trying to molest her — she could be very clever when she felt cornered.”