Susan Loriman bit down on her lower lip. She had that effortless beauty it was hard not to envy. Men got funny around that kind of beauty, Ilene knew. Even Mike spoke with a weird vibe in his voice when Susan Loriman was in the room.
The diner waitress came over with a pot of coffee. Ilene nodded for her to pour, but Susan asked what herbal teas they carried. The waitress looked at her as if she’d asked for an enema. Susan said any tea would do. The waitress came back with a Lipton tea bag and poured hot water into the mug.
Susan Loriman stared down at the drink as if it held some divine secret.
“Lucas was a difficult birth. The week before he was born I caught pneumonia and I started coughing so hard I actually cracked a rib. I was hospitalized. The pain was unreal. Dante stayed with me the whole time. He wouldn’t leave my side.”
Susan slowly brought the tea to her lips, using both hands as though cradling an injured bird.
“When we found out Lucas was sick, we held a family meeting. Dante put on this whole brave act and talked about how we’d beat it as a family-‘We are Lorimans,’ he kept saying-and then that night he walked outside and cried so hard I thought he would hurt himself.”
“Mrs. Loriman?”
“Please call me Susan.”
“Susan, I get the picture. He’s a Hallmark-card father. He bathed him when he was young. He changed his diapers and coached his soccer team, and he’d be crushed to learn that he isn’t the boy’s father. Does that about sum it up?”
Susan Loriman took another sip of tea. Ilene thought about Herschel, about having nothing left. She wondered if Herschel was having an affair, maybe with that cute new divorced receptionist who laughed at all his jokes, and figured that the answer was probably yes.
“What’s left, Ilene…?”
A man who asks that has long since checked out of the marriage. Ilene was just late in realizing that he was already gone.
Susan Loriman said, “You don’t understand.”
“I’m not sure I need to. You don’t want him to know. I get that. I get that Dante would be hurt. I get that your family might suffer. So please save it. I really don’t have time. I could lecture you on how maybe all of this should have crossed your mind nine months before Lucas was born, but it’s the weekend, my time, and I have my own problems. I also, to speak candidly, don’t care about your moral failures, Mrs. Loriman. I care about your son’s health. Period, end of story. If hurting your marriage helps cure him, I’ll sign your divorce papers. Am I making myself clear?”
“You are.”
Susan cast her eyes down. Demure-it was a word that Ilene had heard before but never quite gotten. But that was what she was seeing right now. How many men would weaken- hadweakened-at such a move?
It was wrong to make this personal. Ilene took a breath, tried to push past her own situations-her repulsion to adultery, her fears about her future without the man she’d chosen to spend her life with, her worries about her practice and the questions those federal agents had asked.
“But I really don’t see why he has to know,” Ilene said.
Now Susan looked up and something akin to hope entered her face.
“We could approach the biological father discreetly,” Ilene said. “Ask him to take a blood test.”
The hope fled. “You can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“You just can’t.”
“Well, Susan, that’s your best bet.” Her tone was sharp now. “I’m trying to help you, but either way, I’m not here to listen to you tell me about the wonder of Dante the cuckold husband. I care about your family dynamics but only to a point. I’m your son’s doctor, not your shrink or pastor. If you’re looking for understanding or salvation, I’m not your girl. Who’s the father?”
Susan closed her eyes. “You don’t understand.”
“If you don’t give me a name, I will tell your husband.”
Ilene had not planned on saying that, but the anger rose up and took control.
“You’re putting your indiscretion ahead of your child’s health. That’s pathetic. And I won’t let it happen.”
“Please.”
“Who’s the father, Susan?”
Susan Loriman looked off, gnawed the lower lip.
“Who’s the father?”
And finally she answered: “I don’t know.”
Ilene Goldfarb blinked. The answer just sat there, between them, a gulf Ilene wasn’t sure how to cross. “I see.”
“No, you don’t.”
“You had more than one lover. I know that’s embarrassing or whatever. But we just bring each one in.”
“I didn’t have more than one lover. I didn’t have any lover.”
Ilene waited, not sure where this was headed.
“I was raped.”
28
MIKE sat in the interrogation room and tried to remain calm. On the wall in front of him, there was a large rectangular mirror that he assumed was one-way glass. The other walls were done up in school-lavatory green. The floor was gray linoleum.
Two men were in the room with him. One sat in the corner, almost like a scolded child. He had a pen and clipboard with him and kept his head down. The other guy-the officer who had held up the badge and gun in front of Club Jaguar-was black with a diamond stud in his left ear. He paced and carried an unlit cigarette in his hand.
“I’m Special Agent Darryl LeCrue,” the pacer said. “This here is Scott Duncan-the liaison between the DEA and the U.S. Attorney’s Office. You’ve been read your rights?”
“I have.”
LeCrue nodded. “And you’re willing to speak with us?”
“I am.”
“Please sign the waiver on the table.”
Mike did. Under normal circumstances he wouldn’t. He knew better. Mo would call Tia. She would get here, be his lawyer or get him one. He should shut up until then. But he didn’t really care about any of that right now.
LeCrue continued to pace. “Do you know what this is about?” he asked.
“No,” Mike said.
“No idea at all?”
“None.”
“What were you doing at Club Jaguar today?”
“Why were you guys following me?”
“Dr. Baye?”
“Yes.”
“I smoke. Do you know that?”
The question puzzled Mike. “I see the cigarette.”
“Is it lit?”
“No.”
“Do you think that pleases me?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“My point exactly. I used to smoke right in this very room. Not because I wanted to intimidate the suspects or blow smoke in their faces, though I did that sometimes. No, the reason I smoked is because I liked it. It relaxed me. Now that they’ve passed all these new laws, I’m not allowed to light up. You hear what I’m saying?”
“I guess so.”
“In other words, the law won’t let a man relax. That bothers me. I need my smokes. So when I’m in here, I’m grumpy. I carry this cigarette with me and long to light it up. But I can’t. It’s like leading the horse to water but not letting him drink. Now I don’t want your sympathy, but I need you to understand how it is because you are already pissing me off.” He slammed his hand against the table but kept his tone even. “I’m not going to answer your questions. You’re going to answer mine. We on the same page?”
Mike said, “Maybe I should wait for my lawyer.”
“Cool.” He turned to Duncan in the corner. “Scott, do we have enough to arrest him?”
“Yes.”
“Groovy. Let’s do that. Put him in the system on a weekend. When do you think his bail hearing will be?”
Duncan shrugged. “Hours from now. Might even have to wait until the morning.”
Mike tried to keep the panic off his face. “What’s the charge?”
LeCrue shrugged. “We can come up with something, can’t we, Scott?”
“Sure.”
“So it’s up to you, Dr. Baye. You seemed in a rush to get out before. So let’s start this again and see how it plays. What were you doing at Club Jaguar?”