Frank looked up at him and frowned.
‘It’s nothing much,’ said Nevile. ‘I just wonder why he was so enthusiastic about your starting a new life.’
‘Maybe he knows that Margot and I have reached the end of the road. I mean, if Margot can’t accept that I didn’t kill Danny on purpose—’
‘I don’t know. It seems to me that most eight-year-old boys would want their parents to stay together, no matter what.’
‘I guess he realizes that we’re never going to be happy.’
‘Hmm. That’s rather a grown-up assessment for an eight-year-old boy – particularly an eight-year-old boy who’s just been killed . . . But how about a drink? I’ve got some rather good Riesling if you like that kind of thing.’
‘No, thanks. I think I’d better be going. I have to get back to the studio to find out what’s happening with Pigs.’
‘Is there a woman in your life beginning with A?’
Frank hesitated for a moment, and then said, ‘Yes.’
‘I hope you don’t think I’m being inquisitive. But when I come to write this up for my book, I’d like to be able to say if Danny hit the mark or not.’
‘Her name’s Astrid. I met her at The Cedars after the bomb went off. She’s very attractive, and I guess we get along pretty good, although I think it’s way too soon to think about spending the rest of my life with her.’
‘Of course.’
‘For one thing, she’s very secretive about her background. I don’t know where she lives or what she does for a living. I’ve never met any of her friends. For all I know, her name isn’t Astrid at all.’
‘That’s unusual. Not unheard of, I suppose, especially if she’s married. But unusual.’
‘I know. But she’s a very good listener, and she seems to understand how I feel, and as far as I’m concerned that’s all that matters for now.’ He stood up and took hold of Nevile’s hand. ‘I want to thank you for this. You’ve taken a load off my mind. Really.’
‘We should do it again. Perhaps we can find out more.’
Nevile opened the study door and Frank went into the hallway. As he did so, Danny stepped out of the living room, right in front of him, even though the walls were all glass and Frank hadn’t seen him waiting for him.
Frank heard himself saying, ‘Oh my God!’
Danny looked as solid as if he were still alive, except that his hair was wildly tousled and his face was deathly white. He was wearing a gray check shirt and khaki shorts and gray worn-out sneakers with no socks – clothes that Frank didn’t recognize. His shirt and his shorts were blotchy with dried blood, and there was dried blood on his left ear, as well as bruises on his forehead and briar scratches on his legs. His eyes were wide open but they stared at him like glass eyes in a stuffed animal, expressionless.
Frank felt as if his skin were shrinking. ‘Danny?’ he said hoarsely. He took a step forward, but Nevile grabbed hold of his arm.
‘Frank – don’t!’
‘You see him too?’
‘Yes, but it isn’t Danny. Believe me, Frank, Danny wouldn’t have the strength to do this.’
‘Danny?’ Frank repeated. ‘Danny, what the hell happened to you? Did somebody hurt you?’
He tried to pry Nevile’s fingers free from his arm, but now Nevile caught him around the waist as well, trying to pull him back. ‘Don’t, Frank! He could be dangerous!’
‘That’s Danny, Nevile! Look at him! That’s Danny!’
‘For God’s sake, he can’t be!’
‘Danny, who did this to you? Who hurt you? Let me go, Nevile. For Christ’s sake, let me go. I have to know who’s hurt him.’
Danny said nothing but continued to stare. Frank wrestled himself free from Nevile and took two or three steps toward him, holding out his hands.
‘Frank, will you listen to me – don’t!’
Frank went down on one knee. ‘Danny, don’t you know me? It’s Daddy. Who hurt you, Danny? Let me help you.’
Danny’s eyes turned toward him. They didn’t look like Danny’s, but there was something about them that Frank recognized, as if somebody familiar were watching him through the cut-out eyes of a Danny mask. ‘Daddy,’ he whispered.
‘What?’
‘Daddy hurt me.’
‘I don’t understand. I never beat up on you, not like this.’
‘Daddy hurt me.’
‘Danny, come here, let’s get you cleaned up.’
Nevile said, ‘He’s a spirit, Frank. You can’t clean him up. You can’t even touch him. He isn’t there.’
Frank turned around. ‘What the hell do you mean, he isn’t here? I can see him and I can hear him and he’s been hurt, and that’s good enough for me.’
‘Frank—’
But as Frank turned back again, Danny let out a scream of terror and hurtled against the wall. Then he was flung across the hallway, hitting his head and his shoulder against the leg of the side table. A glass vase toppled off the table and smashed on the floor. Danny slid feet-first toward the front door, as if he were being dragged by his ankles.
Frank tried to grab his hands and pull him back. He felt a sharp slice across his knuckles but there was nothing there. No hands, no Danny. Danny had vanished, instantly, in the same way that he had appeared. Frank stood up, shaking, confused, blood dripping from his elbow. He had cut himself on a curved piece of broken glass vase.
‘What happened? Where is he?’
‘I told you, Frank. You could see him but he wasn’t there.’
‘He knocked the vase off the table! If he wasn’t there, how could he knock the vase off the table?’
‘Psychokinetic energy, that’s all, like a poltergeist. Here, come into the kitchen. Let’s take a look at that cut.’
‘He was there, Nevile. He was right there in front of me.’
‘I know. I saw him too. But he was only in our minds.’
The dumpy cook stared disapprovingly as Nevile held Frank’s knuckles under cold running water. Then Nevile tore off a sheet of paper towel for him, so that he could dry his hand and stem the bleeding.
‘There – it’s not serious. You’ll live.’
‘That looked so much like Danny . . . I just can’t get my head round it.’
‘I know, Frank, but it wasn’t him. I think it was probably the same spirit we saw on your patio.’
‘But why? What does it want?’
‘I imagine it’s trying to tell you something, trying to explain something to you, but God alone knows what. Spirits are like the Oracle of Delphi. They have a frustrating habit of speaking in riddles, and suggestions, and hints.’
They went out on to the deck and Frank sat down, still trembling. Nevile opened the bottle of wine and handed him a glass. ‘Unless you’d rather have a brandy?’
‘No, this is fine.’
Nevile sat opposite him, and held his glass of wine up to the sunlight. ‘Beautiful color, isn’t it? Pure gold.’
‘What do I do now?’ Frank asked him.
‘Under normal circumstances I’d say forget it, leave well enough alone.’
‘But these aren’t normal circumstances, are they?’
‘No. And I think that your first instinct was right. You’re being led somewhere, for some reason. It may be nothing more than a prank. Some dead people have a very strange sense of humor. But I don’t think this is being done for fun. We need to find out what this spirit is trying to say to you, and urgently.’
Thirteen
On the six o’clock television news, anchorwoman Chris Chan announced that the LAPD Anti-Terrorism Unit had released further information about Richard Haze Abbott, the driver of the Movieble Feast catering truck.