"That's what they said."
"Right. That's what they said. But the other possibility is that they've made an incredible mess of things and by now it can't be fixed-and they know it."
"So they want somebody to blame?"
"Right. They want a donkey to pin the tail on."
She frowned. I saw her hesitate. "Do you really think so?"
"I don't know, that's the point," I said. "But I have to find out."
"Which you will do by…"
"By making some calls. Maybe paying a surprise visit to the fab building tomorrow."
"Okay. That sounds right to me."
"I'm glad I have your approval." I couldn't keep the irritation out of my voice.
"Jack," she said. She got up and hugged me. "I'm just worried about you, that's all."
"I appreciate that," I said. "But you're not helping me."
"Okay. Then what can I do to help you?"
"Watch the kids, while I make some calls."
I figured I would first call Ricky Morse, the guy I'd seen in the supermarket buying Huggies. I had a long relationship with Ricky; he worked at Xymos and he was casual enough about information that he might tell me what was really going on there. The only problem was that Ricky was based in the Valley, and he'd already told me that the action was all at the fab building. But he was a place for me to start.
I called his office, but the receptionist said, "I'm sorry, Mr. Morse is not in the office."
"When is he expected back?"
"I really couldn't say. Do you want voice mail?"
I left Ricky a voice-mail message. Then I called his home number. His wife answered. Mary was getting her Ph.D. in French history; I imagined her studying, bouncing the baby, with a book open on her lap. I said, "How are you, Mary?"
"I'm fine, Jack."
"How's the baby? Ricky tells me you never get diaper rash. I'm jealous." I tried to sound casual. Just a social call.
Mary laughed. "She's a good baby, and we didn't have colic, thank God. But Ricky hasn't been around for the rashes," she said. "We've had some."
I said, "Actually, I'm looking for Ricky. Is he there?"
"No, Jack. He's been gone all week. He's out at that fab plant in Nevada."
"Oh, right." I remembered now that Ricky had mentioned that, when we had met in the supermarket.
"Have you been out to that plant?" Mary said. I thought I detected an uneasy tone.
"No, I haven't, but-"
"Julia is there a lot, isn't she? What does she say about it?" Definitely worried.
"Well, not much. I gather they have new technology that's very hush-hush. Why?"
She hesitated. "Maybe it's my imagination…"
"What is?"
"Well, sometimes when Ricky calls, he sounds kind of weird to me."
"How?"
"I'm sure he's distracted and working hard, but he says some strange things. He doesn't always make a lot of sense. And he seems evasive. Like he's, I don't know, hiding something."
"Hiding something…"
She gave a self-deprecating laugh. "I even thought maybe he's having an affair. You know, that woman Mae Chang is out there, and he always liked her. She's so pretty." Mae Chang used to work in my division at MediaTronics. "I hadn't heard she was at the fab plant."
"Yes. I think a lot of the people who used to work for you are there, now."
"Well," I said. "I don't think Ricky is having an affair, Mary. It's just not like him. And it's not like Mae."
"It's the quiet ones you have to watch out for," she said, apparently referring to Mae. "And I'm still nursing, so I haven't lost my weight yet, I mean, my thighs are as big as sides of beef."
"I don't think that-"
"They rub together when I walk. Squishy."
"Mary, I'm sure-"
"Is Julia okay, Jack? She's not acting weird?"
"No more than usual," I said, trying to make a joke. I was feeling bad as I said it. For days I had wished that people would level with me about Julia, but now that I had something to share with Mary, I wasn't going to level with her. I was going to keep my mouth shut. I said, "Julia's working hard, and she sometimes is a little odd."
"Does she say anything about a black cloud?"
"Uh… no."
"The new world? Being present for the birth of the new world order?" That sounded like conspiracy talk to me. Like those people who worried about the Trilateral Commission and thought that the Rockefellers ran the world. "No, nothing like that."
"She mention a black cloak?"
I felt suddenly slowed down. Moving very slowly. "What?"
"The other night Ricky was talking about a black cloak, being covered in a black cloak. It was late, he was tired, he was sort of babbling."
"What did he say about the black cloak?"
"Nothing. Just that." She paused. "You think they're taking drugs out there?"
"I don't know," I said.
"You know, there's pressure, working around the clock, and nobody's sleeping much. I wonder about drugs."
"Let me call Ricky," I said.
Mary gave me his cell phone number, and I wrote it down. I was about to dial it when the door slammed, and I heard Eric say, "Hey, Mom! Who's that guy in the car with you?" I got up, and looked out the window at the driveway. Julia's BMW convertible was there, top down. I checked my watch. It was only 4:30.
I went out into the hall and saw Julia hugging Eric. She was saying, "It must have been sunlight on the windshield. There's nobody else in the car."
"Yes there was. I saw him."
"Oh yes?" She opened the front door. "Go look for yourself." Eric went out onto the lawn. Julia smiled at me. "He thinks someone was in the car."
Eric came back in, shrugging. "Oh well. Guess not."
"That's right, honey." Julia walked down the hall toward me. "Is Ellen here?"
"Just got here."
"Great. I'm going to take a shower, and we'll talk. Let's open some wine. What do you want to do about dinner?"
"I've got steaks ready."
"Great. Sounds great."
And with a cheerful wave, she went down the hallway.
It was a warm evening and we had dinner in the backyard. I put out the red-checkered tablecloth and grilled the steaks on the barbecue, wearing my chef's apron that said the chef's word is law, and we had a sort of classic American family dinner.
Julia was charming and chatty, focusing her attention on my sister, talking about the kids, about school, about changes she wanted to make on the house. "That window has to come out," she said, pointing back at the kitchen, "and we'll put French doors in so it'll open to the outside. It'll be great." I was astonished by Julia's performance. Even the kids were staring at her. Julia mentioned how proud she was of Nicole's big part in the forthcoming school play. Nicole said, "Mom, I have a bad part."
"Oh, not really, honey," Julia said.
"Yes, I do. I just have two lines."
"Now honey, I'm sure you're-"
Eric piped up. " 'Look, here comes John now.' 'That sounds pretty serious.' "
"Shut up, weasel turd."
"She says 'em in the bathroom, over and over," Eric announced. "About a billion gazillion times."
Julia said, "Who's John?"
"Those are the lines in the play."
"Oh. Well, anyway, I'm sure you'll be wonderful. And our little Eric is making such progress in soccer, aren't you, hon?"
"It's over next week," Eric said, turning sulky. Julia hadn't made it to any of his games this fall. "It's been so good for him," Julia said to Ellen. "Team sports build cooperation. Especially with boys, it helps with that competitiveness."
Ellen wasn't saying anything, just nodding and listening.
For this particular evening, Julia had insisted on feeding the baby, and had positioned the high chair beside her. But Amanda was accustomed to playing airplane at every mealtime. She was waiting for someone to move the spoon toward her, saying, "Rrrrrrr-owwwww… here comes the airplane… open the doors!" Since Julia wasn't doing that, Amanda kept her mouth tightly shut. Which was part of the game, too.