Silent Treatment

'Yes, I did.'

'What did Evie tell you about theirbreakup?'

'That she caught him having affairs, andthat when she confronted him, he got her fired from the news staff andblackballed throughout the industry.'

'Does that jibe with his showing up at herfuneral today?'

'No. I have to say I was surprised to seehim.'

'John Cox was crazy about Evie. She hadthe affair, Harry — with John's boss. I only know what John told me and that'snot much, but it was the boss, not John, who gave her the boot. And blackballedher. I think John would even have given her another chance. But she wasn'tinterested.'

'Was she at all happy with me?'

'For a time — maybe a year or two. Harry,Evie needed to be in the spotlight. She needed to be at the center of theaction. Part of her fought that need — that's why she married you, I think.Stability. But the stronger pull was clearly winning out.'

'Did you know about Sidonis?'

'Nope. Not about him or any other menduring your marriage — if there were any. I'm not sure that sort of thing wasever important enough for Evie to talk about. Or maybe she didn't trust me thatmuch.'

'I know she was dissatisfied with her jobon the magazine, but — '

'Hated it. She was born to be in front ofthe camera, Harry. You know that. At least you should. From the moment shestarted at Manhattan Woman she was searching for a ticket back into thelimelight.'

'I've had the impression lately that shewas working on something special.'

'I think you're right.'

'Do you know what it was?'

Julia shook her head.

'I tried to get her to tell me about itthe last time we were together. All she would say was that it was big stuff,and that the producers of A Current Affair and some other tabloid showswere already offering her big bucks and on-air guarantees just to see what shehad.'

Harry stared off at a wall across theclub. On it, artfully done, was a six-foot-high neon sculpture of a woman'sprofile and hand. She had a twenties look and was smoking a glowing cigarettein a foot-long holder. Although Evie smoked only rarely, something about therendering reminded him of her. He suspected it would be a long time beforethings didn't.

'No further questions, Your Honor,' hesaid, finishing his bourbon. 'I really appreciate your coming to meet with melike this, Julia.'

'Nonsense. You're a terrific guy. Andwhether she appreciated it or not, Evie was lucky to have you. Harry, do youreally think someone purposely killed her?'

'I don't know what to think. The chemicalanalysis of her blood should be completed within a few weeks — sooner if thepolice detective who wants to mount my scalp on his lodge pole has his way. I'mconcerned about what might happen if one of the tests is positive, but I'm alsowondering whether I'll trust the results if they're negative.'

'So you believe that woman, Evie'sroommate?'

Harry studied the neon smoker as heconsidered the question. Two days after Evie's death he had gone back up toAlexander 9, but Maura Hughes had been sent home. 'Shaky as hell, but notchasing any spiders,' was the way one of the nurses described how Maura hadlooked upon discharge. Harry was sure that the real reason for the rapiddischarge was the refusal of her insurance carrier to cover any more days. Atypical scenario. Companies were shortening stays and refusing coverage withalmost as much vigor as they were denying any responsibility for theconsequences of their policies.

'Harry?' Julia was looking at himcuriously. 'I asked you a question about Evie's roommate in the hospital. Youseemed like you were about to answer, and then you sort of drifted off.'

Harry glanced down at his empty glass.Years of virtual abstinence had reduced him to amateur status as a drinker. Heknew that being easily distracted was the first clue that if he wasn't tightyet, he soon would be. So what, he thought. The tighter the better.

'Yes, I believe her,' he said. 'A doctor,or someone posing as a doctor, came into that room after I left. A short timeafter his visit Evie's aneurysm burst. I think he injected something into thatIV. You know, maybe that story Evie was working on has something to do with whathappened. I wish to hell I knew what it was all about.'

'Did you check her office?'

'At the magazine?'

'No, the one in the Village.'

'What?'

'She was renting an office — you know,workspace — someplace in Greenwich Village. Didn't you know that?'

'I … um. . no. No, I didn't know thateither. Do you know where it was?'

'No idea.'

Harry brushed his hand over the pocketwhere he was carrying Evie's rabbit's foot and keys.

'Julia, I need to find that place,' hesaid.

She looked at him with concern.

'You need to go home and get some sleep,Harry. That place'll be there tomorrow. Besides, if you don't know where it is,finding it may not be so easy. She doesn't have a phone there. That's as muchas I remember of what she said about it.'

'Thanks,' Harry said. 'Julia, who in thehell was she?'

The book agent set a twenty and a tenbeneath her glass and guided him out of the bar into the cool night air.

'Harry, if you asked ten different peoplein Evie's life that question, you'd get ten completely different answers. Itwould be like the proverbial blind men trying to describe an elephant bywhatever part they happen to be feeling. Snake, tree, wall, stone, leaf. They'reall correct. . but only up to a point. Want to share a cab home?'

Harry knew that she lived in almostprecisely the opposite direction from his apartment.

'Hey, listen,' he said. 'Don't worry aboutme. I need to walk for a bit to clear some of this Old Grand-Dad out of myhead. I'll get some rest. I promise.'

They waited until he had flagged down ataxi for her, then embraced.

'Call if you need me,' Julia said. 'Anddon't drive yourself too crazy trying to see any more than the rest of theblind men.'

Harry watched as the cab disappearedaround the corner, then headed slowly downtown.

Chapter12

Harry ambled down Lexington toFifty-eighth and then across toward Central Park South. He loved walking thecity at any hour, but especially at night. That he was in no particular hurrywas just as well. The double bourbon was definitely slowing him down. For atime, he considered simply writing the whole night off by stopping in anotherbar or two. But he wanted to think through what Julia Ransome had told him, andhe had never been much of a thinker when he was tight.

During his eighteen months in Nam, he hadbecome something of a functional alcoholic, often drinking to excess as a meansof coping with the horrors of his job. In that regard he was not much differentfrom many of the other officers. Fortunately, he had been able to practicallystop drinking after the war; and even more fortunately, he had never given into the urge to numb his feelings with narcotics. For many of those docs andmedics who did, the war was still raging, and would be until they died.