FIFTEEN
I dropped the Zimmermans’ car outside their house, leaving the keys in the ignition. If Ben had been there, it would have been different. I wasn’t going to deal with Bobbi right now.
Or so I’d thought. She’d evidently been standing behind her door, possibly for the last two hours, and was out of the house before I had time to get away. I took a deep breath. My head hurt badly, and I wasn’t going to give anyone a fight. Unless she asked for it.
“Thank you,” Bobbi said, disconcerting me.
I reached inside the car and got out the keys. “Sorry for the delay, Bobbi, I was just—”
“I know,” she said. “I’m sorry I was harsh earlier.”
I nodded, not really knowing what to say. “I’m sorry to hear about your friend, too. I hope he’s okay.”
She smiled vaguely, and I headed up their driveway, back along the road, and into our own domain. I started slowly, but by the time I got to our house I was striding fast. Our car was standing outside the house. It looked big and black and reproachless.
Nothing strange happening in my life, boss.
I let myself in, closing the door quietly behind me. Took off my coat and walked to the top of the stairs to look down into the living area below.
Amy was sitting in the middle of the sofa. She was wearing a red sweater and black slacks, cradling a cup of coffee in her hands and absorbed in a report. Other pieces of corporate paperwork were spread around her and strewn over the coffee table and the floor. This tableau was essence of Amy—stock photography of Woman Working at Home. The scene looked so normal I felt like a ghost.
She glanced up when I was halfway down the stairs, and smiled. “Hey,” she said. “You made good time.”
“When did you get back?”
“This morning.” She looked confused but cheerful. “When I said I would. Jack, what’s going on?”
“I got a phone call late on Thursday,” I said. “From a guy who’d found your phone in the back of his cab.”
“Aha!” she said triumphantly, shifting paperwork off her lap. She bounced up and came to give me a hug. “I wondered if that’s what happened to it. I hailed the taxi off the street and couldn’t remember what company it was. There’s fresh coffee, by the way.”
“What?”
She nodded toward the kitchen. “You look like you could use some.”
“I’m fine,” I said, keeping my voice steady and calm. “Had a couple beers last night, that’s all.”
“A couple, right. And then a couple more couples? Nice dent you’ve got on your cheek there, teetotaler.”
“Amy, where the hell were you?”
“You know where I was, honey—Seattle. What I don’t get is where you’ve been. I mean, it’s cool, there’s no rule says you have to sit around like a hausfrau while I’m gone. But you seem kind of…Are you okay?”
I didn’t know where to begin. “Weren’t you due back yesterday?”
She gently led me by the hand up the stairs to the kitchen. “Exhibit A,” she said, pointing to the calendar stuck to the side of the fridge. An entry in her handwriting showed her leaving for Seattle on Tuesday and getting back Saturday morning. Today.
“I called your hotel on Thursday,” I said. “They had no record of you.”
“Which hotel?” she said, handing me a cup of coffee. It was too hot, and I didn’t want it.
“The Malo.”
“Honey, I told you I wasn’t staying there.”
I looked at her. “I don’t remember that.”
“I said I didn’t think it was so terrific an idea to use what’s basically the KC&H company hotel, when I was in town on scout. I could have run into anyone in the lobby, which would not have been cool.”
“What do you mean, ‘scout’?”
She smiled with affection—and a little exasperation. “Sweetie, we went through this, remember? We talked it through over dinner here—what, a week ago?”
I made a face that suggested I might be on the brink of recall, though in fact I wasn’t. “There you go.” She grinned. “The renowned Whalen brain clicks back in. I knew it would—I’m your biggest fan.”
“So why didn’t you tell me what hotel you were in?”
“I thought I did. Anyway, what’s the difference? We always talk on the cell.”
“But you had a note saying ‘Hotel Malo’ on your computer screen.”
“Yes, that’s right, Columbo—it’s a note to me. I left my book there on the last trip. It’s no huge deal, but it was a present and a signed copy, and I meant to call them before I left. I’m pretty sure I mentioned that, too. It was from Natalie last year?”
I rubbed my temples. “Why didn’t you call when you realized you’d lost your phone?”
She laughed. “I couldn’t remember the damn number. Isn’t that ridiculous? Though actually it’s kind of not funny. I think I’m getting old. Am I getting old?”
“No. The curse of speed dial,” I muttered as Blanchard’s smug face swam into my head. Simple lack of number recall, he’d said. She’ll be at home wondering where you are, he’d said.
“And the modern age in general, right. But listen.” She reeled off what I assume was my cell number. “I made a point of memorizing it this morning when I got back. Please feel free to test me on it at random intervals.”
I took a sip of coffee, trying to work out what my next ten questions should be, and in what order.
“Look, I’m sorry,” she said, suddenly more serious. “Were you worried?”
“Yes,” I said. “Of course. Guy says he’s found your phone. I call the hotel I believe you’re at, you’re not there. I go to Seattle and there’s no sign of you. I even tried to file a missing-persons report.”
“What?”
“Exactly. Plus…I talked to Todd Crane. Trying to find where you were.”
She winced. “Really? That’s not so good.”
“Don’t worry, you’re fine. I said you were visiting a friend and I was just covering all bases.”
“You certainly were. Long way to go to pick up my phone, babe. I mean, it’s sweet, but I had it canceled ten minutes after I realized it was gone. A replacement will be here Monday.”
“Canceled?” I got the phone out and handed it to her. “I used this to call Bobbi this morning.”
She frowned. “Well, that’s weird. I’ll get onto it.”
“It’s okay. No sign anyone else tried to use it before I got a hold of it.”
“Sure. But if I cancel it, I want it canceled. You could have been anyone. It’s not good enough.”
More vintage Amy. I waited for her to show some sign of being uncomfortable with the fact that I’d had her phone in my possession, even used it. There was nothing. Instead she stepped a little closer.
“I love that you went looking,” she said. She touched my arm. “And I know that going to the cops couldn’t have been easy, and I’m really sorry I didn’t call. I just figured you’d know I was okay.”
“I didn’t,” I said. “I don’t live in a world where I assume people will be okay. I haven’t for a long time.”
“I know,” she said, quietly. “It was dumb. It won’t happen again.”
“It’s okay,” I said. “I just got…”
“I know.” She kissed me, her arms warm around me. “Really. I promise.”
I stood under the shower for a long time, staring at the expensive limestone of the stall wall. I’d had very little sleep and was still suffering from a bad hangover, and so maybe that’s why I felt like I did. I realized that I hadn’t actually eaten anything the whole time I’d been away, which probably didn’t help.
When I was clean and dressed, I went to the kitchen and fixed some eggs. I ate them methodically, hunched over the counter and without registering them as food. My body felt stiff and awkward. I thought maybe I should go for a run, try to iron the kinks out, but the idea made me want to go throw up.