This is the essence, and I am part of it.
In her reading chair by the front window, Gina put down the copy of Stuart Gorman's Healed by Water that she'd picked up at Book Passage after her dinner alone at the Ferry Building. To her surprise, she liked the book a lot. Stuart had absolutely nailed Gina's own feelings about the outdoors and the wilderness-that these things had been her salvation.
Solitude without loneliness. That was exactly what she felt when she went up to the mountains.
Her eyes covered the familiar terrain of her living room. Just after David had died, it had felt as though he had somehow imprinted himself on every object here-the books, his chair of course, the bar and its glassware, the loveseat-and his connection to these things had made her loneliness almost unbearable.
Up in the wilderness, there was nothing reaching out to snag her emotions and remind her of what was gone. Time she spent away from all of this, this stuff, lessened its painful hold upon her, until finally she realized that its ability to cause her anguish was all but gone.
She'd needed the wilderness to get to that point. She'd needed the long hiking days and the deep, empty nights for their solitude that seemed to lift the burden of the loneliness that adhered to all these familiar things in the city.
Getting up and walking over to the kitchen, she pulled a card from her purse and picked up the telephone, hoping perhaps to talk to Stuart about how he'd come to understand all of that. What had happened to him that had driven him outdoors? How, she wondered, had they sat together for most of the afternoon and had none of this even remotely come up?
But halfway through the phone number, she stopped and hung the phone back up. She recalled that he was going to be with his daughter tonight, trying to make sense of what had befallen them. Calling him now would be an imposition.
Back in the living room, settling back in her chair, she pulled the book over to her, opening it again to her place. And then the telephone rang.
"Gina Roake, please." "This is Gina."
"Devin Juhle. I hope you don't mind my calling you at home."
"I wouldn't have given you the number if I did. But you're working some long hours, Inspector. I'm gathering you got my message about Stuart Gorman."
"I did." He hesitated. "That was a pretty quick hookup, getting him on board as your client. I mean, after our lunch today."
This was gratuitous and Gina supposed she should have expected it. In any event, she wasn't going to dignify the unspoken accusation that she'd called Stuart as a result of what Juhle had told her at Lou the Greek's. She hadn't called him at all, but she'd let Juhle think what he wanted, since that's what he was going to do in any case. "Yes," she said. "The stars lined up just right on that one. I assume you're calling to set up an appointment?"
"I'm going to want to talk to him, yes. Sooner rather than later."
"Do you consider him a suspect?"
"A person of interest at this time."
"You know about his alibi?"
"I know what he's said, yes."
"And you don't believe him?"
"I'd like to go over some details he's mentioned, that's all." "Well, of course, he's still upset. If you tell me what you need to know, I'd be happy to get the information for you." "I think I'd rather get it from him directly." "You don't want to give me a little hint about what this is about?" "Just making sure I get the story straight. Plug up any holes."
This sounded ominous to Gina. Until this moment, she had been unaware that there was enough of a case for there to be any holes.
Gina knew how dangerous it was to have Stuart talk to the police again. If he said the wrong thing, or maybe even the right thing in the wrong way, she could watch him walk out of her office in handcuffs. She knew that many of her colleagues would be appalled by the idea that she'd let her client talk to the cops. But she still hoped she could deflect this investigation, maybe even avoid an arrest altogether, if they continued to cooperate. Juhle already had the most damaging parts on tape, and she'd be sitting right there if things got ugly. It was a calculated risk and she figured that she had to try. "I could call him and set something up for tomorrow at my office. Say ten o'clock, if you don't hear back from me."
"I was thinking you both might want to come down to the Hall and talk there."
Now Gina's alarm bells started to go off. The Hall of Justice meant a cold and threatening interrogation room off the homicide detail with both audio- and videotape running. But again, protocol and strategy demanded that she remain cool. "I think we'd all be more comfortable in my office, Inspector," she said. "Of course, you'd be welcome to record the interview. Or even videotape it, provided I get a copy immediately. You're not planning to arrest Mr. Gorman, I hope?"
"I haven't applied for a warrant, no."
"You and I both know you don't need a warrant to arrest him. My question is, are you planning to do that or not?"
"I'm trying to keep my options open. I've got to talk to your client, and I want it all by the book and on the record, which means you're there with us. Ten o'clock will be fine. At your place. If I don't hear back from you."
"All right. I'll see you there."
Nine
With a porcelain saucer resting on the arm of his chair in Dis-mas Hardy's office, Wyatt Hunt sat back comfortably and sipped from his cup of freshly brewed coffee. It was Tuesday morning, about a half hour before the offices officially opened. In spite of that, in the space behind them a dozen or more employees had already started their workday. Hardy's office door was still open, and outside from the lobby came the sounds of phones ringing, Xerox machines humming, random bits of conversation.
They were waiting for Gina. Across from Hunt by the well-equipped coffee counter, Hardy finished pouring his own cup and turned around. "So when you talked to Juhle, you didn't let on you were working for us?"
"I don't believe it came up, specifically." Hunt sipped again, broke a grin. "Besides, I thought it might make for a stilted conversation. He asked if I'd seen Gina, and I told him not since lunch, which was technically true. It's not my fault he didn't ask if I'd talked to her. And he seemed to be in the mood-he'd been on Gorman all day and
had nobody to talk to about it. This will shock you, but it seems his wife sometimes gets a little tired of cop talk at home." "How could that possibly be?"
"I know," Hunt said. "Weird, but there you go. Anyway, he really wanted to tell somebody about everything he'd found out, and I happened to call."
"Lucky break for the good guys."
"That's what I thought. Maybe not so lucky for the client, though, unless you consider an eyewitness lucky." "Sometimes it can be."
"I'm pretty sure this isn't one of those times, Diz." Hunt glanced toward the door. "Ah, the woman of the hour."
Gina stopped in the doorway. "Sorry I'm late, guys. Working the bugs out of what may be the new work schedule."
Hardy checked his watch. "I've got eight o'clock straight up, so you're on the dot. You want coffee?"
"As the predator wants the night."
Hardy gave her a look and said, "That'd be black, no sugar?"
"Sorry," Gina said. "I've been reading my client. The style rubs off. Sugar, please."
"How do you like him?" Hunt asked. "As a writer, I mean."
"He's okay. He says some good stuff. Kept me up till midnight last night."
"So I could've called you," Hunt said, "after my talk with Juhle."
Hardy handed her a cup and she turned to Wyatt. "So you got to him? What did he have to say?"
"I was just starting to tell Diz. He thinks he's got a case."
"With Stuart? How's he getting around the alibi?"
Hardy had crossed the room and propped himself against his cherry desk. Now he put in his two cents' worth. "Wyatt was just telling me about an eyewitness."