“And he’s trying to kill you before you hide your money?”
“Yes, but it’s too late. I’ve put all the money, but what I’ve kept with me in cash, into boxes and I’ve sent the boxes to various charities, including the United Negro College Fund, the Salvation Army and many others.”
“Why don’t you just tell him?” I asked. “Or I can tell him.”
The toddler’s mother screamed at the boy, who had wandered too far away in pursuit of the gulls. The kid’s name was Harry.
“Then he wouldn’t have tried to have me killed,” she said.
“You want to die?”
“No,” she said, “but I’m going to whether he kills me or not. Within a few months. I’m dying, Lew. Dr. Green knows it. I started seeing him as a therapist when I first learned about the tumor more than a year ago. I didn’t want Carl to know. I arranged for treatment and surgery in New York and told Carl I simply wanted a few weeks or more to visit old school friends, one of whom was getting married. He had no objections. I caught him and Caroline in bed the day I returned. I had hurried home a day early to be with my husband, break the news to him. Treatment and surgery proved to be relatively ineffective. The tumor is inoperable and getting bigger. I don’t wish to die slowly in a hospital.”
“So you set your husband up?”
“You can look at it that way,” she said. “But I couldn’t do it without his full cooperation.”
Harry the toddler was back with his mother, who was standing and brushing sand from the boy, who was trying to pull away. There were gulls to chase and water to wade in.
“You disapprove.”
“I don’t know. It’s your life. You know a short tank of a man, about as bald as I am? Drives a blue Buick.”
“Catano,” she said. “Luke Catano.”
“He’s been following me since your husband hired me. He saved my life at least twice.”
“He wanted you to lead him to me,” she said. “He wouldn’t want you dead. Carl is in a hurry. Luke is Carl’s ‘personal assistant.’ He has a record, including a conviction for murder two. Don’t ask me how he and Carl came together. The story I was told didn’t make much sense. So it looks like Luke Catano is my designated assassin.”
“What if I don’t tell him where you are,” I said.
“You don’t plan to tell him?”
“No, even if you tell me to.”
“Good,” she said. “I want to finish a few books, classics, before Catano comes. He’ll find me without your leading him here. It may take him awhile. If it takes too long, I’ll find a reasonably subtle way to let Carl know. I plan to die right here on the beach if possible. I’ve left a letter with my lawyer, documents proving my husband’s infidelity, misuse of my money, which I knew about and chose to ignore, and a statement that if I’m found dead under suspicious circumstances, a full investigation into the likelihood of my husband’s being responsible will be conducted. Now that I know Luke Catano is involved I’ll drive into Sarasota tomorrow with a new letter for my lawyer including Catano’s name. Lew?”
I must have looked dazed. I came back to the beach, the world, the beautiful dying woman and the boy trying to get away from his mother.
“Sorry,” I said.
I got up.
“That’s it, then,” I said.
“Almost,” she answered. “Adele.”
I sat again.
“Adele?”
“The file on your desk. The day I came to your office. I read it before you got there, remember I was just finishing it when you arrived.”
“I remember” I said.
“Is she all right?”
“Yes, I think so,” I said. “She’s going to a foster home, a good one. Her father’s dead.”
“I know,” she said, looking at me. “I killed him.”
“Oh, Holy Mother,” I said, closing my eyes.
“Did Carl tell you I took his gun, the one in his desk, when I left?”
“No.”
“I can see why. It was not purchased legally. After I left your office I thought about Dwight Handford. I must have decided to kill him while I was reading the file. The idea of what he was doing to… I’m leaving a relatively evil world, Lew. I didn’t want to leave it before a monster like Handford. Somehow it didn’t seem right that I should die and he should go on living. I memorized his address and got up enough nerve to kill him. I’d never fired a gun before. He had no idea who I was or why I was killing him.”
“Christ,” I said.
“You’re shocked?”
“Yes,” I said.
“But you’re not sorry Handford is dead?”
“No.”
My eyes were open now. Her hand was out, waiting. I got up and took it.
“You’re a good listener, Lew,” she said.
“My job,” I answered.
“Carl is not a good listener. He’s a talker. If he listened, he’d know where I might be.”
I let go of her hand and she put her sunglasses back on and returned to Tolstoy.
I headed back to Sarasota, considered making a stop for coffee, but I didn’t want to be with people. I kept seeing Melanie Sebastian sitting on that lounger in her wide-brimmed straw hat, reading and waiting.
In my room, I popped Prince of Foxes into my VCR. Not enough Orson Welles. Too much Tyrone Power.
In a few days I’d forgive Power and watch Blood and Sand.
The phone in my office rang on and off for more than an hour. I lay in bed watching the movie. I ignored the phone till the movie was over and then I answered. I didn’t want Carl Sebastian coming to my door or sending Luke Catano. It was Sebastian.
“Well?” he asked, sounding like a concerned and ill-treated husband.
“I found her, lost her,” I said. “I talked to her for a few minutes. All she said was she didn’t want to talk to you. I’ll keep looking for her, no charge. If you want your money back-”
“No, no. Work fast,” he said earnestly. “I’m worried about Melanie.”
“I’ll work as fast as I can,” I said.
When I hung up, I took out the photograph of Melanie and Carl Sebastian on the beach. They still looked happy. To the extent you can tell such things, they seemed to be very much in love.
I decided to wait a few days, drive around, ask questions in all the wrong places, let Catano keep up with me and then I’d give up and tell Sebastian I had lost her trail. I would send him a report. A few days after that, maybe a week or two, Catano and Sebastian would find her. Melanie would be dead. I hoped it would be on the beach but it would probably be a hit-and-run.
I tried not to think about it, but trying didn’t help.
EPILOGUE
Sally and I went to a movie, something at Burns Court, something in French set in the distant past, costumes, horses, palaces, love, tragedy. We ate popcorn. My mind was on a beach.
Both of us ate lightly at the Bangkok Restaurant. I couldn’t finish my pad thai. I always finished pad thai.
“Lew, where are you?” she asked.
“Sorry,” I said. “I’m coming back.”
“Remember,” she said. “I told you the kids are away for the weekend.”
“I remember,” I said.
She played with her food for a few seconds and looked at me.
“I’m not ready, Lew,” she said.
“I’m not either.”
The restaurant was Saturday-night crowded. No one was paying any attention to us. Sally had worn a blue dress with a wide belt. Her earrings dangled with blue stones that caught the light. Her dark hair looked different than it had the day before. It had been cut and brushed back off of her ears.
“Let’s be friends for a while,” she said. “See where it goes. See when we’re ready. I don’t even know if my body remembers how to do it.”