“We need to talk,” I said, getting out my keys.
“I’m beat.”
“It’s almost five o’clock,” I said. “Why don’t you come to my house for dinner?”
He stared off across the parking lot, squinting in the sun. I could not tell if he was in a rage or on the verge of tears, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen him this out of sorts.
“Are you angry with me, Marino?”
“No, Doc. Right now I just want to be alone.”
“Right now, I don’t think you should be.”
Fastening the top button of his coat, he muttered, “See ya later,” and walked off.
I drove home, absolutely drained, and was mindlessly puttering in the kitchen when my doorbell rang. Looking through the peephole, I was amazed to see Marino.
“I had this in my pocket,” he explained the instant I opened the door. He handed me his canceled plane ticket and inconsequential paperwork from the rental car. “Thought you might need it for your tax records or whatever.”
“Thank you,” I said, and I knew this was not why he had come. I had charge card receipts. Nothing he had given to me was necessary. “I was just fixing dinner. You might as well stay since you’re already here.”
“Maybe for a little while.”
He would not meet my eyes “Then I got things to do.”
Following me into the kitchen, he sat at the table while I resumed slicing sweet red peppers and adding them to chopped onions sautéing in olive oil.
“You know where the bourbon is,” I said, stirring.
He got up, heading to the bar.
“While you’re at it,” I called after him, “would you please fix me a Scotch and soda?”
He did not reply, but when he came back he set drink on the counter nearby and leaned against the butcher’s block. I added the onions and peppers to tomatoes sautéing in another pan, then began browning sausage.
“I don’t have a second course,” I apologized as I worked.
“Don’t look to me like you need one.”
“Spring lamb with white wine, breast of veal, or roast pork would be perfect.”
I filled a pot with water and set it on the stove. “I’m pretty amazing with lamb, but I’ll have to give you a rain check.”
“Maybe you ought to forget cutting up dead bodies and open a restaurant.”
“I’ll assume you mean that as a compliment.”
“Oh, yeah.”
His face was expressionless, and he was lighting a cigarette. “So what do you call this?”
He nodded at the stove.
“I call it yellow and green broad noodles with sweet peppers and sausage,” I replied, adding the sausage to the sauce. “But if I really wanted to impress you, I would call it Le papardelle del Cantunzein.”
“Don’t worry. I’m impressed.”
“Marino.”
I glanced over at him. “What happened this morning?”
He replied with a question, “You mention to anyone what Vessey told you about the hack mark’s being made with a serrated blade?”
“So far, you’re the only person I’ve told.”
“Hard to figure how Hilda Ozimek came up with that, with the hunting knife with a serrated edge she claims popped into her mind when Pat Harvey took her to the rest stop.”
“It is hard to understand,” I agreed, placing pasta in the boiling water. “There are some things in life that can’t be reasoned away or explained, Marino.”
Fresh pasta takes only seconds to cook, and I drained it and transferred it to a bowl kept warm in the oven. Adding the sauce, I tossed in butter and grated fresh Parmesan, then told Marino we were ready to eat.
“I’ve got artichoke hearts in the refrigerator.”
I served our plates. “But no salad. I do have bread in the freezer “This is all I need,” he said, his mouth full. “It’s good. Real good.”
I had barely touched my meal when he was ready for a second helping. It was as though Marino had not eaten in a week. He was not taking care of himself, and it was showing. His tie was in serious need of a dry cleaner, the hem on one leg of his trousers had unraveled, and his shirt was stained yellow under the arms. Everything about him cried out that he was needy and neglected and I was as repelled by this as I was disturbed. They was no reason why an intelligent grown man should allow himself to fall into poor repair like an abandoned house. Yet I knew his life was out of control, that in way he could not help himself. Something was terribly wrong.