He ripped viciously at the French bread with
small, sharp teeth, and chewed noisily.
“More coffee ?” I offered.
“No thanks. My nerves are scraped raw as it is.”
He leaned forward, thick, spatulate Fingers splayed
on the table. “Alex, I’m sorry. I know you cared
about the kid.”
“It’s like
not to think of b. im.”
face floated into consciousness. A game
in a plastic room…
“When I saw the motel room I really thought-‘
they’d gone home, that it was a family thing,” he
was saying morosely. “From the looks of the bodies,
the M.E. guessed they were murdered a couple of
days ago. Probably not too long after the kid was
pulled out of the hospital.
“Hindsight is twenty-twenty, Milo,” ! said, trying
to sound, supportive. “There was no way anyone
could have known.”
“Bight. Let me use your john.”
After he left I set about pulling myself togetherm
with meager success. My hands were unsteady and ·
my head buzzed. The last thing I needed Was to be
left alone with my helplessness and my anguish. I
searched for absolution through activity.-I’d have
gone to the hospital to tell Baoul about the murders
but Milo had asked me not to. I paced the room,
filled a cup with coffee,’ tossed it down the sink,
snatched up the paper and turned to the movie
section. A revival house in Santa Monica was featuring
an early matinee, a documentary on William
Burroughs, which sounded sufciendy bizarre to
crowd out reality. Just as I was stepping out the
door Robin called from Japan.
“Hello, lover,” s!e said.
“Hello, babe. I miss you.”
“Miss you too, sweetie.’
I took the phone to the bed and sat down facing a
framed picture of the two of us. I remember the
day it had been taken. We’d gone to the arboretum
176 Jonathan lellerman
on a, Sunday in April and had asked a passing
octogenarian to do us the favor. Despite his trembling
hands, and protestation ‘of ignorance about modern
cameras it had come out beautifully.
We held each other against a backdrop of royal
purple rhododendrons and snowy camelias. Robin
stood in front, her back to my chest, my arms around
her waist. She wore tight jeans and a white turtleneck
that showed off her curves. The sun had picked
up the auburn highlights in her hair, which .hung
long and curly, like coppery grapes. Her smile was
wide and open, the perfect teeth a crescent of white.
Her face was a valentine, her dark eyes liquid and
dancing.
She was a beautiful woman, inside and out. Hearing
the sound of her voice was sweetly painful.
“I bought you a silk kimono, Alex. Gray,blue, to
match your eyes.”
“Cn’t wait to see it. When are you coming home?”
“About another week, honey. They’re tooling up
to actually manufacture a gross of instruments and
they want me here to inspect them.”
“Sounds like things are going well.”
“They are. But you sound distant. IS something
wrong?”
“No. Must be the connection.”
“You sure, baby ?”
“Yes. Everything’s fine. I miss you, that’s all.”
“You’re mad at me, aren’t you? For staying so
long.”
“No. Really. It’s important. You have to do it.”
“It’s not like I’m having, fun, you know. The first
couple of days they entertained me, but after the
amenities were over it was strictly business. De-
sign studios and factories
geishas to help me
‘”Poor baby.”
“You bet.” She laughed.
it’s a fascinating country. Very tense, very struc-
tured. Next time I go you have to come with me.”
“Next time ?”
“Alex, they love my designs, ff the Billy Orleans
does well they’re sure to want another. We could go
during cherry blossom time. You’d love it. They’ve
got beautiful gardens–lger versions of ours–in
the public parks. And I saw a koi almost five feet
long. Square watermelons, sushi brs you wouldn’t
believe. It’s incredible, hon.”
“Sounds like it.”
“Alex, what’s wrong? And stop saying nothin, g.’
“Nothing.”
“Come on. I was so lonely, sitting by myself in
this sterile hotel room, drinking tea and watching
‘Kojak’ with Japanese subtitles. I thought talking to
you wOUld help me feel alive again. But it’ only