Part 33 (2/2)
”And that's why Pearl didn't want to give me the card.” I explained what had happened at Bella Casa. ”She wanted it to protect P.J. What will you do with it?”
”Make it unusable. Another moral dilemma for you, Diana.”
I downed the last of my tequila, took the card from my pocket, and slid it across the table to him.
”And you're all right about covering up for P.J.?”
”Yes.”
”Why?”
”My mother helped him to reenter the world when he came back from 'Nam. I guess I'm helping him to stay in it.”
”If Celia hadn't died, would you have let her go?” he asked.
”But she did die.”
”And you still see my wanting to let Parson go differently.”
”Yes.”
Heath's eyes burrowed into mine. His voice was husky when he spoke. ”What am I going to do with you, Diana?”
”What am I going to do with you?” I could feel the energy our bodies created dancing between us.
His cell rang. ”Heath,” he answered. ”I'm across the street. Christ, Spangler, can't you guys ever arrive with just a few cars?” He disconnected. Then he threw some cash on the table and we walked back across the street to the theater.
A long hour later, inside the movie theater, I had told Spangler and two Central Division detectives what had happened. After many questions, they asked me to wait and left.
Spangler lingered, handing me a Snickers. ”Something to remember me by.”
”You're not the kind of woman one easily forgets,” I said.
”So I've been told. Mostly by the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds I've arrested. I'll get you a car to take you home.”
After she left, I found my purse on the floor next to my seat. I opened it, dropped the candy bar in, and discovered I still had Celia's gun. Christ, was I never going to be unarmed again?
A few minutes later, Heath walked me back outside past all the patrol cars, still flas.h.i.+ng, past the ambulances to the waiting black-and-white.
Heath opened the back door for me. ”I'll see what I can do to keep you out of all this, Diana. The media doesn't bother much with this side of town. I've got to get back.”
”Aren't you being driven home?”
”It seems I shot a man between the eyes. They want to take me downtown.”
”I told them it was self-defense.”
”Don't worry, I have an excellent lawyer. Almost as good as Parson's.”
”Oh, I forgot.” I reached into my purse and took out the gun. ”It's Celia's.”
”For a moment I thought you were going to shoot me.” He took it.
”That reminds me. Who's Collette?”
”Who?”
”I accidently called your home phone number when I was trying to track you down today. Collette answered. She was there gathering some things that belonged to her. Bra, panties... .”
He c.o.c.ked his head. His index finger stroked the b.u.mp on the bridge of his nose. ”Would you believe she was my sister?”
”Yes.”
His eyes widened. ”You would?”
”Yes. Because you're such a charmer, such a good liar.”
Now serious, he cupped my cheek in his hand. ”Would you ever want to see me again?”
Without waiting for an answer he turned and walked quickly away, his white s.h.i.+rt stark against the night. Was he afraid of my answer? I wondered, getting into the car. He knew I wasn't sure of him or his world. Did I have an answer? As the car pulled away from the curb, I wondered how Heath and I would feel about each other after there was no more violence. No more adrenalin rushes. No more dead.
Even though I knew Parson was under arrest and I was heading toward Malibu in the back seat of a black-and-white, I glanced several times out the rear window to see whether a Mercedes limo was following me. Or the ghost of Rubio on his bike. I'd be looking over my shoulder for a while.
When I finally arrived home, I found a large manila envelope leaning against the front door. There were no television sounds from the kitchen-I must've forgotten to turn it on. I stood, listening. Yes, the silence was bearable.
In the living room, I turned on the light and placed the envelope and my purse on the coffee table. I walked over to Colin's Oscars and my mother's urn on the mantel. Gathering them in my arms, I carried them into Colin's office and set them on his desk. When Ryan was healed, I thought, he and I would scatter her ashes in the ocean. I closed the door quietly behind me and went back to the living room.
I opened the manila envelope and took out a script. It was from Pedro Romero, the director. In a note, he asked me to read for the costarring role of Elena in his film, A Long and Happy Death. I sank onto the sofa, clasping the script to my b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and looked at the empty mantel and thought of Celia and Ben. The confusion and pain of Zaitlin. I thought of Heath. I let my tears flow freely.
Not now, but tomorrow, I would feel that powerful surge of hope, of possibility, that keeps all actors going.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS.
My deep grat.i.tude to the team at Pegasus, especially Claiborne Hanc.o.c.k for his belief in Diana Poole; Helen Zimmerman for her faith in the book; Gayle Lynds, not only for her friends.h.i.+p, but for taking the time to read and reread the ma.n.u.script and share her invaluable observations with me; Jane h.e.l.ler and Kathleen Sharp for their support and dark humor. Also, my thanks to Deputy Sheriff Mark A. Ward and Michael Williams for their knowledge of the real world of police, guns, and army. I hope I didn't go too ”Hollywood” on them.
And always, Bones.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook onscreen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
<script>