Part 68 (1/2)

”My name's Kilmer, to see Mrs. Raines,” I said.

He checked over his clipboard, leafing through several sheets of paper, and shook his head.

”Not on the list,” he said.

”Would you give her a call? She probably forgot. It's been a rough day for her.”

”I got a 'no disturb' on that unit,” he said.

”She's expecting me,” I said, trying not to lose my temper.

”There's no Kilmer on the list and I got a 'no disturb' on that unit,” he said, politely but firmly. ”Why don't you go someplace and call her, tell her to call the gate and clear you.”

I showed him my card and his eyes stuck on the first line-”Agent-U.S. Government”-and stayed there until he looked back up.

”My brother's a city cop,” he said, looking out the window at nothing in particular. ”He's taking the Bureau exams in the fall.”

”Fantastic. You know what's going on up there at Mrs. Raines' place, don't you?”

”You mean about Mr. Raines?”

”Yeah.”

”Terrible thing.” He looked back at the buzzer and asked, ”This official?”

”What else?” I said in my official voice.

”They got tough rules here, buddy. n.o.body, not n.o.body, goes in without a call from the gate first. It's in the lease.”

”Like I said, she's expecting me; probably forgot to give you the name with everything else that's going on. Why don't I ride through?”

”h.e.l.l, I'll just call her,” he said. ”Guest parking is to the right, behind those palmettos.”

I pulled in and parked in the guest lot, which was so clean and neat it looked sterilized. When I got back, the guard had his grin on.

”A-okay,” he said, making a circle with thumb and forefinger. ”You were right, she forgot. First walk on the left, second unit down, 3-C.”

I thanked him and headed for 3-C. The place was as quiet as the bottom of a lake. No night birds, no wind, no nothing. Pebbles crunched under my feet when I reached the cul-de-sac. It was a cla.s.s operation, all right. Each condo had its own pool. There wasn't a speck of trash anywhere. Soft bug-repellent lights shed a flat, shadowless glow over the grounds.

Three-C stood back from the gravel road at the end of two rows of azaleas. It seemed like a cathedral on Christmas Eve. I pressed the doorbell and chimes played a melody under my thumb. Chains rattled, dead bolts clattered, the door swung open, and she was standing there.

The events of the last twenty-four hours had taken their toll. Her eyes were puffed, her face drawn and sallow. Grief had erased her tan and replaced it with a gray mirror of death. She closed the door behind me and retreated to a neutral corner of the room, as though she were afraid I had some contagious disorder.

”I'm glad you're here,” she said, in a voice that had lost its youth.

”Glad to help,” I said.

”n.o.body can help,” she said.

”You want to talk it out?” I suggested. ”It helps, I'm told.”

”But not for you, is that it?”

I thought about what she'd said. It was true, there were few people in the world I could talk to. A hazard of the profession.

”I guess not,” I said. ”n.o.body trusts a cop.”

”It's hard to realize that's what you do.”

I looked around the place. It was a man's room, no frills, no bright colors. The color scheme was tan and black and the antique furniture was heavy and oppressive. The walls were jammed with photographs, plaques, awards, all the paraphernalia of success, squeezed into narrow, s.h.i.+ny bra.s.s frames. The room said a lot about Harry Raines; there was a sense of monotonous order about it, an almost urgent herald of accomplishment. A single flower would have helped immensely.

Oddly, Doe was in only one of the pictures, a group shot obviously taken the day the track opened. The rest were all business, mostly the business of politics or racing: Raines in the winner's circle with a jockey and racehorse; Raines looking ill-at-ease beside a Little League ball club; Raines with the Capitol dome in Was.h.i.+ngton soaring up behind him; Raines posing with senators, congressmen, governors, generals, mayors, kids, and at least one president.

”Didn't he ever smile?” I asked, looking at his stern, almost relentless stare.

”Harry wasn't much for smiling. He thought it a sign of weakness,” Doe said.

”What a shame,” I said. ”He looks so unhappy in these photographs.”

”Dissatisfied,” she said. Resentment crept into her tone. ”He was never satisfied. Even winning didn't satisfy him. All he thought about was the next challenge, the next victory, another plaque for his wall. This was his place, not mine. I'm only here because it's convenient. As soon as this is all over, I'm getting rid of it. I'm sick to death of memorials, and that's all this house is now.”

”How about you, did you satisfy him?”

”In what way?” she asked, her brow gathering up in a frown.

”I mean, were you happy together?”

She shrugged.

”We had all the happiness money can buy,” she said ruefully. ”And none of the fun that goes with it.”

”I'm sorry,” I said, feeling impotent to deal with her grief. ”I'm sorry things have turned so bad for you.”

She sat down primly, her hands clasped in her lap, and stared at the floor.

”Oh, Jake, what happened to it all?” she said, without looking up. ”Why did it shrivel up and die like that? Why were we betrayed so? You, Teddy, Chief, all the things that had meaning for me were ripped out of my life.”

”We all took a beating,” I said. ”Poor old Teddy got the worst of it.”

”Teddy,” she said. ”Dear, sweet Teddy. He didn't give a d.a.m.n for the Findley tradition. In one of his letters from Vietnam he said that when you two got back, he was going to buy a piece of land out on Oceanby and the two of you were going to become beach b.u.ms. He said he was tired of being a Findley. It was all just a big joke to him.”

”We talked about that a lot,” I said. ”Sometimes I think he was halfway serious.”

”He was serious,” she said, sitting up for a moment. ”Can't you just see it? The three of us out there telling the world to drop dead?” She looked up at me and tried to bend the corners of her mouth into a smile. ”You see, I always knew you'd come back here, Jake. Sooner or later Teddy would get you back for me. Only what I thought was, it was a glorious fantasy, not a nightmare. Then Teddy died and the nightmare started and it never ended and it keeps getting worse.”

She picked at a speck of dust for a moment and then said, ”The G.o.ds are perverse. They give lollipops to children and take them away after the first lick.”

I wanted to disagree with her, but I couldn't. What she said was true. It's called growing up. In her own way, Doe had resisted that. Now it was all catching up to her at once and I felt suddenly burdened by her sadness. Not because of Raines' death-there was nothing to be done about that-but because of what they didn't have when he was alive; because the bright promises of youth had become elusive; because the promises of the heart had been broken. I remembered Mufalatta's story about the two violins. She was playing a sad tune and my violin was answering.

”Harry knew from the start that he was second choice,” she went on. ”I never deceived him about that. But I tried. In the beginning we both tried real hard. Then Chief got more and more demanding and t.i.tan started talking politics and Harry started changing, day by day by day, and pretty soon I was just part of the territory to him. Just another plaque on the wall. I wanted the commitment, Jake. Oh G.o.d, how I wanted that. And now I want him back. I want to tell him I'm sorry, that it was all a . . . a . . . ”