Part 12 (1/2)
”You're asking the wrong question.” She put her back against the sink and exhaled. ”Why wouldn't he kill himself?”
CHAPTER NINE
I went out and started the car while Bian stood by the curb and used her cell phone to call and ask her boss, Oberst Waterbury, to persuade either Hirschfield or Tigerman--or better still, both--to clear a little time on their schedules. went out and started the car while Bian stood by the curb and used her cell phone to call and ask her boss, Oberst Waterbury, to persuade either Hirschfield or Tigerman--or better still, both--to clear a little time on their schedules.
She climbed into the pa.s.senger seat and said, ”He'll take care of it.” She looked at me. ”What do you think?”
”I need fresh air.”
”Her life needs fresh air.” She suggested, ”So let's start with her.”
”You mean, is she a suspect?”
”She's not. We both know that, don't we? But she'll have happy dreams tonight, imagining she did it. My sense is she wrote him out of her life.” She reconsidered her words and said, ”That's not exactly true. He was her boogeyman, the fount of all her miseries and unhappiness. Now she'll miss him. You know?”
”I know.”
”But is she credible? Bitter people make poor witnesses.”
”She's very credible about what counts, and her bitterness is justified.”
”You believe she deserves sympathy?”
”I sure do. She built a life and a family around this guy. He turned into an a.s.shole.”
”There's a stylish elegy. Can I borrow it for my write-up?”
”You should hear my court summations. Come early. Long lines, and the ticket scalpers make a killing.”
”I'll bet you're very . . . entertaining.” She thought for a moment, then observed, ”We only heard her side of the tale. Every divorce has two sides.”
”Good point. If you think of a way we can hear his side, be sure to let me know.”
She shook her head. I can be annoying.
I said, ”It's an old story with many t.i.tles: the starter wife, the first-wife syndrome, middle-age idiot.i.tis. Cliff wasn't very complicated or hard to understand. He wanted to be something he wasn't--das.h.i.+ng, dangerous, mysterious, s.e.xually alluring. Theresa and the kids were part of the old, lesser, disappointing him.”
”You make him sound very shallow.”
”A lot of men harbor secret dreams of being James Bond, but they wake up and see George Smiley staring back from the mirror.” I added, after a moment, ”Men have two brains in constant warfare over the body's blood supply. When one wins, the other shuts down.”
”It's that simple?”
”It's that simple.”
”I see.”
”He thought his s.h.i.+p came in, and she got thrown overboard.” I looked at her. ”I wouldn't be surprised if Cliff secretly dreamed of dumping her for years.”
”Well, whatever the reason, she needs to pull herself together. Put it behind her.”
”Amnesia is not something you call up at will.”
”An old Vietnamese proverb says, 'When the petals leave the rose, you grow a new rose.' ”
”They grow roses over there?”
”Well . . . no.” She laughed. ”I made that up.” Then she said, ”My point is, she's wallowing in the past. Destroying the marriage may have been his fault--destroying herself is hers.”
”You're engaged, right?”
”I told you I am.”
”How do you know--what's this guy's name?”
”Mark. Mark Kemble.”
”Thank you. How can you be sure Mark Kemble won't turn into an idiot?”
”He won't.”
”How do you know know, Bian? Husbands are unpredictable creatures. Some come with hidden flaws, buried defects. Sometimes a guy wakes up one morning, sees the bald spot, the turkey wattles under the chin, and he turns shallow and stupid. Sometimes a fancy new car cures it, sometimes a fancy new blonde. Do I really need to explain this?”
She made no reply.
”In simple soldier talk--s.h.i.+t happens.”
”It won't. Not between us.” She looked at me and said, with complete conviction, ”There is no past tense to the word love.”
”It's a verb. Slap a 'd' on the end.”
”Look, I've known Mark since we were cadets. This might sound trite, but I was in love the moment I first saw him. I . . .” She looked away for a moment, then concluded, ”He won't change--ever. I'm sure.”
”You've dated this same guy for ten years? What does that tell you?”
”Well . . . that's not how it happened. I mooned over him when we were cadets, but he was two years ahead of me. Regulations at West Point forbade dating uppercla.s.smen. He also had a girlfriend he was serious about.”
”What happened to her?”
”Oh . . . well, she died. A suspicious fire . . . arson, actually. Most unfortunate and very mysterious. The arsonist was never found.”
I looked at her, and she smiled. ”That was a joke.”
I smiled back.
Bian said, ”She was from a wealthy family in a ritzy community in Connecticut. New Caanan, maybe Westport. After Mark graduated she got a look at Army life, instead of cadet life. The idea of sc.r.a.ping by on a lieutenant's pay in Louisiana or Georgia was a little much for her. So Mark got a Dear John letter and she got a new boyfriend, at Harvard Business School. They ended up married.”