Part 14 (1/2)

'Yes, I do.'

'If you think honesty is the best policy, then fine. You all finished?'

She picked up her books, the most urgent piled on top of the less so. Larraine gave her a cloth bag decorated with literary characters, thanked her for coming, and hoped that she'd come back before she left. Like royalty, or General MacArthur, Sam a.s.sured her that she would return, and she and her father stepped out into the sunlight. They were heading across the street to where he'd parked the Mustang when a car pulled away from the curb and pa.s.sed slowly before them, preventing them from crossing. It was a brown Cadillac Sedan de Ville with whitewall tires, its windows slightly tinted. Parker caught a glimpse of the driver, a hat pressed low on his forehead. The car wasn't travelling fast, so he had no reason to complain about the driver's behavior. It simply struck him that he could easily have stopped to let them cross. It was what most people in town would have done. This car, though, bore Pennsylvania plates. Parker recalled an incident when he'd been waiting for a flight at the Philadelphia airport, and a man had cut the line at the newsstand to pay for a paper and gum. When the guy at the head of the line objected, the jumper responded with the immortal words 'Hey, welcome to Philly!'

Beside him, Sam tightened her grip on his hand. He looked down to see her face wrinkled in distaste.

'Did you smell it?' she said.

'Smell what?'

'I don't know. Something icky.'

He sniffed the air, but detected nothing.

'It was the car,' said Sam.

'Really?'

The Cadillac hadn't been emitting any more fumes than might have been expected from a vehicle of its vintage. Actually, it had appeared to him to be well maintained.

'Daddy, it smelled bad.'

He watched the Cadillac turn the corner, the silhouette of its driver just about visible as it headed north along Burgess Road, his head darker patch behind the colored gla.s.s.

'If you say so. Anyway, it's gone now.'

He checked twice before crossing, but the road was clear. They reached the far sidewalk, and headed for the munic.i.p.al parking lot where he'd left his car. As the lot came into sight, Sam let go of his hand.

'I feel sick,' she said, and with that she released a stream of milk and French toast onto the sidewalk. All that Parker could do was hold back her hair and let it come. When she was done, he found a tissue in his pocket and used it to wipe her mouth. Her face was very pale. Even her lips seemed more bloodless than before.

'You want to sit down?' he asked.

She shook her head.

'I'm okay.'

'Where did that come from? Did you feel bad earlier?'

'No.'

'You think it was the French toast?'

'No.'

He looked down at the mess on the pavement. They weren't far from the Blackbird Bar & Grill, and the door was open. He brought her inside and sat her down at one of the booths in the bar, which was otherwise empty. Fred Amsel appeared from a back room, and Parker told him what had happened and asked for a bucket of water to clean off the sidewalk. Fred told him that he'd take care of it. He poured a Sprite for Sam, but did not add ice.

'The sugar will help,' he said. 'She's probably feeling light-headed.'

Sam sipped the soda. Fred filled a bucket, sluiced down the sidewalk, and then used a brush to wash any residue into the gutter. The color returned to Sam's face, and she a.s.sured her father that she was happy to get in the car so they could return to the house. Parker thanked Fred for his kindness, and offered to pay for the soda, but he knew that no cash would be accepted. They got back to the car without any further incident, but he kept the windows rolled down on the ride back to Green Heron Bay.

Parker suggested that perhaps they should leave the visit to Amanda until the next day, but Sam would hear none of it.

'I'm fine, Daddy,' she said. 'It was the smell that made me sick. That man in the car, he smelled bad. He smelled real bad ...'

28.

Sam seemed fully recovered by the time they returned to the house at Green Heron Bay, but Parker insisted that she take it easy for an hour before he brought her to meet Amanda Winter. She did so reluctantly, her mood improved only slightly by being given relatively unlimited access to Netflix on her father's laptop.

While she lay on the couch watching an episode of Cow and Chicken, Parker went outside and thought about the brown Cadillac, and his daughter's reaction to it. Her vomiting could have been a consequence of travel and excitement, he supposed, although Sam generally boasted the const.i.tution of a young horse. He himself hadn't felt any unease at the sight of the car, and he was sensitive to such things acutely so. But he acknowledged that he had been left weakened by recent events, and none of his responses were as sure as before.

He called Gordon Walsh, but the call went straight to voicemail. He left a message with details of the car and its license plate number, and asked Walsh, as a favor, to run the vehicle through the system. He was curious, and nothing more, not yet. He checked on Sam once again, then went to his room. He worked on strengthening his grip for while before reading the New York Times. He must have dozed off, for when he woke, there was a message on his phone from Cory Bloom requesting that he call her, and Sam was standing at his bedroom door.

'I'm ready,' she said.

He didn't bother asking her again how she was feeling. He knew that it would only annoy her. In that way, she was like her mother. As for Cory Bloom, he would return her call as soon as Sam was safely with Ruth Winter and her daughter.

'Then let's go,' he said.

Parker stood with Ruth and watched their respective daughters make their way across the sand toward the rock pools that now lay exposed by the outgoing tide. The girls wore loose windbreakers and brightly colored waterproof boots. The sky was clear, and the sun gave some warmth despite the seemingly ever-present breeze. Fearless little purple sandpipers hopped among the rocks at their farthest point, where the waves still broke upon them, the winter yellow of the birds' legs now almost entirely gone.

'You say she was ill?' asked Ruth.

'French toast.'

'That'll do it, you eat enough of it. I'll keep an eye on her, though both eyes. They won't be out of my sight. Speaking of which ...'

She b.u.t.toned her coat to go and join Sam and Amanda.

'Call me if there's a problem,' said Parker. 'I won't be far away.'

'You going back to your house?'

'No, I have some errands to run in town. Shouldn't take too long.'

'Well, maybe you'd like to join us for dinner later? Sixish?'

'That would be great. I'll pick up dessert.'

'Don't worry about it. We have enough ice cream here to start a business.'

He had a sudden impulse to kiss her cheek in farewell, although it quickly pa.s.sed. It was not a manifestation of desire. She was a good-looking woman, but he felt no particular attraction to her, and saw no evidence that she felt any differently toward him. No, it would have been a gesture almost of rea.s.surance, or an invitation to her to share with him whatever it was that was troubling her. He watched her walk after the children, and his eyes moved on to the place on her right doorpost where the mezuzah had been. Green Heron Bay and Mason Point were similar in size and geographic features. He followed the sh.o.r.eline with his gaze. If he squinted, he could almost picture a body stretched upon it, like an offering from the sea.

There was no evidence that Boreas had been Bruno Perlman's ultimate destination. Neither had Parker any reason to believe that, if Perlman had been on his way to the town, Ruth Winter was someone with whom he might have wished to speak. All he knew was that she cared enough about her faith to affix the mezuzah to her door, and if it was important to her to put it up in the first place, then she wouldn't have taken it down again lightly.