Part 19 (1/2)

”Studies have shown,” Christopher Dawe said with his head tilted toward his wife, ”that suicide is an inherently pa.s.sive-aggressive act. Have you heard that, Mr. Kenzie?”

”I have.”

”That it's meant not so much to hurt the person who kills herself, but to hurt those she leaves behind.” He poured some more tea into his cup. ”Look at me, Mr. Kenzie.”

I looked.

”I am a cerebral man. It has brought me no small measure of success.” His dark eyes flashed with pride. ”But, being a man of intellect, possibly I'm less attuned to the emotional needs of others. Possibly I could have been more emotionally supportive of Karen as she grew up.”

His wife said, ”You did a fine job, Christopher.”

He waved her off. His eyes bore into my own. ”I knew Karen never got over the death of her natural father, and in hindsight, maybe I should have worked harder to a.s.sure her of my love. But we're flawed creatures, Mr. Kenzie. All of us. You, me, Karen. And life is regret. So my wife and I will, I promise you, regret often over the coming years the things we didn't do with our daughter. But that regret is not for the consumption of others. That regret is ours, sir. As this loss is ours. And whatever your odd quest is, I don't mind telling you, I find it kind of sad.”

Mrs. Dawe said, ”Mr. Kenzie, may I ask you a question?”

I looked back at her. ”Sure.”

She placed her teacup back on its saucer. ”Is it necrophilia?”

”What?”

”This interest in my daughter?” She reached out and wiped her fingers along the top of the coffee table.

”Ah, no, ma'am.”

”You're sure?”

”Positive.”

”Then what is it, sir?”

”In all truth, ma'am, I'm not really sure.”

”Please, Mr. Kenzie, you must have some idea.” She smoothed the tails of her s.h.i.+rt against her thighs.

I felt awkward suddenly, felt the size of the room shrink around me. I felt powerless. To try to sum up my desire to right wrongs whose victim was well beyond benefiting from my efforts seemed impossible. How do you explain the pulls that dictate and often define your life in a few concise sentences?

”I'm waiting, Mr. Kenzie.”

I raised a helpless arm to the absurdity of it. ”She struck me as someone who played by all the rules.”

”And what rules are those?” Dr. Dawe said.

”Society's, I guess. She worked the job, she opened the dual checking account with her fiance and saved for the future. She dressed and spoke the way Madison Avenue tells us we're supposed to. She bought the Corolla when she wanted the Camry.”

”You're losing me,” Karen's mother said.

”She played by the rules,” I said, ”and she got stomped anyway. All I want to know is if any of that stomping wasn't accidental.”

”Mmm-hmm,” Carrie Dawe said. ”Do you make much money tilting at windmills these days, Mr. Kenzie?”