“Rinniak doesn’t think I’m in the way,” Runyon said.
“I don’t care what Rinniak thinks. He doesn’t live in this town, he doesn’t know Belsize the way I do.”
Runyon was still a little logy; his reponse was less politic than it should have have been. “Or have a personal grudge against a kid who’s yet to be proven guilty.”
Kelso’s mouth thinned to a white slash. “Unprofessional bias? Is that what you’re accusing me of?”
“I’m not accusing you of anything. Just stating an obvious fact.”
“Based on what? What you dragged out of my daughter?”
“You haven’t made a secret of your feelings about Belsize.”
“I don’t let my personal feelings get in the way of doing my job,” Kelso said angrily. “I go by evidence, and the evidence in this case points to Belsize.”
“Circumstantially, maybe.”
“No maybes about it.”
“No evidence at all that he set the fire last night.”
“Except it was where he was hiding out.”
“Why would he go back there and torch the camp?”
“Because he’s barn-owl crazy, that’s why.”
“One man’s opinion.”
“All right, that’s enough. I’ve had all the interference I’m going to take from you. I want you out of Gray’s Landing. And I don’t want you talking to anybody else about Belsize or the fires on the way. Do I make myself clear?”
“Clear.”
“If you’re not gone by tomorrow, I’ll slap you with an obstruction charge. I’m not just blowing smoke-I mean what I say.”
When he was alone again Runyon finished buttoning his shirt, put on his trousers. There was anger in him, too, a slow simmer of it. The smart thing to do was pack up and head back to San Francisco right now; he was rested enough for the long drive. He could be at his apartment by ten o’clock, be available for work early tomorrow morning. But he didn’t feel like doing the smart thing. He was tired of being banged up, pushed around, lied to, misled, and manipulated. Tired of Kelso, the cowboy act, the stubborn brawn.
He couldn’t justify hanging around here much longer, but neither did he have to leave in a big hurry just because he’d been ordered to. Tamara wasn’t expecting him at the agency until Wednesday morning; he didn’t need to be on the road until this time tomorrow night. Kelso’s ultimatum didn’t concern him. There was no basis for an obstruction charge no matter how many locals he talked to.
He was beginning to see the shape of what was going on in Gray’s Landing. Keep asking the right questions, make the right connections, and the focus would sharpen. If he saw it clear enough over the next twenty-four hours, he’d give it to Joe Rinniak before he left for San Francisco.
18
TAMARA
Cold, fog-drippy morning. Past few days hadn’t been too bad, but now your standard San Francisco summer weather was back again. Well, all that gray matched her mood. Fallout from Vonda’s little bombshell last night. Just what she needed-something new to rock her world.
She was first at the agency, as usual. Turned up the heat to get rid of the damp chill, made a pot of coffee… damn glorified secretary. Booted up her Mac and checked e-mail until the coffee was ready. Since she’d lost the twenty pounds, she drank it black; this morning she dumped in two packets of dairy creamer and a teaspoonful of sugar. She’d hate herself for it later, but right now she didn’t care.
She sat sipping the sweetened coffee and staring at the blank computer screen. Why did she feel so down anyway? Vonda’d been her best friend since high school. Shared all kinds of confidences, even the gory details when each of them lost their viriginity. Two of a kind, weren’t they? Wild childs with chips on their shoulders, dissing Whitey, smoking dope, drinking wine, hanging and banging with the bad boys. Vowing they’d always be outlaws. None of the conventional crap for them. Husbands, families-forget it. Get gobbled up by Whitey’s world like her sister, Claudia-no way. Only trouble with that ’tude was, if you were smart and your old man was a cop and Vonda’s was a fireman and both of you grew up a long way from the ghetto and had never even tasted poverty, you couldn’t keep the chips from sliding off eventually. Things happened. You got older; you found out you had computer skills or an interest in interior design; you decided you might as well give college a try; you met somebody who was smart and talented and had never had a chip; you needed extra money so you drifted into jobs like this one or a sales position at the S.F. Design Center. And the next thing you knew, the hard edge was gone and you were an adult with adult responsibilities; you had career ambitions that were rooted smack in the middle of a world that maybe wasn’t so much Whitey’s anymore after all.
Tamara had always figured that if either of them was going to throw off her teenage rebellion and settle down to marriage and kids, it would be her. Her and Horace. Not Vonda. That girl liked men too much. Different men, as long as they were black. No home and hearth bullshit for her. How many times had Vonda said that over the years? But things kept happening on that front, too. Horace moving to Philly and taking up with Mary from Rochester, and Vonda meeting a suit who worked in a Financial District brokerage house, a suit who happened to be both white and Jewish, and falling in love with him like she’d fallen in love with fifty other guys she’d been to bed with except that this time, for some weird reason, it was the real thing. And then she shows up at the apartment last night, no warning, so excited she looks like she’s about to pop, and drops her bombshell.
Pregnant.
Getting married right away.
And the weird thing was, Tamara wasn’t sure which of the two tweaked her the most.
Didn’t have anything to do with Ben Sherman’s color or religion, though both were going to be a problem for Vonda. One of her brothers was a dead-bang racist; already been some friction, and he’d go ballistic when he found out. Vonda didn’t care about that, at least not right now, so why should she? No, what was bugging her was something more personal. She knew what it was. Might as well admit it to herself.
Jealous. Stupid, but there it was. Jealous on both counts.
Horace, the love of her life, gone for good. She didn’t have anybody now, not even a casual bed partner. And Vonda was not only getting married to the love of her life, so she claimed; she was also pleased and happy about the life growing inside her, the family she’d sworn she’d never have. Wanted that baby, all right, dirty diapers and 3:00 A.M. feedings and all the rest of it. Ought to be grateful it wasn’t her who was knocked up, but instead, here she was turning a couple of pale shades of green over a girlfriend who was facing all kinds of mixed-marriage wife and mother problems.
Why would she want to be saddled with a kid of her own at this stage, with her career on the rise and her time already at a premium? She didn’t, not really. And yet… she kept thinking about that scared little kidnapped girl, Lauren, and the way the two of them had bonded during the long hours they’d been held captive together five months ago. Brought out all sorts of maternal instincts she hadn’t even known she had. Made her pine a little then, and now and then since, for her own kid someday. She’d make a good mother, no question about that. Good wife, too. Well, she’d have a chance to find out someday, wouldn’t she? Probably. Sure. She was only twenty-six. Plenty of time.
Someday.
Angrily, the anger directed inward, she forced herself to get to work. Balm for everything, work. Frustration, yearning, sexual need, maternity, loneliness… just throw yourself into your job, let it take over your mind, and all of the bad got pushed far enough aside so you could forget it was there. For a while, anyway.
She was deep into the background search on Anthony Drax when Bill came in carrying a white gift box. He was in a good mood, at least. Looked like he’d had a good night’s sleep. Looked like the cancer scare was going to turn out all right, thank God. Kerry was a survivor and so was he; they had each other, that was how they’d been able to get through the strain and pain of the past three months. You could get through just about anything if you had somebody to hang on to, somebody who cared enough to be there for you…
