'I'm not sure I understand the scope of your investigation, Mr. Burke.'
'Well, it's a bit difficult to describe on the phone. If I could come and see you…'
'Let me check my calendar and have Lydia get back to you.
'I'd appreciate that. I'm staying at the Cambridge residence temporarily. The number is— '
'Oh, that's all right, Lydia will look it up. We'll be back to you in a day or so, will that be all right?'
'Absolutely, doctor. And, thank you for your time.'
'No problem,' he said, ringing off.
'You have an answering machine?' I asked the kid.
'Yeah. It's around here someplace. I never use it.'
'Well, let's hook it up. I want to be sure to get the message if this Barrymore calls.'
'I'll take care of it.'
'Okay. You gonna be around for a while?'
'Yes. Wendy said she might…come over. Besides, I want to do some more work on the car.'
'Yeah. Listen, Sonny, okay if I take the Miata?'
'Sure,' he shrugged. 'How come?'
'I was someplace last night, while you were at Wendy's. Looking around. I wouldn't want anyone who was watching to make the connection so quick.'
'The keys are in the ignition,' he said.
The Miata was nothing like my buddy's old Alfa. It didn't look so different, but it felt solid as a little ingot. I went through the gears a couple of times, getting the feel, but there was nothing special about it, no quirks to deal with. I thought the kid might have tricked it up a bit, but it drove like it was bone–stock.
I got Fancy on the pocket phone. 'You up and around yet?'
'I've been up for hours. I feel wonderful.'
'Yeah, you do. I'm on my way.'
'I'll be outside. Around back. By the greenhouse. Just come around, okay? I might not hear the door.'
The grounds looked as deserted as they always seemed to. Fancy's car was in the same place it was last night. I parked the Miata in front of her cottage, walked around to the back.
She was in the greenhouse, wearing a short yellow pleated skirt, with a white button–front blouse, barefoot.
'This is over a hundred years old,' she greeted me, pointing to one of the bonsai trees. The tiny trunk was thick, gnarled with age. The branches all went in the same direction, as if in obedience to a strong wind.
'What kind is it?'
'Cypress. That's one of the standards.'
'Where'd you learn about this?'
'I took a course. At the college. And I read some too. The thing about bonsai, you have to be in control. Ruthless. You have to keep cutting back, keep the wires tight, stay on it. If you don't watch them close, they grow too big.'
'They're beautiful.'
'Strong, that's what they are. They live much longer than we do. In Japan, they pass them on from generation to generation.'
'What's that one?' I asked, pointing to a hanging pot with a fragile network of stems and leaves.
'That's a bromeliad. They're epiphytic…air plants. They grow without roots.'
Something flashed on the screen in my mind. I changed channels quick— I'd already seen the movie.
I watched her for a while. She pruned branches with a tiny scissors, reset the wires she was using to train them to hold a position. She finished with a light mist of water, bending close, using her own breath to distribute the moisture once it settled. When she was finished, she made a little bow in the direction of the bonsai.
'You want to sit outside for a while?' she asked.
'Sure.'
She led me over to a small, elaborate deck. The wood was a weathered white, like a beached sailing ship. Flowering plants were set into the corners, in tubs built into the structure. We each took a chair next to a round table with a pebbled glass top.
'I want you to do something for me,' I said.
'What? I mean, yes.'
I explained what I wanted.
'I'll have to make some calls,' she said. 'But I can get the perfect thing, I know.'
'In time?'
