detective…'
Julia Musgrave briefly explained the reason for Diamond's presence in the school and finished by remarking that only that morning his perseverance had paid a wonderful dividend.
'Oh, and what was that?'
'Naomi got up from her chair and held my hand,' Diamond informed him. 'It may not sound like much, but it's a real advance.'
'Let us hope so,' the psychiatrist commented in a tone that suggested the reverse. 'Unfortunately the condition of autism is full of false dawns-not that I question the accuracy of what you experienced. It's so tempting with these children to draw unscientific assumptions from their behavior. You assumed when she took your hand that she wished to express some trust, or affection. On the contrary-'
'But I didn't say that,' Diamond interrupted him. 'All I said was that she got up from the chair and held my hand. And speaking of unscientific assumptions, I'm surprised to hear you talking about autism in relation to Naomi before you've actually seen her.'
'I specialize in autism,' Dickinson said icily. 'I wouldn't have been invited here unless the child had exhibited autistic tendencies.'
Julia Musgrave judged it right to interrupt the exchange. 'Peter, what was it you came in about? Something urgent?'
'Something I'd like you to hear from me before you get it from anyone else,' he answered, and went on to tell her how it was that Naomi was back in possession of the marker. 'You don't mind?' he said finally, encouraged that she'd nodded more than once as he was relating the episode.
'It's a risk I'm willing to take,' Julia answered. 'Anything is preferable to that passive state she's been in for so long. Yes, I'm really heartened. She's being positive at last.'
Without much tact, Dr. Dickinson offered his interpretation. 'This is very characteristic. Autistic children frequently become possessive about objects, to an exceptional degree, I mean. Mirrors, wheels, bits of crumpled paper. They refuse to be parted from them. It's compulsive.' He took a writing pad from his folder and made a note.
'Oh, is that a pencil?' Diamond remarked. 'I thought it was a necklace.' Afterwards he regretted saying such a bitchy thing, not because he cared a sparrow's fart about Dickinson, but because it wasn't clever to fuel the man's evident dislike of him, which could easily prejudice his assessment of Naomi. Talking first and thinking after was a failing that had got Diamond into trouble in the past, and would again. He had the sense to leave Julia's office after that.
He slumped into an armchair in the staffroom, bemoaning his lowly status in the school. In his days in the police, he would have overruled Dickinson or any other headshrinker if a child's interests were under threat He wouldn't have taken mat horseshit about compulsive behavior. Well, he thought, I didn't take it. But I'd have shown him the bloody door.
He couldn't be sure which way Julia Musgrave would jump. Her calm personality was a tremendous asset in a school like this. She was approachable and open to suggestions; which meant inconveniently that people like Dickinson got a hearing. Under pressure from the shrinks, the Japanese Embassy and the borough council, she was going to find it difficult, if not impossible, to hold on to Naomi. She was massively outgunned. One failed policeman convinced mat everyone else was mistaken wasn't exactly the U.S. Cavalry riding to the rescue.
His thoughts were interrupted by die jingle of tambourines being carried along the corridor, and the music teacher tottered in with the instruments stacked in her arms and the guitar slung across her back, and still wearing her fedora. She dumped everything onto a chair and went to the kettle. 'Want a coffee?'
'I wouldn't say no.'
'Thanks for bringing Naomi in. I didn't know where she was.'
He nodded. 'Does she take to the music?'
'Not that I've noticed. Would you prefer tea?'
'Whatever you're having.'
They waited for the kettle. The girl, an Australian from her accent, said, 'Your name is Diamond, right?'
'Yep.'
'Hold on, then. I've got something to show you. I won't be long.' She left him to make the coffee.
Presently she was back, with a large sheet of paper. 'Did you know you have a secret admirer?' She held the paper up.
He stared, disbelieving. 'Naomi did this?'
'Who else?' she said. 'And in my lesson. The little hussy won't bash a tambourine for me while you're on her mind.'
The mark on the paper was bold and unmistakable:
CHAPTER ELEVEN
A narrow blue rectangle was visible between the World Trade Center and the New York Telephone Company. It was the Hudson River. Viewed from Manny Flexner's office on the twenty-first floor of the Manflex Building on West Broadway, it glittered brilliantly in the morning sun. Manny's office had windows from floor to ceiling, divided at the center, which was about head height. The upper sections slid open, a feature Manny had insisted on. He liked his air conditioning natural when he could get it Today was one of those blissful days when the wind was minimal and the temperature ideal.
While his eyes were on the river he was speaking on the phone to his son, David, in Milan, and the things he was hearing pleased him immensely. Why couldn't every Monday morning be like this?
' The meeting went more smoothly man I had a right to expect,' David was saying. 'Okay, we had a few tough questions about the decision to close the plant, but most of them understood the problems and appreciated the trouble we were taking to relocate them. It was all incredibly civilized.'
Thanks to the hard work you put in last week,' Manny said with approval. 'You did your homework. People appreciate mat How many want to transfer to Rome?'
'Fifteen to twenty. Another twenty or so want more time to reach a decision.'
'How many of those are researchers?'
'Eight at the latest count'
'Not bad. You want to keep the ratio of research high. The norm in the industry is one-third research, two- thirds development. I always tried to better that. How did the buyout offer do?'
'The union is asking for more, but that's a union's job. My feeling is that they're willing to settle.'
Manny let out a long, contented breath. 'Dave, you did a fine job. Is there any more news how the fire started?'
'No, the police haven't been back. I sent them a list of everyone at the meeting. I figure that won't please them much because we've accounted for every Joe on the books. The cops I saw here were pushing the theory that it was an inside job.'
'They still haven't identified the bodies in the Alfa Romeo?'
'Not so far as I know.'
'Are the insurers any wiser?'
'I doubt it. Everyone is resigned to long delays. Pop, if it's still okay with you, I thought I might take a couple of days off at the end of this week, go and see Venice, like you suggested. Rico can hold the fort.'
'Venice?' Manny brooded for a moment, then came to a decision. 'Sure, son, you've earned it. I'm proud of what you're doing. But don't wait. Go now. Today. And, Dave, don't tell Rico where you're staying. Make it a real vacation. You understand?'
'Pop, I'm in no hurry. I have a couple of appointments in the morning.'
Manny said earnestly. 'Cancel them. Do this for me. I know what I'm saying. Get the hell out of there if you want to see Venice. And, Dave…'
'Yes?'
