Time Bomb

Changing the subject, I said, “There’s quite an age difference between Holly and Howard.”

“Eleven years. And yes, she was an unplanned child. But not an unwanted one. When Betty learned she was pregnant, she was surprised but happy. And that’s saying a lot, because she wasn’t a healthy woman- bleeding ulcers, irritable bowel syndrome. I don’t know if you’re familiar with that, but she suffered from problem flatulence, very bad chronic pain. Nevertheless, she carried on like a trooper, nursed Holly for eleven months- exactly the time we’d allotted to Howard. She was an excellent mother, very patient.”

“How was Holly affected by her death?”

“Quite severely, I’d assume.”

“Assume?”

“Assume. With Holly there was no way of knowing how she really felt about anything, because she didn’t talk, didn’t express herself very well.”

“Did she attend the funeral?”

“Yes, she did. I had one of the mortuary attendants watch over her in a room off the chapel during the service and when we went out to the grave. Afterwards I sat down with her and explained what had happened. She stared at me, didn’t say anything, cried just a bit, and then walked away. Out to the lawn. To sit. Spin her fantasies. I let her do it for a while, then took her home. A couple of times I heard her crying at night, but when I went in she stopped and rolled away and refused to discuss it with me.”

“How did you explain to her what had happened?”

“I told her her mother had been very sick. She knew that- she’d seen Betty take to bed. I said she’d gone into the hospital to be treated for her stomachaches but that the doctors had been stupid and made mistakes and they’d killed her with their stupidity and we’d have to go on without her and be strong. That we were still a family and would carry on as a family.”

“Your wife’s death was due to medical malpractice?”

He looked at me as if I were in the “dull normal” range. “The woman had a nonfatal condition, Doctor. She bled to death on the operating table, in the presence of a full surgical team.”

“Did you pursue it legally?”

He gave a sharp, mocking laugh. “I talked to a couple of attorneys, but they wouldn’t take the case. Supposedly it wasn’t cut and dried enough, given her prior medical history. The truth was, they had more than their share of whiplashes. They didn’t want to bet their contingency fees on something that required some real research. I suppose I could have found some ambulance chaser to take it on, but at the time I had other things on my mind. Two children to raise, a business to run- I was doing all direct-mailing back then, still building up my lists. Much more labor-intensive than it is today. So I needed all my energy for that.”

“It must have been a difficult time for you.

“Not really. I attacked it systematically, kept everything organized. Howard stayed on the straight-A track.” He stopped. “Still, I suppose the way Holly turned out was partly my fault.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I have an impressive array of intellectual skills and talents but I wasn’t successful in communicating them to her- in getting her going on some sort of goal-oriented program. She persistently shut me out and I allowed it, because I didn’t want to be cruel. So perhaps I was too kind.” He shrugged. “Of course hindsight is always twenty- twenty, isn’t it?”

Luxuriating in bogus confession.

Despite my aversion to snap diagnoses, a diagnostic label kept creeping into my mind:

Narcissistic personality disorder. Pathological egotism.

It fit. Even with the way he’d chosen to make a living. Beauty and Balance. Access and Excel. The catalogue was a paean to narcissism. I was willing to bet he’d put his brainchild ahead of his children. Put himself ahead of everyone and everything.

I tried to imagine what it would have been like to be one of his children, and my sympathy for Holly climbed another rung.

“So,” he said, “we seem to be doing well. What else can I help you with, Doctor?”

“How did Howard and Holly get along?”

“Very well- no fights.”

“Did they have much to do with each other?”

“Not much. Howard was busy with his activities- studies, extracurricular clubs- and Holly stayed in her room. That’s not to say he didn’t love her- he was always concerned about her, if a bit baffled.”

“How’s he holding up?”

“Like a trooper.”

“Is he married?”

“Of course. Has a big house in Encino, south of the boulevard. One lovely daughter, sharp as a tack. They’re all holding up like troopers. Go visit them, see for yourself. You really should, now that I think about it. Do speak with Howard.”

Sounding urgent.

Go talk to my intelligent child. The one that came out good.

I said, “What about friends?”

“Holly? No, she didn’t have any. When she was very young I remember a few neighborhood children coming over. They made noise and bothered my work and I had to shoo them outside. But eventually that stopped. Holly wasn’t much for group play.”

“When did it stop?”

He thought about that. “What you want me to say is that everything changed after her mother died, right? But in terms of the friend situation, I’m afraid I can’t be that definite. In fact I’m almost certain she lacked playmates well before Betty’s death. She wasn’t much of a playmate herself, liked to go off on her own and leave her little guests in the lurch.”

“What about when she got older? Did she make any school chums?”

“None. She didn’t like anything related to school, wanted to drop out when she was fifteen, nagged me to allow her to take the equivalency test. I knew she’d fail it and refused to let her, but she kept on me- she could be quite stubborn when she set her mind on something. Finally, when she was sixteen, I agreed. She took it. And failed.”

“Did that bother her?”

“Not really. Neither of us was surprised. I made her stick it out at Pali until she graduated- at least get the paper. Not that she’d earned it, but the ninnies just kept passing her through. Typical civil service approach- take the path of least resistance.”

“What did she do after graduation?”

“Stayed home. Listened to her radio- the pop music, and talk shows. She could play it twenty-four hours a day. I assigned her household chores: straightening, cleaning, doing simple paperwork. She enjoyed doing things for me.”

Free live-in help. Convenient. Some men’s idea of a wife. “Did she make any recent acquaintances? Since graduation?”

“How could she? She never went anywhere.”

I said, “I’ve been told she was friendly with a delivery boy from Dinwiddie’s Market. Isaac Novato.”

His jaw set and he moved forward on his chair. “Where did you hear about this supposed friendship?”

“I was told he was someone she knew, they were seen talking.”

“Talking. Well, that’s possible. The boy delivered groceries to our home. Every week. Holly let him in and gave him his tip, so I suppose they might have talked as part of the transaction. What else did you hear?”

“That’s about it.”

“Is it? Well, I doubt they were actually friends. Not that it would bother me if they had been. No doubt you know he’s black. Unlike others in this neighborhood- in this country- I consider race irrelevant. I judge a person by his accomplishments, not the concentration of melanin in his skin.”

Given that credo, I wondered how he’d judged his daughter.

He said, “You seem skeptical.”

“Not at all.”