you to tell you not to cooperate with me.'
'So you just decided to write off the Londons, is that it?' There was a trace of amusement in her voice.
'I was here waiting, as I said. Then I went out and kept my date for the evening, and when I got home my father called. To tell me he'd ordered you off the case but that you intended to persist with it all the same.'
So I could have seen her. Alcohol had made the decision, and had made it badly.
'He told me not to offer you any encouragement. He said he'd made a mistake raking up the past to begin with.'
'But you called me. Or was that before you spoke to him?'
'Once before and once after. The first call was because I was angry with you for standing me up. The second call was because I was angry with my father.'
'Why?'
'Because I don't like being told what to do. I'm funny that way. He says you wanted a picture of Barbara. I gather he refused to give it to you. Do you still want one?'
Did I? I couldn't recall now what I'd planned to do with it. Maybe I'd make the rounds of hardware stores, showing it to everyone who sold icepicks.
'Yes,' I said. 'I still want one.'
'Well, I can supply that much. I don't know what else I can give you. But one thing I can't give you at the moment is time. I was on my way out the door when the phone rang. I've got my coat on. I'm meeting a friend for dinner, and then I'm going to be busy this evening.'
'With group therapy.'
'How did you know that? Did I mention it the last time we talked?
You have a good memory.'
'Sometimes.'
'Just let me think. Tomorrow night's also impossible. I'd say come over tonight after therapy but by then I generally feel as though I've been through the wringer. After school tomorrow there's a faculty meeting, and by the time that's over- Look, could you come to the school?'
'Tomorrow?'
'I've got a free period from one to two. Do you know where I teach?'
'A private school in the Village, but I don't know which one.'
'It's the Devonhurst School. Sounds very preppy, doesn't it?
Actually it's anything but. And it's in the East Village. Second Avenue between Tenth and Eleventh. The east side of the street closer to Eleventh than Tenth.'
'I'll find it.'
'I'll be in Room Forty-one. And Mr. Scudder? I wouldn't want to be stood up a second time.'
I went around the corner to Armstrong's. I had a hamburger and a small salad, then some bourbon in coffee. They switch bartenders at eight, and when Billie came in a half-hour before his shift started I went over to him.
'I guess I was pretty bad last night,' I said.
'Oh, you were okay,' he said.
'It was a long day and night.'
'You were talking a little loud,' he said. 'Aside from that you were your usual self. And you knew to leave here and make it an early night.'
Except I hadn't made it an early night.
I went back to my table and had another bourbon and coffee. By the time I was finished with it, the last of my hangover was gone. I'd shaken off the headache fairly early on, but the feeling of being a step or two off the pace had persisted throughout the day.
Great system: The poison and the antidote come in the same bottle.
I went to the phone, dropped a dime. I almost dialed Anita's number and sat there wondering why. I didn't want to talk about a dead dog, and that was as close as we'd come to a meaningful conversation in years.
I dialed Jan's number. My notebook was in my pocket but I didn't have to get it out. The number was just right there at hand.
'It's Matthew,' I said. 'I wondered if you felt like company.'
'Oh.'
'Unless you're busy.'
'No, I'm not. As a matter of fact, I'm a little under the weather. I was just settling in for a quiet evening in front of the television set.'
'Well, if you'd rather be alone-'
'I didn't say that.' There was a pause. 'I wouldn't want to make it a late evening.'
'Neither would I.'
