when Ms. Kelly would be in. He considered and rejected killing the switchboard operator. He hardly had time to kill every ignorant nobody on this earth, now did he?
He must concentrate on more important matters. He went back to making plans for Irene Kelly.
But while making these plans produced rather lovely sensations, thinking of her brought him to an entirely different state, made him taut with desire. He was a patient man, but he knew that he would not deny himself much longer.
He finished working on the bone, and laid it gently aside. The bone scent was so stimulating!
He must bring himself under control — there was a great deal of work to be done.
He bent to pick up the other leg, and put it on the workbench. As he did so, he said in a little puppet voice, “Hey, pal, thanks for the leg up,” and enjoyed a good bit of amusement over that. Unable to resist another moment of fun, he held it as if it were a rattle and said, “Shake a leg!”
He recovered his composure and went back to work, fastening the leg between two vises.
For short while, he distracted himself with thoughts of the Moth. The Moth was hiding something from him. Did the little fool think he didn’t see that? He was beginning to tire of the Moth. One or two more tasks to fulfill.
He turned the saw on again. This workshop wasn’t nearly as large as the one he would be moving into. Neither one was as big as his hangar, but he supposed it would be quite some time before he would be able to work on airplanes again.
The sacrifices he was willing to make were phenomenal.
He thought of all of the unworthy hands that were now disturbing the remains from the meadows. That this defilement should be the price of his fame angered him.
And close to anger was passion.
The little bone-burning smell came to him.
He was almost there . . . almost, almost there.
Simply volatile.
40
TUESDAY AFTERNOON, SEPTEMBER 12
Las Piernas
Standing outside Phil Newly’s door, I seriously considered bailing on my assignment from Jo Robinson.
Some perverse impulse made me decide to tackle the toughest visit first. I had already had some contact with Andy and J.C., but I had avoided Phil Newly. I hadn’t had much contact with Houghton before he left the group, and because he no longer worked for the LPPD, it was going to take me a while to track him down. But I didn’t have any ambivalent feelings about Houghton. My feelings about Newly were mixed.
He had been associated with Parrish, in a role that made him Parrish’s champion. At the same time, Phil had made it clear that he didn’t like Parrish personally. After all, Parrish had attacked him.
Although I wasn’t proud of myself for thinking it, it had crossed my mind more than once that Phil Newly was fortunate to have his foot broken; a painful injury, but unlike Ben, he still had two feet. Because of that broken foot, he hadn’t faced the same terrors; he had escaped before the worst of the journey began. He hadn’t even seen the coyote tree. Afterward, he had cleverly dodged all efforts of the media to interview him; once it was clear to everyone that he had not been present at the excavation of either of the graves, there was little interest in him.
The police didn’t seem to suspect him in the break-ins at David’s house and Ben’s office. They said his alibi had checked out. Still, while his sister backed up his claim that he had never left her San Francisco home during the day of the break-ins, a devoted sister might say anything to protect her brother.
But I couldn’t think of anything he might have wanted at the house or university, let alone any reason for him to risk a lucrative law career to become a burglar. In fact, although I didn’t know Phil well, I had never had any reason to believe he was dishonest.
I also felt grateful to him — Frank had told me about the ways in which Phil cooperated with him while I was in the mountains; he contended that without Phil’s help, it would have taken him much longer to find me.
My mixed feelings stayed mixed.
I rang the doorbell.
I could hear someone approaching on the other side of the door, then there was silence.
I had called his office; I reached a recording that said the offices were closed and that he was not accepting any new clients. A little checking around led to the discovery that he had referred all of his current cases to other lawyers, and had told those attorneys that he was retiring from the practice of law.
It was already old news that a judge, considering the injury done to Newly by his client, had released him from the burden of defending Nick Parrish; a new attorney would be assigned if and when Mr. Parrish was ever back in custody. But no one had expected that Newly would end his lucrative law practice so suddenly and completely.
I didn’t have Newly’s home phone number, but Frank had dropped him off at this address.
Just as I was wondering if I’d get credit from Jo Robinson if Phil refused to see me, he opened the door.
“Irene,” he said, “what a pleasant surprise.”
It must have been etiquette lessons instilled from childhood that made him use the word “pleasant.” He looked distinctly unhappy to see me. He peered nervously out at the street, and beckoned me in. I found myself almost reluctant to cross his threshold, but stepped inside.
Perhaps he noticed my reticence, because he put a determined smile on his face and said, “Come in, come in. I’ve thought so often of you. Is that your van out front? Frank picked me up at the hospital in a Volvo. And you used to drive — don’t tell me, now — yes! A Karmann Ghia.”
“Right, but the Karmann Ghia is no more,” I said. “The van belongs to my cousin. He’s letting me borrow it while he’s out of town. I’m still in the process of shopping for a car of my own.”
