Thin Air

They had become so much a part of her limited landscape that they were barely tangible.

Behind her she heard the key in the door lock, and then he came into the room.

'Chiquita, ' he said. 'You look just as I'd hoped. Turn around, please. All the way around. Now walk toward me. Yes. It is just as I'd hoped.'

He was wearing a loose-fitting white shirt, with big sleeves. The shirt was open at the neck and unbuttoned halfway to his waist. He wore tan riding breeches and high cordovan-colored riding boots. She tried to remember the movie poster he was modeling. Lives of a Bengal Lancer? Elephant Walk? She couldn't remember. But she knew that he coordinated what he would wear with the way he dressed her. He would lay out her clothes before he left her the night before, if it was night. She never knew. When he came in the next day, if it was the next day, he would be costumed to match. His very own, anatomically correct mannequin, she thought as she modeled her outfit. He smiled at her and put out his arm, crooked, as if for a promenade. 'Come, querida, I have a treat for you.'

She remained unmoving, not sure what he wanted.

'Come, come,' he said. 'We will take a little walk. It is time the queen toured her realm.'

She walked slowly to him, and put her hand on his arm lightly. And they turned and walked out the door.

Chapter 14

I took off my tool belt and hung it on a nail on one of the bare studs in the torn-out living room of the old farm house we were rehabbing in Concord, Mass., about three miles from the rude bridge that arched the flood. It was lunchtime. Susan had gone out and bought us some smoked turkey sandwiches on homemade oatmeal bread at Sally Ann's Food Shop. Now she was back and we sat out at our picnic table on the snow-melt marshy grass in the yard and ate them, and drank Sally Ann's special decaf blend from large paper cups.

'I don't know why you kvetch so about decaffeinated coffee,' Susan said. 'I think it tastes perfectly fine.'

Pearl the Wonder Dog hopped up onto the picnic table and stared at my sandwich from very close range.

I broke off a piece and gave it to her. It disappeared at once and she resumed the stare.

'You lack credibility, Suze,' I said. 'You could live on air and kisses sweeter than wine.'

Susan gave half her sandwich to Pearl.

'This is true,' Susan said. 'But I still can't tell the difference.'

Pearl stared at my sandwich some more, her eyes shifting as I took a bite.

'You know, when I was a kid,' I said, 'neither my father nor my uncles would let the dog up on the dining room table. Not even Christmas.'

'How old fashioned,' Susan said.

It was one of the first warm days of the year, and the sun was very satisfying as it seeped through my tee shirt. I took one final bite of the sandwich and gave the rest to Pearl. It was big enough to be taken someplace, so Pearl jumped off the table and went into the house with it. Susan looked at me with something which, in a lesser woman, would have been a smirk.

'It's the gimlet eye,' I said. 'I get worn down.'

'Anyone would,' she said. 'How is Frank?'

'I guess he's going to make it, but he's still in intensive, still full of hop and drifting in and out. And they still don't know when he'll walk.'

'Are you making any progress finding Lisa St. Claire?'

'I've found an old boyfriend,' I said.

'Cherchez l'homme,' Susan said.

'Maybe. He's an Hispanic guy from Proctor named Luis Deleon. He might be the one on her answering machine that might have had an accent and said he'd stop by later. I played the tape for Lisa's friend Typhanie-with a y and a ph-and she couldn't say for sure, but it might be him. He's apparently the guy Lisa was with before Belson.'

'And you think she might be with him?'

'I don't know. Awful lot of might-be's. But I don't have anyplace else to look, so I'll look there.'

'I hope she's not with someone,' Susan said.

'Yeah. But, in a sense, if she is, Belson will know she's not dead, and he'll know what he has to fight.'

'The voice of experience.'

'Disappearance is terrifying,' I said. 'Whether me or him is painful, but it's clear.'

'And you've not spoken with Frank about this?'

'Mostly he doesn't know what day it is,' I said. 'But even if he did, what's to talk about?'

'One would assume if you were looking for a man's wife, you would want to talk with him about it if possible. If only to offer him emotional support.'

'He won't want to talk about it,' I said. 'Except as a case.'

'Maybe you should help him, when he's able.'

'Some people,' I said, and stopped and took a significant bite of the second sandwich, 'even some very intelligent people, even now and then some very intelligent shrinks, sometimes think that not talking about things is