'After she had been killed,' I said.
'She was one of Brad's ex-wives.'
'Yes.'
She shook her head.
'Things just don't go away,' she said.
I ate a potato and was quiet.
'I just wanted to pretend all that never happened,' she said. 'But I couldn't.'
I nodded and chewed my potato. It was good.
'I chose those men for their weaknesses, and then rejected them for their weaknesses.'
'You said that already. No need to beat yourself up about it.'
'But there's a part I haven't ever said. Not even to you.'
'No need,' I said.
'There is. I have caused too much trouble by not saying it.'
'Long as you say it to yourself,' I said.
She shook her head. 'One of the reasons I was attracted to these men was that, in their imperfection, I felt safe. I knew they could never get to me.'
'Get?'
'One of the aspects of my family struggle when I was little was, of course, that if my father's affection for me ever got out of hand, and my mother's worst fears were realized…'
'You had to keep him from getting you,' I said.
'And having learned that, it got transferred to all the other men I knew.'
'Including me.'
'Me more powerful and good and complete you turned out to be,' Susan said, 'the more I feared that you'd get me.'
'And now.'
'Now, now for crissake, I know you don't even want to get me.'
'True. And if I did, you wouldn't let me.'
'For which I can thank Dr. Hilliard.'
'So what's that got to do with how you should have faced up?' I said.
'I got you into this because I still feel guilty about it.'
'If you hadn't gotten me into this, someone would have gotten me into something.'
'But it wouldn't have been me,' she said.
'And you feel guilty about getting me into trouble because you felt guilty about Sterling.'
'Yes.'
'Well, stop it,' I said.
'Stop feeling guilty?'
'Yeah.'
Susan stared at me for a moment and then began to smile.
'There are people in my profession who would faint dead away to hear you say that.'
'But you're not one of them,' I said.
Her smile widened some more. 'No,' she said. 'I'm not one of them.'
We sat for a while in silence. Then Susan, still smiling, raised her champagne glass toward me. I raised mine and touched hers.
'Here's looking at you, Sigmund,' she said.
And the laughter bubbled up out of her like a clear spring.
chapter forty-two
HAWK AND I sat in the parking lot of the Charles View Motel on Thursday afternoon waiting for Velvet to be delivered. The motel was a wooden building with pseudo redwood siding, and blue shingle roof. It stood two stories high with entrances to the rooms through individual doors facing the parking lot. A balcony across the front gave access to the second-floor rooms. It was a dark muggy day. There were thunderstorms in the area, and their tension hung undissipated in the air. At 2:30, a white Cadillac sedan pulled into the parking lot and Velvet, carrying a small overnight hag, got out one side. Buster got out the other. They went without stopping at the motel office to room number 16, last one on the first floor. Buster produced a key and opened the door. Buster went in first, after a minute he came back to the Cadillac, and drove off. I got out of Hawk's car and walked to room 16. Velvet let me in.
