No, I said. We’re representing someone else. Did the police not talk to you about this?
Not me. He paused. His mouth opened, closed.
Ah, he said. I remember now. Yes. I wasn’t here. They talked to Igor.
I see.
Who might it be? he asked. That you represent?
Nobody you would know, Dorita said.
All right. I think I understand. Am I to take it that you’re not at liberty to reveal the identity of your client?
That’s correct, I said.
This seemed to reassure him. He returned to the topic of the twins.
They’re one – two – of our best customers, he said. More than customers. Friends. Part of the fabric of the place. They were here at the inauguration. They pitch in. It’s like the Club is their second home. They’ve been intimately involved in the renovations. They have very good taste.
He paused, perhaps suddenly aware that he was babbling.
So, he said, surely they’re not implicated in some…crime?
He said the last word after a long pause. As if the notion required a serious screening before admittance.
I’m not saying that, I said. Not at all. We’re just trying to put together facts.
Okay, he said, not entirely convinced. What facts can I provide you with?
Let’s start with whether they were here the night of February 18th.
Oh dear. I don’t know if I can tell you that. I’m not so good with dates. I’ll have to check my calendar. Although I can’t guarantee you that will help.
Give it a try, I suggested. You really don’t have anything to lose.
I wasn’t sure what I meant by that last. Apparently he wasn’t either. He gave me a quizzical look. Went into a small room in the back. To check his calendar. Or maybe to call up some guy named Luigi and his lead-pipe- wielding minions to come and break my kneecaps.
Fortunately for my figure-skating career it turned out to be the former. Wallender came back with a smile and a nod.
As it happens, he said, we had a private party here that night. For an old friend. Tenth anniversary. Of his divorce. So I can tell you that they were here. They wouldn’t have missed that party for the world.
I see, I said. Do you remember when they left?
Oh, I don’t know. These things tend to go on all night. Maybe five or six, they left.
Are you sure about that?
Pretty sure.
Is it possible that one or the other left for, say, half an hour?
Well…
Wallender smiled, shrugged.
Listen, I’d love to keep chatting, he said, but this is a very big night for us. We’re opening the new VIP room. The Dalai Lama will be here. And a thousand things have already gone wrong, of course. Everything was supposed to be ready a week ago. I’m a tad overwhelmed.
The Dalai Lama. Jesus.
Wallender seemed to be sincere. Although since he also appeared to be a man whose vocation was to exude sincerity, I wasn’t sure that meant anything.
Well, I said, thanks for your time. Can we speak to you again at a later date, if necessary?
Of course, of course. Any time. Juan, please, that wallpaper is crooked! he shrieked at a muscular young man on a ladder. We’re going to have to redo the entire wall!
We’d lost him.
I tried one last question as we turned to leave.
By the way, I called to him, how do you come to know the twins?
Oh, goodness, said Mr. Wallender, they’ve been around the club scene forever. They helped design this place. He’s… they’re very sophisticated. I can’t really say when I first met them. Juan, come down here right now! I’ve got to talk to you.
He shrugged an apologetic shrug at us, and scampered over to give Juan a wallpaper-hanging lesson.
We left. I suggested that we drop into a local pub for a quick pint of Guinness. Clear the perfume from our heads.
I suppose, Dorita said, Mr. White Swallow could have called the twins when he went into his office, asked them whether they wanted to have been there that night.
Possible. He certainly seems to think highly of them.
Or wants us to think he does.
Yes. Well. I don’t know what we expected to find out, to tell you the truth. But anyway, it’s one more fact to add to the list.
What’s that?
That we don’t know if they could have been near Jules’s place.
That’s a hell of a fact.
Best I could come up with.
Anyway, you’re right, Dorita said. He wasn’t exactly unequivocal about it.
Or forthcoming.
Nor.
Nor. If you insist. I mean, the cops talked to Igor, but Igor didn’t tell his boss what they talked to him about?
And anyway, they’re twins, remember? Couldn’t one of them have been gone for a while? Without anybody noticing?
Sure. The Patty Duke Show.
Right.
Dorita began humming the theme song.
Well, I said. Another theory for the pile. But there’s a small piece missing before we can give that one any credence.
What’s that?
I’ve only met one of them. I don’t know that they’re identical. Or even similar.
Ah. Good point.
For all I know, Raul’s got a handlebar mustache.
Or some other hideous deformity.
49.
I stopped by the house on my way to the Wolf’s Lair. To see Kelly. Get the report on Melissa.
Steiglitz had seen her that morning. The prognosis was poor.
There was nothing new about that. Every relapse after the first one made the ultimate chance of recovery worse. It had long been approaching zero.
They were sending Melissa home. There was no point in her staying at the clinic. They needed the bed for more promising cases. Steiglitz had repeated to Kelly the advice we’d heard before. She’s got to hit bottom. She touches another drink, throw her out on the street.
I knew I wasn’t going to do that. No matter what. I just didn’t have it in me.
I didn’t want to be there when she got back. But I hated to leave Kelly alone in the house. I talked her into calling up Peter, asking him over. Usually she didn’t take much convincing, but on this night she seemed determined to wallow in it. Fear. Disappointment. It took me half an hour and a threat to call Peter myself, but she finally gave in.
