You’re telling me, I said. Weeks later, it’ll still come back to me. Now, sitting here now, I ask myself, could it be true? Is there some dark deed I’ve been repressing, in my past? Could it be that I’ve actually killed someone? Is that why I have these dreams, these feelings? Could it be the truth, trying to make itself known?
I don’t think so, she said quietly.
I mean, you hear about all these repressed memory things, right? Some traumatic event, you don’t even know it happened, consciously. Your father raped you as a child, whatever?
There’s considerable controversy about that, Sheila said.
I know. But I can’t help wondering.
You haven’t murdered anyone, Rick, she said firmly.
She rarely used my name. She was taking this very seriously.
How do you know? I asked. I could have. You’d have no way of knowing.
She smiled a reassuring smile.
I know, she said. Trust me on this one.
I had no choice. I had to trust her.
I damn well couldn’t trust myself.
82.
I’m starting to wonder whether there might be something to it, I said to Dorita.
To what?
Melissa.
I thought I’d changed that subject.
You had. Or you tried. Don’t worry, I’m not going to get all weepy on you. I’m just beginning to wonder. For the first time. Whether somebody might have been involved. Other than her.
In her death?
Yes. I didn’t give it the time of day before.
Yes?
But now that the DNA test is in.
Darling, you’ve got me at a disadvantage.
I do?
You do. You know what the hell you’re talking about. And I don’t.
I’m sorry. I’m sort of talking to myself.
Who’d have guessed?
I told her all about it. The autopsy results. The DNA tests. I told her about the service. The AA cabal. Jake. Steiglitz. All the weirdness.
I’m impressed, she said when I was finished.
You’re easily impressed.
Now, darling, you know that that’s not true. No, really. I’m impressed. With the whole story. It’s rich. The characters are memorable. And it’s a cracking mystery.
Are you implying that I’m making this stuff up?
In a delirium of grief?
Right.
No. Not exactly. It’s a matter of salience.
Salience.
Yes. What appears important in one context disappears in another.
Right.
You walk by dozens of Jettas every day.
Jetta? Is that a Ford?
Volkswagen. You never even notice them.
Not me. I’m not a car guy.
And then one day you buy one of your own.
I do. Says you.
And all of a sudden.
Like lightning from the heavens.
You’re noticing Jettas all over the place.
I’m still taking your word for it.
You’re noticing their colors. Whether they’re the same color as yours, or different. You’re noting whether they’re LX’s, or DX’s, or whatever.
I am. Because you say so.
Whether they have a sunroof.
Etcetera.
Exactly. They’re salient. All of a sudden. They have some importance in your life.
Some value.
The concept does, at least.
The Jetta Concept.
Good movie title.
I was already there, I assured her.
Way ahead of me.
As always.
You wish.
And your point was?
Nothing, she said. No point. Just that all that stuff might not have seemed so significant in other circumstances.
Which tells me?
Absolutely nothing.
That’s what I thought. Just wanted to check.
All right. But anyway, what we have here…
Is a failure to communicate?
No, darling. It’s a new case.
An investigation.
The first new case for the brand-new firm of R. amp; D., LLP.
I like the sound of that. Research and Development.
Rick and Dorita.
Both of those things. Nice of you to put me first.
‘D. amp; R.’ lacks the essential ambiguity.
Ah. Should have known better than to see a compliment there.
Or R. amp; R.
Redman and Reed.
Rest and Relaxation.
Tough choice.
Well, we’ve got time.
We reviewed the evidence. I pulled out a bunch of blank index cards. Proceeded to defile them with new information and speculation. Lines and arrows.
The Melissa suspect card read: Jake; Melissa; Steiglitz; Ron; Jerry; any of the other AA cabal, more likely male, given the fluids; a stranger, ditto; Rick Redman.
I crossed myself off the list. I’d been cleared.
I sat back. Dorita sat back. I admired the cut of her jib. I noted that her sweater was a little tighter than
