Well, it’s a really, really big favor.
She tilted her head quizzically.
All right, Rick, spit it out. What do you need?
I need a private DNA lab.
I can refer you to several. Some of them are actually quite good.
No, I can’t use commercial labs.
Why not?
Let’s just say there are certain things they won’t be able to do.
Laura shook her head.
I don’t know, Rick. I think I see where you’re heading. But that’s a lot to ask.
I know. I told you that up front. It’s a really, really big favor. But it’s really, really important to me.
She looked me in the eye. This has something to do with Melissa, Rick?
Maybe.
Can you be a little more vague?
I’d like to tell you more. I really would. But I think it’s better if I don’t.
Rick. This is a little weird. I mean, I think I know you well enough to know that you wouldn’t be up to something illegal…
That much I can assure you, I laughed. It’s just that…well. I need this to be private. It’s very important to me.
You’re making it awfully hard for me to say no.
Good. Then it’s working.
All right, she said, pulling over a pad of paper. I reserve the right to change my mind. But let’s do this. If you have a sample you want tested, leave it in an envelope in my home mailbox. Here’s the address. Don’t ring the bell. Just drop it in the box. It’s locked. Write any instructions on the inside of the envelope. Don’t put it on a separate piece of paper. Just write it under the flap before you seal it.
My, you’ve got a little of the spy in you, I said.
She gave me a wry smile.
And Rick? she said.
Yes?
If this turns out to be something that’s important to a case I know about… she paused to give me a knowing look…I can’t keep it to myself.
Okay Laura. I understand. But let’s cross that bridge when we come to it, okay?
Okay, she said, with a dubious shake of her head.
On the way home I had the car make a detour. I took the small envelope out of my pocket. I wrote some simple instructions on the underside of the flap. I sealed it, and dropped it into Laura’s mailbox.
87.
By the time I got home I felt as deflated as a wineskin in the desert. I thought of going to the Wolf’s Lair, to drink some of the emptiness away. I quickly thought better of it. Apart from all the self-defeating irony of the idea, it would send a message to Kelly that might as well be: Why don’t we both kill ourselves right here right now? Which, come to think of it, wasn’t a bad question. But not one that I wanted to inflict on my only and most precious progeny.
But I had to do something.
So I called Dorita.
Do you want to come over? I asked.
Over? To your house?
The very one, I said.
There was a long pause.
I thought of turning it into a jest. But it wasn’t. And I wanted her to know that it wasn’t.
Do you really think that’s the right thing to do? she asked at last.
I didn’t care if it was right. I just needed something. Some connection to something other than my morbid thoughts. I needed it or I was going to…I didn’t know what. But it was going to be messy.
Yes, I said. It’s the right thing to do.
What about Kelly?
What about Kelly? I echoed.
Do you think she’ll be all right with that?
I don’t see why not.
Ricky, Ricky. Sometimes you can be so dense. The girl’s mother just died. You want to introduce a strange woman to the house? So soon?
You’re not a strange woman. Wait. I take that back. You’re a very strange woman. But she’s met you before. It won’t be that much of a shock.
I think you need to take this a little more seriously, Rick.
I really don’t think she’ll mind. She’s not like that.
You’d better do better than think. You’d better know for sure.
I’ll ask her, I said. Call you back in a few.
I hung up before she could protest.
Kelly! I called downstairs.
Yes, Dadster.
Come up here.
Okay, she said reluctantly.
It took a while, but eventually she ascended from her lair.
She looked depressed. Of course she was depressed. Stage whatever of the grieving process. Which seemed to involve never leaving the basement.
And she needed me less and less, it seemed. Another process. The growing-up one. Melissa’s death just seemed to have accelerated it a bit. Not a reversible process, I knew. Nor should it be. It was normal.
Which didn’t make it any less distressing.
Are you okay? I asked.
Sure, Dadster, she said, unconvincingly.
I’d like to invite my friend Dorita over.
Dorita? she asked with a cock of the head.
My friend from work. You met her in the office a couple of times. Tall. Loud.
Oh. Her. Yes.
Okay with you? I asked, as casually as I could manage.
Dadster, you gotta do what you gotta do.
She said it with enough of a smile to convince me that it really was okay. At least, enough for me to convince myself that it was.
I called Dorita back.
Come on over, I said.
You’re sure?
I’m sure.
Absolutely sure?
Just get over here.
Okay. Be there in a while.
I breathed an enormous sigh of relief.
In the hour and a half it took Dorita to arrive I managed to focus long enough to run to the store, pick up some stuff, prepare a meal. I grilled some prawns, soaked first in star fruit, ginger, cognac and some other things
