talked to someone else. There were too many loose ends.
So he went to see her that evening.
“What… did she… say… to him?”
“He claims she wasn’t open to changing her mind.”
“He’s… lying.”
“How do you know?”
“She… let him… in.”
Wilcox considered. “You might be right. It would look a lot worse if he’d killed her even though she was willing to back down on the divorce. It would prove premeditation. And he hadn’t expected you to show up just minutes later.”
I was tired of talking. And living, too. I closed my eyes. She really hadn’t had to die. I wanted to die.
I didn’t feel like telling Wilcox where I’d been, which frustrated him. But he was in no position to push. And I’d thought of one other thing.
“Airport. JFK.”
“In New York?”
I nodded. “Car. I rented.”
“The white Mercury.”
“Thousand dollars… in it. I don’t want it back.”
“Right. It’s evidence. I’ll make sure it doesn’t disappear. We’ll put it in the widows’ and orphans’ fund. One more question,” he said. “Any idea why your father wanted to change his will in the first place?”
“No.”
If only I did.
“Wow.” Eric had heard the whole thing. “Everybody is so…” He didn’t know what word to use.
“Evil.” Or whatever. “It’s the money.”
He was getting it. “That’s what you kept saying.”
“I… hoped… Nathan could… help me.”
“And then you found out he was the killer.”
“I hoped… he knew… something stronger… than the money.”
“And he didn’t. That’s why you tried to jump off the building.”
“Yes.”
He was using brain cells he never had before. “So… I guess that means you didn’t find anything.”
“No.”
“What are you going to do when you get out of the hospital?”
“Don’t know.” This thing would be on my jaw for a month. Another reason to not live that long.
“And… Jason… what about…”
“Melvin.”
“Yeah. So, did Nathan Kern kill him? Or else, who did?”
“Don’t know.”
We reactivated the phone during lunch so I could call Jacob Rosenberg. I was hungry enough to drink the stuff the hospital was providing, but it didn’t help my disposition.
Should he resurrect the legal process he’d begun two weeks ago?
“Wait.”
Any other instructions?
“No.”
Nothing was resolved-nothing was any better. Why am I here? Had anyone ever found an answer to that question?
I was feeling the loss of Nathan. Not the real, evil man, whom I had never liked anyway. I was grieving for the phantom I’d briefly had of a man who knew the answers, the man I could respect. Who could give me what I wanted.
Was there anyone? I would have given everything I had for someone to help me. But the money was worth nothing to me now, the whole billion dollars and empire that went with it. It was all I had and it would also be worthless to whomever I was looking for. Everything I did have that I valued was lost and I’d gotten nothing for it.
I needed a reason to live. I needed someone to help me.
My eyes wanted to close, so I let them. When they opened I was still dreaming.
“Pamela.”
No, it wasn’t a dream.
“Well, look at you,” she said. “I brought some chicken soup.”
“I’m glad… you’re here.” For a long time to come every smile would be precious, and she had some real dazzlers. “How… did you
… get in here?”
She smiled again-I was so nai ve. “My job is to get things done, dear. Now, Jason, I know you don’t want to worry about business or reporters or politicians. I’ll take care of everything until you’re ready.”
“Thank you.”
“Is there anything specific you want me to do?”
“Stan Morton,” I said. “Come here… no cameras… and then Fred.”
“I’ll get them.”
“I’m sorry… about… wrecking… the office… and the chair.”
She sighed. “That’s fine. I’m sorry you had to.”
I wasn’t ready for her to leave. “I don’t know… what to do. .. now.”
“Just get finished with Stan and Fred. Then you’ll have time to think.”
“I… don’t want to think… anymore.”
She just looked at me for a while with her kind grandmother eyes. “You’re still here, Jason. I almost lost you.”
“You’d be… better off.”
“You wouldn’t, though.” She smiled again, just pure sweetness. “I’ve been praying for you boys every day for twenty-five years. I think you’re going to find what you’re looking for. Now, what is the doctor saying?”
“I haven’t… seen one… today,” I said.
Eric chipped in. “He was in here while you were asleep.” He turned to Pamela. “They think they can save his arm. And his mouth will be okay. But… well…” He trailed off.
“What?” She was concerned. I was, too. I hadn’t heard this.
Eric turned to me, eyes worried.
“Your hair. It won’t recover. I’m sorry.”
“Dope.”
Stan Morton managed to take time out from his busy schedule to visit the poor invalid.
“Is that you?” he said from the doorway.
I shook my head. “Elvis.”
“That wouldn’t be as big a story. Where have you been?”
I nodded to Eric.
“Mr. Boyer would like to ask for your help,” he said.
“Oh, yeah? What? And can’t he talk?”
“He has asked me to speak for him. He would like to have one week to rest. After that, he would like to give an interview. He would appreciate your help in arranging that, and deciding who should participate.”
“Do you know…” He had to stop and start over. “Do you know who’s out there? Everyone! The networks, the magazines, every newspaper in the world!” He attempted to calm himself. “There’s a reporter from Beijing staying in my guest room. Beijing, China!” The attempt hadn’t worked. He tried again. “We’re supposed to wait a week? Come on, Jason. Just answer two questions for me, that’s all.”
“What?” I said.
“Where have you been, and how did you figure out it was Kern?”
