'Why not? I can't stay.' She stuffed clothes, shoes, washing things into the bag.
'Lisa. I'm sorry about what I said earlier. Don't go. Please stay here. We can work through this.'
I walked over to the case, and tried to pick it up.
'Leave that alone!' she screamed, and pulled at it. For an absurd moment, I held on, pulling it back towards me.
'Let go, Simon!'
I couldn't physically stop her if she wanted to go. So I loosened my grip.
'Thank you.' She snatched the bag. 'Now, let me finish packing my bag, and I'll be out of your hair.'
'Where are you going?'
'To stay with Kelly' Kelly was a friend of hers from work. She zipped the bag shut. 'I'll get the rest later.'
'Lisa…'
She strode towards the door, carrying the bulging bag.
'Goodbye, Simon.'
13
I hardly slept at all that night. I needed to get out of the apartment, so I went in to work at Revere as soon as was decently possible, and stared at Tetracom papers without really taking in their contents. I more or less ignored Daniel and John. I waited for a quarter past nine, by which time Lisa would be sure to have arrived at the lab. Daniel was out of the room and John was on the phone.
'I'm just nipping out,' I called over to John. 'I'll be back in quarter of an hour.'
John waved as he continued talking.
I put on my jacket, took the lift down to the ground floor, and strolled out on to Federal Street. It was quiet, although the sounds of the 'Big Dig', Boston's heroic attempt to bury the highway that bisected the city, seeped round the giant buildings. I flipped open my cell phone, dialled Boston Peptides' switchboard, and was soon put through.
'Lisa Cook's phone.'
It wasn't her voice.
'Can I speak to her, please?'
'I'll see if she's available. Who's speaking?'
'Simon.'
Normally the response would have been: 'Yeah, sure, here she is.' I wasn't at all surprised when the voice told me Lisa was unavailable.
I waited five minutes, hands in pockets, shifting from foot to foot with impatience. Then I tried again.
'Lisa Cook's telephone.'
A different voice. Good. I put on my attempt at an American accent. 'Oh, hi, can I speak with Lisa please? It's her brother, Eddie.'
'One moment.'
There was a pause, and then Lisa's voice came on the line. 'Eddie! You're up early.'
'It's not Eddie,' I said. 'It's me.'
'Listen, Simon, don't you ever try to pretend-'
'No, Lisa. Listen to me. We were both upset last night when you walked out. We need to talk it through again when we're both calmer.'
There was a moment's silence. I prayed that she wouldn't hang up. Then I heard her sigh. 'Let me transfer you to a different phone.' A click and more silence, until I heard her voice again. 'OK, I can talk now'
'I think we should meet somewhere so we can talk properly'
'There's no need, Simon. I've been thinking about it all night. I've made up my mind.'
'But you can't leave me, Lisa.'
'No, Simon. I can't stay with you. Not when I think you might have killed my father.'
'You said 'might'. You're not sure then, are you?'
There was a pause at the other end. 'Look, I'm confused, OK? I feel lousy. Really bad. I just want to be away from you for a while.'
'I understand that's how you feel. But I don't understand why. Just think about it from my point of view for a second. I have a right to know why you're doing this. Why don't we meet for a cup of coffee, and you can explain it?'
'I'm not sure I can explain it.'
'You can try. I deserve at least that.'
There was silence on the phone. 'OK. I guess you're right. Can you get here now?'
'Yes,' I said immediately. 'I'll be there right away'
I took a cab.
Despite its name, Boston Peptides was housed in a scruffy looking one-storey building in Cambridge, in the wasteland between MIT and Harvard. On one side was a small engineering company making castings, and on the other was an open patch of land that was temporarily being used as a soccer pitch. Backhoes churned up the plot in front.
Lisa was waiting on the steps. The tired look of misery I had grown accustomed to in the last few days was set firmly on her face..
'Let's walk,' she said, and we made our way towards the soccer pitch. Two teams of kids were playing, one in green and one in red. They weren't bad for eight-year-olds. One day, I thought, the United States is going to field a decent team in the World Cup.
We sat on a wall and watched them for a few moments, both of us nervous of starting a conversation that could, and probably would, end in disaster. The backhoes ground and clanked behind us.
'Well?' said Lisa.
'Why did you leave last night?'
She said nothing for a few moments. 'I need to get away for a bit. Sort myself out.'
'I see.' I forced myself to speak slowly and calmly. 'But why do you have to leave me to do that? Surely you'd be better staying with me? Then I can help you with your problems.'
'Simon, I think you might be the problem.'
'No, Lisa. It's not me. Your father died. You're worried about work. You're tired. You need me to help you.'
Lisa glanced up at me, and then back to the soccer players.
I waited for her to say something. She didn't.
'You shouldn't listen to Eddie. He hates me. He hates himself.'
'Maybe Eddie can see things more clearly than I can.'
I lost the calm I had been trying so hard to maintain. 'Lisa. You know me. I'm your husband. I love you. You know I'm not capable of killing your father.'
Lisa turned to me, her eyes moist. 'Then what was the gun doing there?'
'I don't know,' I said in exasperation.
Lisa looked ahead.
'Be rational about it, Lisa. I know you've been under a lot of pressure recently, but you must get a sense of perspective.'
'Oh, I am being rational,' she said through gritted teeth. 'Very rational. You're right, it's difficult with all that's been going on. But let's look at the evidence here, Simon.' She was talking fast now.
'One, you were the last person to see Dad alive. You were with him at about the time he died. Two, you and he have been getting along badly recently. You had a fight. Three, he was shot. You know how to use a gun. And four,' she looked at me defiantly, 'I found that gun hidden in our apartment.'
'That doesn't mean anything. Why would I kill him anyway?'
'I don't know. You need fifty thousand pounds to fight your sister's lawsuit. We'll have that now.'
'Oh, come on.'
