had finished far earlier than expected. Either way, Jack was not with Win. His father was. Somehow Win and his father ended up going into the stables. I was there when they entered. I was not alone. More specifically, I was with Win's riding instructor.'
She stopped. Myron waited.
'Do I need to spell this out for you?'
Myron shook his head.
'No child should see what Wm saw that day,' she said. 'And worse, no child should ever see his father's face under those circumstances?
Myron felt tears sting his eyes.
'There is more to it, of course. I won't go into it now.
But Win has never spoken to me since that moment. He also never forgave his father. Yes, his father. You think he hates only me and loves Windsor the Second. But it is not so. He blames his father, too. He thinks that his father is weak. That he allowed it to happen. Utter nonsense, but that is the way it is.'
Myron shook his head. He didn't want to hear any more. He wanted to run and find Win. He wanted to hug his friend and shake him and somehow make him forget.
He thought of the lost expression on Win's face as he watched the horse stables yesterday moming.
My God. Win.
When Myron spoke, his voice was sharper than he'd expected. 'Why are you telling me this?'
'Because I am dying,' she replied.
Myron slumped against a car. His heart ripped anew.
'Again, let me put this simply,' she said in too calm a voice. 'It has reached the liver. It is eleven centimeters long. My abdomen is swelling from liver and kidney failure.'
That explained the wardrobe++ the untucked, oversize shirt and the stretch pants. 'We are not talking months. We are talking perhaps weeks. Probably less.'
'There are treatments,' Myron tried lamely. 'Procedures.'
She simply dismissed this with a shake of her head. 'I
am not a foolish woman. I do not have delusions of engaging in a moving reunion with my son. I know Win.
That will not happen. But there is still unfinished business here. Once I am dead, there will be no chance for him to disentangle himself again. It will be over. I do not know what he will do with this opportunity. Probably nothing.
But I want him to know. So that he can decide. It is his last chance, Myron. I do not believe he will take it. But he should.'
With that, she turned away and left. Myron watched her walk away. When she was out of sight, Myron hailed a taxi. He got in the back.
'Where to, bud?'
He gave the man the address where Esme Fong was staying. Then he settled back in the seat. His eyes stared blankly out the window. The city passed by in a misty, silent blur.
Chapter 30
When he thought that his voice would not betray him, Myron called Win on the cell phone.
After a quick hello, Win said, 'Bummer about Jack.'
'From what I hear, he used to be your friend.'
Win cleared his throat. 'Myron?'
'What?'
'You know nothing. Remember that.'
True enough. 'Can we have dinner tonight?'
Win hesitated. 'Of course.'
'At the cottage. Six-thirty.'
'Fine.'
Win hung up. Myron tried to put it out of his mind. He had other things to worry about.
Esme Fong paced the sidewalk outside the entrance to the Omni Hotel on the corner of Chestnut Street and Fourth. She wore a white suit and white stockings. Killer legs. She kept wringing her hands.
Myron got out of the taxi. 'Why are you waiting out here?' he asked.
'You insisted on talking privately,' Esme answered.
'Norm is upstairs.'
'You two live in the same room?'
'No, we have adjoining suites.'
Myron nodded. The no-tell motel was making more sense now. 'Not much privacy, huh?'
'No, not really.' She gave him a tentative smile.
'But it's okay. I like Norm.'
'I'm sure you do.'
'What's this about, Myron?'
'You heard about Jack Coldren?'
'Of course. Norm and I were shocked. Absolutely shocked.'
Myron nodded. 'Come on,' he said. 'Let's walk.'
They headed up Fourth Street. Myron was tempted to stay on Chestnut Street, but that would have meant strolling past Independence Hall and that would have been a tad too cliche for his liking. Still, Fourth Street was in the colonial section. Lots of brick. Brick sidewalk, brick walls and fence, brick buildings of tremendous historical significance that all looked the same. White ash trees lined the walk. They turned right into a park that held the Second Bank of the United States. There was a plaque with a portrait of the bank's first president. One of Win's ancestors. Myron looked for a resemblance but could not find one.
'I've tried to reach Linda,' Esme said. 'But the phone is busy.'
'Did you try Chad's line?'
Something hit her face, then fled. 'Chad's line?'
'He has his own phone in the house,' he said. 'You must have known that.'
'Why would I know that?'
Myron shrugged. 'I thought you knew Chad.'
'I do,' she said, but her voice was slow, careful. 'I
mean, I've been over to the house a number of times.'
'Uh-huh. And when was the last time you saw Chad?'
She put her hand to her chin. 'I don't think he was there when I went over Friday night,' she said, the voice still slow. 'I don't really know. I guess a few weeks ago.'
Myron made a buzzing noise. 'Incorrect answer.'
'Excuse me?'
'I don't get it, Esme.'
'What?'
Myron continued walking, Esme stayed in step.
'You're what,' he said, 'twenty-four years old?'
' 'Twenty five. ' '
'You're smart. You're successful. You're attractive.
But a teenage boy what's up with that?'
She stopped. 'What are you talking about?'
'You really don't know?'
'I don't have the slightest idea.'
His eyes bore into hers. 'You. Chad Coldren. The Court Manor Inn. That help?'
'No.'
Myron gave her skeptical. 'Please.'
