“I will.”
She nodded and put her small hand on his cheek, slowly.
“How does it feel?”
“I can’t feel it because of the ice.”
He could see where she put the tip of her finger. It started where he’d held the ice against his left eye. Then at the bridge of his nose and down. Slowly. To his cheek. The lobe of his ear. He could feel it now. Tracing down to his neck, his chin, the bottom of his swollen lip.
He jerked away.
“I’m feeling better. But this is dripping.”
He took the bag of ice into the kitchen and dumped out the shrunken cubes. They caromed around the sink and landed in the drain. He went back into the living room and she was still there, leaning back on the bed and looking at his ceiling. He noticed for the first time that she wasn’t wearing shoes. He sat down at his desk and she coughed to get his attention.
“So why do you do this?”
“What?”
“This type of reporting. Don’t you just write about old people playing backgammon and golf?”
“No. These people are too old for golf.”
“I’m serious.”
“It’s a hostile question.”
“I’m a hostile person.”
He didn’t laugh.
“I do other things.”
“Like what?”
“I’m working on something. A big article.”
“What?”
“It probably won’t get published.”
“Now I’m curious.”
“Good. That means it’s a good story.”
“Can you give me a hint?”
“There’s not enough for a hint yet.”
“Then why bother?”
“Because it’s important.”
“I don’t understand you.” She got up and stood close to his chair, her stomach in front of his face. She was backlit. He could see the outline where her dress stopped and her body started.
“I’m getting somewhere. The article’s nothing now. But I just feel that since I have the time to look into other things, I should. I’ll always have enough time to write puff pieces about banquet halls or cheap flights to New York.”
She leaned closer and he pushed the chair back. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to. But he did. She leaned back and sighed. Her hair blew up in front of her face.
“That’s good to hear. Please…be careful.”
“Why?”
She stopped and looked around the room. She put her hand on a bruise.
“I’m just kidding.” She smiled weakly. “I should go.”
And like that, she did. He watched her walk out the room. Even though she wasn’t wearing shoes, she still swung her hips like she was wearing heels. The door shut and he was left alone with his bruises.
CHAPTER 29
“My God, Jacob, we have to take you to a hospital!”
“Gary, it happened last night. I’m fine.”
Gary’s hair frizzed out like it was reacting to Jake’s face. It didn’t look happy. He leaned in close and examined Jake’s bruises, the black eye and jaw level swells. His skin looked like a rotten banana.
“How did this happen?”
“I was attacked when I went to see Abram Samuels.”
“Who did this?”
“That’s the problem. I don’t know. But we should go. We have to be at Sunset Cove before ten. I’m glad Rothschild’s being photographed instead of me.”
They walked to the car and got in. Then Gary reminded Jake that he needed to get his gear. Jake opened the garage door-pulling it up reminded him of everywhere he ached. He got the lenses, the tripod, the case, and the camera. He put it all in the trunk and sat in the driver’s seat again. Gary nodded.
“The doctor says that in a few months, I can carry some of my equipment. None of the heavy things, of course.”
They started down the road-they were already running late. Gary stared at Jake’s face in horror. At least he was able to ask questions.
“What did Abram Samuels tell you?”
“Well, a lot. That’s why I’m glad we’re going to Sunset Cove today. He basically gave me two leads.”
“Where do they lead to?”
They got onto the highway and sped up. Gary closed the window and listened.
“Well, the leads are Sheryl Goldfein and Charlotte Ward. I can handle Charlotte. I’m going to investigate her place.”
“How will you get in?”
“Abram gave me the key. He and Charlotte were, uh, in a relationship.”
“They were?”
“Yes.”
“Amazing! I never would have known. Although Meryl always says that love is a powerful thing. I certainly agree.”
“Right. Funny you should mention that.”
“It was funny?”
“Uh, sure. It reminds me of the other lead Abram gave us. I think you’re familiar with Sheryl Goldfein. Abram insists that she knows what’s going on, or at least has some connection to what happened to Charlotte.”
“That woman-she called my house!”
“She did what?”
“She must have found one of my photography credits in the paper and then looked me up in the phone book. She called my house and Meryl answered.”
“What happened?”
“Meryl hung up. She didn’t know it was Sheryl who was calling, but I knew it was her.”
“How did you know?”
“Meryl said that the caller asked to speak to ‘her poet of light.’ And Meryl said ‘He sure as heck doesn’t live here.’ Then she hung up.”
“Well, you certainly convinced Sheryl you’re the real deal.”
“I know.”
They were close to Sunset Cove. The water was shining in the distance and the angle of the sun threw off light in their direction. Jake sighed.
“How about doing it again?”
“Doing what again?”
“Seducing Sheryl.”
“I can’t!”
