obnoxious.’
‘But even that isn’t much of a scandal. He didn’t go to the press after all.’
‘Vanessa or somebody knew what they were doing. As I said, everything stayed in the house. Hey — I need to go.’
‘Thanks. And I appreciate you sending me that investigator’s name.’
‘It’ll be a little later today. Say hello to Lucy for me. Tell her my boyfriend’s got a guy she should meet. He thinks they’ll really hit it off.’
‘Will do.’
At least I was beginning to see the schematic. Somebody hires a private investigator. Private investigator gets video. Video becomes blackmail source.
But who hired the investigator? And where did Mrs Burkhart fit in?
FOURTEEN
It was time to call Erin. Every tenth thought had been of her since Sarah had called me. Third-stage cancer. Impossible. Her face at our wedding; her face in the hospital bed the night she delivered Sarah; her face watching Sarah in a third-grade play. Beautiful, smart, funny, sad Erin. So many things. And so many times now I wished she were still my wife.
I opened a beer, parked myself at the table and then spread flat in front of me the piece of paper I’d written Erin’s number on. I placed it next to my cell phone.
I was trying to prepare myself. I wanted to sound friendly and concerned as soon as she answered. I wanted to let her know how much I still cared about her. I wanted to talk about Sarah, because after we discussed Erin’s health that would be the subject that bound us together. Mother and father of our beautiful daughter.
I just didn’t want to say the wrong thing. She was going through hell and I didn’t want to make it worse for her in any way.
I swigged some beer and set the bottle down again. I took a deep breath, the way those kids in South America must do just before they dive off the sides of mountains into the sea.
Erin’s voice had changed considerably. It said: ‘This is Dr Connelly speaking.’
I’d assumed Sarah had given me Erin’s cell phone number. Not the residential one.
For years I’d thought of him as the man who’d broken up my marriage. But after I started being honest with myself, I realized that our marriage had been over long before he came along.
‘Hello? Is this Dev?’ My name had come up on his caller ID.
‘Yes. I’m calling to see how Erin’s doing.’
‘She’s a strong woman, as you know. But naturally at a time like this she’s thinking about her entire life. She wanted to talk to you. You’re important to her, Dev. It’ll help her just to hear your voice.’
‘She’s a good woman.’
There was a pause. ‘Look, Dev, I know this is awkward for you. It’s awkward for me, too. But there’s always been something I wanted to say to you. Erin tried but she thinks you don’t believe her. A month and a half before I even met her she’d gone to her attorney and started proceedings. If that hadn’t been the case I would never have asked her to have dinner with me. I hope you believe that.’ Another pause. ‘The main thing is that she needs us both right now.’
‘I agree.’
‘By the way, Andy is what my friends call me.’
‘All right, Andy. Can she talk on the phone now?’
‘I’ll get her in a second, Dev. But there’s one more thing I need to explain. She’s going to ask you to fly out here to be with Sarah and me on the morning she has surgery. I want you to know that I’m all for that. When she’s in post-op and wakes up with the three of us standing around her, that’ll be a big boost for her, believe me.’
I wanted to hate him but he wouldn’t let me. A part of me was still nursing The Wronged Husband; his concern was for the woman he loved. His ego didn’t matter. She had invited her ex-husband to come to her bedside. He was that rarest of beings: a real adult. The sneaky bastard.
‘You don’t have to make your mind up now, Dev. But please give it serious thought.’ In his laugh I heard fatigue. ‘I’m sure Sarah’ll be working on you about it. Now I’ll get Erin.’
There was a minute’s wait and then she came on the line, a voice from a shared past of memories that still had the power to crush, of a love I knew I’d never find again, a love that I had taken for granted and wasted.
Another phone clicked off as Erin said, ‘Remember that spooky fortune teller we went to in New Orleans?’
We’d honeymooned there for a week. I was on a brief leave from the army. One night we’d been giddy on wine and each other and had stumbled along steamy summer streets into an area that seemed to have all the remnants of a deserted circus scattered along shadowy broken sidewalks. We’d gone to an elderly woman who smelled of onions and cooking oil and marijuana. Her crystal ball was cracked down the center. We’d both been laughing as we went in, as I imagined most of her customers did. But soon enough Erin was taking the woman very seriously.
This was the living room of a house that should have been condemned forty years ago. It tilted when we entered it. The wood reeked of age, a vinegary odor. Black curtains divided the room in half. The woman and her attire were strictly central casting. Gypsy fashion cut for a woman of enormous size. The Day-Glo posters of astrological figures were diminished in impact thanks to her sad old dog that kept peeing on the floor about a foot from my leg. He licked his chops so loudly he almost drowned out his magical owner.
The woman — Madame Celestia, as I recall — went through the usual mumbo jumbo in a droning voice. I didn’t pay much attention. I just wanted to get out of there. Erin was spellbound.
Then Madame Celestia’s phone started ringing somewhere behind the curtained area in her tiny front room. She wore so many beads and chains she clacked and jangled as she moved. So much for show business. She hefted her considerable body from the chair, farting as she did so, and then plowed through the separation in the curtains only she could see. She left with no explanation or apology. Soon enough the phone stopped ringing and she was shouting at somebody in Creole. Whoever had called had made her mightily pissed.
After slamming the phone down, she reappeared. ‘I must help someone the dark gods have captured. I am also a witch and know the magic to free him.’
Drug connection? Cops about to land on her?
Then, remembering that she hadn’t concluded Erin’s reading, she leaned forward with alien eyes and said, ‘Oh, yes, before I forget. You will lead a charmed life.’
As she disappeared again, I started laughing, which irritated Erin. On the sidewalk she snapped, ‘You heard what she said and you’re laughing? I’m going to have a charmed life.’ She was gorgeously silly and drunk.
But our argument was brief. Within twenty minutes we were walking along the river where we found a park perfect for making honeymoon love. How I had wanted that moment to freeze in time; there were nights after our divorce, and in my worst lonely drinking, when I would reach out to snatch the memory as if it were a golden bird.
‘I want my money back from Madame Celestia. Do you remember her?’
‘Vividly.’
‘The whole “charmed life” thing?’
‘I don’t blame you. I think you should get a lawyer and sue her.’
I could hear giggling. ‘God, this is the first time I’ve laughed in a few days. It feels great. Thanks.’
‘I charge for stuff like this, you know.’
‘Keep me laughing and I’ll send you whatever you want.’ Then: ‘I’m sorry the way we ended up and how strange it all got, Dev. I didn’t handle it very well. I was so angry with you, I didn’t consider your feelings. I hadn’t cheated on you but it felt like it — marrying Andy so quickly, I mean. You know how much I loved you for so long, Dev. And now that this has happened — I just wanted you to know that one of the most comforting things I have is my memories of us in the early years. You’re still with me, day in and day out. I still hear you and sometimes I think I even see you, but it just turns out to be a stranger. I just wanted you to hear me say that.’
