'Is he still at home?'
'I don't know. He hasn't called in.'
'And he didn't tell you about an appointment or anything?'
'Nope. Want me to ring his house for you?'
'No, that's okay. Thanks.'
He'd never known Mark to be this late if he didn't have an appointment. He even got pissed off if Colin came in late by fifteen minutes. The phone rang, interrupting his thoughts. It was Sarah, asking if Colin knew where Mark was.
'He had an appointment.' Colin wasn't sure why he was lying but felt he should.
'I guess he forgot to tell me,' she said. ' He was gone by the time I got up.'
Colin was alarmed, knowing Sarah usually arose at six-thirty. 'It was a breakfast appointment,' he said quickly. 'Who with?'
'Gildersleeve, about the murders.' Colin swiveled his chair around and looked out on a small backyard. A few yellow and white flowers grew near a birdbath. 'Sarah?'
'Yes?' Her voice was soft, almost breathless.
'Are you okay?'
'Colin,' she asked gingerly, 'you wouldn't lie to me, would you?'
'About what?'
'About where Mark is.'
'Of course not, Sarah.' He felt like a shit.
'I never heard of breakfast appointments at six o'clock.'
'Well, he came in here first; you know how he is.'
'You were in the office by six?' she asked facetiously.
'No, Sarah, I have to admit, I was happily snoozing at six.' He forced a false-sounding chuckle.
'Then how do you know he came into the office at six?' she pressed.
'I don't know, I'm just assuming.' He didn't want to say, 'Where else would he go?' because he thought he knew.
Sarah said crisply, 'All right, Colin, just have him call me when he gets in.'
'Okay, Sarah, but don't-' He heard the click breaking the connection. Christ, he thought, if Mark was fooling around with Amy again, all hell was going to break loose. He was sure that this time, Sarah would leave him. But maybe he wasn't with Amy; maybe he did have an appointment.
Colin walked down the hall, past the bank where Susan and Consuelo were pasting copy, and up the stairs to Mark's office. At the desk he turned the calendar page from Thursday to Friday. There was nothing written down before eleven. He knew Mark had another calendar, a leather-bound book. Hurriedly he searched through the papers on the desk but found nothing. Feeling like a louse, he opened the top right-hand drawer and began examining the contents.
'Can I help you, pal?'
Colin jumped. 'Jesus, Mark!'
Mark's eyes were hard, like chipped glass. 'What are you looking for, Colin?'
'Your calendar.'
'Yeah? How come?'
'Sarah called and said you'd left the house by six, and she didn't know where you were. I told her you had a meeting with Gildersleeve about the murders. She didn't believe me, she said she never heard of a breakfast meeting starting at six. I said you probably came into the office first. She hung up on me. She said you should call when you came in.'
Mark tapped a sneakered foot. 'So why're you looking for my calendar?'
'I wanted to see if you did have an appointment.'
'What business is it of yours?'
'Come on, Mark, don't be a shit. I had to lie to your wife for, God's sake.'
'So? Are you some fucking Boy Scout suddenly? Or are you bucking for the George Washington award?'
Colin slammed the drawer and started for the door. Mark stopped him, his fingers pressing into Colin's shoulder, his eyes looking cold, devoid of any emotion.
'What the hell's wrong with you lately?' Colin asked.
'Me? What about you?'
Colin remembered this technique from college days; Mark would always turn things around so that the questioner was on the defensive. He pulled out of his grip. 'Let's just forget it. You'd better call Sarah.'
'I was with Amy,' Mark said.
'You're a schmuck, you know that?'
'Yeah, I know. I couldn't help it, Colin. She called me yesterday and said she was going to kill herself if I didn't come see her. 1 mean, what the fuck else could I do?'
'For one thing you could have lied to Sarah instead of just disappearing. Do you think Sarah's a dope or something?'
Mark slumped down into the gray denim couch and put his head in his hands.
Funny, Colin thought, you know a man for years, think you understand him, and then in a flash you realize you don't know a damn thing. He would have bet twenty to one that Mark wouldn't jeopardize his marriage again.
'It's none of my business,' Colin said, 'but what are you going to do now?'
'I don't know, that's the trouble,' he said gloomily. 'She's such a kid, Amy. Such a mixed-up kid.'
Colin wanted to ask him why a thirty-eight-year-old man had gotten involved with a kid in the first place, but he knew that was beside the point.
Mark said, 'I'm afraid she'll do it, Colin, I really am.'
'Does she want you to leave Sarah?'
'Yes.'
'You don't want to leave Sarah and the kids, do you?'
'I'm so screwed up,' he lamented. 'You don't know, Colin, you just don't know how screwed up I am.' He ran both hands through his gray hair.
The words chilled Colin and he didn't know why. 'Maybe you should see a shrink.'
'Like who?'
'I don't know. Aren't there any out here?'
'Yeah, I guess but-'
The phone rang, sounding shrill and assaultive.
'Want me to get it?' Colin asked.
'No, I will.' He plodded to his desk and picked up the white phone. 'Yeah? When?' Mark looked ashen, as if he'd been drained of blood. 'Oh, shit. Okay, yeah, right away. Thanks.'
'What is it?' Colin asked.
'Another one.'
'Jesus. Who?'
'Joe Carroll, the undertaker. Do you want to go or should I try to locate Babe? I can go, for that matter.'
'No, I'll go. I told you, it was just the kid I-'
'Yeah, sure I understand.'
Colin felt a twinge of irritation that Mark had forgotten their agreement about him covering the murders. 'We'll talk later, okay?'
'Right.'
'Don't forget to call Sarah.'
'Yeah. And thanks for covering for me.'
Colin waved a hand in answer, but didn't say he wasn't going to go on lying to Sarah. Now he had to be a reporter, a goddamn crime reporter. Again.
