prompted this?”
The dining and living room are one open space. Only a low dais separates the two rooms. Our couch faces away from the dining room toward a big flat-screen TV and entertainment center. A built-in bookcase composes the wall to the right. Besides these things, the living room contained only a couple chairs for guests. Usually, Kate sat on the couch beside me or lay on it in front of me, with my arm draped over her, especially if we were watching TV.
“It’s just something I’ve never had but always wanted,” I said. “I spend a lot of time at home. I can sit here with my laptop if I’m working, and it’s big enough for the whole family to sit in together if we like.”
She nodded her head in agreement. “Pretty cool,” she said. “It’s really high-quality. How much did it cost?”
I said, “Don’t ask.”
She didn’t, just buried her face deep in my shoulder for a little post-coital dozing. Katt sat in my lap and purred. Anu lay in her crib, and I heard barely audible snoring. She was having a nap, and I did the same.
Around one, I woke and told Kate I had to get ready for the party, and that Moreau, a French policeman, would be coming at four for a brief discussion about the murder investigation.
“It takes you ten minutes to shower and shave,” she said.
“I have primping to do,” I said.
It was a strange word for her to hear come out of my mouth as a way of describing my ablutions.
“‘Primping’?”
“Yes, primping.”
She scooted over so I could get up. “Far be it from me to interfere. By all means, primp.”
I went to the bathroom, locked the door, and set about dyeing my hair. After I was done and it was dry, I realized I didn’t own a comb, hadn’t in over twenty years. My hair hadn’t been long enough to warrant one. It was still pretty short, though, and I just sort of mussed it forward with my fingers and thought it looked all right.
I examined myself in the mirror. I was thirteen pounds lighter from not working out, was down to a hundred and eighty, but had no fat on me. My scar was gone. My hair was auburn. I wasn’t sure who I was looking at.
I realized that my vision seemed sharper. Everything seemed sharper. Memories seemed muddled compared to my current perceptions. I felt my thinking had become more focused, more insightful. I wondered if the empty space in my skull was filling in, if I would regain my emotions anytime in the near future.
I walked out of the bathroom naked, without my crutches, forced myself not to limp, and found Kate in the kitchen, drinking a glass of water. She dropped it, and it shattered on the floor. She stammered out, “Oh my God.”
“Is that a good or bad ‘Oh my God’?” I asked.
Her stare was intense and she couldn’t seem to stop. “I don’t know. In my mind, I see my husband of three months ago, but I look at the man in front of me, and the two don’t equate. You look like a different person. And ten years younger.”
I flashed my practiced smile and started picking up shards of glass. “That was my intention.”
ARVID SHOWED UP half an hour early. I had dressed in case someone did just that, put on jeans and a new sweater. He took off his shoes in the foyer, pulled a small gift-wrapped box out of his jacket pocket and looked me up and down. “Nice job,” he said, “you’re almost unrecognizable.”
“Good,” I said.
“Sorry to come early,” he said, “but I need a few minutes to talk to you.”
He walked into the living room. “Goddamn. Nice chair.”
“Try it out,” I said.
Arvid plunked into the chair and put his feet up.
Kate came in and moved to sit with us. I gave her a look that said we needed a moment, and asked her if she would be kind enough to make some coffee. She gave us privacy.
“Here.” He handed me the box. “Open it.”
I sat down on the couch at an angle from him and tore off the wrapping paper to find an old and worn hinged box. Inside the box was his Winter War medal. Only a few men left alive had earned one, and God knows how much blood was spilled and suffering endured to earn it.
I held it, turned it over in my hands, admired it, put it back in its box and tried to hand it back to him. “I’m honored, but I can’t accept this.”
His hands were on the chair’s armrests, and he refused to lift a hand to take it back.
“I’m giving this to you, and telling you something now, because I can take advantage of your post-surgery condition. You’re emotionless, and you won’t protest or argue with me. It’s true, that medal was my most prized possession, but it’s symbolic of something else. I’ve seen a lawyer, had the papers drawn up, and made you my heir.”
This confused me. “Why?”
“I have no family. My friends are all dead and buried. I just turned ninety. I needed to make a decision or when I die, my estate will go to the government, and they’ll spend the majority of it on things I disapprove of. Your position is tenuous. You may not be a policeman much longer. My home is spacious and comfortable, a good place to raise a family, and it’s paid for. Plus, I have considerable assets. They’ll make you safe from the vagaries of political misfortunes.”
“But still, why me and why now?”
“Don’t make me uncomfortable. You know why. You’re a good boy, I’ve enjoyed your friendship, and you’ve made me feel a part of your family. Why now? I’m ninety fucking years old. Don’t be thick.”
I sat for a moment, overwhelmed. I searched for words, but only found two. “Thank you.”
He smiled. “You’re welcome. Let’s not speak of it again.”
We enjoyed a comfortable silence. Kate didn’t bring coffee. She had lived in Finland long enough to know we wanted peace, not caffeine.
The buzzer rang again. Milo and Sweetness arrived at the same time. They were weighed down with packages. They looked at me and gawked. Sweetness dropped his armload of gift-wrapped boxes. “Damn,
“You two laughed at me when I told you to keep a low profile, so I decided to set an example.”
“You did a good job,” Milo said. “You look so … young.”
They had to make three trips to get all the boxes into the apartment, and they piled them in the middle of the living room. They kicked off their boots and found places to sit. Arvid kept my new chair. Kate sat on the couch beside me, and Sweetness on the other side of her. Milo swept the house for electronic surveillance, then sat on the floor, in the middle of his treasure trove.
“Well, Kari,” he said, “welcome back to the world.”
“I never left it.”
“You came close enough.”
“Not really.”
Milo had on an exquisite new leather jacket. Must have cost a fortune. Our talk about anonymity must not have quite taken hold. I didn’t comment on it.
“Does anyone notice anything unusual about this coat?” he asked.
No one did, and he kept waiting, so finally Kate said, “Well, it’s very nice,” so he would get on with it.
“It’s custom-made to conceal this,” Milo said, and drew an antique sawed-off double-barreled shotgun from a soft and thin leather holster sewn into the coat’s lining. He handed it to me. It was the most beautiful firearm I’d ever seen.
“It’s a 10-gauge Colt Model 1878 Hammer shotgun. When it first came out, it was the most expensive gun Colt made. It’s a side lock, double-hammer, double-trigger gun with brown Damascus pattern barrels, blue trigger guard and break lever.”
I looked it up and down. It was covered in gorgeous floral scroll engravings. The barrels extended just past the fore-end, and the buttstock had been cut down to the pistol grip with such skill that it looked as if it had been designed that way. The modifications to the checkered walnut and ebony were the work of a master craftsman.
