“Neither, he’s just...” Paul seemed to runout of steam; waited another minute, then rolled to Liddy on the pillow. “He’sjust Carl. He’s always been like that. The cop visit set him off on me; that’s whatwas really bugging and I’m sorry.”
Liddy lay stiffly, saying nothing. Paul puthis hand over hers. “Anyway it’s over,” he said. “She came, asked her questions,got nothing and left.” He patted Liddy’s hand. “I’d promised myself I wouldn’teven bring it up, but I did and I’m kicking myself. We friends again?”
“Friends,” she said dully.
“Your hand is cold.”
No answer.
“Try to sleep.”
“Okay.”
“We’ll both feel better in the morning.”
“Right. Paul?”
“Um?”
“Why did Ben come to the lab today?”
She felt him exhale in the darkness. “Carlcalled him after the police visit.”
“That’s funny. He told me he’d just heard aboutyou selling the boat, was in pain about it.”
“Ridiculous. He’s known for a week.”
“He’s as phony as Carl.” And then, like a wildflash, it came back, something Liddy had heard - when? In the hospital? Somenews report?
“I…remember now. Sasha was arrested for falsifyinga narcotics prescription…written by Ben.”
“Yeah, I heard them arguing about that - partof it anyway, I wasn’t included. Ben’s still humiliated he was dragged intothat. Maybe they’re bothering him again since this thing has re-surfaced.”
“But why would Carl call him after thismorning?”
“Who knows?” Paul’s voice was fading. “Tocommiserate? That Blasco’s probably bothering a lot of people. Leave it, Lids,please? I’m blitzed, can we please go to sleep?”
He rolled back to his pillow. Minutes passed,his breathing got heavier, then he slept.
Liddy lay, thinking about Kerri Blasco and theresulting uproar at the lab. Should she feel guilty? No, dammit, she’d donewhat she felt morally pulled to do - which raised the next question: Whydid Kerri want to question Carl? What did she suspect that led her to him?
Then came a question that nagged even more:could all the horrid nightmares, fears and hallucinations be really closer toher than Liddy imagined? Was that why Sasha’s sketch just jumped fromher hand that first Sunday in Soho?
Things came together.
She tried not to feel angry at Paul.
Leave it, Lids, please?
As in, don’t rock the boat – is that what hewas really saying? Had he planned that whole bedtime conversation?
He’d hurt her earlier, she’d gone to bedfeeling bad, then he’d timed his coming to bed full of “what really bothered”him: Stay out of it, Lids, don’t even go near the cops, Lids, Carl must not be disturbed,the research, the research.
Because Paul’s scientific takeoff was onthe line, too.
Liddy blinked into the darkness, lettingthat last thought sink in. It took hold and wouldn’t let go. She remembered – wakinglast Friday morning - her nightmare of drowning and Paul swimming away from her,saving himself. A terrible dream! For four days she’d pushed it down and now itwas back, she was seeing again the bubbles coming from her nose, the bluecircle of sky above getting smaller, the boat’s hull on the surface and Paul’slegs kicking, swimming back up as the blond girl touched her shoulder, took theteddy bear and was swept away crying. The dream had her trembling with her chestheaving again. She had seen it and felt it all over again.
The clock read three. What? Had she driftedoff? Slept and re-dreamt it? She must have, because seconds ago the clock just readone.
This was bad. She needed to sleep. Wantedto paint tomorrow, catch up and do good work…
Distraction, maybe a distraction would help.
Read a little? Turn the TV on low?
She crept out of bed and went back to the telescope.
25
Someone down in thestreet was throwing up. A girl yards away in a sequined dress was yelling at acab that passed her. Couples were moving but more slowly, weaving. A man dancedalone, seemed to be trying to imitate the graceful arm sweeps and pirouettes ofSwan Lake.
Charlie Bass considered this telescopebetter than cable TV, Beth said. It was. Not for anything prurient, it was justan amazing, fascinating eye into the real human condition, after the makeupsmears and the booze turns the belly sour and the whole masquerade is over…kindof like Poe’s Masque of the Red Death, Liddy thought, only nobody was dyingdown there, not of plague or anything else from what she could see. Just drunkstrying to get home and cabs refusing to stop for them. Every New Yorker’s ideaof desperation.
This was good. It was taking her mind offherself and her obsessing. Liddy raised the telescope barrel to apartmentwindows across from her.
And up in the wild sex couple’s bedroom…
…they were arguing.
No, they were dressed and fighting. Throughtheir window a soundless scream fest of hunched accusations and jutting jaws andthen…Liddy’s lips parted…he hit her. Slammed her hard so she spun around crying- and then Liddy saw her face.
Couldn’t be.
She was young. Her blond hair whipped her featuresas she wheeled and fell to the floor, out of sight. There’d been only thatsplit second, but Liddy drew back from the telescope, stunned.
Close - but Sasha Perry? Couldn’t be, just themind playing tricks at something terrible. A man hitting a woman. Liddy feltsick.
In a jerky movement she twisted the eyepiece,feeling her heart throb as she peered through again. The bedroom was empty. Hadthe girl run out with the man in pursuit? Liddy tilted the barrel down. Theyweren’t in the street. A different arguing couple was further down near thecorner.
She panned the bedroom again. He’d beenonly half dressed - shirtless, dark pants looking yanked on, while the girl hadgotten back into some kind of black party dress with its bodice torn. A dark,empty bottle lay near a strewn pillow.
Still no sign of them on the street. Maybethey’d gone into another room
