We were sitting next to each other on my leather couch in my living room, with my blinds open to my patio. We had a good view of clear skies and open water. Bob Seger crooned in the background. Our knees touched. When our knees touched I usually became excited. I was excited now, and that was nothing new. Cindy had brought her orange Pomeranian named Ginger. Ginger was likely to pee on me when she got excited. Unfortunately she got excited every time she saw me. I have learned to make it a point for her to see me first outside.
“So am I still useful in other areas?” I asked Cindy now.
“Are you harkening back to what we have come to think of as The Great Spaghetti Debacle?”
“Yes.”
Cindy was dressed in jean shorts and a yellow tank top. Both showed off her naturally wonderful tan. She had a lot of Italian in her, which accounted for the coloring. Her brown hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail. Her face was smooth and without make up. She didn’t need make up, anyway. But when she did…Lord help me.
“Hmm. You have your purposes,” she said, sipping her glass of chardonnay.
“Is one of those purposes my usefulness in the bedroom?”
“I have uses for you in the bedroom.”
“We have time before our dinner arrives.”
She looked at her watch. “Should be here in ten minutes.”
“Like I said, we have time.”
She didn’t need much more encouragement than that. With Ginger on the pergo floor below, running laps around the bed, I served one of my useful purposes.
Twice.
We were now on the balcony. The balcony was devoid of last night’s cigarette butts and Oreo crumbs. We were sharing a glass patio table, eating cheese tortellini and drinking chardonnay.
“Does Sanchez have any idea who threatened you?” asked Cindy.
“He doesn’t recognize him, but Sanchez works primarily in L.A. He’s going to ask his cop buddies around here.”
“Who do you think this guy works for?” she asked.
“I’m willing to bet for someone who doesn’t want me to find the true killer.”
“So you think the boy’s innocent?”
“Now more than ever.”
“What do the police think?”
“They think I’m a nuisance. Nothing new. They think this is an open and shut case and resent the fact that I’m poking around on their turf. In essence, calling them fools and liars and incompetent.”
“Are you?”
“In this case, yes.”
“Will you call your father?”
I felt my shoulders bunch with irritation, but let it slide. She was only trying to help.
“No.”
She patted my arm, soothing me. “Of course not. You don’t need him. You are your own man. I’m sorry if I offended. I just worry about you.”
“I know.”
We were quiet. Ginger was chasing a fly that was almost as big as her.
“The man who came to your office, he was a hired killer?”
“Yes.”
“You could see it in his eyes?”
“He looked like a shark. Dead eyes.”
“You sometimes get that look,” said Cindy, pushing her plate away. She had eaten most of it, but had left exactly three tortellinis. I was still hopeful they would go forgotten. But the woman had a bottomless stomach, to my chagrin.
“You mean in the bedroom when my eyes roll up during the final throes of passion.”
“Final throes of passion?”
“Means before I climax.”
“Thank you for that clarification. No, I’m referring to the bar fight in Matzalan. I thought you were going to kill the guy. But you emerged from that look, sort of came back to your senses. I always considered that man lucky to be alive, lucky that you found yourself before you killed him.”
I said nothing. I remembered that night. A barroom fight, nothing more. The man had felt up Cindy on her way to the bathroom. Bad move.
She suddenly leaned over and kissed my ear above the scab. It was a heartbreakingly sweet thing to do. She took my hand and led me into the living room, to my sofa. We sat together.
She said, “You were a devastating football player. And you may very well be again. It is a violent sport that you excel at. I would not love you if you were not always able to come back down from whatever heights you need to scale to fight and even kill.”
We were silent for a few minutes.
“Almost makes you think I am at the apex of evolution,” I said. “A handsome, physically imposing, intellectually stimulating, emotionally sophisticated brute.”
She put her head on my shoulder.
I was on a roll. “I will even permit you to take me to your classes for show and tell, as an example of a well-evolved human being. And in contrast we can take your last boyfriend and have him stand next to me.”
“Are you quite done?”
“Quite.”
“Will you need protection?” she asked, wrapping her arm through mine and holding me close to her chest.
“I can take care of myself.”
She patted my hand. “I know.”
Ginger was jumping up and down, doing her best to leap onto the couch, but missing the mark by about a foot. I reached down and picked her up and set her in my lap. She turned three circles quickly, and then found a nook and buried her cold nose where our arms intertwined.
“How is your leg?” she asked.
“I am worried about my leg.”
When I looked down at her hand, I saw that she was holding something between her thumb and forefinger. It was a black cap. The cap to my scotch. She had said nothing, simply held me, and let me know that she knew about my drinking. But she didn’t say anything. Didn’t have to.
I held her close. She quit playing with the cap and held it tight in her fist.
19.
I parked my car in front of the murder site. The same decayed heap of flowers still marked the place where Amanda had been found slain. There might have been a new teddy bear in the front row, but it was hard to tell. Anyway, he was a cute little guy holding a red heart balloon that said: “I Miss You.”
I got out and headed up the stone pathway through the grass, passing a limestone circular fountain that was currently turned off. Leaves were collecting in the drain, and I suspected it might be a while until the fountain, with its gurgling expectations, would be turned on again.
When I reached the door, it swung open as if on its own volition.
