Book Deal (16 page)

She stared at him for a moment, finally drained what was left in her glass. “I guess Mrs. Suarez didn’t tell you,” she said.

Deal stared at her blankly. “Tell me what?”

“That I came by the fourplex earlier.”

Deal shook his head. “I didn’t hear about it.”

Janice shrugged. “About six. I thought maybe I’d catch you, see Isabel…” She trailed off, drew a breath. “Anyway, you hadn’t come home. I told Mrs. Suarez I’d come in, talk to Isabel.”

“Yeah…?” Deal said, puzzled.

“Mrs. Suarez said she didn’t think that was such a good idea.”

“Mrs. Suarez said that?”

“She said she wasn’t going to let me in.”

Deal stared at her. “Janice, I never said anything to Mrs. Suarez…” There was an unspoken agenda here, suddenly, a specter of memory that haunted them both: a year or more ago, Janice checking herself out of the clinic where profound depression had landed her, coming home while Deal was away to carry Isabel off for a day and night, a manic spree of spending and shopping that ended harmlessly, save for several thousand dollars in credit card charges that Deal was still pecking away at. But that was a long time ago. Janice was better now, he reminded himself. She was okay. She was going to be
fine
. But still…

Janice waved her hand. “I know you didn’t say anything to Mrs. Suarez, Deal. It’s not your style.” She focused on a plastic straw she’d knotted in her hands momentarily, then lifted her gaze back to him. “She was just doing what she thought was right, taking care of Isabel. I wasn’t going to make a scene…” There was moisture gathering in her eyes, and she trailed off, turning her attention back to her straw.

Deal started to say something, then stopped, watching Janice’s fingers work: loop, loop, snap; loop, loop, snap. If anything, her tears only incited him. Now’s the time, Deal. Jump in with both boots. What did you expect, a brass band? The prodigal wife’s return. Nice of you to drop by, say hello to your daughter…

His indignation boiled up, nearly overwhelming him, a wave so thick and hot from his gut, he didn’t trust himself to speak.

He sensed her reading the emotions that must have been pulsing out of him like blips from some emergency beacon: hello out there and all the ships at sea, Johnny Deal is mighty pissed…

“I asked her to tell you I’d stopped,” Janice said. “I went on back to my apartment. I waited a while, I thought maybe you’d call.”

She shrugged. “Rem saw me out on my balcony, asked me to come along.” She mustered her smile again. “So here I am, Deal. That’s what I’m doing.”

She stared at him, a challenge in her gaze. Deal took a breath, let it out, opened his palms on the table. “Yeah, well, I never got the message.”

Janice laughed mirthlessly. “I’m not even going to touch that line.”

He stared at her, finally understood, granted her a laugh of his own. “Lot of water over the dam, huh?”

“Like, maybe, Niagara Falls?”

He nodded. “So, where’s Richard,” he said after a moment.

She measured him before answering. “Back in Sarasota, Deal. He has a business there. A woman he sees. A life.”

Deal lifted his chin to acknowledge it. “It’s a nice town, Sarasota. Peaceful. Pretty streets. Hardly anything ever happens there.”

She sighed. “I came by, Deal. I came by to see you and Isabel.”

He nodded again. “I’m sorry I wasn’t home,” he said. He paused. “I’m sorry about Mrs. Suarez.”

Janice’s lips pulled into a brief smile that might as well have been a grimace. “It’s okay,” she said.

They sat quietly for a moment. He could step in here, Deal thought. This was the time. Put his indignation, his anger, aside. It was the moment he’d fantasized about for God knows how long. One day, she will realize. The old Janice will come back.
Deal
, she’ll say.
Deal
…

Sure enough, he thought. Sure enough. And still he waited. And waited. And somehow, the words would not come. He stared across the table as though Janice sat in a different dimension, as if nothing he spoke or shouted or willed could cross the foot-wide chasm between them.

On the far side of the room, Rem lasered a dart into the bull’s-eye, turned to see if Deal had noticed.

“That guy’s gears grind a little tight,” Deal said, hearing himself break the silence.

She gave him a look: anger? sorrow? a little of both?

“Can it, Deal,” she said finally. “He lives with Linda there, the one with the boobs. He’s just looking out for me.”

Gone, he thought. The moment gone, gone, gone. “Since when did you need taking care of?”

She folded her arms on the table. “I was having a nice evening, Deal. You came in here just to piss me off, why don’t you go build a shopping center or something.”

He took a breath, held it a couple of counts. So many thoughts whirling inside him now, he felt light-headed. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s been a night.”

“Yeah?” she said. She looked him over more closely. Her gaze had softened again. He saw that little tremor at the corner of her lips, a tic that always signaled concern growing in Janice’s mind. “Come to think of it, what are
you
doing here? That’s the real question, isn’t it?”

He opened his mouth, about to attempt some explanation, or maybe to hell with that, just take her hands and speak what’s really on your mind, Deal…

…then broke off when he saw the expression that had swept over her face: her eyes had widened, her mouth in an O. Perfect charade pose of surprise, or even alarm.…Deal swung about, expecting maybe he’d find Rem, barstool or ball bat or dartboard upraised, ready to deliver Deal’s apt reward for hesitation…but instead it was Driscoll, the big ex-cop coming their way with the dog from Lightner’s house tucked under his arm.

“Vernon,” he heard Janice call.

“Hey, darlin’,” Driscoll said. He swept her to him with one of his great arms, holding the dog aside with the other.

Janice stepped back from him, glanced at Deal. “So this is boys’ night out?” She turned back to Driscoll, who swung his gaze at Deal.

“What are you two doing with a dog?” Deal, his mind still spinning, heard the question as if from miles away.

“Two Irish, hold the Irish,” came the waitress’s voice then, and they all were moving awkwardly aside to let her put the drinks down.

“Better make it three,” Deal managed finally, and motioned everyone to a seat.

***

It took Deal a good half-hour to tell it all. By the time he’d finished, Rem and company had decamped, leaving the back room to the three of them, or four, counting the dog, which had polished off a couple of leftover hamburgers provided by the waitress and was now snoozing, its snout laid across one of Deal’s Topsiders.

Deal gave Driscoll a glance as he wound the story up, turned back to Janice. “So I didn’t even tell this detective why I’d gone to Lightner’s. It seemed like a waste of time.”

Janice nodded glumly, her gaze turned inward. She turned to Driscoll abruptly. “That’s what you think, right? First Arch, now Eddie Lightner. Just one big coincidence.”

Driscoll held up his hands in protest. “What do I know? I’m working the case of the daring burger bandits, okay?” He made a goofy face, plucked at the Zaragosa Drive-in T-shirt. “Matter of fact,” he said, downing his coffee, “I’m headed home. Got the 6:00
P.M.
to 2:00
A.M.
shift tomorrow.”

He stood, put his hand on Janice’s shoulder. “Next time I run into you, why don’t we make it a happier occasion, what do you say?”

Her expression softened and she put her hand atop his. “You smell like onions,” she said.

“It’s that new cologne,” Driscoll said. “Gets ’em every time.”

He waved goodbye then, was out the door of the place before Deal felt a nudge beneath the table and remembered the dog.

“Hey,” he said, starting up, but the thing was sprawled across both his shoe tops now and somehow he couldn’t bring himself to disturb it.

He fell back into his chair, glanced across the table at Janice, shrugged.

“You went into therapy, you got yourself a dog…that’s a lot of changes in your life, Deal.”

He shrugged again. “No pets allowed at Casa Deal,” he said.

“So call a meeting of the tenants’ board,” she said. “Amend the bylaws.”

“Maybe.”

The waitress passed the doorway into the back room, gave him an inquiring glance. Deal shook his head.

“That must have been a big thing for you,” Janice persisted. “Going to a shrink.”

“I’m not close-minded, Janice. Is that what you think?”

“It’s just not your style, to ask for help.”

He took a breath. “And what is my style?”

“To get a bigger hammer,” she said.

“Whatever works, Janice.”

“You think I’m weak, though, don’t you?”

He felt an ache coursing through him, a pain that seemed to trace an old fracture running from his toes to the top of his head. “Of course I don’t. If I’d gone through what you had…”

“But you have,” she said, cutting him off. “That’s just it. You lived through the very same things. But you just step over the bodies and keep on trucking. I’m the one who can’t maintain…”

“Janice…” he said, reaching for her.

She waved him off. “Stop it, Deal. Stop looking at me like that. God. You should see yourself.”

He sat back in his chair, shaking his head.

“Something’s funny?”

He threw up his hands. “Trying to have a conversation with you. It’s like taking a test that there’s no right answer to,” he said.

She considered it a moment. “It’s not a test, Deal,” she said.

“No?” he said, meeting her gaze. “Then what is it?”

She opened her hands. “Our life,” she said. “That’s all it is.”

The waitress went past the doorway again, her apron slung over her shoulder now. The place was quiet, Deal thought, only he and Janice holding up the parade. He glanced at his watch, turned back to her.

“I’ll just say one thing, Janice. Everything that happened to us, to you…well, how I used to take it was, it really happened to
me
. It was something
I
had to address.”

She started to say something, but he motioned her silent. “But I’m not the one who was kidnapped, and I’m not the one who was burned.” He saw her hand go automatically to her cheek, pull a lock of hair forward, still covering scars no one else could see. “I can’t know what you felt, Janice. I can’t know what you feel now. But I don’t think you’re weak.” She glanced at him, then away, began toying with her coffee cup.

“I can’t change the past,” he said. “But I’m willing to do whatever I can now. That’s all. That’s all I wanted to say.”

She nodded, her eyes following a design of wet circles she fashioned on the tabletop with the cup. “The worst thing’s been about Isabel,” she said, softly. “You know what that’s like, keeping yourself away from your own daughter?”

He could only shake his head.

She set the cup away, clamped her hands between her thighs, stared up at the ceiling. “Because you know you’re so screwed up you don’t want her to see you?”

“Isabel wouldn’t…”

Janice whirled on him, her eyes flashing. “Don’t say it, Deal. Don’t tell me she wouldn’t know. I had a mother who was crazy as a barn owl and I thought, oh, I made it out okay, I escaped, I’ll never be like her, and look!” She broke off to stare at him defiantly, sweeping her hands about her.

Deal knew about Janice’s family, of course: her father a once-successful farmer whose slide into alcoholism mirrored the decline of the sugar beet industry in northern Ohio, her mother a classic enabler who finally joined her spouse, neck-deep in the sauce. They’d finished it off with that head-on collision with an eighteen-wheeler, headed the wrong way up a freeway exit on a snowy afternoon. The highway patrol had called it an accident, but Janice always added: “Yeah, the accidental part was, my old man intended to smash into a bus.”

She was staring intently at him now. “I’m better now, Deal. I’m on the road back, at least. I’m ready to see Isabel, for Isabel to see me. But it’s still hard, it’s still one foot in front of the other, one step at a time.”

And what about us, he wanted to say, where do you and I figure in? But he didn’t. He met her gaze and nodded his understanding, and that was all he could manage. “Isabel wants to see you,” he said. “Whenever you want.”

She bit her lip. “Thanks,” she said.

“It’s late,” he said. “I think they’re ready to get us out of here.” He eased one foot out from under the sleeping dog, then the other. Maybe he could just leave it there, he thought. A new mascot for the Ruptured Duck.

“What about Arch?” Janice said. She hadn’t budged.

“What about him?”

“This thing about the Mega-Media site. You’re just going to give up on it?”

“Of course not.”

“So what’s next?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I could go back to Custer, try to find out if he knows anything…” He shook his head at the prospect. “If I could find somebody who worked for the contractor, it might be easier, but since they’re from Omaha…” He broke off.

“Where Arch’s sister Sara is from,” Janice added.

“Probably just a coincidence,” Deal nodded.

“Maybe,” Janice said. “Tell me again who this outfit did work for.”

“The Sioux nation, IBM, the Worldwide Church of Light…”

“That’s the one,” she said, stopping him.

“The one what?” Deal had his eyes on the waitress, who stood at the end of the bar, cutting glances at them as the cash register chunked out the spools of the nightly report.

“Arch’s sister worked for that big-time televangelist in Omaha, the International Church of something or other. Arch was embarrassed about it. He told me Sara was always sending him reams of stuff about what this guy was doing, spreading the word and all. If that’s the outfit Carver did work for…”

“Then Sara Dolan could put me on to someone at Carver.”

“It’s a shot.”

Deal considered it. “The trouble is, nobody’s been able to get in touch with Sara. I tried Information earlier, just wanted to tell her about Arch, but she’s unlisted…” He trailed off, frustrated.

Janice shook her head. “Amazing, isn’t it. Arch gets killed, his family doesn’t even know about it.”