Close Encounters (27 page)

Erica thought about it with a petulant frown on her face. Finally she shrugged and reluctantly shook her head.

“I didn’t think so,” Lee said. “Tell you what… why don’t you think about it until the end of the school year? Then we’ll talk about it again. In the meantime, you can come here weekends and holidays whenever you want to.”

“Are these visits supposed to be a bonding opportunity? Quality time between the divorced parent and the kid?”

“It’s not an ideal situation, Ricca, but your mom and I didn’t invent divorce. I know you’ve been unhappy recently. I’m trying to do something about it. I hope I’m not too late.”

“You’re not,” she said very softly, but would concede nothing else. “What would
you
like to do today?”

“A movie? South Street Seaport? We could walk around and have lunch. How about a basketball game at the Garden?”

Erica looked as if he’d taken leave of his senses. “Dad… you’re kidding, right?”

He shrugged. “Can’t blame me for trying.”

Erica playfully rubbed the bristly growth on his chin and cheeks. “You have a lot of gray hair.”

“Hmmm. I’m getting old.”

“No, you’re not. My friends think you’re cute. Way cuter than their fathers. Just don’t get fat.”

“I’ll take that under advisement.”

“Stephanie’s mother thinks you’re handsome.”

He raised his brows. “Oh, really? I don’t think I even know who Stephanie is. Or her mother. How did I come up in their conversation?”

“Stephanie said she heard her mother talking about it to someone. They remember you from when you came by at Christmas time.”

“How does Stephanie’s father feel about his wife’s interest in another man?”

“Well, she didn’t say it in front of him. Besides, they’re divorced too. Stephanie says her mother wants to get married again.”

“I’m not available,” Lee murmured dryly.

She nodded, apparently relieved by her father’s answer. “Dad? Do you think you’ll ever get married again?”

Lee linked his fingers together and spread his opened palms across his chest. “That’s a trick question.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Why do you want to know? Will it bother you if I do?”

She shrugged again, tilting her head thoughtfully. “I don’t know.”

Lee didn’t think he was very good marriage material. His kind of work took a lot of attention and time. Maybe that was one of the reasons why his marriage had failed. The job made him selfish and crude and, according to Beth’s assessment, cops were little boys who didn’t want to grow up. Lee frowned. He wondered if Carol ever thought of him that way?

He had risked his life for people he didn’t know, didn’t care about, and mostly couldn’t save. He had sacrificed a lot to do the job well, but now he doubted if the trade-offs had been worth it. Especially when he realized how close he’d come to losing his daughter.

How he’d almost taken a human life.

Besides, there weren’t great prospects for the kind of relationship he might want. For a while, sex had been an acceptable substitute for anything more meaningful. Now it wasn’t enough.

Marry again? He hadn’t given it much thought. But there was something appealing about the idea of being with someone who could accept him as imperfect, and love him just the same. Someone who wouldn’t complain about what he wasn’t, or try to change what he was. And perhaps because he was older, had grown up and matured, he had more to offer. There might still be a chance to redeem his mistakes, make something more of his life. But first, he had to reclaim it. One way was by winning Erica’s love and respect. A second way was to earn Carol Taggart’s forgiveness. He wanted that and more from her.

“I tell you what,” Lee said. “Let’s not worry about my maybe getting married again. You still have to decide what you want to do today, not a year from now.” He got up from the sofa bed.

“Maybe we can go to the craft museum, down near Lincoln Center.”

“You want to go to a museum? I don’t mind, but how did you pick that one?”

“From something I saw at that lady’s house. The one you took me to last week.”

It was the first mention Erica had made of the visit to Carol’s. He hadn’t thought she’d even remembered. “What was it?” he asked.

“She had a bulletin board hanging on a wall next to the bathroom, and it had all this stuff on it. There were a lot of pictures of her with a dog. I didn’t see a dog. Do you think she has one?” Erica asked.

“Had. Her dog was killed,” Lee said automatically.

“Really? Was that the accident she meant?”

“Yeah, that’s right. An accident,” Lee confirmed uneasily.

The mention of Carol and her pet brought much more to mind than the events of that Wednesday morning nearly a month ago. But then it wasn’t as if he’d forgotten being with her and going way beyond the boundaries of what their relationship had started out to be. There was still a lot of uncharted territory for them to explore. And it wasn’t as if he hadn’t thought about those moments of making love to her, which even now in memory was enough to stir his loins. And it wasn’t as if he had any regrets. He didn’t.

“Ms. Taggart had all kinds of things on her board,” Erica continued. “There were ticket stubs and horoscopes from the newspaper. And there was this card that told about a show for the winners of a contest on the best handicraft from high school students. I thought that might be interesting.”

“Did you enter anything?” Lee asked. She shook her head. “Why not?”

“Because…” she shrugged.

“Because why?”

“Because I wouldn’t have gotten chosen anyway,” she said impatiently.

Lee was surprised by Erica’s touchiness on the subject, but he decided not to push. He had another thought instead.

“How would you like to go to one of her classes some Saturday?” Ricca’s eyes widened with interest. “Carol teaches a sketch class, and she told me you’re welcome to attend anytime you want. I told her you’re a pretty good artist yourself. Would you like that?”

Her interest became tempered. “Maybe.” She glanced at her father from beneath long lashes. “Are you still investigating her accident?”

Lee was so surprised by the question that he couldn’t think of an adequate response. He stood up abruptly.

“Yep. It’s still on the books.” He began to pick up his clothing from the floor. “I claim the shower first,” he said, heading for the bedroom to get a fresh change of clothing. “Then we’ll get something to eat. I’m hungry.”

“I can make breakfast,” Erica volunteered, getting up from the floor and following him to the bedroom door.

Lee looked at her in surprise as he got jeans from the closet and a black henley shirt from a bureau. “You know how to cook?”

“Well, don’t say it like it’s physics or something,” she smirked. “It’s just breakfast. It’s not that hard.”

“Maybe not,” he said in mock seriousness, “but will I be able to eat it?” Erica gave him a look of tolerant exasperation. “I’ll be out in ten minutes,” he said.

When Lee exited the bathroom a few minutes later, completely dressed, he could smell coffee brewing in the kitchen and could hear Erica rummaging around. He took the opportunity to take care of some personal business.

Lifting the cordless phone from its cradle in the living room, Lee stepped out onto the terrace, pulling the sliding doors almost shut behind him. Lee punched in familiar numbers. He waited for some sense of regret, some surge of hesitation to make him stop and think. But there was nothing except the desire to make this quick. Cut to the chase and be done with it.

He was taking a chance calling Karen so early on a Saturday morning. She might not be alone. She answered on the second ring, bright and wide awake.

“Hello?”

“Karen. Hi, it’s Lee.”

The silence was long enough for Lee to wonder if she was surprised or merely trying to figure out what to say to him.

“Well hello, Lee,” she said, without enthusiasm.

“We haven’t talked in a while. I wanted to call…”

“I’ve been busy,” she interrupted, as if to make it clear that she had not been sitting around holding her breath.

“Yeah, me too.”

“I have a new job,” Karen supplied.

“Really? Congratulations. Where? Another restaurant?”

“No. For your information I do have other talents, Lee,” she said, sounding peeved. “I was hired by a West Coast film company. They have a huge office here in New York. On Madison Avenue. I met this guy…”

Of course,
Lee thought. “Film company…”

“You don’t have to sound that way about it. They’re not going to make me an actress, for God’s sake. I’m going to be in public relations.”

Interesting euphemism. He glanced at his watch and peered through the sliding doors to see if Erica was looking for him. “You should do well there, Karen. You’re a people person.”

“That’s what I was told at my interview. So, what made you decide to stop pouting and acting silly and give me a call?”

He raised his brows. Is that how she thought he’d been behaving? “I’ve been thinking a bit since we last saw each other. We had a disagreement, as I recall.”

“It was your own fault,” Karen said firmly.

“You’re right. I can see that now, and I’m not going to argue the point. But I thought I should call and tell you… I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”

Again there was silence on the line, making Lee wonder what she was thinking.

“If that’s your decision, fine,” Karen said defensively. “I’m not going to apologize for that night. It was business.”

“Well, you’re right. You shouldn’t have to apologize if you feel that way. So let’s just say good-bye and move on, okay? No hard feelings?”

“You are blaming me, aren’t you?”

“No, no. I’m not.”

“Oh, what does it matter. I’ll be meeting a lot of high-profile, Hollywood-type people. And I—I don’t mean to hurt your feelings or anything, Lee, but we aren’t right for each other anyway.”

“You’re absolutely right.”

“Actually, I’m glad you called first. Don’t get upset, but—you’re just too old for me.”

“You think so? Now, you see, I saw it completely differently.”

“You did? What do you mean?” Karen asked.

Lee was momentarily distracted by a gentle tap-tap on the terrace doors. Erica was beckoning to him, waving a spatula and drinking from a glass of orange juice. Lee felt enormous relief.

“I was going to tell you—I think you’re way too young for me.”

Karen said something profane. And then hung up.

“Julio… que pasa, eh?” Mario greeted.

He stood against the wall outside the apartment door so that he could be aware of anyone coming and going and so that Julio was forced to step partly out to meet him.

“Mario! Hey, man… what you doing here? How you know where I was at?”

“How come you’re surprised to see me? Ain’t we friends no more? I heard you been out of town.”

“Yeah,” Julio said, glancing nervously down the hallway. “Just for a few days.”

“How ’bout a few weeks. Your grandmother died again?” Mario cackled goodnaturedly.

“Quién?”
a female voice called out to Julio from the depth of the apartment.

“No es nadie que tu sabe.”

“Quién?”
she insisted.

“Cállate, mujer!”
Julio hissed angrily. He turned to Mario. “What you want?”

“You hidin’ from me or something?”

“Naw, that ain’t it but… you know…”

“I gotta talk with you,” Mario said abruptly, jerking his head toward the end of the hallway.

“Mario, come on, man…” Julio whined.

He made a movement as if to step back inside and close the door. Mario’s hand shot out and braced against the door to keep it open.

“This is business. It’ll only take a minute, I swear.”

Julio shook his head. “It’s one o’clock in the morning. My woman…”

“You ain’t scared of some bitch, are you? Hurry up.” Mario released the door and walked down the hall to wait.

Julio still hesitated, quickly assessing the worst of two evils—defying his common-law wife or crossing Mario. But Mario had brought him into the crew. He’d made some serious money in the last year.

“My coat…” Julio murmured.

“Forget it. We ain’t going nowhere.
Hablamos aquí, ahorita.
”

Julio’s shoulders hunched in as he stepped slowly out the door. He carefully made sure that it wouldn’t close completely behind him. He stood a moment longer before following Mario to the end of the corridor.

“Say, what’s up, man?” Julio inquired casually. He stopped and leaned against the wall, facing Mario.

“It’s hot out there,” Mario commented.

Julio nodded. “Yeah.”

“Ever since that night with Willey, the cops, that woman…”

Julio stared down at the floor. “Yeah,” he said again. “That shit got fucked up.”

“You ran, man.”

“I had to. I wasn’t gonna hang around, know what I’m saying? We coulda got caught.”

“I hear you.” Mario put his hands into the pockets of his coat and glanced around the hallway again, looked down the stairwell, and then back to Julio. “So, you seen anybody?”

Julio shifted and shook his head. “Couple of them called, but I ain’t talkin’ to nobody right how.”

“You seen Earl?”

“Not since… you know, that night.”

Mario examined the precise fall of his pants over the top of his boots. “Suppose you see Earl. What you gonna say to him?”

Julio’s chuckle sounded like he was choking. He shook his head emphatically. “I don’t know nothin’. If Earl ask me, I’m gonna say straight up, I didn’t see a damn thing.”

Mario nodded thoughtfully. Slowly, the nod became a shake of his head. “Now you see, Julio, that was the wrong answer. You wasn’t even there, remember? Ain’t that right?”

Julio’s eyes widened and he blinked as his mistake registered. His eyes rolled shut and he moaned. “Oh, shit… Come on, Mario. You know I wasn’t going to…”

Mario held up a warning finger to his lips until Julio fell silent, but with a pained expression on his face.

“You know, it’s a damn shame. You can’t trust anyone no more.”

Before Julio could plead or cry out, or turn and make a futile run for the door, before he could draw his next breath, Mario had withdrawn his right hand from his pocket and thrust the knife forward with the full force of his arm behind the motion.