Kane (8 page)

My thoughts traveled back to an evening two summers previous when Catheryn had been attending a performance at the Music Center.  Tom and Travis had gone out together on a double date, and I had unexpectedly been called back to the station on a case—leaving Allison and Nate at home alone for several hours.  During that time two men had broken into our house.  They’d demanded money, and in the course of the robbery Allison had been severely beaten.  It could have been worse had it not been for the presence of my off-duty service revolver in the hall closet.  The intruders hadn’t counted on a weapon being in the house, or the danger that it posed, even in the hands of a child.  One of the men had fled.  The other had bled to death with a .38-caliber-sized hole in his femoral artery.

“Look, Kate,” I said patiently.  “First off, concerning the break-in, we both know that Allison is still bothered by what happened.  That’s natural, but the bottom line is she had every right to plug that dirtbag, and she has nothing to feel sorry about.  She’ll get over it.  She’s a tough kid.”

“Dan, it’s not that simple,” said Catheryn.  “I—”

“Second,” I went on, cutting her off, “when it comes to Trav, you’re always telling me that it’s impossible to live people’s lives for them.  Does ‘Let Travis be himself’ sound familiar?  Take some of your own advice.  Travis is nearly a man.  He’ll find his own way.”

“But—”

“Third,” I continued, “
all
kids have nightmares.  Nate’s tough, too.  He’ll grow out of them.  As for his fighting in school, at least he’s sticking up for himself.  Now, I know you would be a lot happier if he’d kiss any mean ol’ bullies who—”

“What about his grades?”

“Grades aren’t everything.  Hell, look at me.  If I hadn’t been able to snag a football, I’d have never made it through high school, let alone USC.”

“Don’t give me your ‘Aw, shucks, country-boy routine,’” said Catheryn impatiently.  “Some of those you deal with at work may buy it—at least the ones who haven’t met you—but we both know you have a mind like a steel trap.  Let me put this another way.  I know how you feel about our children.  You love them more than anything.”

I nodded.  “We have the finest kids any parent could wish for, and that’s the God’s truth.”

“And you’ve always wanted what’s best for them.”

I nodded again.  “Absolutely.”

“When was the last time you looked at your children?”

“I saw them this morning.”

“I mean
really
looked.  When was the last time you looked into their eyes and asked what they were thinking, what they were feeling?”

I didn’t respond.

“They think you’re some kind of hero, Dan.  It’s almost painful to see how much they want to please you.  They need something from you that I can’t give them.  I’m not sure what, but whatever it is, you’re not giving it.  They need you, and you haven’t been there for them.  Not for a long time.  Not since Tommy died.”

At the mention of Tom, my heart fell.  “I have to work,” I said.  “I can’t always be there holding their hands.”

“That’s not what I mean.  You may be a cop, but you’re also a father, with responsibilities that far outweigh
any
commitments you’ve made to the LAPD.  This wall you’ve built around yourself is hurting everyone.  Especially your children.”

“Kate …”

“People usually deal with tragedy in one of two ways,” Catheryn pressed on.  “Religion or humor.  You’ve shied away from both.  Maybe somebody could help.”

“Let’s drop this, Kate.”

“And talk about it tomorrow?” she said bitterly.  “Dan, it wouldn’t hurt to see a counselor.”

“A shrink? 
That
subject is closed.”

“Think about it.  Please,” Catheryn said softly.  “We could go together.  Tom’s gone, but Travis, Allison, and Nate are still here.  They need you.  So do I.”

When our entrées arrived, Catheryn and I ate in silence.  Catheryn finished her champagne; I stuck with water.  We both had decaf following the meal, deciding to skip dessert.

Regretting the turn of our earlier conversation, I sat back in my chair, for the first time noticing a delicate piece of jewelry pinned to Catheryn’s blouse.  I had given her the emerald pin after Tom’s birth.  With the subsequent arrivals of Travis, Allison, and finally Nate, I had presented her with other emerald pieces.  All were modest, but over the years the green stones had grown to become not only reminders of the joy we had shared at the birth of each of our children, but also as an affirmation of our family’s strength and love.  “I see you have on Tom’s brooch,” I said cautiously.  “Haven’t noticed you wearing that for a while.”

Catheryn raised a hand to touch the pin.  “You gave me this at the hospital,” she said.  “Remember what you said?”

“I told you I loved you,” I answered without hesitation.  “That I would always love you.”

Catheryn smiled.  “What else?”

I thought a moment.  “I thanked you for giving me a son and making us a family.”

Catheryn took my hand.  “Dan, we need to talk about Tommy.  I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about this.  Things haven’t been right between us, not between
any
of us, since his death.  I know we’re all to blame for that, me included, but you …”  She took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders.  “It’s time to let go, Dan.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Mourning is natural.  It’s part of the healing process.  But you’ve never moved on.  It’s destroying you, Dan.  And it’s tearing apart our family.”

Still holding my hand, Catheryn searched my eyes.  Though I could tell she was disheartened by what she saw, she continued nevertheless.  “Dan, if you don’t let go of life’s sadnesses, you’re letting them do something worse to you than they’ve already done.”

“
You
may be able to forget Tom by throwing yourself into your music, but it’s not that easy for me,” I shot back, regretting my words the instant they were out of my mouth.

Tears sprang to Catheryn’s eyes, but she held my gaze.  “Tommy was my firstborn child,” she said quietly, fighting to control her voice.  “He was a part of me, a part of us.  I’ll never forget him.”

Hearing the heartbreak in her voice, I looked down, too ashamed for words.

“Dan, I think we should get counseling.”

“I told you, that subject is closed.”

“Please think about it,” Catheryn pleaded.  “All I’m asking is that you consider it.”

Following dinner, Catheryn accompanied me out to the street in silence.  Still not speaking when we reached the Dorothy Chandler parking garage, she slid in beside me on the front seat of the Suburban.  As she did, she noticed two overnight bags in the back.  “You going somewhere?” she asked icily.

I glanced at the luggage.  “Not me, us.  And not anymore,” I said regretfully, jamming the station wagon into gear and squealing the tires all the way up the ramps to the street above.  “I had something planned for later,” I added as we wheeled onto Grand.  “That idea’s obviously shot to hell.”

“What was it?”

“A romantic interlude.”

“Really?”

I nodded glumly.  “Bad timing, huh?”  I paused a moment, then continued.  “Listen, Kate.  I came here tonight to try to patch things up before you left.  I’ve missed you so much these past weeks.  Things aren’t the same without you.”

Catheryn regarded me for a long moment.  “What sort of romantic interlude?  X-rated motel, vibrating bed, Jacuzzi tub?”

“A lot better than that, I promise,” I said with a hopeful smile.  “I packed us each a change of clothes, and Christy’s staying over to get Nate off to school in the morning.  C’mon, Kate.  What do you say to putting aside our differences, just for tonight?  I’m truly sorry about how things went at dinner.”

Catheryn looked at me suspiciously.  “What hotel?”

“It’s a surprise.  Trust me, you’ll like it.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Kate, I can’t stand our being like this.  Let’s give tonight another chance.  Please?”

Understandably put off by the evening’s earlier turn, Catheryn shook her head.  “You can’t be serious.”

“I am.  Please, Kate.”

Catheryn hesitated.  “After what’s been going on between us, I certainly don’t feel like—”

“Please?”

Catheryn hesitated a moment more, then finally relented.  “Well, I
am
leaving for almost six weeks, and I
do
hate to waste a perfectly good babysitter.  But I’m definitely not making any promises about what happens when we get there.”

I smiled, encouraged to see that Catheryn was making an effort, too.  “One step at a time.”

Avoiding the freeway, I jogged over to Beverly Boulevard and turned west, my eyes sweeping side streets and alleys along the way—a habit from patrol days I had never been able to shake.  Twenty minutes later, after cutting across Santa Monica Boulevard, I took Palm to Sunset, then backtracked at the first light and headed toward the beach.

Catheryn, who on our cross-town trek had repeatedly asked where we were going, suddenly sat erect.  “We’re staying here?” she asked in amazement as I pulled into the palm-lined entrance of the Beverly Hills Hotel.  “We haven’t been here since …”

“… that second honeymoon we took a few years back,” I finished.  “I got the same bungalow we had then.  That was one hell of a weekend, Kate.”

Catheryn’s cheeks colored.  “Yes, it was.  But Dan, what about the expense?”

“We’ll just have to get along without the new Ferrari,” I joked.

As we proceeded up the curving drive, I studied the four-story Crescent Wing that had been added to the hotel during the early fifties, its walls now partially concealed behind a thicket of tropical trees and flowering plants.  As we passed, the thought struck me that for some reason the uniquely opulent building, with its pink stucco exterior, red tiled roof, and arched perimeter walls somehow seemed to exude an aura of hospitality that contrasted its near-garish appearance.

“I can’t believe we’re here,” said Catheryn.

“Believe it.  This is where I bring all my women.”

Again making an effort to forget our previous argument, at least for the moment, Catheryn shot me a playful look of admonishment.  “There had better be only one woman in your life, mister.”

“Don’t worry, Kate.  I’m saving my godlike body just for you.”

“You’d better.”

As I jammed the Suburban into park, a valet in a pink polo shirt stepped to Catheryn’s door to help her out.  A tall doorman wearing a forest-green jacket with contrasting white and gray cuffs appeared at my window on the other side.  “Good evening, Detective,” he said, his eyes twinkling with the unmistakable humor of someone who has at one time or another seen almost everything, and who by nature chooses to view the lighter side of life.  “It’s been a while.  Will you be staying with us tonight?”

During the early eighties, prior to moving up to homicide, I had served on an FBI/LAPD task force investigating organized crime figures—some of whom had briefly resided at the Beverly Hills Hotel.  While there on a three-week stakeout I had grown to know many of the employees, including the doorman, and over the years I’d stayed in touch.  “That’s the plan, Chris,” I answered with a grin.  “Glad to see they haven’t fired you yet.  Still got ’em fooled, eh?”

Chris grinned back.  “Same as you, Detective.  Same as you.”

Waving off an approaching bellman, I reached into the Suburban and retrieved our overnight bags, then escorted Catheryn up the red-carpeted walkway to the entrance.  I glanced back as we reached the door, noting that Chris had directed a valet to park my Suburban in an area up front reserved for the hotel’s most prestigious patrons—close enough to the entrance that vehicles left there could be retrieved before departing owners arrived at the curb.  Smiling, I watched as my station wagon shuddered to a stop between a sky-blue Porsche and a gleaming silver Rolls.  Though a small token of respect, Chris’s gesture was not lost on me.

As I registered at the desk, I noticed that a number of changes had been made to the lobby since we’d last visited, but the original Art Deco theme had been maintained throughout, the reserved tone somehow now even more exquisite.  After I finished registering, I led Catheryn past the Polo Lounge to a series of enclosed gardens beyond.  A number of security men in suits and ties had been unobtrusively present in the lobby.  Once outside, I noticed two more stationed near a bungalow on the left.

“Ex-LAPD guys working hotel security.  Some big shot’s probably spending the night,” I explained to Catheryn, noting her glancing at the men as well.  As we approached the pair of heavyset men, I barked, “Look alive, girls.  No sleeping on the job.”

Both men momentarily straightened, then relaxed.  “Kane.  What are you doing here?” one asked.

“Slumming,” I answered.

Catheryn and I continued down a flower-lined walkway to the right, moving through puddles of light spilling from horn-shaped copper lamps, their downturned bells illuminating the path.  “Am I imagining things,” asked Catheryn, “or do you know everybody in this town?”