Honeymoon - James Patterson [21]
What exactly was I looking for?
I didn’t know, but the more I stared at these pictures, the more my father’s words echoed in my head. Things aren’t always as they appear.
I grabbed the phone and dialed the boss. The direct line. Two rings later . . .
“Susan,” she announced briskly. No hello, no last name—just Susan.
“It’s me. Hi. I need you to be a sounding board,” I said. “So how do I sound?”
“Like you want to sell me insurance.”
“Not too New York?”
“You mean, not too pushy? No.”
“Good.”
“But talk a little more just to make sure,” she said.
I thought for a second. “Okay, so this old guy dies and goes up to heaven,” I began in the same voice, which to my ear was dripping in New Yorkese. “Stop me if you’ve heard this one.”
“I’ve heard this one.”
“No, you haven’t—trust me, you’re going to laugh.”
“I suppose there’s always a first time.”
It should be said at this point, if it isn’t already obvious, that the boss and I have a certain rapport. Of course, some men have a real hang-up about reporting to a woman. When Susan took over her department, in fact, there were about four or five guys who gave her a hard time from day one.
That’s why on day two she fired them all. I’m serious. So is Susan.
“Anyway, so this old guy arrives at the Pearly Gates and immediately he sees two signs,” I said. “The first sign reads, MEN WHO WERE CONTROLLED BY THEIR WIVES. The old man looks and sees that this line is, like, ten miles long.”
“Naturally.”
“No comment. So the old man looks at the second sign. It reads, MEN WHO WERE NOT CONTROLLED BY THEIR WIVES. Lo and behold, there’s only one guy in this line. Slowly, the old man walks over to him. ‘Tell me,’ he says, ‘why are you standing over here?’ The guy looks at him and says, ‘I don’t know, my wife told me to.’”
I listened, and sure enough, a slight laugh could be heard on the other end of the line.
“What I’d tell you? Next stop, Letterman.”
“Mildly amusing,” said Susan. “But I wouldn’t quit your day job just yet.”
I chuckled. “Now that’s funny, considering this isn’t even supposed to be my day job.”
“Do I detect a little nervousness?”
“It’s more like apprehension.”
“Why? You’re a natural at this stuff. You’ve got an—” Susan stopped mid-sentence. “Oh, I get it. It’s because she’s a woman, right?”
“I’m just saying, it’s a little different, that’s all.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. No matter who or what Nora Sinclair turns out to be, you’re the best man for the job,” she said. “So, when’s the big introduction?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Good. Excellent. Keep me posted.”
“I will,” I said. “Oh, and Susan?”
“Yeah?”
“I appreciate the vote of confidence.”
“Wow.”
“What?”
“I’m still not used to you and humility being in the same room.”
“I’m trying. Lord knows, I’m trying.”
“I know you are,” she said. “Good luck.”
Chapter 26
THE PINE WOODS Psychiatric Facility, a New York State- run institution, was in Lafayetteville, about an hour-and-a-quarter drive heading north from Westchester. Unless, of course, you were Nora in her new Benz convertible. Zipping along the winding, forest-lined Taconic Parkway at over eighty miles an hour, she turned up at the hospital a solid fifteen minutes sooner.
Nora found a parking space and put the top up with a single press of a button. Neat. She did a quick check in the vanity mirror and shook her hair back into place. No touch-up on the makeup was needed. She was barely wearing any to begin with. Then, for some crazy reason, she had a thought about Connor’s sister—the Ice Blonde. Something about Elizabeth bothered her. As if there hadn’t been closure between them.
Nora shrugged it off. She locked up the convertible—even out here in the boonies. She was wearing