Midnight Rambler_ A Novel of Suspense - James Swain [41]
Amrita nodded her head like a metronome. I sensed she'd tried to reason with her husband, and hit a brick wall.
“This is about a boy, isn't it?” I asked.
“You are very perceptive,” she said.
Sanji jumped out of his chair and headed for the door.
“Come back here,” I said.
“Why should I listen to you?” he replied angrily.
“Because I'm trying to help you.”
Sanji stopped dead. He didn't return to his chair, but he didn't leave, either. Taking out my wallet, I removed a snapshot of Jessie and showed it to his wife. My baby looked enough like me that you didn't have to ask whose she was. Amrita smiled faintly.
“A lovely girl,” she said.
“Her name's Jessie,” I said. “When she was sixteen, she announced she was dating a nineteen-year-old boy she'd met. When I heard Jessie describe this boy, I knew that the relationship was serious, and my wife and I had a problem on our hands.”
Sanji came back to his chair and sat down.
“I was certain my daughter was sleeping with this boy,” I went on. “It made me so mad, I considered having him arrested for statutory rape. I saw my daughter as a victim. I also knew that the law was on my side. Only my wife talked me out of it.”
Amrita's hand found her husband's and clasped it.
“Please go on,” she said.
“My wife talked to my daughter and realized that my daughter didn't see herself as a victim. This boy was her best friend and confidant. He gave my daughter a level of attention that my wife and I could not. He indulged her. To my daughter, it was only natural to have sex with him.”
“But the boy was taking advantage of your daughter,” Sanji said.
“Yes, he was,” I replied. “But that wasn't the issue.”
“It wasn't?”
“No. The issue was pulling my daughter back into the fold. It was about maintaining our authority over her. And it was about controlling the situation without traumatizing her in the process.”
“Did you succeed?” Amrita asked hopefully.
“Yes, thanks to my wife.”
She looked at her husband. He swallowed hard.
“Will you share your solution with us?” he asked me.
“I'd be happy to. My wife asked the boy over for dinner. He ac cepted, and we spent the evening peppering him with questions. Was he going to college? How did he plan to make a living when he got out? What religion was he? When could we meet his parents? We made him realize that if he wanted to see our daughter, he was going to be part of the family, and with that came responsibilities. We treated him like a grown-up.”
Amrita's dark eyes were dancing.
“Did it work?”
“They broke up a few weeks later. I can't guarantee that will happen with your daughter, but it will at least give you the upper hand for a while.”
They shared a meaningful look. I know of no greater telepathy than the silent communion shared by husband and wife. I slapped my knees and rose from my chair.
“Good luck,” I said.
We went downstairs to the parking lot. They drove a white Mercedes with a bag of tennis rackets in the backseat. Sanji opened his wife's door, then came over to me. From his pocket he removed an envelope and stuffed it into my hand.
“Kumar said that you would prefer cash.”
The envelope was thick, and I felt my heart race. Sanji was an arrogant jerk, but most fathers were when it came to dealing with their teenage daughters. I know I was.
I offered my hand. He shook it warmly, and I decided that I liked the guy.
“I hope this works out.”
“Thank you,” he said.
Back in my office, I fanned twenty crisp hundred-dollar bills across my desk and let out a happy whistle. It was enough to pay my rent and my tabs and buy the Sunset a brand-new TV. I thought back to my encounter with the lemon sharks and decided that my luck had changed.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Kumar gave me a lift to Big Al's body shop on Sheridan Street.
My Legend was parked in front with a shiny new windshield. I loaded Buster into the back, then visited the office.
Big Al sat at his cluttered desk eating a sandwich. He was into steroids and body art, and every inch of his body was either ripped