The Third Twin - Ken Follett [23]
However, she did not want to leave until the last possible moment. Lisa was still very fragile. Jeannie figured the best thing she could do was sit and talk to her about men and sex the way they always did, help her get on the road back to normality. She would have liked to stay here all morning, but she could not. She was really sorry lisa would not be at the lab to help her today, but it was out of the question.
“Yeah, one,” Jeannie said in answer to the question. “There was one guy I wanted to marry. His name was Will Temple. He was an anthropologist. Still is.” Jeannie could see him now, a big man with a fair beard, in blue jeans and a fisherman’s sweater, carrying his ten-speed bicycle through the corridors of the university.
“You’ve mentioned him before,” Lisa said. “What was he like?”
“He was great” Jeannie sighed. “He made me laugh, he took care of me when I was sick, he ironed his own shirts, and he was hung like a horse.”
Lisa did not smile. “What went wrong?”
Jeannie was being flip, but it hurt her to remember. “He left me for Georgina Tinkerton Ross.” As if by way of explanation, she added: “Of the Pittsburgh Tinkerton Rosses.”
“What was she like?”
The last thing Jeannie wanted to do was recall Georgina. However, this was taking Lisa’s mind off the rape, so she forced herself to reminisce. “She was perfect,” she said, and she disliked the bitter sarcasm she heard in her own voice. “Strawberry blond, hourglass figure, impeccable taste in cashmere sweaters and crocodile shoes. No brain, but a hell of a big trust fund.”
“When did all this happen?”
“Will and I lived together for a year when I was doing my doctorate.” It had been the happiest time she could remember. “He moved out while I was writing my article on whether criminality is genetic.” Great timing, Will. I just wish I could hate you more. “Then Berrington offered me a job at Jones Falls and I jumped at it.”
“Men are creeps.”
“Will isn’t really a creep. He’s a beautiful guy. He fell for someone else, that’s all. I think he showed really bad judgment in his choice. But it’s not like we were married or anything. He didn’t break any promises. He wasn’t even unfaithful to me, except maybe once or twice before he told me.” Jeannie realized she was repeating Will’s own words of self-justification. “I don’t know, maybe he was a creep after all.”
“Maybe we should return to Victorian times, when a man who kissed a woman considered himself engaged. At least girls knew where they were.”
Right now Lisa’s perspective on relationships was pretty skewed, but Jeannie did not say so. Instead she asked: “What about you? Did you ever find one you wanted to marry?”
“Never. Not one.”
“You and I have high standards. Don’t worry, when Mr. Right comes along he’ll be wonderful.”
The entry phone sounded, startling them both. Lisa jumped up, bumping the table. A porcelain vase fell to the floor and shattered, and Lisa said: “Goddamn it.”
She was still right on the edge. “I’ll pick up the pieces,” Jeannie said in a soothing voice. “You see who’s at the door.”
Lisa picked up the handset. A troubled frown crossed her face, and she studied the image on the monitor. “All right, I guess,” she said dubiously, and she pressed the button that opened the building door.
“Who is it?” Jeannie asked.
“A detective from the Sex Crimes Unit.”
Jeannie had been afraid they would send someone to bully Lisa into cooperating with the investigation. She was determined they would not succeed. The last thing Lisa needed now was more intrusive questions. “Why didn’t you tell him to fuck off?”
“Maybe because she’s black,” Lisa said.
“No kidding?”
Lisa shook her head.
How clever, Jeannie thought as she swept shards of porcelain into her cupped hand. The cops knew she and Lisa were hostile. If they had sent a white male detective he would not have