Wolf in the Shadows - Marcia Muller [49]
“You know, that’s interesting, because she said something to me, too, around the same time. What she told me was that under all the craziness I was really conventional as hell and just waiting for the time to come along when I wouldn’t be too embarrassed to let it show.”
“You?”
He grinned. “Well, look at us. Who’s the one who showed up here at the crack of dawn looking like something the dog dug up? Who’s the one who made the other eat breakfast?”
“True. God, if she saw those things in us, I wonder what she saw in Charlene and Joey and Patsy?”
“We ought to ask them.”
I leaned my head back, suddenly feeling it was too much trouble to keep my eyes open.
“Hey, stay awake for a few more minutes,” John ordered. “Can I borrow this Ripinsky’s picture?”
“Sure, but what—”
“I’ll have some copies made at the one-hour photo, and if Al and Pete think they can do something for you, I’ll give them the pictures and have them ask around. In the meantime, you get some sleep.”
“What?” I sat up. “I’ve got to—”
“You don’t got to. Until one of them comes up with something, there’s nothing you can do. So give me the picture, go in the boys’ room, and sack out.”
I had to admit the idea appealed. “You’ll wake me up as soon as you know something?”
“I’ll wake you up. Go!”
“You promise?”
“Yes! I swear to God, you remind me of my kids.”
“I swear to God, you remind me of Ma.”
“Well, everybody needs some mothering now and then, kid. Everybody.”
Twelve
When I woke in the narrow kid’s bed, afternoon sunlight had made the small room unbearably hot and stuffy. I lay there for a moment, groggy and filmed with sweat. The phone rang somewhere and was abruptly cut off by the answering machine; I heard my brother’s recorded voice intone something about having reached Mr. Paint, and a woman left a mostly garbled message.
Finally I got up and opened the one window. Outside was a high-fenced area full of tall plants—John’s dope garden. Solid evidence that my brother hadn’t been taken over by an alien, after all. But what did he do with the plants when the boys stayed here? Surely he didn’t allow them to gaze at a marijuana farm through their bedroom window. Or did he? Well, that was his business; where the boys were concerned, at least, John seemed to know what he was doing.
I wandered out to the kitchen; the only noise was the faucet dripping. The mentality of the drought years persisted among San Franciscans; I went over and tightened the knob until it stopped. In the fridge I found a can of ginger ale vastly outnumbered by six-packs and drank it thirstily while contemplating the problem of how to get in touch with Rae. By the clock on the stove, it was one thirty-nine; she’d probably be at her desk. Trouble was, I couldn’t be sure the All Souls line didn’t have a tap on it. By now RKI’s operatives would be mounting a full-scale search for me.
Finally I went to the phone on John’s desk and dialed All Souls. Pitched my voice higher than normal when Ted answered and said I was calling for Tony Nolan, the client for whom Rae was performing a number of background checks. Rae came on the line and immediately recognized my voice.
“Shar—” she began.
I cut her off. “No, I don’t need to talk with Ms, McCone. I need to talk with you. I’ve found the remedy to the problem, and I want to discuss it in fifteen minutes.”
Rae was silent.
“I have the remedy, do you understand?”
“Yes, I do.” She sounded grave, even grim. “I’ll be there early, if possible.”
I hung up before she could say anything else.
Eyes on the clock of the VCR, I paced around the living room, went to the patio door and opened it to let in some of the afternoon breeze. One of the neighbors’ ducks had wandered in and was contemplating the Jacuzzi with more than normal interest, so I shooed it away. Then I went back inside and snooped idly into cartons as the minutes ticked by. One was full of photograph albums, and I pulled the topmost out and flipped through its pages. A Christmas picture caught my attention: John, Karen, Johnny, Billy, and little