CHAPTER 47
AS OFTEN HAPPENED WITH OFFICE HOLIDAY PARTIES, HALF of the office looked forward to the interruption in the usual drudgery. The other half looked forward to leaving early.
Two weeks before Christmas every ornamental plant and tree in or outside twinkled with tiny golden lights. A pine-bough wreath graced the door. In the garden, small, round tables covered with red cloths were decorated with candlelight and served by a special bar set up outside. Several of the secretaries had stayed straight through dinner. The champagne flowed, the hors d’oeuvres were hot. The conference room, decked with miniature Christmas trees and candelabra, sparkled with Elise’s crystal glassware and Bavarian china. A mist had flowed in from the sea, but no one seemed bothered.
Louis liked to network at parties. Nina, in her best black silk shirt, wearing earrings that mimicked Christmas-tree bulbs, watched him schmoozing the politicians and business bigwigs in hope that some of their business might rub off on him.
But Remy was the star. Everyone wanted to get a last casual visit with the soon-to-be judge. Everyone had this last chance perhaps to cement their relationship before they might feel a need to call upon it for something.
Remy provided a contrast to the group that surrounded her. She wore tight black leggings with high heels and a belted, low-cut, red satin shirt that stopped in the middle of her thighs, with gleaming rubies on her ears. It was a daring outfit, as though she knew those legs would be hidden for the rest of her career under a black robe and wanted this chance to show them off for the last time. All around her, men in gray pinstripes deferred to her and chatted her up.
Nina drank some champagne. She sat in a hard chair, a chair that made other people ignore her, treat her as furniture, not engage her. She didn’t feel like being engaged, and the oak made her feel slightly punished, like someone who should not thoroughly enjoy the occasion. Perfect, because she couldn’t.
Elise sat beside her husband on a burgundy leather couch in his office holding the world at bay with clouds of smoke she blew to fend off interlopers. Nina watched as Klaus extricated himself from his wife’s protection to wander off and join a rowdy group laughing too loud near the fireplace, where he was warmly welcomed. Although the details were not public, everyone knew that he had a bug. Old friends fussed over him, embraced him, reminisced.
Sipping her drink, Nina hoped to leave early. Saying good-bye to Bob that night as he lay in his bed begging for a story had been harder than usual. Lacking the proper spirit, she was determined to low-profile herself through salutations and depart.
She had spoken to Jack and the others, marveled at Remy’s getup, and was considering whether she could leave without being missed when the Carmel mayor arrived with four or five cronies. He had no trouble subduing the noise as he recalled past moments in Klaus’s heyday, putting his arm around the old man’s shoulder and, at the last, encircling Remy in his warm approval.
Jack put a hand on the back of Nina’s chair, ignoring the forbidden zone she thought she had established. “Did you see him giving Remy the eye when he came in?” Nina shook her head, drank. “In all the time I’ve known her, I’ve never seen her dressed like that. Maybe she thinks now that she’s on top she doesn’t have to follow the usual rules.”
“Admit she looks cute,” Nina teased him halfheartedly. She focused on the mayor. “Why is it that politicians turn everything into a speech?” she griped, wanting to go home. Jack steered her over to the food table and helped her from the china serving dishes to slab pâtés, breads, and sweets, all of which went onto a paper plate modeled after popular French hand-painted dishes.
As she ate, she wondered. This was home to him, the dark woods and leather smells mingled with bright talk and laughter. Did he feel the old life here drawing to an end? With Remy leaving and Klaus, at least for the moment, laid low, Jack remained the bulwark. That must bother him. He had always represented one pole, the idealistic and often impractical role. Louis represented another, cold professionalism. Would they ever reproduce that rich nuance of discussion Klaus and Remy took with them? Would this firm ever again feel as full-bodied?
Rick Halpern and Barry Tzanck stood beside Remy now, lifting their glasses in a toast. She had her head low and her mouth in a half smile. She harbored no regrets, that Nina did not doubt, watching Jack’s eyes riveting on Remy.
Paul arrived late. He found Jack and Nina and raised his hand to wipe a smear of pâté from her cheek. He said hello briefly, then grabbed Nina for a surprise kiss, whispering, “Merry Christmas,” and biting her ear before heading off toward Remy. Nina, who felt as red-hot as the cherry tart she had been nibbling, fought an idiotic impulse to march after him and demand more kissing. “Hnf,” she said, noticing belatedly how annoyed Jack appeared.
“And yet you like the guy.”
They watched as Paul kissed several women on the cheek, squeezing waists, making his way toward Remy.
“I’m not the only one,” Nina said. “Not that I care.”
“At the risk of sounding obvious,” Jack said, “you have to be careful around Paul. I say that even though I hate the guy.”
Nina nodded, feeling Jack’s eyes studying her.
By ten o’clock, people had begun to leave, first the well-wishers who had come for the single contact with Remy or Klaus. They left satisfied. Then the mayor left along with all the judges. A rock band began to play and people started to dance.
Jack wandered off for a drink. Nina stood alone in a corner by the file cabinets, waiting for the editor of the Carmel Pine Cone, who had promised some time ago to bring her another drink. She saw Klaus wave a radiant, smiling Remy into his office. He shut the door behind them.
Nina went over to Jack, who seemed to be shouting at Paul. The two men had squared off. She couldn’t hear what they were saying. Paul listened while Jack spoke, his thin lips tight. Jack made a point, and she liked the way his hairy wrist and big hand swooped through the air as he advanced his thesis. He was too theoretical, she thought, or maybe she herself had suppressed that impractical quality since Bob was born. Maybe she didn’t like others enjoying the luxury. Apparently, Paul didn’t either.
“Bullshit,” she heard him say. “C’mon, Jack. Let’s save this discussion. This is a party.”
Away from the band, they picked at the food table while almost everyone else was dancing in the courtyard, these two good-looking men, Jack with his thick, long hair and his brown sweater embroidered in reindeer, and Paul tall and angular as a Bergman actor. Before Nina could respond to the way Paul put his arm around her as she approached, and as she read Jack’s reaction and got ready for an explosion between Jack and Paul that would blow the party to smithereens, they all heard Klaus’s door open. They turned as a unit and watched his grizzled head appear as he moved into the hallway, looking very sick. Remy was right behind him.
Elise rushed forward. Klaus allowed himself to slump a little on her strong shoulders. “We’re going home now,” Elise said, steering her husband through the crowd. They moved smoothly through the ranks of partygoers, Elise fending off well-wishers. She and Klaus disappeared into the white Jaguar out on the driveway in front of the office.
Remy also passed them, taking their hands firmly, holding Paul’s and Jack’s at the same time until Jack pulled his away. “Take care, Jack,” she whispered to him. She kissed him. “Don’t forget you loved me once. Or even twice.” She smiled a wicked smile.
“Good night, Detective van Wagoner,” she said to Paul with a wave. He reddened at this casual treatment.
To Nina, she blew a kiss.
Nina said it for the three of them as Remy walked away from them: “It’s hitting Klaus hard, Remy’s going. He looked like this was the end of the world.”
“‘A woman from nowhere comes and burns you like wax,’” said Jack, watching Remy leave. “To quote Jeffers.”
Paul said, “Got to get back to the station. I’m filling in tonight. The holidays are our busiest season. Merry
Christmas, Nina, Jack. I hope a better year is ahead for all of us.” His little speech didn’t stop the ugly flush that had risen up his neck when Remy left.
“Thanks, Paul,” Nina said, grateful that even if Paul was pissed off, he had given her something to look at other than Jack, hangdog, staring after another woman. When Paul left and Jack had some time to recover himself, she said, “I wanted to leave early, and here I am, one of those guests who stays and stays.”
“Let’s make the most of it. Dance?” They went outside and danced on the cold, moonlit flagstones until the band started to pack up their gear. “I’ll get our coats,” offered Jack. He left her alone to wonder if he expected to come home with her.
Astrid bumbled over, draped over Griffin. “Hey, Nina,” she articulated carefully. “Amazing Nina. You do it all, the mom, the worker, the student. How you doing?”
“Muddling along.”
“You’re so brave.”
“Thanks, Astrid.”
“Okay, well,” she said, wobbling. “Bye for tonight. Happy hols and all. We do seem to see each other on hols, don’t we? Remember Halloween?” Astrid fingered Griffin’s ear. “Secretly skilled, I plied my needle and thread for her.”
“I do.” Nina smiled. “You were typing up that paperwork in a horrible rush but managed to make a four-year-old a very happy pirate—”
And, as if a well had turned upside down on her, Nina suddenly felt drowned. “Astrid, that paperwork you were finishing the day of Bob’s party. Where would I find it?”
Astrid shrugged, then gave Griffin a sloppy kiss. “In the dead files, I guess, up in the attic? Or possibly—I saw some copies of paperwork about your mom when I took the waste can out back yesterday. Just copies, I’m sure,” she said, recovering herself just enough to realize how rude she sounded.
Jack returned with their coats. Nina took hers gratefully.
“Can I offer you a ride?”
“Thanks, Jack, not tonight.”
He frowned. “Did I say something? Drink too much? Act like an ass?”
“No, no, you’re perfect. Now go home.” She nudged him with her hip, and to her surprise, he loped off toward his car without protest.
Probably tired, she decided, heading out into the fog.
Planted behind the small office building, behind a latched hatch intended to keep the raccoons at bay, the Dumpster sat, as usual not latched, overstuffed, damp.
Nina decided to make piles: to dump; not to dump without examination; and to definitely save.
A half hour or so later, all the lights went out in the building. Sopping wet but indifferent, she had three huge piles to look at with the small flash she kept on her key ring. An overhang on the back edge of the building left a dry spot where she sat examining any bags that looked promising.
Another half hour passed before she found it.
The letter to Wu. Neatly stuck into a fresh manila folder, creased, dripping, and greasy.
Nina tossed the rest of the bags back into the Dumpster, then walked quickly to her car, puzzling over the papers. Reading brought it all back in a flood, her mother, her mother’s sickness, her mother’s pain. She stopped under a streetlight to read again and felt a different rush entirely, this time a rush of apprehension and horror. It was all right there at the top of the letter.
CHAPTER 48
PAUL LEFT THE PARTY EARLY NOT BECAUSE HE HAD TO WORK, but because he found himself holding a drink to his lips, smelling the sweetness of bourbon, touching the icy sweat on the glass. If he drank that, he’d keep on and on and make an complete asshole out of himself among the wrong people.
He climbed into his Jeep, parked just outside in a convenient spot. A ticket flapped like a sick sparrow on the windshield.
So no more climbing with Jack. He would never get over that little scene at the condo. So much for all those years of friendship.
All worth the loss, so long as he had her. He wanted, really wanted, to get drunk and wild and violent and then to go find her. He was more secure about his appeal than just about any other guy he knew, but with her there was no security for anyone. She was an existential abyss; yeah, you could never know anything. The way she acted—aloof, this icy intellectuality—her delicate, slender body—this insanity in bed, this complete abandonment where all kinds of things happened, from sobbing to the heat, heat like only a woman who was so pent-up the explosion was imminent could have—
He called her. He got her machine. He left her a message, asking her—telling her—to call him.
He knew a lively bar on Ocean Avenue. The Enea brothers had once owned it. Who knew who owned the place now. Inside, the lineup at the bar was laughing and loud and having a good time. He had that bourbon after all. Then he had a brandy. Ordered another one. Now he was grinning, too, but it wasn’t a happy grin. He wanted to take one of those women away from her partner and lean her against the bar and paw her like a fucking mountain lion. A couple of them were receiving his vibes, too, casting glances, as drunk as he was getting.
He had reached danger territory.
He couldn’t stop the thoughts, the blood thrashing in his veins. Wounded by Laura, he had limped from one trap into another. She was bleeding him like a medieval doctor. He wrote her off in his mind; then he resigned himself to being her slave. Would she be home by now?
He went to his car, breathing the night air deeply as if it could pierce the wadding of his mind. The cop part of his mind estimated he was at .16, double the legal alcohol limit. He could lose his job. He took it slow, but not too slow, and concentrated hard through eyes that weren’t working quite right.
As he drove along the beach drive toward Remy’s place, he went over the apology he would make. He would tell her he was sorry about being such an asshole at the party, because he had been. He had seen her there in the middle of all those men, charged up, empowered by their groveling, and it had made him crazy, a small word for those feelings, that machine-gun fury. Flirts, kisses—regret nothing, eh, Remy?
So many women were like that these days, jealous of their prerogatives, fierce defenders of their independence. It didn’t mean they wanted to be alone. What they wanted was to hate the guy afterward. But meantime, they still wanted it, all of it. That was his real fear. He knew her almighty pride—pride or arrogance or insecurity, what did it matter?—might not allow her to forgive him.
Tough. She didn’t have to forgive him, she just had to have sex with him. That would not be a problem, if he could get close to her.
It all had begun so casually, with the unexpected invitation to ride along with her to Sacramento, light and free, almost a joke on Jack, but not quite, because his own attraction, the post-Laura emptiness, made him agree. That night, when she whispered a few words and gave him her back, pushing her skirt up over her nakedness—the jungle of her bed and cries in the darkness catapulted him into a new phase, a fierce one, numb to blows and friendship. She wound around him, into him.
Another night, later, walking to his car at dawn, banished from the flurry of white sheets and that smell that made him want to eat her alive, he began to recognize the immensity of his error. Look at the way he had treated his oldest friend like shit over her. How about considering his incipient attraction to Nina? Look at the garble he had made of his cases, due to her distraction. He barely cared about his work anymore. He was the rogue elephant tromping through the forests, destroying small villages without thought.
Over the knowledge that he should not be involved with her, his deepest worry imposed itself: he didn’t like the way Remy had said good-bye to him earlier. He knew what she wanted from him—absolute loyalty. She needed to command him, like everyone else. He’d balked.
And now she seemed to be blowing him off. But he was going to bring her back into himself. Cage her. Make her shut up.
One day Remy described to him a time in court when the opposing counsel had bested her on a simple point of law. She would never forget the public humiliation, she told him, emp
hasizing the word public, her eyes like bullets. He had seen her like that again tonight.
He was not invited to her home. He was about to break their tacit rule. Yeah. Fine.
She better be alone.
CHAPTER 49
NINA LEFT THE OFFICE FAST. RUNNING TO HER CAR, SHE unlocked it with fumbling fingers and flew down the road, questions popping like blood vessels in her brain. The car heat kicked in, but she didn’t stop shivering for the few blocks it took to reach Scenic Drive and Remy’s house. She parked on the ocean side of the street, deserted at this hour, under a white streetlight that neatly mimicked the moon hovering above.
She knocked. After a long time the porch light came on. The door opened, and Remy stood before her, backlit, wearing white now, a silk nightgown with ruffles and tie and God knew what else, all a mystery to Nina, who wore tank tops and bikini panties to bed. Remy’s legs were lean and her knees had just the right bony look. It occurred to Nina, as she greeted Remy and walked into her living room, that a man might be expected. But they seemed to be alone.
“Sit down.” Remy’s voice was soft. Nina heard her own breath coming out in rough gasps. “Can I get you something?” Now Remy openly studied Nina, languorous hand touching one hip.
“I found my mother’s file. You shouldn’t have thrown it away. We have rules about that.”
Remy looked down at her pink toenails. When she looked up again, Nina saw a face flash she’d never seen before, hard and skeletal, then the old Remy, slightly interested looking, returned. “We have rules, you’re right about that. You were hunting for that? Why?”
“Something was wrong.”
“You couldn’t leave it alone. I know that feeling.” Remy was nodding. “So?”
“I want you to get dressed and come with me to talk to Paul.”
Show No Fear Page 30
