Ted couldn’t shake the feeling that his life had been invaded. This man, or other persons unknown, had gone to a lot of trouble—possibly even followed him on previous occasions—to impress on him the idea that he should be frightened. Well, it had worked.
That night, he couldn’t sleep. The giant’s voice continued to whisper, like a cold wind through a cracked window. Ted’s brain, both exhausted and energized, would not stop. Old movies didn’t help. Ted needed the reassurance that there was some structure in the universe, some standard of continuity, something he could rely on. He needed a Law & Order all-night marathon.
“Objection. Leading the witness. You should have called that one, McCoy. You’re slipping,” he said, providing his own legal commentary.
It was coming up on one in the morning. He was to meet Lester at the courthouse in a few hours for the foreclosure auctions. Showing up red-eyed and dopey wasn’t going to cut it.
The jury came in with a guilty verdict. Surprise. McCoy won. McCoy may have been a semicloseted liberal, but the show’s true bias was always evident. The credits rolled at super speed, and the next episode began.
A pair of young lovers walked a lonely street in the West Village. They laughed together. Kissed. There was the sound of a moan from behind a dumpster. The girl screamed. Ted hit the mute button. He had watched the same episode the week before.
Ted reached for his cell phone. “Hey, Siri. Call Jill.”
The phone rang four times, and he was surprised when it was Jill who answered and not her voice mail.
“You’re up,” he said.
“You too.”
“What are you watching?”
“Something with Olivia de Havilland. I came in in the middle. It’s good. I think. You?”
“My hero.”
“Jack McCoy. You must have had a hard day.”
“Is Jackie back?” Part of him wanted to blurt out all of his growing suspicions. Hey, Jill, I think your wife is scamming some old lady out of her property. And helping those jerks build that ugly skyscraper in Corona. He filed the urge under Old Resentments with all the other poisons. They were more likely to kill him than to lead to any greater understanding of what was really going on.
“You know she doesn’t like that name.” Jill didn’t put any energy behind it. “She’s pissed at me.” If there was any part of her that felt sad or troubled, she didn’t let it show.
“And me,” Ted said, though he could not remember a time when Jacqueline Clavette had not been angry with him. She had resented his early success when they both worked for the family firm, she resented his prehistory with her wife, and she resented his friendship with Jill now.
“I’m sorry,” Jill said, surprising him.
“No, my fault entirely. I shouldn’t have put you in the middle.” He let her have a moment for that to soak in. “Hey. Do you remember that guy you thought was following us the other night? The big guy at the game.”
“What?”
“A big, ugly, bald-headed guy. You tried to point him out to me.”
“I did?”
He could hear the television on her end. The Dark Mirror. Late forties. De Havilland played twins. “You don’t remember?”
“Is it important?” She must have heard some urgency in his voice, because her voice became more animated, more engaged.
It was late. “It’s all right. Forget it.”
“What are you doing up?”
“I couldn’t sleep. I have some things on my mind.” If he continued with this case, he was going to have to tell her at some point. And he was going to continue.
“How was the game?”
“You didn’t watch?”
“I cooked.”
“You didn’t miss much.” What would he tell her? That a double-door refrigerator in a suit had shown up and made threats? Or that he suspected Jackie was a candidate for disbarment, if not prison?
He couldn’t tell her. Not tonight. Maybe he was wrong. Being wrong would be good.
“Jacqueline’s away again next Thursday,” she said.
“Mets are on the road. Pittsburgh and then out west.”
“I’ll check the schedule. We’ll find a night.” Her voice softened with concern. “Get some sleep. You sound . . .”
“Stressed?”
“Worried.”
“I’m good. Good night, Jill.”
And as his thumb came down on the big red dot, Ted thought he heard her whisper, “Love you.”