38. Sitting on My Ratty Love Seat

When I come back to my apartment around noon to walk Gomer, Koob is sitting on my ratty love seat. He’s helped himself to a glass of water that’s sitting on the table in front of him. There’s no sign of his disguise.

“Sometime I’d like to know how you pick a dead bolt,” I say to him.

“The same way you opened the locks on my storage cage,” he answers. “Just a little more force.”

“Point taken,” I answer. I tell him he looks better this way and he shrugs.

“How did your client do?” he asks. “I thought she was excellent while I was with her. Was the FBI happy overall?”

I think about being evasive, but Koob would lose the benefit of his deal with the Feds if he tipped Ritz. And I still believe he wouldn’t break his word to me.

“What made you so sure it was the Bureau?” I ask. “The hearing aids?”

“The two instruments were different weights. Very subtle. But I was pretty certain there was a transmitter in one. I assume that was a late addition to their equipment roster after we came to our arrangement. Also, I saw the closed-circuit camera on Madison moving down to focus on us. I had no idea that the FBI was able to share that feed. Very clever.”

“It looked like you got your money?”

“We did. But you didn’t answer. Was the FBI pleased?”

“They seemed over the moon. They were walking around high-fiving each other, and the Assistant US Attorney who was there wanted us to tell the Chief she was ‘superb.’ But I have no clue what they’re planning now or how any of what the Chief got him to say fits in. Ritz asked a lot of questions about Blanco’s death. Nothing Ritz said would convict him, but it would help corroborate other evidence, at least a little.”

“Is there other evidence?”

I shake my head resolutely, deliberately unclear about exactly what I mean.

“As far as I heard,” I say, “you’re in the clear, if that’s what you want to know.”

“No, I took that for granted. I imagine they were delighted with me when Ritz tucked all that equipment in his pocket. I just came by to see you before I left.”

“Okay,” I say, but I finally sit down on the love seat beside him.

“You know,” he says, “one reason I did not mind returning to Highland Isle was because I was not happy with the way I left things with you in Pittsburgh.”

“And why was that?”

“Your remarks about Mel.” He means his wife. “I think you feel I was lying to you while I was here.”

“I don’t know about lying,” I say. “But I’m not sure you understand what you actually want. Men always say women are crazy. You should hear what they’ve said about me. But if your wife is as off the hook as you claim, I’d think you would have realized a long time ago that you deserve something better. Which makes me wonder if deep down you like living that way.”

“I would never deny that I feel guilty over the prospect of leaving. I have told you that before. But I will deal with it. She is a highly volatile woman. She lost her real estate license for a year when she poured a can of paint on another broker’s car. She can be violent. And she refuses to get any help.”

“Violent with you?”

“Frequently. And of course, I know that if I ever hit her back, who gets arrested. Right now, I need to protect my son. He gets into battles with her once a week that are so fierce I am never sure what is going to happen next, until I step in. A year from now, when he is in college, I will be freer to move on with my life.”

“Well, I hope you get what you want, Koob.”

“Clarice, I understand your skepticism about me. But our—” He waits for a word. “Our time together was very important to me. What did you say often? I do not know anyone like you. And it was a revelation in so many ways, that I felt so comfortable with you, that I looked forward so much to being with you. Call it a breakthrough, but I see my future very differently now. You are a remarkable person.”

“Thanks, but that feels like a Participation Trophy.”

“I truly mean it, Clarice. But what do you want?”

“From you?”

“From anyone.”

“Well, I’m glad you were willing to talk. I wanted that. And don’t take the wrong message from last night. I totally dug what happened between us, like you did, and I still feel passion for you and for being with you. But you know, for all my random hookups or circus sex, the one thing that’s never appealed is being the sidepiece. That means one person is in control and the other one isn’t. One person gets everything they want and the other one is settling for less. And I could never stand that.

“So, you know, a year from now, you get your life straightened out, if you want to call, sure, go ahead. I’ll see where I am. If nothing else, it would be cool to hang out with you in public. But I won’t be waiting for that. Because I don’t think that’s what’s going to happen. If you actually split with your wife, it will take you a hell of a long time to figure out what you want next, that’s just how it is. But I’ll be glad if it turns out that I was part of your process.”

“And have I been part of yours?”

“I guess. Yeah. Maybe I’m thinking about some things a little differently. I think it was net good, you and me. You know, disappointing in the end, but I haven’t had a relationship that wasn’t. Nature of the beast.”

“Nature of the beast,” he repeats.

He stands and so do I, and for a second we face each other in silence.

Then he smiles.

“Do you know what I was thinking about before you came in? Do you remember how you licked my face the first time I came over here?”

“Totally.”

“That was so wonderful. Because it was so unexpected and different. I remember feeling this spurt of joy, genuine joy, because I had summoned the courage to knock on your door and was already experiencing something, small as it was, that was completely new to me.”

He opens his arms and I rise to my toes to hug him again, a long embrace.

Then, before we entirely separate, he takes hold of my shoulders and leans in and touches his tongue quickly to my forehead. Then he goes out the door.