The rest of the weekend passed in a walking nightmare. Awake, I was sick with myself as images of my misogyny burned across my eyes. Asleep, I loathed everyone else. I would sit on my bed sweating and shaking, but with rage, not fear. Then shock, when faces of those whose spirits I tortured and murdered flooded my initial wakefulness. There were no sacred cows. Not even my dead wife. My stomach would turn with shame, humiliation, and guilt, then the whole cycle would repeat. Julius’s Friday morning lecture sang like Muzak, awake and asleep.
By Sunday night my upheaval slowed enough for me to think as well as ride. It was sad and ironic; Boots wasn’t one of my dream victims. I couldn’t allow myself the idleness of the damned, I had to face her and face her honestly. And not just her. I had too much spinning to pull an ostrich now. Julie had been pretty accurate. Although I might not have to do it all, I sure had to do a fuck of a lot more than I was accustomed to. Only I wasn’t going to do it the way I did Friday night. Out of control, to people who didn’t deserve it.
When the phone rang early Monday morning I didn’t mistake it for an alarm, doorbell, or institutional siren. I knew it was the telephone and I woke instantly. I groped for my cigarettes, and realized my sleep hadn’t been littered with other bodies. The ringing phone had provided relief because the few corpses there were resembled me.
The relief was short-lived. Boots’ voice was flat and businesslike. “I tried to reach you during the weekend.”
“I wasn’t answering the phone.”
“No surprise.”
There was a long silence. It was my turn and I knew it. “I would like to talk.”
“So talk.” Her tone stayed flat.
“Not on the phone. I would like to see you. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, or anything between.”
“Maybe a between.” There was a note of hesitancy in her voice.
“Today?”
“Today?” Now there was genuine surprise.
“Yes. I don’t want this to sit. Of course if you want to wait, I’ll respect that.”
“Please, let’s not talk about respect. I can make it today. I’m just surprised by your sudden interest in talking.”
I ignored the sarcasm that replaced her uncertainty. I was due a lot worse than sarcasm. “Where would you like to meet?”
“My choice this time, is it?”
I kept quiet.
“Okay Matt, why don’t we meet at the wharf at four.”
“That’s fine. Where at the wharf?”
“I don’t know. What’s big down there? We can just meet in front of the Aquarium.”
My stomach jerked and I grunted.
“What’s the matter, changing your mind?”
“No. The Aquarium reminded me of something, that’s all.”
“What?”
“I’ll tell you later.” Our meeting place also reminded me of the favor I never got around to asking for on Friday.
Her voice interrupted my thoughts. “Why are you so quiet?”
“I don’t know,” I lied, “just spacing out.”
Her voice suddenly got harsh. “You better fucking show up.” Before I could reply I heard the line go dead.
I felt impatient to get on with the day but the time limped by until I could reach Simon at work. I barely coughed before I got his, “Where the hell have you been? Are you working for me, or what?”
“I thought you were going to leave me alone and I was going to call you. Well, I’m calling.”
His voice did a 180. “You have new information?”
“It sounds as though you had a rough weekend.”
Simon sounded very far away. “I’m in Siberia again. Do you have something?”
“Not yet and probably never will. Why are you in the other room?”
“Her nightmares are getting worse and she’s ashamed for me to see her like that.” His voice was flat and empty of any emotion. I wondered if Fran was afraid of volunteering something she didn’t want Simon to hear. Maybe her affairs were finally catching up with her.
Simon broke into my thoughts. “I know I’m supposed to keep my hands off, but are you working?”
“I didn’t this weekend but I will this week. That’s what I want to talk to you about.” I was surprised at my honesty.
Simon’s voice was strained. “Nothing over the weekend?”
“I was busy.”
“Busy? With what, a house repair?”
“No. I spent some time with Boots. Why didn’t you tell me about her sugar daddy?”
His voice lost a little of its bite. “What’s to tell? He’s old and harmless and she lives good. Does it matter?”
“Probably not. But what was all the matchmaking shit about?”
“I don’t think Boots’ friend poses an insurmountable obstacle.”
“Think or hope?”
He chuckled. “Look, according to you, all this is irrelevant.”
I knew what he wanted but I wasn’t going to give it to him. “I just don’t like surprises.”
“Was it a good weekend?” He sounded curious. At least his annoyance was disappearing.
“Sure.” No amount of reformation was going to make me completely honest.
“Great.” I could hear the topic hit the floor. “You said you wanted to talk business, Matt man, what is it?”
I took a deep breath. “I want to talk money.”
“Money?”
I took another breath. “Yeah. I need money for this work.”
“I don’t see the problem. Keep track and charge me.”
“I want to charge more than our usual rate.”
“Why?” He didn’t sound antagonistic.
“Because I have to pay Charles to cover the house for me.” The weekend had left me too aware of my tendency to exploit those around me. Mrs. Sullivan’s quiet light was testimony that Charles had done enough unpaid labor. “The research work is different. I can set my own timetable. Now I don’t have that luxury.”
“It sure seems like you do.”
I chuckled politely. “What do you charge an hour?”
His laugh sounded more genuine than mine. “Get serious. I’m not going to pay you that.”
“Why not?”
“It’s way too much.”
The same thing Dr. James told me. Apparently professional identities come equipped with full commitment to financial superiority. “The usual is too little.” I could feel myself grow stubborn unnecessarily.
“That I accept. It’s the amount we’re negotiating.”
“Don’t lawyer me, Simon. I don’t want to negotiate. I don’t have a clue about what a real private investigator makes. You would know that better than I.”
“Why do you think I hire you?”
“Funny guy. I’m serious; what’s the real going rate?” He named a figure higher than I had imagined. Maybe he did hire me to save money. If the rate he quoted was significantly less than what he made, Simon was pulling in a bundle. At least I didn’t need to feel guilty about my request. “That seems okay to me if it is to you.”
There was a moment’s hesitation before he said, “I’m not worried about the money. That’s fine, but I am worried about whether you’ll do the work. Did you ask Boots if she could trace the car?”
“Simon, we had other things to discuss.”
I thought he was going to get angry but he just laughed and said, “That’s okay this time, but only this time.” The laughter left his voice, “I want that information. Do you need any money up front?”
“No. I’ll let you know.”
He began to say something but I recognized what was coming and cut him off. “I will let you know if anything is worth knowing. But what’s really going to happen is you’ll pay more for the same results.”
“You just do the work. That’s what I’m paying for. I know you can’t guarantee results.” He stopped and let out a long sigh, “Jesus, Matt, sometimes I really miss the old days. Things seemed so much easier.”
I kept bringing out the Sixties in Simon. “They weren’t any easier, Simon, we just knew less.”
I promised to keep in touch and we hung up. Two down, one to go. I expected the answering machine but got a human. “This is Dr. James, who’s calling, please?”
“It’s Matthew Jacob, Gloria. I’m calling to apologize for making an ass of myself on the phone the other night. I was wondering if we might have lunch?” Spontaneous me, I hadn’t expected to ask her out.
“When are you thinking of?” She sounded amenable.
“I don’t know. Today?” I certainly hadn’t planned that.
“I can’t make a regular lunch but I could do a late breakfast.” She paused, then asked, “Isn’t it a little early for you to be up?”
“You don’t forget much, do you?”
“As you’re quite aware.”
For a moment I wasn’t quite sure what my mouth had gotten me into. I pulled myself back into the conversation. “Sure, a late breakfast will be fine. Where and when?”
She told me and we rang off. I had an hour to kill. Plenty of time for a little dope and a chat with Charles.