TWENTY

Morgan stared out the window on the passenger side of Fitz’s car. In the moonlight it was possible to see the bay, its water dark and shining, but Morgan wasn’t focusing on the view.

‘What are you thinking?’ Fitz asked.

Morgan shook her head.

‘I thought he was saying that Claire probably did make a false confession,’ said Fitz encouragingly.

‘He was a little hard to pin down,’ said Morgan.

‘Still, it’s a hopeful sign, right?’

‘It’s better than nothing,’ she said.

They rode along in silence for a few moments. Then Fitz said, ‘How long are you going to stay around here? I mean, don’t you have classes for your PhD or something?’

Morgan was faintly surprised to realize that he knew that much about her. ‘I’m supposed to be in England right now, doing research for my thesis. In fact, I was in the airport, ready to board a flight to Heathrow when Claire called.’

‘That’s a bummer.’

‘Well, my . . . boyfriend wasn’t too happy that he had to cancel all the hotels and everything. He was going to try and get the money back.’

‘Your boyfriend was going with you?’ Fitz asked.

Inwardly Morgan cringed, knowing that Simon would never describe himself as her boyfriend. It sounded like they were teenagers instead of . . . What exactly were they, she thought? She felt discouraged when she thought about Simon. He had not called her back to ask about Claire. Although he probably didn’t want to bother her. He was probably waiting for her to call him. ‘Simon lives there actually,’ said Morgan. ‘He’s a poet and he lives in London.’

Fitz was silent.

Morgan glanced over at him. ‘What?’ she said.

Fitz shrugged. ‘Just thinking that it was a lot to give up. Most people wouldn’t do that for a friend.’

In the darkness of the car, Morgan blushed at the compliment. ‘Claire would do it for me,’ Morgan said firmly. ‘Besides, I’m not giving it up. I’m just postponing it.’

Fitz drove with one hand on the wheel, looking casual. ‘Are you in a hurry to get back? I live just up there. Next right.’

‘I know where you live.’ Morgan said, and the hostile outcome of their encounter at his house seemed to hover in the air between them.

But if Fitz had any remorse about how that visit had turned out, Morgan could see no evidence of it on his face. ‘Right,’ he said. ‘Well, you want to come over for a drink or something?’

Morgan frowned. She felt grateful to him for taking her to meet Professor Douglas, but she didn’t want him to think that she was interested in a relationship. That possibility was off the table, and going to his place for a drink would surely give him the wrong impression. ‘Thanks,’ said Morgan, ‘but not tonight. It has been a long day. I’m really exhausted . . .’

‘OK, all right,’ said Fitz. ‘I’ll just run you back to Guy’s place.’

‘Thanks,’ said Morgan.

Fitz nodded. ‘No problem.’ There was an awkward silence between them. ‘So,’ he said at last, ‘what do you do next? Do you think you can get your hands on that tape of Claire’s confession?’

‘I don’t know,’ she admitted. ‘There’s no use in asking the police.’

‘None,’ he agreed.

‘And I don’t think that Claire’s attorney has any interest in pursuing this idea of a false confession.’

‘Not from what Professor Douglas said,’ said Fitz.

‘I think I’m going to have to insist that Claire get a criminal attorney. I mean, Noreen Quick did generously offer her services to Claire pro bono, and I was grateful for that. I think Noreen wanted the case because it is so high profile. But that may not be in Claire’s best interest. I probably should have just hired a criminal attorney in the first place. Her former fiancé even offered to pay for it,’ said Morgan.

Fitz frowned. ‘Who? That dot-commer that she dumped for Guy?’

Morgan nodded. ‘Sandy Raymond.’

‘Why would he pay for it?’ Fitz asked.

‘I don’t know,’ said Morgan. ‘He was worried about her.’

‘That seems a little bizarre,’ said Fitz.

Morgan glanced over at him. ‘You seem to find it odd when anybody tries to help a friend.’

‘No,’ he said indignantly. ‘Not at all.’

As soon as she had said it, Morgan regretted it. He had been a true, longtime friend to Guy, and she knew that losing him had wounded Fitz terribly, despite his jaunty appearance to the contrary. ‘I didn’t mean that. I know you were a great friend to Guy.’

‘It’s hard to picture my life without Guy in it,’ Fitz admitted.

‘How long were you two friends?’ Morgan asked.

Fitz frowned, and Morgan saw that his eyes were glistening. He cleared his throat. ‘I don’t know. A long time. We met when we were kids. His mother – his real mother – and my mother were friends from some group they belonged to. There was a rodeo in Jersey somewhere and they decided to take us. Cowtown, it was called. It was a long drive. We spent the night there at some dinky motel but we thought it was great. Oh man, did we love that. Bronco busters and bull riders. Fantastic. That was the first time I met Guy. And Lucy. God, poor Lucy.’ He chuckled.

‘Why do you say that?’ Morgan asked.

‘Oh, I remember she wanted these red cowboy chaps. Nothing else would do and finally her mother bought them for her. They looked so comical on her . . .’ Fitz shook his head. ‘Guy and I teased her without mercy.’

‘Making fun of a child with a handicap? Fond memories indeed,’ said Morgan stiffly.

‘Lucy’s not handicapped,’ Fitz protested.

‘She suffers from some kind of genetic syndrome,’ said Morgan.

‘I know, but come on. She’s a little different, but she’s always seemed normal to me. Besides, we weren’t making fun of Lucy. We were making fun of the chaps. Because they were stupid. The truth was that with those little glasses and her hair flying every which way and those crazy little chaps, she looked kind of cute. But that’s what older brothers do. They tease you.’

‘I happen to know that Lucy has never forgiven Guy for his cruelty.’

‘Cruelty?’

‘What do you call it?’ Morgan asked.

‘Treating her like a little sister is what I call it,’ he said. ‘Paying attention to her. Making her laugh. Hell, I can still make her laugh if I mention those chaps.’

‘That’s what people do when they’re being bullied. They laugh. They try to pretend they don’t care,’ Morgan said.

Fitz jerked the car to a halt. His jaw was set. Morgan looked around and they had pulled up in front of the cottage.

‘Fine,’ Fitz said. ‘You would obviously know better than me. Guy and I were a couple of bullies.’

Now that they were back, Morgan dreaded going inside the cottage. And she felt faintly guilty for criticizing Fitz when he had tried to help her tonight. ‘Look, I wasn’t there. Maybe she didn’t mind being teased about the chaps. I just know that Lucy still thinks very badly of Guy. She told me that her brother was mean and didn’t care about other people’s feelings.’

‘If you say so,’ he said.

‘I’m not judging you, Fitz. I’m just telling you what she said about Guy. I’m sorry if it sounded like I was accusing you. I’m so stressed out by everything.’

‘Right,’ he said.

It suddenly seemed important to Morgan to make amends. ‘Do you . . . would you want to come in for a while?’

‘I better get home and get some rest. I’m taking ten seniors to a wrestling clinic for a couple of days,’ he said curtly.

Morgan was surprised at the disappointment she suddenly felt. ‘Really? Where’s that going to be?’

‘Westchester,’ said Fitz.

‘Sounds like fun,’ she said.

‘Kids always enjoy it,’ said Fitz.

Morgan opened the car door and started to get out. She looked back at him. ‘Thanks for telling me about Professor Douglas. And for taking me to see him. I really do appreciate it. And I didn’t mean to insult you. I’m sorry if it sounded that way.’

Fitz nodded. ‘No problem,’ he said without looking at her.

The moment Morgan slammed the door, he pulled away from the curb, and didn’t look back.

She took a quick bath, and went to bed in the guest room. She was asleep before she knew it. A tinny, singing voice awakened her and she groped for the light, and for her phone on the night table. She felt utterly disoriented, and when she looked at the time, she understood why. It was four thirty in the morning. Her first thought was of Claire, and fear coursed through her. She had called the hospital before she went to bed, and her condition was unchanged. But anything could have happened in the interim.

‘Yes, hello,’ Morgan managed to gasp out, trying to sound as if she wasn’t fast asleep when the phone rang.

‘Morgan,’ said a cheerful voice.

It took her a moment. ‘Simon?’ she said.

‘Yes. I felt I had to call you,’ he said.

Irritation warred with the pleasure she felt at the fact of his call. ‘Simon, it’s four thirty in the morning here,’ she said.

‘Oh, God, of course it is,’ said Simon. ‘I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.’

Morgan closed her eyes. He just forgot, she thought. ‘What is it?’ she asked, trying to sound somewhat less surly. After all, she had been hoping he would call.

‘Well, we just arrived and I have to tell you, this place is fantastic. You are really going to love it when you finally get here. It is exquisite.’

‘What place?’ she mumbled. ‘Where are you?’

‘I’m at the hotel. The Manor. You know, where we were planning to stay?’

‘What are you doing there?’ Morgan asked, confused.

‘Well, they refused to return the deposit. Absolutely refused. I admit I was a little bit steamed at first, but then I decided it would be foolish to just waste the money,’ he said.

Morgan was silent for a moment. ‘You’re at our hotel?’ she said. ‘You went without me?’ She heard her own voice sounding possessive, pathetic. She wished she could take the words back.

‘We just arrived and they are going to set us up in the breakfast room. It looks out over the most gorgeous formal gardens . . .’

‘We . . .?’ said Morgan.

‘Oh, my friend, Tim, and I,’ said Simon offhandedly. ‘He’s a chap I know from the literary magazines. I asked him to come along.’

Morgan’s first impulse was to be glad that Simon was with a man. Not another woman. And then Claire’s words came back to her. Why hadn’t he ever made a move on her? Why would he take a man to this most romantic of hotels? Was she kidding herself after all? Was this Tim a friend, or was it something else? Her heart felt small, dark and dense, like a peach pit. Ask him, she thought. Settle this, for once and for all. But she knew that she wouldn’t. It was too demeaning to have to ask.

‘You called to tell me that you went without me,’ she said flatly. ‘Gee, thanks.’

Simon was silent at his end. Finally he sighed and said, ‘Perhaps that wasn’t the thing to do.’

Morgan looked at the time again and made up her mind. Normally, she might have stayed on the line, hoping he would say something that she could cling to, as proof that he did indeed have fond feelings for her. Somehow, tonight, that seemed too little to hope for. ‘Perhaps not,’ she said, and pressed a button to end the call.