1

The one person Pace could think of that he wanted to see and whom he believed would understand his state of mind following the bizarre and highly unsettling events of the past few months was Marnie Kowalski. Marnie lived in New Orleans, and during his first few weeks back in the city in which he’d grown up, after his divorce from Rhoda Gombowicz, Pace and Marnie had been lovers; but their mutual saving grace was that they had become good friends into the bargain and remained close despite the waning of their short-lived romantic entanglement. Pace trusted Marnie and he knew she trusted him, so it was to Marnie Pace turned in his most recent of darkest hours.

“Pace, it’s so good to hear your voice. I’m glad you’re callin’ ’cause I’ve thought of you often since you moved to North Carolina. How’re things, darlin’?”

“Marnie, you know I’ve seen and gone through some more than passin’ strange episodes in my life but lately there’ve been several goin’s on have about got me puzzled as to God’s plan.”

Marnie laughed and said, “Pace, honey, you of all people know He ain’t never had one. Don’t give me any details ’til you get here. You are comin’ to see me, aren’t you? Isn’t that why you’re callin’ now? Not that you’d ever have to phone first, you know.”

“Thanks, Marnie, yes. It’s good you’re still so prescient about most things. I’d like to get back to N.O. for a little while and I was hopin’ you’d be up for takin’ me in. If anything, Bay St. Clement ain’t turned out to be any more peaceful than anywhere else. I’m writin’, though, and that seems to be pretty much holdin’ my mind together. What about you?”

“I opened a bakery over on St. Philip. Goin’ pretty good so far. I call it Kowalski’s Cake & Pie Company. Open from five A.M. ’til two P.M.; then I go swimmin’ at the Y. What’re you writin’?”

“The story of Sailor and Lula; it’s a novel.”

“Can’t wait to read it, babe. When you comin’?”

“It’ll take me a couple of days to close up the houses and pay some bills. I’ll drive over once that’s done. Now you got me thinkin’ about your lemon meringue pie. Nobody in N.O. besides you could ever get it to come out right.”

“People don’t understand the weather here like I do, that’s why. It’s the weather affects the bakin’. Well, this is Sunday, so I’ll be expectin’ you around Thursday. If I’m not at the house I’ll probably be at the bakery, corner of St. Philip and Burgundy.”

“Thanks, Marnie. You know I love you to death.”

“Love you to death, too, Pace. Drive careful.”

Pace hung up. The last time he’d seen her, Marnie was living with two rescued and supposedly rehabilitated pit bulls she’d named Milk and Honey. She had a boyfriend, too, an ex-Navy Seal—Bigger or Digger, Marnie called him, Pace couldn’t remember. He wondered if that guy was still around. Marnie hadn’t mentioned him.

Pace was not entirely certain that he should be leaving at all, but he did feel the need to create some distance for himself from the killings and reprehensible behavior of Rapunzelina Pasternak Cruz. Where she had gone Pace did not know and did not want to know. Perhaps she would make it to the Congo one of these days and do some good for mankind like she hoped, though Pace had his doubts.

The night before he left for N.O., Rapunzelina appeared to Pace in a dream. She was naked, adorned only by numerous bracelets on each arm, rings on every one of her fingers and indecipherable tattoos on her breasts. Punzy extended her arms toward him, turned upward the palms of her hands and said, “Do not forgive me. The river is mine and I have made it.”