Page 35 (1/1)

"Maybe he was drunk," I suggested "He e and fallen asleep"

She shook her head "He didn’t drink He’d given that up"

"Did he have a problem with alcohol?" "Once upon a time, he did," she said "We met in a bar Two in the afternoon, in the middle of the week He wasn’t even travelin’ He just liked to coht then, but you knohat it’s like when you fall in love You see what you want to see It took one he was Finally I said I’d leave hiraot sobered up and that’s how he stayed"

"Is there a chance he’d gone back to drinking? It wouldn’t be unheard of"

"Not with him on Antabuse He’da been sick as a pup"

"You’re sure he took the stuff?" "I gave it to hi with his orange juice He held his hand out and I gave hiht down He wanted me to see he didn’t cheat He swore, the day he quit drinking, he’d never go back to it" "How many people knew about the Antabuse?" "I don’t know He never , he just said ’No thanks’"

"TellIt seemed like an ordinary week to me He talked to Woody Two days later, he was dead After the funeral, I packed up, put everything in a U-Haul, and hit the road for home This is where I’ve been ever since"

"And there was nothing a on? No letter? A note?"

She shook her head "I went through his desk the day he died, and I didn’t see a thing"

12

The flight home was uneventful I’d spent an hour and a half with Lyda, and the rest of the night in the airport ter, real trees, and an actual bird that flew back and forth, chirping incessantly It was sort of like caht and I didn’t have any wienies to roast I made notes of my conversation with Lyda, which I’d tran-scribe for the files when I got hoh Case had been h I had no idea hohy, or by whom I also tended to think his death was related to current events at Wood/Warren, though I couldn’t iet in touch if she re of note All in all, it was not an unproductive trip It had generated more questions than it answered, but that was fine withas there are threads to unravel, I’m in business The frustration starts when all the leads dry up and the roads turn out to be dead ends With Hugh Case, I felt like I’d just found one of the corner pieces of a jigsaw puzzle I had no idea what the final picture would look like, but at least I had a place to start

I boarded the plane at 4:30 AM and arrived at LAX at 5:45 I had to wait for a 7:00 AM shuttle to Santa Teresa, and by the tied my sorry ass home, I was dead on my feet I let es (none), pulled my boots off, and curled up in the folds of my quilt, fully dressed

At approxiered up out of sleep and shuffled to the door, dragging my quilt behind me like a bridal train My ht up, as spiky as a punker’s, only not as clean I peered through the fish-eye, too clever to be caught unawares by an early- on my doorstep was my second ex-husband, Daniel Wade

"Shit," I ainst the door and then peeked again All I could see in trun-cated for around his head like an aura Daniel Wade is quite possibly the n Beauti-ful ay or ieneralization, folks, but it’s the truth) I like a good face or an interesting face or a face with character, but not this sculpted perfection of his… the straight, well-proportioned nose, high cheekbones, strong jaw-line, sturdy chin His hair was sun-bleached, his eyes a remarkable shade of blue, offset by dark lashes His teeth were straight and very white, his shtly crooked Get the picture, troops?

I opened the door "Yes?"

"Hi"

"Hello" I gave hi he’d disap-pear He’s tall and sliht He stood there in faded jeans and a dark-red sweatshirt with the sleeves pushed up His skin had a golden sheen, tanned and windburned, so his cheeks glowed darkly Just another boring California golden boy The hair on his arms was bleached nearly white His hands were tucked in his pockets, which was just as well He’s a jazz pianist with long, bony fingers I fell in love with his hands first and then worked my way up