The coffee fills my mouth like a healing elixir, and the first infusion of caffeine makes me shiver with pleasure. “What made you decide to confide in me at the hospital?”
“You told me about the paper you were planning to put out.”
“I don’t understand. It was you who sent me that PDF file? You’re ‘Mark Felt’?”
“Of course. And I don’t want to hear any damned Deep Throat jokes.”
I hold up my left hand. “Not from me.”
“I sent you that as a test of sorts. To see how you’d handle the information. And you passed. You’re using the material that will hurt the Poker Club members, but you held off on the Mr. Chow stuff, which was potentially more explosive, because you weren’t sure what you had. That told me you were willing to proceed with caution, even after they hurt your father. You’re not trying to wreck the whole Azure Dragon deal without regard for the consequences.”
“Yeah, well . . . I’m not so sure about that now.”
“What did they do to you in the jail? Your forehead looks like it has rug burn.”
“They taught me how to hold my breath.”
“What does that mean?”
“Not now. Have you heard anything about my father?”
“He’s about the same. You should call your mother. She’s sleeping at the hospital tonight.”
I glance at my watch. “Arthur Pine came to see me in the jail. In trying to get me to talk, he told me some things I didn’t know. I think I understand why Sally created the cache now.”
“Is that so? Why, do you think?”
“If she chose you to hold it, then you must know.”
“Actually, I think Sally initially hoped I’d hold the cache without knowing what was in it. But I persuaded her to tell me everything in the end.”
“What’s ‘everything’?”
Nadine bites her lip, still struggling with whatever it is she knows. “The last thing she told me—and it nearly killed her to do it—was that her husband had fathered Jet’s child.”
I don’t know if it brings anxiety or relief to hear someone else say it out loud. But if Nadine got close enough for Sally to confide this to her, then she must know more than anyone else alive—other than Max—about Sally’s death.
“How long have you known about Kevin?” Nadine asks.
“Since about nine o’clock tonight.”
“Wow. You must be pretty freaked out then.”
I drink some more coffee, then wrap my hands around the cup for warmth. “You could say that.”
“It was Jet who hit Max with the hammer tonight, wasn’t it?”
“What makes you say that?”
Nadine leans against a shelf unit behind her. “After the police hauled you off, I pulled her away from Paul long enough to ask if you’d done it. She had the decency to say no. That—and the way she overreacted to that cop arresting you—told me Jet must have done it.”
“Max tried to rape her tonight. By the pool on Parnassus Hill.”
Nadine blinks but doesn’t otherwise react. Nevertheless, I see her mind working behind her eyes.
“I think she’d have killed him with that hammer if I hadn’t been there,” I add. “She hates him.”
“I imagine so. She’s been living a lie for thirteen years. Not many people could endure that. She snapped tonight when she attacked that cop.”
“You don’t like Jet much, do you?”
Nadine takes the mug from my hand and drinks a sip of coffee. “I actually admire her in many ways. I’ve seen her in court. But I think she’s screwed you up pretty bad.”
I hesitate to go further in this direction, but after tonight on the hill . . . “Do you want to elaborate on that?”
“Let’s just say Jet’s another reason I didn’t tell you about the cache before now. I knew you’d tell her about it. And I don’t trust her not to use it for personal reasons.”
“To get custody of Kevin, you mean?”
She nods.
“How long have you known about her and me?”
A faint smile touches Nadine’s lips. “I figure you’ve been sleeping with her for about three months.”
She guessed it nearly to the day. “When did you know? And how?”
“The first two months you came into the store for coffee, you were so pissed off about leaving Washington and watching your career stall that you were hard to be around. Then one day you waltzed in on air. Either you’d started sleeping with somebody or doing drugs.”
“How did you know it was Jet?”
She shakes her head, her incredulity plain. “Any time her name came up in conversation, even four tables away, you’d look up from your coffee. Every time you said her name the timbre of your voice changed. Even now. Not to mention, your gate code is her birthday.”
I feel my cheeks go red. “How’d you know that?”
“After I found those earrings, my mind started working. The code ended in your birth year, but it wasn’t your birthday. I have a St. Mark’s alumni directory. Took about thirty seconds to find out what Jet’s was.”
“I guess I wouldn’t make much of a spy.”
Nadine snorts a little laugh, but then her expression turns serious. “If Paul Matheson doesn’t know you’re sleeping with his wife, it’s because he’s worked hard to blind himself to it. He’s not my cup of tea, but he’s no dummy, either.”
“No.”
“After what I saw tonight, you’d better be damned careful. If that cop had tried to handcuff Jet, Paul would have hurt him. The other cop would have shot him for it, but Paul didn’t care. I don’t think he’d hesitate to hurt you, Marshall. Even kill you.”
“I saw. He’s close to the edge.”
The sound of an engine rises in the alley behind the back door. Nadine looks up at a small window set high in the wall, then reaches out and snuffs the flame of the candle.
“A wavering light might look weird,” she whispers, “no matter how dim.”
“Do you still have your gun?”
“In my purse, on the floor. But I’d rather not shoot a cop if we can avoid it.”
I hear my heartbeat in my ears as the engine grows louder. It seems to stop outside the door, but after several seconds, it moves on.
“Why don’t we go sit in the banquette up front?” I ask the barely discernible form in front of me.
“Because even with the lights out, it’s visible from the street if you press your face to the glass. We’d better stay back here. There’s a little bathroom over there. I’ll turn on the light and crack the door in a minute.”
“Okay. Hey, how did you recruit Tim Hayden to pick me up?”
I sense more than see an affectionate smile. “He and the guy I’m staying with are lovers. I got my friend Chris to call Claude Buckman and deliver the threat that sprung you from jail. Tim volunteered to pick you up and bring you here. If I don’t hear from him soon, I need to call and check on him.”
“Why don’t you call him now? I’ll call my mother.”
“You can’t power up your phone.” Nadine’s cell flashes to life between us, and I see a snarky look on her face. “Either of them. Use mine.”
She dials my mother’s cell from her contacts list, then holds the phone to my ear. After five rings, Mom answers in a ragged voice, “Nadine? Have you heard anything about Marshall?”
“It’s me, Mom,” I say, taking the phone. “I’m out of jail, and I’m okay.”
“Thank God. They didn’t hurt you, did they?”
“I’m fine. Nadine got me out.”
“I told you she’s good people. I like that girl, Marshall.”
“Me, too. Is Dad awake yet?”
“No. They’re thinking about bringing him out of the coma later this morning. I’m trying to stay optimistic.”
“I’ll check back soon. I wanted to tell you something. I had a sort of epiphany, I guess, while I was in jail. I realized why you asked me whether I hadn’t punished Dad enough by now.”
“I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No, you were right. I—”
“Don’t tell me, Marshall. Tell him. You’re going to get your chance.”
I feel my mother’s invisible hands pushing me toward forgiveness, and maybe redemption. “I’ll be there after it’s light, unless you need me sooner. Just call Nadine’s cell phone.”
“I will. Be careful.”
I click end. “I guess you heard all that?”
By the phone’s light, I see Nadine smile to herself.