Private

Chapter 51

 

 

 

 

 

COLLEEN’S RENTED BUNGALOW was in Los Feliz, a homey, artistic community with low buildings and one-family dwellings packed together on charming streets. We sat in my car and I told her why I couldn’t stay tonight, even though we were celebrating her birthday.

 

People walked dogs in the street; kids ran by, shouting to one another. Idyllic stuff. Colleen looked down at her folded hands and at the little gold watch that gleamed dully under the streetlight.

 

“Rick and I are flying to Las Vegas in an hour,” I told her.

 

“You don’t have to explain. I made the arrangements into McCarran, Jack.”

 

“It’s just business, Colleen. I’m not going to a casino.”

 

“It’s fine, Jack. I have to study tonight anyway. I wouldn’t be much fun. Thanks again for the lovely birthday, and the present. It’s the nicest watch I’ve ever owned by far.”

 

She gave me a peck on the lips, then reached for the door handle.

 

“I’ll walk you to the door.”

 

She sat back until I opened the car door, then she stepped primly out. I marched alongside her, past the mop-head rosebushes and lavender in the narrow garden bordering the walk. She fumbled for her keys. “Have a safe flight.”

 

“I’ll see you in the morning,” I said. Then I went down the fragrant walk to my car. I felt terrible about leaving her tonight, but I had to go.

 

The lights went on inside the cottage.

 

I tracked Colleen’s movements from the entryway to the kitchen to the little sitting room where soon she’d be doing her work with a cup of tea, the radio on to keep her company.

 

I imagined her looking at her new watch, thinking of all the things she might have said to me, and what she’d say to me tomorrow. I started up the car and pulled away from the curb. At a stoplight, I called Rick.

 

“How’re you doing?” I asked him. He’d been in a black mood since the incident at Glenda Treat’s. Del Rio is the toughest man I know, and he held a grudge about that beating.

 

“I’m just leaving,” he said. “I should be at the airport in twenty minutes, traffic permitting.”

 

“This is a reminder,” I said. “Bring your gun.”

 

“Yeah. And Jack, you bring yours.”

 

 

 

 

 

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