The Bricklayer

TWENTY-SIX

I THINK I HAD TOO MUCH WINE.” THEY WERE STANDING IN KATE’S hotel room and Vail had put his arms around her.
“Already auditioning excuses for the morning?” he said. “I find that most encouraging.”
“I thought you were worried about my stitches.”
“I promise to take you straight to the ER afterward.”
She pushed him to arm’s length in a halfhearted tease. “So you like my dress.”
“Do you think at this particular moment I’m going to say no?”
She pulled him back to her and tilted her head slightly, inviting a kiss. He opened his mouth slightly, barely touching his lips to hers. She pressed forward and he pulled back an equal distance, keeping the touch light and increasingly arousing. She pulled her head back. “I thought you didn’t know anything about the good stuff.”
“Must be beginner’s luck.”
She put her head on his shoulder. “Mmmm,” came from somewhere deep in her throat. “I seriously doubt that,” she said. “Do you know what the nicest thing about tonight was?”
“Was? I was hoping the nicest thing hadn’t gotten here yet. I didn’t miss it, did I?”
She raised her voice slightly to override Vail’s attempt to dismiss the poignancy of what she was about to say. “That we were able to spend a couple of hours without a single word about work.”
Before Vail could say anything, the hotel phone rang. She looked at her watch; it was almost 1 a.m. She went to the nightstand. “Hello.”
“Kate, I hope it’s not too late.” It was Tye Delson and she sounded drunk.
“Too late for what?”
“I’ve been trying to find Steve. I’ve left messages on his cell phone and on the hotel voice mail. You know where he is?”
“Is something wrong?”
“I just need to talk to him.”
“Hold on.” Kate held the phone out to Vail.
Vail craned his head back slightly in surprise. “For me?”
“Tye Delson,” Kate said.
He took the phone and Kate sat down on the bed. “Tye, what’s wrong?”
“Oh, Steve.” He heard her voice crack with emotion. “I’ve been on the phone for the last two hours trying to find you. I was afraid you had already left.” She was talking loud enough that Kate could hear her.
“Left for where? What’s wrong?”
“Can I come and see you?”
“Now?”
“It’s just that I don’t want to be alone. Just for tonight.”
Vail looked down at Kate, who stared straight ahead, her face somber. “Tye, I don’t think so.”
“I know last time I came uninvited, but now I’m asking. Please.”
Vail saw one of Kate’s eyebrows arch involuntarily. “That wasn’t a good idea then, and it isn’t now.”
“Can you come here then?”
“What you need is to go to sleep.”
“Please, Steve.”
“I’m sorry, Tye, no.”
“You’re going back to Chicago or wherever, aren’t you?” The emotion was rising in her voice as though she was on the verge of tears. “The case is over, isn’t it, Steve? All of them are dead, and you’re disappearing like men always do?”
“Tye, how much have you had to drink?”
Suddenly she sounded as though she was trying to get control of herself. “I’m making a fool of myself, aren’t I? I just want to know if you’ll be leaving L.A. now.”
“I’m not sure.”
She didn’t say anything for a long time. “I’m going to bed now. Promise you won’t leave until you come and tell me good-bye—in person.”
“Sure, but for right now, get some sleep.” Vail hung up, and it took him a few seconds before he dared look at Kate. When he did, she pursed her lips and tilted her head, inviting an explanation. “After the tunnel drop, she showed up at my room.”
“And?”
“There is no ‘and.’ We had a drink and she left.”
“If you discouraged her then, why is she coming back for more?”
Vail exhaled through his nostrils. He leaned down and kissed Kate on the cheek dutifully. “Thanks for a nice night.”
When he got to the door, she stood up. “Steve, I’m sorry. I’m not really doubting you.”
“I know,” he said, smiling sadly. “But we are our fathers’ children.” He turned and walked out.


THE NEXT MORNING as Vail was getting out of the shower the phone rang. It was Tom Demick. “I got that address from MasterCard you wanted. I tried your cell, but you must have had it turned off, and I left you a message on your room phone to call me. Didn’t you get it?”
“Sorry, I was out to dinner. It was late when I got in.”
Demick gave him the address. It was a post office box in Aqua Dulce. “Where’s that?”
“It’s about an hour north of here. Take the 101 to 170.”
“Thanks, Tom.” Vail hung up and looked at the blinking light on the phone. He had ignored it when he came in, thinking it was Tye Delson. He pushed the Message button. The first one was Demick asking Vail to call him. The remaining three were from Tye, each a little more drunken, a little more desperate. He turned on his cell phone and there were the same number of calls from both Demick and Tye. He took a deep breath and hit Tye’s callback number.
“’Lo,” answered a voice almost unrecognizable with sleep.
“Tye?”
“Oh, God, Steve.” Vail could hear her sitting up. “I’m so embarrassed.”
He laughed. “You should be. Are you all right now?”
“I wish I could say I was too drunk to remember, but unfortunately I do. You must hate me.”
“Yes, that’s why I called.”
“I’m so sorry.” Vail could hear her walking with the phone and then opening a door. “There is an explanation, not that there’s anything that could excuse what I did.”
“I don’t need an explanation.”
“Maybe I’ll hate myself a little less if I can give you one.”
“Then fire away.”
She didn’t say anything for a few seconds. “Great, that’s just great.”
“What?”
“The morning paper. It’s as bad as I thought.”
“What is?”
She sat down with an audible sigh. “You know I’ve been planning to leave the United States attorney’s office. I mentioned it a couple of months ago to a reporter who was covering one of my cases. Last night I stopped at one of the local watering holes to have a drink while the traffic cleared. And this reporter’s in the bar. Looking back on it now, I’m not so sure it was accidental. We start talking. Somehow he heard that I had gotten search warrants in the Pentad case, so he starts asking me about it. A couple more drinks and he tells me he’d like to do an article about me leaving the U.S. attorney’s office. As you’ve probably figured out by now, my judgment isn’t the best when I’m drinking. Eventually I started complaining about the Department of Justice, the United States attorney’s office here, and—I’m sorry, Steve—about how poorly, overall, the FBI conducted the investigation. That is until you got here and then repeatedly risked your life without a second thought or a bit of thanks. The article comes off as if I’ve got this big crush on you. By the time I got home last night and started sobering up, I realized what direction the reporter was going to take the article and wanted to give you a heads-up. I tried to reach you, and when I couldn’t, I started drinking until I finally found you, and by that time I was a mess.”
“Is that going to hurt you at work?” Vail asked.
“That’s your only concern?”
“In a couple of days I’ll just be one of the great unwashed in a place where they don’t read Los Angeles newspapers.”
“Can you ever forgive me?”
“For being concerned about me—I think so.”
“With a little bit of luck I’ll never have to face Kate again. She must legitimately hate me. I hope I didn’t cause any problems last night.”
“Kate’s a good person. And she also will be leaving L.A. soon.”
“I’m getting out of here too,” Tye said. “Do you think there’s any chance I’d like Chicago, Steve?”
He hesitated so she would understand what he was about to say had two meanings. “I’m afraid you wouldn’t find it much different from Los Angeles.”
She gave the kind of disheartened chuckle that came involuntarily after a failed long shot. “Sorry, Steve, I had to give it one last try.”