First Scott had called Alberness on the phone. Had he known in advance that the doctor was a puffickly huh-yooge fan, or was that just a coincidence? Lisey didn't believe it had been a coincidence, thought that was just a little, ahem, too coincidental, but if Scott had known, how had he known? She hadn't been able to think of a way to ask without breaking into the doctor's flood of reminiscence, and that was all right; probably it didn't matter. In any case, Alberness had been intensely flattered to receive that call (pretty much bowled over, as the saying was), and more than receptive both to Scott's enquiries about his sister-in-law and his suggestion that they have lunch. Would it be all right, Dr. Alberness had asked, if he brought along a few of his favorite Landons for signature?
More than all right, Scott had replied, he'd be pleased to do it. Alberness had brought his favorite Landons; Scott had brought Amanda's medical records. Which led Lisey, now less than a mile from Amanda's little Cape Cod, to yet another question: how had Scott gotten hold of them? Had he charmed Amanda into handing them over? Had he charmed Jane Whitlow, the shrink with the beads? Had he charmed both of them? Lisey knew it was possible. Scott's ability to charm wasn't universal - Dashmiel, the southern-fried chickenshit, was a case in point - but many people had been susceptible. Certainly Amanda had felt it, although Lisey was sure that her sister had never fully trusted Scott (Manda had read all of his books, even Empty Devils...after which, Amanda said, she had slept with the lights on for an entire week). About Jane Whitlow Lisey had no idea.
How Scott had obtained the records might be another point upon which Lisey's curiosity would never be satisfied. She might have to content herself with knowing that he had, and that Dr. Alberness had willingly studied them, and had concurred with Scott's opinion: Amanda Debusher was probably headed for more trouble down the line. And at some point (probably long before they'd finished their dessert), Alberness had promised his favorite writer that if the feared break came, he would find a place for Ms. Debusher at Greenlawn.
"That was so wonderful of you," Lisey had told him warmly, and now - turning in to Amanda's driveway for the second time that day - she wondered at what point in the conversation the doctor had asked Scott where he got his ideas. Had it been early or late?
With the appetizers or the coffee?
"Wake up, Darla-darlin," she said, turning off the engine. "We're here."
Darla sat up, looked at Amanda's house, and said: "Oh, shit."
Lisey burst out laughing. She couldn't help it.
9
Packing for Manda turned out to be an unexpectedly sad affair for both of them. They found her bags in the third-floor cubby that served as her attic. There were just two Samsonite suitcases, battered and still bearing MIA tags from the Florida trip she'd taken to see Jodotha...when? Seven years ago?
No, Lisey thought, ten. She regarded them sadly, then pulled out the larger of the two.
"Maybe we ought to take both," Darla said doubtfully, then wiped her face. "Whoo!
Hot up here!"
"Let's just take the big one," Lisey said. She almost added that she didn't think Amanda would be going to the Catatonics' Ball this year, then bit her tongue. One look at Darla's tired, sweaty face told her this was absolutely the wrong time to try and be witty.
"We can get enough in it for a week, at least. She won't be going far. Remember what the doc said?"
Darla nodded and wiped her face again. "Mostly in her room, at least to start with."
Under ordinary circumstances, Greenlawn would have sent a physician out to examine Amanda in situ, but thanks to Scott, Alberness had cut right to the chase. After ascertaining that Dr. Whitlow was gone and Amanda either could not or would not walk (and that she was incontinent), he had told Lisey he would send out a Greenlawn ambulance - unmarked, he emphasized. To most folks it looked like just another delivery van. Lisey and Darla had followed it to Greenlawn in Lisey's BMW, and both of them had been extremely grateful - Darla to Dr. Alberness, Lisey to Scott. The wait while Alberness examined her, however, had seemed much longer than forty minutes, and his report had been far from encouraging. The only part of it Lisey wanted to concentrate on right now was what Darla had just mentioned: Amanda would be spending most of her first week under close observation, in her room or on the little terrace outside her room if she could be persuaded to ambulate that far. She wouldn't even be visiting the Hay Common Room at the end of the corridor unless she showed sudden and drastic improvement. "Which I don't expect," Dr. Alberness had told them. "It happens, but it's rare. I believe in telling the truth, ladies, and the truth is that Ms. Debusher is probably in for the long haul."
"Besides," Lisey said, examining the bigger of the two suitcases, "I want to buy her some new luggage. This stuff is beat to shit."
Chapter 9
"Let me do it," Darla said. Her voice had gone thick and wavery. "You do so much, Lisey. Dear little Lisey." She took Lisey's hand, lifted it to her lips, and planted a kiss on it.
Lisey was surprised - almost shocked. She and Darla had buried their ancient quarrels, but this sort of affection was still very unlike her older sister.
"Do you really want to, Darl?"
Darla nodded vehemently, started to speak, and settled for scrubbing her face again.