I shrugged. "Well, I try. I've saved a lot of toys and things from my childhood, some better than others."
"Well, it looks like it really paid off." And then he slid the Batmobile model into the pocket of his jean jacket and smiled at me. Just like that, daring me to ask him to put it back on the shelf.
"Wait a minute," Rick said, looking at the books on the shelves, including several duplicate copies of the ones I'd written. "Zack Walker. Is that like Zachary Walker?"
"That's right."
"I know that name." His eyebrows went together, like he was trying to remember something from a very long time ago. He pulled a copy of Missionary off the shelf. "Did you write this?"
I nodded. "That was my first book, yes."
"Is this the one where those guys go to another planet and try to get the people to stop believing in God?"
"Yes, that's the one."
"Shit, I loved this book! I read it while I was inside."
Inside? Inside what? Most people did their reading inside, unless they were taking their books with them to the beach in the summertime.
"Yeah, this was good," Rick said. "I found it kind of spiritual, if you know what I mean. Man, I can hardly believe I'm meeting some hot-shit writer."
"Well, not that hot shit, actually. My other books have done only so-so. But that one, it did the best, and I'm finishing up a sequel to it now."
Rick's eyes widened. "Are you kidding me? When I finished that book, I thought, Hey, what would happen next? Would the Earth guys suddenly get religion, or would they just be killed, you know, for not believing, or maybe back on Earth they'd send some more guys to see what happened to them, like in Planet of the Apes, you know, where they sent another astronaut after Charlton Heston found the Statue of Liberty on the beach there? Oh shit, I didn't spoil the ending for you, did I?"
"I've seen it."
"Check this out," he said, reaching into his back pocket and digging out a silver cigarette lighter featuring the Star Trek insignia, the rounded upside-down "V" that was the symbol for the Federation of Planets, on the side. "Like it?" he said, turning it so I could see the emblem more clearly. "Got it from a guy inside. I looked after him, and he knew I liked Star Trek, so he gave it to me."
There was the word again. I was starting to get an idea of what it meant to be "inside."
"Sort of like you giving me this Batmobile," he said, patting his jacket pocket. "Now I'll do my best to look after your interests, too."
I tried to smile.
"Now," he said, getting back to the purpose of his visit, "how do you know Stefanie?" He put emphasis on the word "know." " 'Cause you don't really strike me as her type, though I could be wrong."
"No no," I said. "I don't know Stefanie at all."
"Because I know she's been seeing somebody else lately. Maybe even a couple people, you know."
"Not me."
"Uh-huh."
"No, you see, her mother's address? That was the only one I had for her. I did find something of hers, and I was just trying to return it, that's all."
"And what would that be?"
"Her purse."
"And why do you have her fucking purse?"
"I found it," I said. "She'd dropped it at a store."
Rick nodded knowingly. "Did you have a good look at what's inside that purse, Mr. Walker?"
"I looked at her license, so I could find a way to get in touch with her."
Rick eyed me suspiciously. "I think you're giving me a load of bullshit, you know that?"
"No, really, I have it." I was about to dig it out for him when the phone on my desk rang. We looked at each other, neither of us knowing whether I should answer it, and then it rang again. I leaned over and looked at the call-display feature. "It's my wife," I said. "I better answer it."
"I'm not here. Understand? Unless you'd like that phone cord wrapped around your neck."
"Sure," I said, unconsciously raising one hand to touch my neck while I reached for the receiver with the other. "Hello?"
"Me again," said Sarah. "I tried the cell and when I didn't get you I figured you must be back home."
"Yeah."
"How'd the interview go? With Ms. Wilton?"
"Oh, you know. Okay. More or less. Not so good."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, he's not, he's, well, he could be working a little harder. That's pretty much the gist of it." Rick was taking a model of the Millennium Falcon off my top shelf, examining it.
"There was nothing more?"
"Well, some, but I can tell you all about it when you get home. How's it going there?"
"Pretty quiet."
"What about that story you mentioned to me earlier?"
"The body out our way? Still waiting for more details. Cops don't have a name or anything yet, but she was banged up pretty bad."
"Hurry up," Rick whispered.
"I'm worried about you," Sarah said. "I think you need to take some time off. I've never seen you stressed out quite the way you were tonight."
"I'm okay."
"I was talking to Deb, you know, on Foreign? Her husband, he had the same problem, and he got that prescription? The little blue pill?"
"You were telling Deb about this?" I asked.