I LISTENED TO SOME MORE of Syd’s tunes on the way to LaGuardia. I had to turn it off halfway through Joe Cocker’s “You Are So Beautiful to Me.” I don’t want to tear up on the 95. I didn’t want to end up in a story under the headline “Weeping Father Makes Fatal Lane Change.”
At the airport, I bought a couple of magazines—the new Car and Driver and The New Yorker. I had my doubts I’d be able to concentrate on either of them, but the first one would have lots of pictures of shiny cars and the latter would have cartoons. Sitting in the stale, soulless departure lounge at LaGuardia, I got out my cell and put in a call to Susanne at work.
She’d been working with Bob nearly two years now. I gathered, listening to Syd, it was not always the best of working relationships. And now that everyone was living together as one big happy family, troubles from the lot sometimes erupted at home. For example, Bob was often critical of the way Suze kept the books. Reporting all your income, he felt, was highly overrated.
Sitting shoulder to shoulder in the crowded departure lounge didn’t afford me much privacy, so I relinquished my seat and walked over by one of the windows where I could watch jets landing and taxiing in.
“Bob’s Motors,” Susanne answered. There was no joy in her voice. There hadn’t been for several weeks now.
“It’s me,” I said.
“Hey,” Susanne said, her voice sharpening, cautious. A call from me, these days, could mean very good news or very bad news.
“I’m at the airport,” I said. “I’m going to Seattle.”
A short intake of breath. “Tell me.”
“I have a lead, not a bad lead, that Sydney might be out there.”
I filled her in. She listened. She interrupted with a couple of questions. Had I told Kip Jennings? Could I believe this woman on the phone?
Yes. And I hoped so.
“I’ll pay for your flight,” she said.
“Don’t worry about that.”
“I should be going with you.”
“You need to take it easy.”
“I’m not a fucking invalid, you know.”
“Actually, at the moment, you are.”
“I’m doing pretty good with the cane. I may not be ready for the marathon yet, but—”
“It’s okay. Just let me do this.”
“I know. I’d just slow you down. I just hope… I hope I haven’t fucked something up permanent. The hip’s killing me, and the knee still hurts like a son of a bitch.”
“It just takes time.”
“Thanks for not rubbing it in.”
“Rubbing what in?”
“About Bob, about my doing a stupid thing like parasailing, thinking I’m eighteen or something. It shows a lot of restraint, not making wisecracks about it.”
“Doesn’t mean I’m not thinking them,” I said. She laughed softly. When she didn’t say anything for a moment, I said, “Suze.”
“Yeah, I’m here.”
“What’s going on? With Evan?”
“I really can’t get into it, Tim. I mean, he’s Bob son. What am I going to say?”
“I can tell something’s going on. When he came out of the office, he was furious.”
“He’s… he’s a good kid, mostly.”
“Mostly.”
“He’s just… He hardly ever comes out of his room. He’s on the computer all the time.”
“Kids do that, talking to their friends.”
“No,” she said quietly. “It’s something else.”
“Porn,” I said. “He’s whacking off to porn.”
“No,” Susanne said, stretching the word out, wondering. “I don’t think it’s that either. I think it’s something… worse.”
“Have you talked to Bob about this?”
“I’ve told him… that there are things I’ve noticed.”
“What? What have you noticed?”
“I think Evan’s stealing.”
“The petty cash,” I said. “And you mentioned your watch went missing, and money from your purse.”
“All of that. Bob says I’m just stressed out, that it’s making me absentminded, forgetful.”
“You think he’s right?”
“I think he’s full of shit. And the watch came back. I know exactly where it was, in my drawer, and it was gone. And this morning, it was back.”
“What do you make of that?”
“I think Evan might have pawned it. And I think Bob bought it back.”
“He’s covering for him.”
“Bob’s very defensive about Evan.”
“Move out, Suze,” I said. “Get out of there. Go back to your own house.”
She shot back, “Oh yeah, that’s the answer. Don’t try to work things out, just wash my hands of them. Is that what you’d like?”
“You have enough to worry about. You don’t need to be living under the same roof with some kid who’s stealing from you.”
“I can’t talk about this. I can’t. Just find Sydney.”
“Okay,” I said.
“You know,” she said, “I really blew it with you.”
I didn’t say anything. I was watching one of the terminal clocks. My flight was due to board shortly.
“I never should have pushed you,” she said. “Our life was good.”