“No,” he said. His eyes were as dark as Paul’s were light—but even darker than usual, since I saw the now-familiar shadows creeping in. “I’m interested to hear about this bargain.”
I began to feel afraid, despite the string quartet playing lightly in the background.
“Jesse, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. He’s . . . he’s on drugs, remember?”
Paul took a deliberate swig from the whiskey bottle. “Sweetheart, I’ve got news for you. I pop pills like candy. How do you think I maintain my extremely unhealthy lifestyle while looking so good? A few sleeping pills mixed into my hooch aren’t going to bother me in the least because I took four dexies before we left the bar. Anyway, what the two of you have together is really sweet, and I’m envious, especially since you both have to know by now it’s going to end.”
“And how is that?” Jesse asked.
“Well, there are no documented cases that I know of human and reanimated corpse copulation, but I think it’s likely such a thing would fly in the face of all physical and natural law. If you ask me, that’s what’s probably going to unleash whatever demonic entities reside within the good doctor here. But what do I know? I’m no expert. I guess we’ll find out Monday, won’t we? Oh, that’s the bargain we had, de Silva. Your girlfriend was going to let me bang her if I didn’t tear down her old house. But now that deal is off. So good luck not slaughtering the bride.”
veintinueve
“Jesse.”
He didn’t respond. Instead he rose from his chair and swept wordlessly past me—but not, as I initially feared, to lift Paul Slater from his chair and hurl him through the nearby plateglass windows.
To my surprise, Jesse walked right past Paul—who’d shrunk in his seat, clearly expecting some kind of blow—then out of the restaurant, never once looking back, though I called his name again. The last I saw of him, he was disappearing out the front door, his broad-shouldered back stiff as a soldier’s at attention.
“Ouch,” Paul said, straightening in his chair. He reached for his whiskey bottle. “That must have smarted, Simon.”
“Shut up, Paul.” I lowered myself into the nearest seat. Even if I’d wanted to go running after Jesse—and I didn’t see what that would accomplish—I wasn’t sure my legs could support me. “I can’t believe you just did that.”
“Oh, please.” Paul poured pinot noir from a new bottle into one of the many glasses in front of my plate. “If you two really had such a great relationship, he’d have stuck around, no matter what I said.”
I gave him a sour look. “He left to keep himself from killing you.”
Paul laughed. “Probably. I bet he’s waiting out in the parking lot for you, faithful dog that he is. Woof, woof.”
“You’re disgusting.” But I hoped he was right.
“May I make a suggestion? Leave here with me on my jet. That guy is going to go full Satan’s spawn on Monday, especially now, seeing how much you’ve pissed him off. And as much as you’ve annoyed me, too, Simon, with your behavior tonight, I really would hate to see you die. I dislike seeing beautiful things go to waste. Which reminds me, before we go, help me finish this wine. It’s twelve hundred dollars a bottle.”
That child is lost, and very frightened, and in so much pain, Aunt Pru had said. And lost children in pain can sometimes be very cruel. They lash out and hurt others, sometimes without meaning to. But sometimes on purpose, too.
Maybe she really had meant Paul, and not Lucia.
“Paul,” I said, ignoring the wine and reaching into my bag. “Do you recognize this photo?”
Paul glanced briefly at the screen saver on my cell phone, then shrugged.
“Sure. You showed it to the dirtbag earlier. Why?”
“They’re my stepnieces.” I scrolled through the photos of the triplets on my phone, giving him a brief slide show. “Brad and Debbie Ackerman’s triplets. Only you knew her as Debbie Mancuso, of course.”
“That’s fascinating, Suze. How come you’re not trying the wine? You really shouldn’t miss it. It’s got some nice earthy undertones.”
“Brad and Debbie’s daughters are mediators, Paul,” I said. “That’s why I’m showing you their photos. Do you know how rare that is? That there should be so many mediators in the Monterey Bay area? Think about it. There’s you, Paul. And your little brother, Jack. And Father Dom, of course. And now Jesse. And then Debbie Mancuso’s triplets, which she conceived very shortly after graduation night.”
Paul had taken a sip of the twelve-hundred-dollar wine he’d ordered. But when I said the words graduation night, he choked. He managed to get everything down except a little trickle that dribbled out of the side of his mouth. He wiped it away with his napkin, glancing down to make sure none had gotten on his precious suit.