Y is for Yesterday (Kinsey Millhone #25)

I tuned her out. I couldn’t help myself. It was like a clear glass window sliding up between us. I watched her lips move. I absorbed her verbal assault without comprehension. I felt heat wash up along my spine and settle at the base of my neck. I was rooted in place and the net effect was to sharpen my perception.

I’d never seen Camilla at close range. On the few occasions when our paths had crossed, she was always at some remove, usually in the company of Jonah and the kids. Given her emotional chokehold on him, I’d assumed she was a beauty, imbued with an irresistible combination of charisma and sex appeal. This was not the case. Her body was thick, a residual effect of her last pregnancy. Beyond that (except for the slightly bulging blue eyes) she was plain. Dissatisfaction had sketched lines between her eyes and created a bracket on either side of her mouth. I could tell she’d once been pretty—seventh grade perhaps, when she and Jonah met and bonded like termites. It’s a little-known fact that in a termite colony, several species form lifelong attachments, the female “queen” and a single male “king” giving birth to an entire kingdom.

Oddly, the moment between us felt intimate. Every other conversation had fallen away as though a spell had been cast. Camilla and I might as well have been alone. I focused on the crumpled fistful of paper, which appeared to be a bill. This was an instance where my ability to read upside down was far better than being clairvoyant. The letterhead was that of the Santa Teresa Women’s Health Collective, whose many practicing physicians specialized in gynecology and obstetrics. I blinked as sound returned.

She was saying, “. . . oldest trick in the book and shame on you. Jonah’s a married man, in case you hadn’t heard. He has a family of his own that he adores, so you will never compete with this. Never.” Her last reference was to Banner. I was certainly willing to agree with her on that. We were all aware of the cherished place Jonah’s youngest child held in his heart.

Hold on a minute. Obstetrics?

“You think I’m pregnant?” I yelped.

If she’d had a hand free, she’d have slapped my face. As luck would have it, in order for her to land a blow, she’d have had to park her purse or drop the child, and either action would have spoiled the effect.

My consternation, while sincere, seemed to shift her into high gear. The hot pink in her cheeks made the color of her coat seem more flattering.

“Don’t play dumb with me, missy,” she said. “The minute I saw this, I called the clinic and told the woman the bill wasn’t mine. I said I wasn’t a patient and I’d never been in the damn place. She swore I was there on the tenth of August and again Wednesday of this week! I said I certainly was not and what the hell was she talking about? She got all snippy about it and guess what? Pregnancy test, office consultation, prenatal vitamins. That’s when she caught the mistake. Oops. They weren’t supposed to send a bill because the visit had been paid for at the time services were rendered . . .”

I couldn’t think of a thing to say to her. I wasn’t pregnant. The charge was preposterous, but I couldn’t refute the accusation without offering the following lame-ass excuse: I hadn’t been sexually active for more than a year! Ha ha ha! That irrefutable fact wasn’t any of her business and I didn’t feel I should announce the news to all and sundry by way of a defense.

Banner had had as much of his mother’s hysteria as he could take. His face crumpled and then he opened his mouth and wailed, his sobs accompanied by big theatrical tears. Courtney pushed through the crowd and took him from her mother’s arms. She patted him briskly, set the child on his feet, and walked him to the far end of the bar, where one of the three television sets was tuned to a football game. She picked up the remote and began to cycle through stations, finally settling on an ancient episode of I Love Lucy. Banner was instantly more interested in Lucy’s antics than he was in the drama playing out nearby. His sister lifted him onto a stool and then perched on the bar stool next to his. She placed a basket of popcorn in front of him and his cares were erased.

Meanwhile, Camilla, gearing up for another round, had lost track of her point. What could she do with a four-word response from me? Not much, which meant she was forced to repeat herself. Clearly, the weeping child had broken her verbal stride. It’s difficult to sustain an outburst when your timing’s off.

Jonah said, “Camilla, that’s enough.”

I turned with a flash of gratitude, thinking it was about time someone came to my defense.

He moved to her side, took her by the elbow, and propelled her toward the door. She jerked her arm from his grasp as the two stepped outside, but he was clearly the one in charge. I thought she might resume screaming once they reached the street, but the minute the door closed behind them all was quiet.

Inside, the moment of stunned silence stretched to the breaking point. Moza Lowenstein was deaf and had no idea what was going on. Bewildered, she looked from face to face, hoping someone would explain. Ruthie stared at me in disbelief. She was a registered nurse. If I’d told her I had a medical condition, she’d have offered her professional advice. Henry refused to meet my gaze, perhaps imagining a scarlet A now emblazoned on my chest. He and William were raised in an era where adultery wasn’t spoken of in polite society and a verbal rampage like Camilla’s would have been considered low class. Even the mention of pregnancy was too personal for mixed company. We all stood there awkwardly, wondering what came next.

Given the brevity of our collective attention span, the revelers sparked to life again a scant fifteen seconds later. We were there to eat cake and ice cream, drink, and celebrate. No one gave a rip about Camilla’s sordid complaints, especially since I was the designated slut. Every crowd has a mind of its own. Someone could have choked on a shrimp, necessitating an ineffectual Heimlich maneuver, followed by an impromptu tracheotomy achieved by means of a ballpoint pen, and the reaction would have been the same. Once the patient was taken away in the ambulance, there would have been the same silence and the same collective shrug. Then the party would have picked up right where it was before the unpleasantness erupted.

Camilla’s diatribe had been cut short and she was now off the scene. Jonah’s stepping into the fray must have been as surprising to her as it was to me. I hadn’t given him credit for sufficient backbone to stand up to her. In the time I’d known him, he’d endured so much humiliation, it was a wonder he’d survived. Evidently, the man had untapped reserves of strength and I was filled with admiration. Seconds later, I was pulled up short.

Wait a minute!

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