“That’s right. According to him, David kept saying, ‘There is a road, a certain road.’ ”
“This suggests that he wasn’t completely in the dark about what he was doing. He knew about that road. Perhaps he’d begun that journey once before but had abandoned the road. That last morning in Runnell, he seems to have awakened knowing that he had to get back on it, whatever the cost. Just like the fool in the picture, he didn’t hesitate to step off the cliff and put his fate in the hands of the gods.”
“And Tim?” Ellen asked.
“He’s only at the beginning of his journey, of course. He couldn’t be in a position to fall short as yet. He’s hardly begun, after all. But I can tell you this. Whatever happens now or in the future, like his father, Tim will always know that there is a road, a certain road … that ordinary folk can’t travel, that leads someplace ordinary folk can’t go.”
Ellen, looking befuddled, shook her head.
“I have to ask this question, Ellen,” Howard said. “It may sound silly, but it does have to be asked. Do you want to get Tim out of there?”
“Of course I want to get him out of there! Why would you even ask such a question?”
Howard shrugged. “To get the ball rolling, Ellen. To find out if we need to get the ball rolling. If you thought Tim was where he belonged, there’d be nothing more to talk about. Since you don’t, there is.”
“How do we get him out of there?” Ellen wanted to know.
“To be honest with you, I don’t have the foggiest idea,” Howard said. “My first thought—again being honest—was to mount a commando-style rescue. Just foolishness, of course. Nothing like that could succeed.”
The four of them sat there for a minute, thinking about it.
“One thing struck me,” Aaron said. “People like this—these people—driving cars, using telephones, probably cooking with microwave ovens.…”
“Yes?” Howard asked.
“They have driving licenses. When they built that house, they had to have a survey, probably had to get a permit. To put in a septic system, there’d have to be some kind of drainage test. All that business.”
“Yes? So?”
“They’ve got a front to maintain, Howard. It isn’t like living in the cellar of an abandoned castle in Transylvania.”
Howard nodded, beginning to see what he was getting at.
“There’s no way to hurt them, obviously,” Aaron went on. “But they’ve opened themselves up to being bothered, to having their front ruffled maybe a little bit.”
“Like how?”
Aaron shrugged. “Could be done all sorts of ways. Suppose you arrived with a cop in tow, for example. There’s nothing he could do to them, of course. That’s not the point. Bringing the cop along just poses a question: How much do you value this nice, quiet setup you’ve got here?”
“Yeah, that makes sense.”
Denise growled, and everyone’s eyes swivelled to her.
“Sometimes I despair of the human future, with cowboys like you running around,” she said. “Howard, I don’t know the country out there, but it’s my impression that, if she’d wanted to, Andrea had hundreds of square miles in which she could have made you disappear.”
“Yes, that’s absolutely true.”
“And you told us something about a killer that had been sent to Ellen. I’m not sure I followed that.”
“She said a killer had been dispatched to Ellen, but when David failed to make it—which I take to mean he died—the killer was given another target to spare her. At the time, of course, this didn’t make any sense to me. If you want to call off a killer, you just call him off, you don’t have to give him another target.”
“But you know what she meant by this, don’t you?” she asked Ellen.
“Yes. The dog was coming straight at me when Felipe stepped between us. It ripped out his throat and tore off past me as if I wasn’t even there.”
Denise leveled a disgusted look at Howard. “Aren’t you capable of putting all this together?”
Howard nodded glumly. “Yeah, I guess I can. If David had made it, whatever that means, Ellen and I would be dead, and Tim would be theirs forever.”
“But since David didn’t make it, they spared Ellen and sent you home with a simulacrum, a phantasm. What does this indicate about their plans for Tim?”
“It indicates they wanted him for a while but know they can’t keep him, not without his father.”
“So what are they expecting next, Howard?”
He grimaced painfully. “That I’ll come back and get him.”
“Exactly. Sorry to deprive you of your big, Rambo-style rescue.”
“I want to be there too,” Ellen said flatly.
Howard shook his head. “I think we should keep it simple.”
“He’s right, Ellen,” Denise said. “Don’t give them ideas they don’t already have. As things stand right now, they don’t view you as a substitute for David, but if you offer yourself, who knows?”
“I’m not offering myself, I just want to see them.”
“Of course you do, and that’s exactly where it starts.”
Howard lifted a hand to interrupt. “What would you think of my taking Aaron?”
“For what purpose?”
“Well, he gave me a commission to find these people.…”
Aaron’s face twisted into a humorless smile. “I know you can’t resist being a joker, Howard. You’ve earned your fee. I’ll put a check in the mail tomorrow.”
“You shouldn’t have done that, Howard,” Aaron said when Ellen and Denise were gone.
“Done what, Aaron?”
“Talk about taking me with you.”
Howard saw, to his puzzlement, that the old man was seriously angry. “I’m still struggling to get my feet under me, Aaron, so maybe I slipped up, but I’m not sure how. Tell me what’s bothering you.”
“I didn’t send you on a safari to find me a rhinoceros to shoot.”
Howard nodded, still in the dark.
“I said I’d put a check in the mail, and I will, but you and I aren’t finished. You still owe me something.”
“I’m well aware of that, Aaron,” Howard said, though in fact he didn’t have the slightest idea what the old man was talking about. “I’ll call you as soon as I get back.”
Assuming, he added mentally, that I do get back.
CHAPTER 51
Andrea seemed genuinely pleased to see him when Marianne brought him up to the third floor of the house two days later.
“I was expecting you a bit sooner than this,” she said brightly.
“It took me a while to figure it out.”
Andrea smiled. “You want to take Tim back with you.”
“That’s the idea, of course.”
“It’ll be up to him, you understand. If he wants to stay, you’ll have to respect that.”
It wasn’t a possibility he’d considered, but, having no other choice, he nodded.
“He’s outside someplace. Marianne will find him. Meanwhile, make yourself at home. I’ll be right back.”
Howard looked around, reluctant to take a seat. He wandered over to inspect Andrea’s library, which took up most of one wall. It seemed to consist almost entirely of coffee-table books. He pulled out a copy of The Art of Maurice Sendak, which seemed an odd thing to find in such a place. After browsing through it for a few minutes, he decided maybe it wasn’t so odd after all.
Andrea returned with a couple of letter-sized envelopes in her hand and waved him over to the table where, eleven days before, they’d reviewed Denise’s Tarot card reading.
Sitting back in her chair, she said, “You know David’s dead, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I figured as much.”
She pushed an envelope across the table to him. “The money he was carrying at the time is in there. It’s quite a lot. I’ll leave it up to you to decide what to do with it. Give it to Ellen, put it in a trust for Tim, or whatever seems appropri
ate.”
She slid the second envelope across. “That’s a letter for Tim. I’d like you to hold it for him till he asks for it.”
“How do you know he’s going to ask for it?”
“Maybe he won’t, Howard. If he doesn’t, he doesn’t.”
He looked at the envelopes but made no move to pick them up. “I don’t get it, Andrea. Why me? You don’t need me to do these things.”
“You’re right, of course,” she said with a smile. “But I like to have people do me favors.”
“People of my kind.”
“That’s right. Especially people of your kind.”
He sighed and shoved the envelopes inside his jacket.
“I like you, Howard. Did you know that? You’re not the brightest man in the world—or the best or the bravest, but …”
“But I got lotsa character.”
Andrea laughed.
At that moment the sliding glass door to the patio rumbled open, and Tim stepped in, blinking, sun-blind.
Rising, Andrea said, “Look who’s here, Tim!”
Howard stood up, and the boy gazed at him as if he were an apparition.
“Howard brings good news, Tim. Your mother is alive and well back at your house in Runnell.”
“Really?” Tim asked, looking from one to the other of them.
“Really,” Howard said. “I’m here to take you home.”
“If you want to go, of course,” Andrea added.
Tim looked at her doubtfully.
“It’s entirely up to you, Tim. Believe me, you won’t hurt my feelings if you want to go back. I’m sure Pablo and Dudley will feel the same. I know they’ll feel the same. We’d all love to have you stay, but not if you’d rather go home.”
“Wow,” Tim said. He looked a question of some sort at Howard, who nodded. “When? Now?”
“If we leave now, we can catch a flight that leaves Albuquerque at eight o’clock.”
Tim glanced again at Andrea as if still not quite sure of her consent. “Then I’ll go get my stuff.”
When Tim was gone, Andrea led Howard out onto the patio and strolled toward a black-suited figure in a wheelchair some ten yards away.
“David failed a crucial test out here,” she said. “I honestly think you might have done better.”
Howard could think of nothing to say to that.
“This is Samson,” Andrea announced, pausing before the mannequin. “Tim’s going home,” she said, and Howard looked at her curiously.
The mannequin moved not at all, but after a muffled clank, a sort of hissing, grinding moan issued from within: “I’ll miss him, Andrea, but it’s probably for the best. Please give him my regards.”
“I’ll do that, Samson.”
She turned back toward the house. When they were inside, she said, “There’s something I could do for you—nothing to do with the favors I’ve asked for. Not a reward.”
“Go on.”
“There’s a door in your apartment that’s not of the ordinary kind. Don’t bother to pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.”
“I’m not pretending anything.”
“If you like, I can tell you how to open that door at will.”
A terrible shiver raced up his spine. “Andrea, I’m glad you like me and think I’ve got lots of character, but you don’t understand me as well as you think you do. That’s my way of saying no thanks.”
Andrea nodded. “I rather thought you’d say that. All the same—”
But Howard didn’t get to hear the rest, because at that moment Tim returned, carrying his familiar suitcase.
“Is Mom really okay?” Tim asked once they were on their way.
“Completely okay. The way we left it was that, unless she heard otherwise, she’ll be at the gate when we land at O’Hare.”
Back on the highway after leaving Morningstar Path, they traveled for half an hour in a tense silence until Tim finally said, “I don’t want to talk about it, okay?”
“I wasn’t waiting for you to talk about it, Tim.” Then he wondered if he had been waiting for him to talk about it.
Glancing over at him, he saw that Tim’s face was blank. Whatever was going on behind it certainly wasn’t ready for public display. He lifted his eyes to Howard’s, searching for something. Understanding? Forgiveness? Howard couldn’t be sure. One thing was certain: they weren’t the eyes of the boy he’d met at the bus stop two weeks before; childhood was over for Tim. Howard gave him a slight nod, acknowledging … something. Something that existed just between the two of them. He wasn’t sure what it was, really.
CHAPTER 52
In the hours following his return, Howard used every trick he knew to set up his meeting with Aaron at some place other than the old man’s house but in the end managed only to excuse himself from the ordeal of another dining spectacular. When he arrived at seven-thirty, Ella gave him a friendly nod and led him back to the elegant English gentleman’s study where it had all begun.
Aaron looked up from a volume open on his lap and waved him to a chair that embraced him like a returning son.
Aaron laid his book aside, gave him a long look, and said, “So.”
“So,” Howard replied, still completely in the dark about the purpose of the meeting.
“You got my check.”
“Received, endorsed, and deposited, Aaron. Thank you very much. And cashier’s checks are always appreciated.”
Aaron waved that away.
Howard crossed his legs: something to do. When the old man showed no sign of starting (or of even thinking about where to start), he said, “The other night you told me I still owed you something.”
Aaron nodded.
“What’s your idea of what that is, Aaron?” As if he was reserving his own judgment about it.
Instead of answering, the old man began the lengthy ritual of lighting one of his giant cigars. When he finally had it going to his satisfaction he said, “My wife was a great reader of mystery novels, did I tell you that? And to make her happy I sampled a few—Chandler, Christie, Hammett. At the end of all these books, most of the time, the detective gets everybody together and puts the puzzle all together for them. You know what I mean?”
“Sure, Aaron.”
“Lines up all the suspects, all the clues, and explains how he figured it all out.”
“Right. But—if I understand where you’re heading with this—what we have right here isn’t a whodunit. I didn’t solve any mystery, didn’t unmask any culprit. You didn’t hire me to do that.”
“No, I didn’t. But I also didn’t hire you to track down Tim Kennesey’s missing father.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“But that’s what you did.”
“That’s what I did, Aaron.”
The old man nodded. “I guess my question to you is, how do you figure that doing something I didn’t hire you to do ends up being what I hired you to do?”
“Wow, Aaron, how do you figure it? Sending me a check was your idea, not mine.”
Aaron shook his head. “Sending the check was my move, Howard, like in a game of chess. Now it’s your move. Explain to me how you earned your fee. That’s what you owe me.”
Howard sank back in his chair as if clubbed, his face blank, all thought driven from his brain.
“Excuse my bad manners,” Aaron said quickly. “Can I offer you something? Brandy? Whiskey?”
“A scotch would be nice, Aaron.”
“Soda? Water?”
“Just plain, thanks.”
The old man used a house phone to ask Ella to bring brandy for him and scotch for Howard. Evidently she had some alternative brands to offer, and after listening for a moment and giving his guest a searching look, he said, “I think any of those will do, my dear.”
Howard knew Aaron was allowing him this interval to collect his thoughts, but nothing came, except: I’ve been in over my head in this goddamn mess from the beginning.
When he had a heavy
glass in his hand and a third of a triple scotch inside him, he said, “You hired me to do an impossible thing, Aaron.”
“I know that. But I paid your fee without a word, and now I want you to tell me why.”
Howard couldn’t help it: he laughed. “Aaron, you are the craziest bastard I ever worked for.”
Surprisingly, Aaron grinned. “Yeah, that’s us, Howard, a pair of crazy old Jew bastards.” Then he started chuckling. Howard joined him, and for thirty seconds the two of them guffawed madly, teetering on the edge of hysteria.
When they had their breath back, it was clear that the paralyzing tension between them had been broken, and Howard said, “Do you really not know why you sent that check, or is this just another one of your goofy tests?”
“I honest to God don’t know, Howard.”
Howard sighed, gave himself up to the embrace of his chair, and had another taste of scotch. “Aaron, you wanted to know what happened to the gods that for six hundred years the Israelites preferred over the one that led them out of Egypt—Baal, Ashtaroth, and so on. That’s what you hired me to find out, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Well, did I find out? Did I get you what you were looking for? Only you can answer that question, all I can do is ask it. That’s my move. Your turn.”
Aaron shook his head woozily. “I’ll tell you, Howard, my brain is like mush over this thing.”
“Believe me, I know what you mean.”
“There was a time when it looked to me like you were on the track. That last time we talked, when I said, look, you think there might be an answer in Haiti, go to Haiti. Then suddenly you disappear, you’re all wrapped up in finding this kid’s father.”