peeled the whole thing up off the glass. It was a wedding invitation, framed in such a way as to allow only the picture to be visible. Below the picture, it read: Marie Ellen Hall and Donald J. Barth invite you to share the joy of their coming nuptials . WHERE : Blessed Sacrament Church, 5041 9th Avenue NE, Seattle, Wash ington, 98107 . WHEN : Saturday April 3rd, 1993. Reception to follow in the Parish Hall . RSVP: 206-324-0098 .
“Be all right if I took this with me?” Corso asked Pov. “I’ll bring it back as soon as I’m finished.”
Pov nodded. “Okay,” he said.
Corso spent another twenty minutes going through the remains of Donald Barth’s life. “I guess that’s it,” he said finally, dusting his hands together.
Mr. Pov pulled the chain on the light and they walked outside together. Overhead a full moon ducked in and out of a starless steel-wool sky. Mr. Pov slid the door closed and snapped the padlock back in place.
“A philosopher once said that a man’s true worth is not measured by the extent of his possessions but by the paucity of his needs,” Corso said.
“Ah,” Pov said. “What is this paucity ?”
Corso told him and then spelled it.
“If such is true, then Mr. Barth was a wealthy man indeed.”
Corso thanked Mr. Pov for his help. The men shook hands and parted company. Nhim Pov turned left, toward his apartment, and Corso went right, toward the hissing purple lights of the parking lot.
Gerardo was outraged. “What the hell’s he doin’ here for a damn hour, anyway? He don’t got nothing to do with this. Every place we go, this guy’s pokin’ his nose in our business.”
“He’s got some connection going for himself.”
“What connection is that?”
“Between the girl and the guy in the truck.”
Gerardo scowled. “Like what?”
“Damned if I know,” Ramón said.
“Maybe he knows the Ball guy buried the truck for us.”
“How would he know that? He’s just supposed to be some nosy-ass writer who’s always talkin’ shit about the boss.”
“Here he comes,” Gerardo said, pointing out through the darkened window. As they sat in the gloom, the Subaru rolled out from behind the Briarwood Garden Apartments and bounced into the street. Gerardo started the Mercedes’s engine. He waited until Corso was halfway up the block before turning on the lights and following.
“We maybe better figure out where this guy fits into the picture,” Ramón said, as they followed the Subaru up the freeway entrance ramp.
“Soon,” Gerardo agreed. “Real soon.”
14
Wednesday, October 18
9:03 p.m.
“S top,” Ramón said.
Half a block up Ninth Avenue, Harborview Hospital rose into the night sky like a stone rocket ship on a launching pad. Gerardo and Ramón watched as Corso stopped at the gate, plucked a ticket from the automatic dispenser, and wheeled the Subaru out of sight.
Gerardo pulled the car to the curb in a tow-away zone. “You goin’ in?”
“Yeah.”
“What for?”
“I dunno. I got a feeling.”
“What kinda feeling?”
Ramón checked his watch. “He’s gotta be visitin’ somebody.”
“Like who?”
“That’s what I’m gonna find out.”
“You want in the trunk?”
“I’m just goin’ to look.”
A hospital security guard left the entrance and began limping their way.
Ramón popped the door and stepped out into the street. “Take it around the block,” he said. “I’ll catch up with you in a bit.”
The guard was still coming. “Oughta blow his fat ass up,” Gerardo groused, but Ramón didn’t hear. Ramón was already jogging up the sidewalk, cutting through a flower bed to the corner of the building, where he stood and watched as Corso crossed the parking lot and entered the back door of the hospital. Ramón hopped over the shrubbery and stood on the sidewalk, watching Corso stride down the shining hallway.
Wednesday, October 18
9:29 p.m.
T he room was quiet, the burnished metal stillness broken only by the
“Be all right if I took this with me?” Corso asked Pov. “I’ll bring it back as soon as I’m finished.”
Pov nodded. “Okay,” he said.
Corso spent another twenty minutes going through the remains of Donald Barth’s life. “I guess that’s it,” he said finally, dusting his hands together.
Mr. Pov pulled the chain on the light and they walked outside together. Overhead a full moon ducked in and out of a starless steel-wool sky. Mr. Pov slid the door closed and snapped the padlock back in place.
“A philosopher once said that a man’s true worth is not measured by the extent of his possessions but by the paucity of his needs,” Corso said.
“Ah,” Pov said. “What is this paucity ?”
Corso told him and then spelled it.
“If such is true, then Mr. Barth was a wealthy man indeed.”
Corso thanked Mr. Pov for his help. The men shook hands and parted company. Nhim Pov turned left, toward his apartment, and Corso went right, toward the hissing purple lights of the parking lot.
Gerardo was outraged. “What the hell’s he doin’ here for a damn hour, anyway? He don’t got nothing to do with this. Every place we go, this guy’s pokin’ his nose in our business.”
“He’s got some connection going for himself.”
“What connection is that?”
“Between the girl and the guy in the truck.”
Gerardo scowled. “Like what?”
“Damned if I know,” Ramón said.
“Maybe he knows the Ball guy buried the truck for us.”
“How would he know that? He’s just supposed to be some nosy-ass writer who’s always talkin’ shit about the boss.”
“Here he comes,” Gerardo said, pointing out through the darkened window. As they sat in the gloom, the Subaru rolled out from behind the Briarwood Garden Apartments and bounced into the street. Gerardo started the Mercedes’s engine. He waited until Corso was halfway up the block before turning on the lights and following.
“We maybe better figure out where this guy fits into the picture,” Ramón said, as they followed the Subaru up the freeway entrance ramp.
“Soon,” Gerardo agreed. “Real soon.”
14
Wednesday, October 18
9:03 p.m.
“S top,” Ramón said.
Half a block up Ninth Avenue, Harborview Hospital rose into the night sky like a stone rocket ship on a launching pad. Gerardo and Ramón watched as Corso stopped at the gate, plucked a ticket from the automatic dispenser, and wheeled the Subaru out of sight.
Gerardo pulled the car to the curb in a tow-away zone. “You goin’ in?”
“Yeah.”
“What for?”
“I dunno. I got a feeling.”
“What kinda feeling?”
Ramón checked his watch. “He’s gotta be visitin’ somebody.”
“Like who?”
“That’s what I’m gonna find out.”
“You want in the trunk?”
“I’m just goin’ to look.”
A hospital security guard left the entrance and began limping their way.
Ramón popped the door and stepped out into the street. “Take it around the block,” he said. “I’ll catch up with you in a bit.”
The guard was still coming. “Oughta blow his fat ass up,” Gerardo groused, but Ramón didn’t hear. Ramón was already jogging up the sidewalk, cutting through a flower bed to the corner of the building, where he stood and watched as Corso crossed the parking lot and entered the back door of the hospital. Ramón hopped over the shrubbery and stood on the sidewalk, watching Corso stride down the shining hallway.
Wednesday, October 18
9:29 p.m.
T he room was quiet, the burnished metal stillness broken only by the
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