right. There’s no money. So much for my lawsuit.” Her laughter continued, ratcheted up in intensity. “So much for Juan Gonzalez.”
“Who? The ballplayer?”
“Forget it. Nothing.” She kept laughing until she noticed me sitting there glumly and regained her composure. “But, Victor, if there’s no money, how are you getting paid?”
“I don’t know.”
“The loyalty of an old friend?”
“Something like that.”
“I wonder if Guy knows how lucky he is to have you.”
“The point is, Leila, that Guy wants to know if you’d put up the house for his bail. It might not be enough even if you could, but he wanted me to ask, and I said I would, even though I—”
“Yes.”
“Excuse me?”
“Yes, I would put up the house to get him out of jail. Will it be enough?”
“I don’t know.”
“The mortgage is pretty high, and I don’t know how much equity there is, but whatever I can do I will do. I also have some investments we could use.”
“You know he was trying to run when they arrested him. He could try to run again.”
“He won’t. His life is here.”
“And he might have actually killed her.”
“If he did, he had good reason. Is there something I have to sign?”
“You might want to talk to a lawyer before you do anything. If he runs, you could lose the house. You might want to talk to your father.”
“I know what my father would say and I don’t care. You bring to me what you want me to sign and I will sign it. And you tell Guy I’m still waiting.”
“Waiting?”
“He’ll know.”
“You’re waiting? For him?” My eyes opened wide with my incredulity. “You’re waiting for him to come back?”
“This is his home, too.”
“You still love him, even after all he did?”
“It’s not like a faucet, Victor. You don’t just turn it off.”
“You ever think he’s not worthy of it?”
“Every day.”
“And that if he does get out, he might not choose to live with you again?”
“Victor, everything you say makes a great deal of sense, andthank you for your sage advice, but I’m willing to take my chances. Sometimes in the middle of our lives we don’t realize that our dreams have come true. It’s only after it all disappears that we know. I want it back the way it was before ever we heard of Hailey Prouix. I want my husband back, my children’s father back, my life back. I want everything the way it was.”
“It can never be that way again, Leila. Whatever it is, it will be different.”
“Maybe better, who can tell? She’s dead, isn’t she? You bring me the paper, I’ll sign what I need to sign.”
I hadn’t thought of it before, it hadn’t seemed a possibility before, but now how could I avoid it? Even knowing what I knew, even with all my certainties, how could I avoid it?
“On the night Hailey was killed,” I said, “where were you around ten o’clock?”
“That’s funny, Victor. The police asked me the very same question.”
“They’ve been here?”
“Two detectives. An athletic woman, who might have been a swimmer herself. She did most of the talking. And another, an older black man, a Detective Breger, I think it was, who spent the whole time pacing the room, snooping into every corner. I’ll give you the same thing I gave them.” She stood, walked to the phone table, wrote down a number. “His name is Herb Stein, a very nice man. We had dinner in a Belgian place by the library that night. The mussel sauce splashed all over his tie. He wiped it spotless with a napkin.”
“Don’t be a snob, Leila, I wear polyester ties myself.”
“Well, then, Victor, you can date him. Or Ted Jenrette, with his nose hairs, or Biff Callender and Chip Cannon. What is it, Victor, with men who keep their nicknames from summer camp? My friends are so eager for me to start a new life, when all I want is my old one back. Not very Buddhist of me I know, but, hell, I was raised Episcopalian.”
“Did you ever think, Leila, that your
“Who? The ballplayer?”
“Forget it. Nothing.” She kept laughing until she noticed me sitting there glumly and regained her composure. “But, Victor, if there’s no money, how are you getting paid?”
“I don’t know.”
“The loyalty of an old friend?”
“Something like that.”
“I wonder if Guy knows how lucky he is to have you.”
“The point is, Leila, that Guy wants to know if you’d put up the house for his bail. It might not be enough even if you could, but he wanted me to ask, and I said I would, even though I—”
“Yes.”
“Excuse me?”
“Yes, I would put up the house to get him out of jail. Will it be enough?”
“I don’t know.”
“The mortgage is pretty high, and I don’t know how much equity there is, but whatever I can do I will do. I also have some investments we could use.”
“You know he was trying to run when they arrested him. He could try to run again.”
“He won’t. His life is here.”
“And he might have actually killed her.”
“If he did, he had good reason. Is there something I have to sign?”
“You might want to talk to a lawyer before you do anything. If he runs, you could lose the house. You might want to talk to your father.”
“I know what my father would say and I don’t care. You bring to me what you want me to sign and I will sign it. And you tell Guy I’m still waiting.”
“Waiting?”
“He’ll know.”
“You’re waiting? For him?” My eyes opened wide with my incredulity. “You’re waiting for him to come back?”
“This is his home, too.”
“You still love him, even after all he did?”
“It’s not like a faucet, Victor. You don’t just turn it off.”
“You ever think he’s not worthy of it?”
“Every day.”
“And that if he does get out, he might not choose to live with you again?”
“Victor, everything you say makes a great deal of sense, andthank you for your sage advice, but I’m willing to take my chances. Sometimes in the middle of our lives we don’t realize that our dreams have come true. It’s only after it all disappears that we know. I want it back the way it was before ever we heard of Hailey Prouix. I want my husband back, my children’s father back, my life back. I want everything the way it was.”
“It can never be that way again, Leila. Whatever it is, it will be different.”
“Maybe better, who can tell? She’s dead, isn’t she? You bring me the paper, I’ll sign what I need to sign.”
I hadn’t thought of it before, it hadn’t seemed a possibility before, but now how could I avoid it? Even knowing what I knew, even with all my certainties, how could I avoid it?
“On the night Hailey was killed,” I said, “where were you around ten o’clock?”
“That’s funny, Victor. The police asked me the very same question.”
“They’ve been here?”
“Two detectives. An athletic woman, who might have been a swimmer herself. She did most of the talking. And another, an older black man, a Detective Breger, I think it was, who spent the whole time pacing the room, snooping into every corner. I’ll give you the same thing I gave them.” She stood, walked to the phone table, wrote down a number. “His name is Herb Stein, a very nice man. We had dinner in a Belgian place by the library that night. The mussel sauce splashed all over his tie. He wiped it spotless with a napkin.”
“Don’t be a snob, Leila, I wear polyester ties myself.”
“Well, then, Victor, you can date him. Or Ted Jenrette, with his nose hairs, or Biff Callender and Chip Cannon. What is it, Victor, with men who keep their nicknames from summer camp? My friends are so eager for me to start a new life, when all I want is my old one back. Not very Buddhist of me I know, but, hell, I was raised Episcopalian.”
“Did you ever think, Leila, that your
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