Kaleidoscope by Gail Bowen Page A

my eyes stung.
    I didn’t realize Zack had come back from inspecting the condo until I heard his voice beside me. “Well, it works for me,” he said. “Nothing too high, too low, too sloping, or too steep.”
    “Good,” I said, turning away from the view. “Zack, you spent some time with Riel Delorme today. What do you think of him?”
    Zack was slow to answer. Finally, he said, “Well, he’s no Wayne Gretzky.”
    “Where’d that come from?”
    “Gretzky always knew instinctively where the game was going – not just where his teammates were but where they were going to move next. Riel’s right in the middle of the action, but he can’t seem to see what’s going on, and he can’t figure out where the game is headed. I don’t get it.”
    “Maybe he just doesn’t want to see what’s really going on. Maybe, with all his good intentions, he’s in over his head and doesn’t want to face it. Maybe Riel is what Ian used to call ‘terminally naive.’ ”
    Zack nodded approvingly. “Nice turn of phrase.”
    “Most of the time the phrase was directed at me.”
    “You’re not naive.”
    “Not any more,” I said, “but once upon a time I was a lot like Riel.”

CHAPTER
6
    That day I really needed the calming effect of driving. Without comment, Zack took his place in the passenger seat. “Wouldn’t take many mornings like this one to make a dozen, would it?” he said.
    My laugh was forced. “No, but we’re headed for the lake now so soon all will be well.”
    “About that,” Zack said. “Joanne, I have to call Debbie Haczkewicz and tell her about our new living arrangements.”
    “Every move we make, huh?” I said.
    “Yep – and every breath we take – at least till all this is cleared up.”
    “I’m assuming that Mieka’s relationship with Riel is now going to be on record at the police station.”
    Zack nodded. “Yes, if it isn’t already. Jo, did you tell Mieka that we were moving into Leland’s condo?”
    “No. I didn’t want to pour salt on the wound.”
    “Just as well,” Zack said. “For the time being, the fewer people who know we’re living on Halifax Street during the week, the better.”
    “Can I tell Peter and Angus?”
    “It might be simpler not to, but that’s your call.”
    “I don’t like lying to them.”
    “You don’t have to lie,” Zack said. “Just don’t say anything. They’ll assume we’re driving in from the lake every day.”
    “A sin of omission, not commission,” I said.
    Zack’s smile was wry. “Get used to it,” he said. “Now, I’d better call Debbie. It never pays to withhold information from the cops.”
    When we came through the gate, the dogs roared up to meet us. I scratched our bouvier’s head. “Somehow I don’t see these guys as condo dwellers,” I said. “I hate the idea of not being with Willie and Pantera every day.”
    Pantera rested his huge jaw on the arm of Zack’s chair. “Me, too,” Zack said. “But I’m sure the condo has a no-pet rule, and a bouvier and a mastiff are not easy to sneak in.”
    “So what are we going to do?”
    “Well, Noah Wainberg’s up getting the cottages ready. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind taking care of the dogs during the week, and as soon as the Cronus trial is over and Taylor’s finished exams, we can move up here till September. Are you okay with that?”
    “I guess I’m going to have to be,” I said. “Let’s find Taylor and fill her in. We might as well get it all over with at once.”
    We walked down to the lake into a scene from Norman Rockwell. Taylor and Isobel Wainberg were on the swings that Isobel’s father, Noah, had suspended from a high branch of an elm years ago. They were pushing themselves slowly, deep in conversation, their toes dragging through the dirt on the paths worn through the grass. The girls were very different. Taylor was tall and loose-limbed with the quick smile of the extrovert; Isobel was small-boned, tightly wound, and hesitant about