teacher. He worked with disabled children.”
“Before he picked up the Happy Boy account did he work with any insurance companies?”
“Happy Boy has been his assignment right from the beginning. They’re a huge chain, it’s all Marlon can do to keep up with their taxes.”
“So no problems at work.”
“Why would there be a problem? No, of course not, this had nothing to do with Marlon, Marlon’s the best.”
“And obviously your personal life is great.”
“Better than great,” said Belle Quigg. “It’s … excellent.” Her lips parted. Color began leeching again. “I’m going to have to tell Britt and Sar— Oh God, how can I do that—”
“How old are they?”
“Britt’s eighteen, Sarah’s twenty-two.”
“Are they close by?”
Head shake. “Britt’s in Colorado, Sarah’s in … I … where is she, that place underneath Colorado …” Her face screwed up. “It’s on the tip of my … that place …”
I said, “New Mexico.”
“New Mexico. She’s in Gallup, it sounds like horses running around, that’s how I remember it. She’s there because her boyfriend lives in Gallup, so she does, too. She used to drive a car, now she rides a lot of horses, it’s a ranch, one of those ranches. Britt’s not married, I hope she will be but she’s not, she lives in Colorado. Vail. She works as a waitress, gets real busy when it’s ski season. She skis, Sarah rides horses. They’re beautiful girls—how am I going to tell them!”
“If you’d like us to stick around while you call—”
“No, no no, you call.”
“You’re sure, ma’am?”
“It’s your job,” said Belle Quigg. “Everyone needs to do their job.”
She turned silent, almost stuporous, as Milo phoned her daughters. The conversations were brief, terrible, and every second seemed to diminish him. If Belle Quigg had eavesdropped, she showed no signs of reacting.
He sat back down. “Sarah would like to talk to you, Mrs. Quigg.”
“Britt, too?”
“Britt will call you back when she composes herself.”
“Composes,” said Belle Quigg. “Like a composition. She was always good in English.”
“Will you speak with Sarah?”
“No, no, no, tell her I’ll call back. I need to sleep. I need to sleep forever.”
“Is there someone, a friend, a neighbor, that we could call to come over to be with you?”
“Be with me while I sleep?”
“To offer support, ma’am.”
“I’m fine, I just want to die in peace.”
I returned to the kitchen, looked for an address book, found a cell phone. A scan of recent calls listed a speed-dial number for Letty. I phoned it.
A woman said, “Belle?”
I said, “I’m calling on Belle’s behalf.”
It took a while to clarify, longer until Letty Pomeroy stopped gasping, but she agreed readily to come over to take care of her friend.
“Are you nearby?”
“Like a five-minute drive.”
“We really appreciate it, Mrs. Pomeroy.”
“Of course. Marlon’s really …”
“I’m afraid so.”
“That’s crazy—do you know who did it?”
“Not yet.”
“Where did it happen?
“In Temescal Canyon.”
“Where Marlon walked Louie.”
“That’s common knowledge?”
“Anyone who knows Marlon knows he likes to walk Louie there.Because he didn’t need to clean up after Louie, it’s so … rural. I mean I guess officially he did but … was Louie also …”
“Louie’s missing.”
“Figures,” said Letty Pomeroy. “That he wouldn’t protect Marlon.”
“Pushover?”
“Moron.”
“What kind of breed is he?”
“Golden retriever. Or maybe a retriever mix. Mixed-up is more like it, that has to be the dumbest animal I’ve ever encountered. You could step on him, he’d grin up at you like the village idiot. Kind of like Marlon, I guess. No, that came out wrong, I’m not saying Marlon was stupid, God forbid no, Marlon was smart, he was a bright man, very mathematical.”
“But easygoing,” I said.
“ That’s what I meant.
“Before he picked up the Happy Boy account did he work with any insurance companies?”
“Happy Boy has been his assignment right from the beginning. They’re a huge chain, it’s all Marlon can do to keep up with their taxes.”
“So no problems at work.”
“Why would there be a problem? No, of course not, this had nothing to do with Marlon, Marlon’s the best.”
“And obviously your personal life is great.”
“Better than great,” said Belle Quigg. “It’s … excellent.” Her lips parted. Color began leeching again. “I’m going to have to tell Britt and Sar— Oh God, how can I do that—”
“How old are they?”
“Britt’s eighteen, Sarah’s twenty-two.”
“Are they close by?”
Head shake. “Britt’s in Colorado, Sarah’s in … I … where is she, that place underneath Colorado …” Her face screwed up. “It’s on the tip of my … that place …”
I said, “New Mexico.”
“New Mexico. She’s in Gallup, it sounds like horses running around, that’s how I remember it. She’s there because her boyfriend lives in Gallup, so she does, too. She used to drive a car, now she rides a lot of horses, it’s a ranch, one of those ranches. Britt’s not married, I hope she will be but she’s not, she lives in Colorado. Vail. She works as a waitress, gets real busy when it’s ski season. She skis, Sarah rides horses. They’re beautiful girls—how am I going to tell them!”
“If you’d like us to stick around while you call—”
“No, no no, you call.”
“You’re sure, ma’am?”
“It’s your job,” said Belle Quigg. “Everyone needs to do their job.”
She turned silent, almost stuporous, as Milo phoned her daughters. The conversations were brief, terrible, and every second seemed to diminish him. If Belle Quigg had eavesdropped, she showed no signs of reacting.
He sat back down. “Sarah would like to talk to you, Mrs. Quigg.”
“Britt, too?”
“Britt will call you back when she composes herself.”
“Composes,” said Belle Quigg. “Like a composition. She was always good in English.”
“Will you speak with Sarah?”
“No, no, no, tell her I’ll call back. I need to sleep. I need to sleep forever.”
“Is there someone, a friend, a neighbor, that we could call to come over to be with you?”
“Be with me while I sleep?”
“To offer support, ma’am.”
“I’m fine, I just want to die in peace.”
I returned to the kitchen, looked for an address book, found a cell phone. A scan of recent calls listed a speed-dial number for Letty. I phoned it.
A woman said, “Belle?”
I said, “I’m calling on Belle’s behalf.”
It took a while to clarify, longer until Letty Pomeroy stopped gasping, but she agreed readily to come over to take care of her friend.
“Are you nearby?”
“Like a five-minute drive.”
“We really appreciate it, Mrs. Pomeroy.”
“Of course. Marlon’s really …”
“I’m afraid so.”
“That’s crazy—do you know who did it?”
“Not yet.”
“Where did it happen?
“In Temescal Canyon.”
“Where Marlon walked Louie.”
“That’s common knowledge?”
“Anyone who knows Marlon knows he likes to walk Louie there.Because he didn’t need to clean up after Louie, it’s so … rural. I mean I guess officially he did but … was Louie also …”
“Louie’s missing.”
“Figures,” said Letty Pomeroy. “That he wouldn’t protect Marlon.”
“Pushover?”
“Moron.”
“What kind of breed is he?”
“Golden retriever. Or maybe a retriever mix. Mixed-up is more like it, that has to be the dumbest animal I’ve ever encountered. You could step on him, he’d grin up at you like the village idiot. Kind of like Marlon, I guess. No, that came out wrong, I’m not saying Marlon was stupid, God forbid no, Marlon was smart, he was a bright man, very mathematical.”
“But easygoing,” I said.
“ That’s what I meant.
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