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I rounded the corner. Henry's back door was open. I went through a quick debate, then crossed the patio and tapped on the screen. "You there?"
"I'm here. Come in."
The overhead light was off and, though to all intents and purposes it was still broad daylight outside, the effect was gloomy. He sat in his rocker with his usual glass of whiskey in hand. The kitchen was spotless, appliances gleaming, the counters glossy. The oven was off and the stove top was bereft of any pots and pans. The air smelled blank. This was so unlike him. No sign of his daily baking project, no di
"I brought your paper in."
"Thank you."
I placed it on the kitchen table. "Mind if I join you?"
"Might as well. There's half a bottle of wine in the refrigerator if you're interested."
I took a wineglass from the cabinet and found the stoppered bottle of Chardo
"I'm fine."
"Ah. That's good because the kitchen looks kind of grim. I thought I'd turn on some lights."
"Suit yourself."
I crossed to the wall and flipped the switch, which didn't seem to help. The light seemed as dull and as flat as Henry's demeanor. I sat down and placed my wineglass on the table. "What happened last night? I saw Mattie's car was gone and you were out. The two of you go somewhere?"
"She left for San Francisco. I took a walk."
"What time did she leave?"
"I didn't pay much attention. Four thirty-two," he said.
"Pretty late start for a six-hour drive. If she stopped for supper, she probably didn't get home until close to midnight."
Silence from Henry.
"I take it she stayed for lunch. Did you go with them to the art museum?"
"You know we don't have to discuss this. There's really nothing to say. I'd just as soon drop the subject."
"Sure. No problem," I said. "Are you going to Rosie's for supper? I was thinking of doing that myself."
"And risk ru
"We could go somewhere else. Emile's-at-the-Beach is always lovely."
He looked at me with such injury in his eyes, I couldn't bear to see it. "She broke it off."
"She did?"
"She said I was impossible. She said she really couldn't bear my bad behavior."
"What brought that on?"
"Nothing. It came out of a clear blue sky."
"Maybe she had a hard day."
"Not as hard as mine."
I sat staring at the floor, feeling a wave of disappointment washing over me. I had such high hopes for them. I said, "You know what I find hard? I want to believe nice things can happen to us. Not every day, maybe, but just now and then."
"Me too," he said. He got up and left the room.
I waited a minute and when it was clear he wasn't coming back, I dumped my wine in the sink, rinsed the glass, and then let myself out. I was ready to wring William's neck and I wouldn't have minded having a go at Lewis while I was at it. I could have handled pain of my own easier than Henry's. Part of my bleak mood was probably co
I let myself into my apartment and checked the answering machine. I was hoping Cheney'd left a message, but the light wasn't blinking so I kissed that one off. Despite my earlier self-confidence, I wasn't keen on the idea of waiting around to see if he'd call. It was di
This was one of those moments when you need a girlfriend. When you're down in the dumps, that's what you do – call your best friend – or so I've heard. You chat. You laugh. You tell her your sad tale of woe, she commiserates, and then you take off and go shopping like normal folk. But I didn't have a girlfriend, a lack I'd hardly noticed until Cheney appeared. So now, not only was I facing the fact that I didn't have him, I didn't have her either, whoever she was.
A voice said… Ah, but you do have Reba.
I thought about that one. If I made a list of desirable girlfriend traits, "convicted felon" wouldn't be one. On the other hand, I'd be a convicted felon myself if I'd ever been caught doing even half the things I'd done.
I picked up the phone and punched in the number for the Lafferty estate. When Reba answered, I said, "Reba, this is Kinsey. I need a favor. How good are you at giving fashion advice?"
Reba picked me up in her car, a two-year-old black BMW she'd acquired shortly before she'd been sent to CIW. "The DA was panting to seize the car on the premise I'd bought it with ill-gotten gains. Ha ha ha on him. My father gave it to me for my thirtieth birthday. Hopes dashed again."
"What'd you say to O
"I told her something came up and we'd make it another night."
"She was cool with that?"
"Of course. She probably hated the idea of having di
"That was your mistake. You made him sound too good."
"You got that right. She was always jealous of me. Minute my back is turned, she walks off with my job and then she walks off with the love of my life, or so I thought at the time. I hate women who get into that competitive shit."
"What's she like?"
"You can judge for yourself as long as you end up agreeing with me.
I know where she hangs out. If you're interested, we can drop by later and I'll introduce you."
"Drop by where?"
"Bubbles in Montebello."
"That's been closed for two years."
"Nuhn-uhn. The place has changed hands. Name's the same, but it's been open for a month under new management."
"Where we headed now?"
"The mall."
Passages, the newly opened shopping plaza in the heart of Santa Teresa, had been designed to resemble an old Spanish town. The architecture featured a picturesque assortment of narrow shoulder-to-shoulder buildings of varying heights, arches, loggias, courtyards, fountains, and side streets, the whole of the three-block complex capped by red tile roofs. At ground level there were restaurants, clothing stores, galleries, jewelry stores, and other retail shops. The wide central esplanade was anchored at one end by Macy's and at the other end by Nordstrom's, with a large chain bookstore occupying a prominent spot. Pepper trees and flowering shrubs were planted throughout. In the taller structures, three and four stories high, office space had been leased to lawyers, accountants, engineers, and anyone else who could afford the staggering rents.
Given Santa Teresa's resistance to new construction, the project had taken years to push through. The city-pla