The Cove
Page 45
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“He’s not hiding in here, either,” she said. “And that’s what we’re really doing here, isn’t it?”
“Both, really. I have a feeling that your father wouldn’t lower himself to stay in this place. There aren’t even any free bathrobes.”
* * *
That afternoon they ate lunch at the Hinterlands. This week Zeke was serving Spam burgers and variations on meat loaf.
They both ordered Zeke’s original-recipe meat loaf.
“The smells make me salivate,” Quinlan said, inhaling enthusiastically. “Zeke puts garlic in his mashed potatoes. Breathe deeply enough and no vampire will come near you.”
Sally was toying with the curved slice of carrot in her salad. “I like garlic.”
“Tell me about that night, Sally.”
She’d picked up the carrot and was chewing on it. She dropped it. Then she picked it up again and slowly began eating it. “All right,” she said finally. She smiled at him. “I might as well trust you. If you’re going to betray me, then I might as well hang it up. The cops are right. I was there that night. But they’re wrong about everything else. I don’t remember a thing, James, not a blessed thing.”
Well, hell, he thought, but he knew she was telling him the truth. “Do you think someone struck you?”
“No, I don’t think so. I’ve thought and thought about it and all I can figure out is that I just don’t want to remember, can’t bear to, I guess, so my brain just closed it down.”
“I’ve heard about hysterical amnesia and even seen it a couple of times. What usually happens is that you will remember, if not tomorrow, then next week. Your father wasn’t killed in a horrific way. He was shot neatly through the heart, no muss, no fuss. So, it would seem to me that the people involved in his death shook you so much that’s the reason you’ve blocked it all out.”
“Yes,” she said slowly, then turned around and saw the waitress bringing their plates. The smell of garlic, butter, roasted squash, and the rich aroma of the meat loaf filled the air around them.
“I couldn’t live here and stay trim,” James said. “It smells delicious, Nelda.”
“Catsup for the meat loaf?”
“Does a shark have a fin?”
Nelda, the waitress, laughed and set a Heinz ketchup bottle between them. “Enjoy,” she said.
“Nelda, how often do young Ed and Martha eat here?”
“Oh, maybe twice a week,” she said, looking a bit startled. “Martha says she gets tired of her own cooking. Young Ed is my older brother. Poor man. Every time he wants to see Martha, he has to endure Thelma’s jokes. Can you believe that old woman is still alive, writing in that diary of hers every day and eating that sausage?”
“That’s interesting,” James said when Nelda left them. “Eat, Sally. That’s right. You’re perfect, but I’d be worried for you in a strong wind.”
“I used to run every day,” she said. “I used to be strong.”
“You will be again. Just stick with me.”
“I can’t imagine running in Los Angeles. All I ever see is pictures of horrible fog and cars stacked up on the freeways.”
“I live in a canyon. It’s got healthy air and I run there as well.”
“Somehow I can’t imagine you living in Southern California. You just don’t seem the type. Does your ex-wife still live there?”
“No, Teresa is back east. She married a crook, interestingly enough. I hope she doesn’t have kids with the guy. Their genetic potential is hair-raising.”
She laughed, actually laughed. It felt as wonderful to her as it felt to James hearing it.
“You have any idea how beautiful you are, Sally?”
Her fork stilled over the meat loaf. “You’re into crazy freaks?”
“If you ever say anything like that again, you’ll piss me off. When I get pissed off I do strange things, like take off all my clothes and chase ducks in the park.” The tension fell away from her. He had no idea why he’d told her she was beautiful; it had just slipped out. Actually, she was more than beautiful—she was warm and caring, even while she was living this nightmare. He wished he knew what to do.
“You said you didn’t remember about that night your father was killed. Do you have other gaps in your memory?”
“Yes. Sometimes when I think about that place, very sharp memories will come to me, but I couldn’t swear if they are truly memories or just weird images stewed up by my brain. I remember everything very clearly until about six months ago.”
“Both, really. I have a feeling that your father wouldn’t lower himself to stay in this place. There aren’t even any free bathrobes.”
* * *
That afternoon they ate lunch at the Hinterlands. This week Zeke was serving Spam burgers and variations on meat loaf.
They both ordered Zeke’s original-recipe meat loaf.
“The smells make me salivate,” Quinlan said, inhaling enthusiastically. “Zeke puts garlic in his mashed potatoes. Breathe deeply enough and no vampire will come near you.”
Sally was toying with the curved slice of carrot in her salad. “I like garlic.”
“Tell me about that night, Sally.”
She’d picked up the carrot and was chewing on it. She dropped it. Then she picked it up again and slowly began eating it. “All right,” she said finally. She smiled at him. “I might as well trust you. If you’re going to betray me, then I might as well hang it up. The cops are right. I was there that night. But they’re wrong about everything else. I don’t remember a thing, James, not a blessed thing.”
Well, hell, he thought, but he knew she was telling him the truth. “Do you think someone struck you?”
“No, I don’t think so. I’ve thought and thought about it and all I can figure out is that I just don’t want to remember, can’t bear to, I guess, so my brain just closed it down.”
“I’ve heard about hysterical amnesia and even seen it a couple of times. What usually happens is that you will remember, if not tomorrow, then next week. Your father wasn’t killed in a horrific way. He was shot neatly through the heart, no muss, no fuss. So, it would seem to me that the people involved in his death shook you so much that’s the reason you’ve blocked it all out.”
“Yes,” she said slowly, then turned around and saw the waitress bringing their plates. The smell of garlic, butter, roasted squash, and the rich aroma of the meat loaf filled the air around them.
“I couldn’t live here and stay trim,” James said. “It smells delicious, Nelda.”
“Catsup for the meat loaf?”
“Does a shark have a fin?”
Nelda, the waitress, laughed and set a Heinz ketchup bottle between them. “Enjoy,” she said.
“Nelda, how often do young Ed and Martha eat here?”
“Oh, maybe twice a week,” she said, looking a bit startled. “Martha says she gets tired of her own cooking. Young Ed is my older brother. Poor man. Every time he wants to see Martha, he has to endure Thelma’s jokes. Can you believe that old woman is still alive, writing in that diary of hers every day and eating that sausage?”
“That’s interesting,” James said when Nelda left them. “Eat, Sally. That’s right. You’re perfect, but I’d be worried for you in a strong wind.”
“I used to run every day,” she said. “I used to be strong.”
“You will be again. Just stick with me.”
“I can’t imagine running in Los Angeles. All I ever see is pictures of horrible fog and cars stacked up on the freeways.”
“I live in a canyon. It’s got healthy air and I run there as well.”
“Somehow I can’t imagine you living in Southern California. You just don’t seem the type. Does your ex-wife still live there?”
“No, Teresa is back east. She married a crook, interestingly enough. I hope she doesn’t have kids with the guy. Their genetic potential is hair-raising.”
She laughed, actually laughed. It felt as wonderful to her as it felt to James hearing it.
“You have any idea how beautiful you are, Sally?”
Her fork stilled over the meat loaf. “You’re into crazy freaks?”
“If you ever say anything like that again, you’ll piss me off. When I get pissed off I do strange things, like take off all my clothes and chase ducks in the park.” The tension fell away from her. He had no idea why he’d told her she was beautiful; it had just slipped out. Actually, she was more than beautiful—she was warm and caring, even while she was living this nightmare. He wished he knew what to do.
“You said you didn’t remember about that night your father was killed. Do you have other gaps in your memory?”
“Yes. Sometimes when I think about that place, very sharp memories will come to me, but I couldn’t swear if they are truly memories or just weird images stewed up by my brain. I remember everything very clearly until about six months ago.”
