He opened his door, sent a quick thought to Martinez, then shut him out again and walked, with Beth Riley, into the gallery.
It was after three dead-end meetings, when they were back in the office doing yet more cross-checking, that they came across Allison Moore’s name again.
As an artist. An exhibitor at the Spring Art Show, an annual North Miami Beach event. Not described as working with unusual materials, nothing of that nature; but according to the catalogue that Riley had unearthed online, Moore’s painting displayed a ‘dark leaning’.
‘It’s definitely her, right?’ Riley pointed to a photograph.
Sam nodded. ‘Time to take Ms Moore apart again.’
And Beatty right alongside.
‘Let’s see them both on home ground this time,’ he said.
‘Out of their work environment,’ Riley agreed.
‘Out of camouflage,’ Sam said.
SIXTY-SIX
At around four that afternoon, Cathy and Saul were in his workshop near the apartment, drinking pomegranate smoothies she’d picked up in Publix, sitting on a pair of beanbag cushions, surveying the beech table Saul had just finished and talking about the cruise and how much she agreed with him that Sam and Grace had to take it.
‘I’m not so sure I can see it happening now though,’ Saul said. ‘Not with Martinez so sick.’
Grace had called them both a while back with the news, had told them that Sam was obviously deeply worried, and though there was nothing any of them could do for the time being, she knew they’d want to be kept in the loop.
‘He is going to be OK, isn’t he?’ Cathy’s face was suddenly anxious.
Too many losses in her lifetime. Alejandro Martinez might not be related, but he was a rock in Sam’s life, and that made him almost family.
‘I hope,’ Saul said. ‘I figure we should be optimistic, assume they will go, plan as best as we can.’ He paused. ‘Sam’s going to want you to pack for Grace, by the way.’
Cathy knew a distraction tactic when she heard one, was glad to go with it. ‘So we’ll have to get her out of the house on the day.’ She thought. ‘Is Joshua going with them?’
Saul shook his head. ‘He’s staying with Dad and Mildred. They’re cool about it.’
Cathy smiled. ‘They would be.’
‘It’s funny about Mildred,’ Saul said. ‘She’s only been at Dad’s a few months, but it feels kind of like she’s always been in our lives.’ He hesitated, oddly guilty, though there was no reason, no romance between Mildred Bleeker and his father. ‘I mean, obviously I don’t mean always, like Mom . . .’
‘It’s OK to be glad that your dad has a friend,’ Cathy said gently.
‘I know,’ Saul said.
Cathy waited another moment, then hit the other reason she’d dropped by.
‘I was talking to Grace about Jess this morning,’ she said.
‘She’s so nice,’ Saul said. ‘I’m happy for them both – and I hate that he’s sick, but at least he has her.’
‘I’m not so sure about her,’ Cathy said. ‘To be honest, she creeps me out a little.’
‘Why?’ Saul was as surprised as Grace had been.
‘Maybe that’s a little overstated,’ Cathy said. ‘But I do find her irritating.’
‘Don’t you think she’s sincere?’
‘I don’t know,’ Cathy said. ‘I just have a feeling about her.’ She paused. ‘I told Grace I think she has a thing for Sam.’
‘You’re kidding.’ Saul looked aghast. ‘What did Grace say?’
‘That it’s a crazy idea.’ Cathy drained the last of her smoothie. ‘So what do you think?’
‘Same as Grace.’ Saul took a breath. ‘I also think that the way things are, with Martinez so sick and Sam under so much pressure, you should probably keep that kind of thinking to yourself.’
The closest to harsh Cathy thought she’d ever heard Saul.
‘Oh God,’ she said. ‘I sound like a real bitch.’
‘I don’t think you have a bitchy bone in your body,’ Saul said.
‘Everyone does,’ Cathy said.
‘And you think Jess does,’ Saul said.
Cathy shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’
SIXTY-SEVEN
They tried dropping in on Larry Beatty unannounced just after seven, but the doorman at his high-price building on Collins near 71st, a middle-aged guy with Angelo on his name tag, failed to get a response from 14D.
‘I just came on duty an hour ago,’ he told them, ‘but I haven’t seen Mr Beatty all week, which doesn’t mean he hasn’t been home, because it isn’t our job to check up on the residents’ comings and goings.’
‘His office is close by, isn’t it?’ Sam asked.
‘I wouldn’t know that,’ said Angelo.
‘Maybe he’s having dinner on his way home,’ Riley said. ‘Any idea where he likes to go?’
‘None,’ the doorman said.
And plainly, whether Angelo liked or loathed or was entirely indifferent to Lawrence Beatty, he was not going to share any information with them.
‘Would you care to leave a message?’ he asked.
‘I don’t think so,’ Sam said. ‘We’ll catch up with him another time.’
They walked back outside, where Sam’s Saab was parked nose to tail with Riley’s car, but neither of them moved toward their vehicles, just stood for a moment in the well-lit darkness of a Miami Beach February evening.
‘You want to go look for him?’ Riley asked.
Sam took off his jacket, shook his head. ‘Not quite ready to harass him. Tomorrow’s soon enough.’
‘You going to the hospital?’ Riley said.
Sam had called an hour ago, had learned that Martinez had developed a rash and deteriorated sufficiently to have been admitted to the Critical Care Unit, which had struck all kinds of alarm bells in him.
‘Later,’ Sam said. ‘Cathy’s working the evening shift, so I thought I might drop by the café first, see how she’s doing.’
They moved to the kerb, and Riley reached out and touched Sam’s right forearm. ‘Send good thoughts to Al, please.’
‘I’ll do that,’ Sam said.
He knew that detouring to the café was really about putting off the moment of seeing Martinez in that place.
Coward.
‘You look like you need pasta,’ Dooley told him, coming out of the kitchen to shake his hand. ‘Which is no big surprise, given all your daughter says you’re going through.’
Sam smiled. ‘I didn’t realize I was hungry till I came in here.’ He looked at Cathy, waiting tables this evening while Simone visited with her mother.
‘How’s your friend doing?’ Dooley asked.
‘Not so good,’ Sam said.
‘So you need to keep up your own strength, right?’
‘Sure,’ Sam said.
‘Sit anywhere,’ Dooley said. ‘We’re quiet tonight.’
Sam picked one of the tables with banquettes, remembering the first time he’d come in and Simone had made him comfortable because he’d looked tired.
Getting to be a habit.
One of the better ones.
Cathy brought him over a menu. ‘Dooley says you need penne al’arrabiatta, but I figured you should have a choice.’
‘That sounds fine,’ Sam said, too weary to think about it.
‘Have you been to see Al yet?’ Cathy asked softly.
Sam shook his head. ‘I’m going from here.’ He looked up at her, thought how lovely she looked, even with the anxiety over Martinez clear in her eyes. ‘I only came in to see you, to be honest.’
‘Any special reason?’
‘Very special,’ he said. ‘You make me feel better.’
Cathy bent and quickly kissed his cheek. ‘Ditto.’ She straightened up, looked around. ‘The pasta won’t be long.’
It wasn’t long, and it was good, though Sam’s appetite wasn’t in the best of shape. Still tired after he’d finished eating, he drank a wh
ole bottle of San Pellegrino – and for the first time in almost eighteen months he found himself thinking that an espresso might have done a better job of keeping him alert, and maybe it was true that you did get over most things, given enough time . . .
‘I wish I could come with you,’ Cathy said as he got up to leave, ‘but . . .’
‘You go.’ Dooley had come out of the kitchen again. ‘I can take care of things tonight.’
‘What if you get a crowd in?’
‘I’ll manage,’ Dooley said. ‘In case you never noticed, I can multitask almost as well as most women.’
‘I’m in no rush,’ Sam said. ‘Why don’t I wait a while?’
‘You’re beat,’ Dooley told him firmly. ‘Take your daughter and go visit with your partner.’
‘Goddamn tests,’ Martinez said when Sam came in. ‘Goddamn barbarians.’
He’d been sufficiently compos mentis on admission to have logged Sam and Grace as ‘family’, along with Jess, which meant there’d been no problem getting in to see him now, though Cathy had had to wait outside.
Still lucid enough now, thankfully, to curse.
‘You look like hell,’ Sam told him, ‘but you still sound like you.’
‘Not doing too well,’ Martinez said. ‘Sorry.’
‘I’m the one who’s sorry. I gave you my cold.’
Martinez’s half-smile was wry. ‘This ain’t no cold, man.’
Sam looked down at his friend and knew, without being told, that things were grim, which went without saying since otherwise he wouldn’t have landed up here in the CCU, and Sam had seen too much of this lifesaving hellhole in the past, including a bad spell here himself about eighteen months back. The fact was, when it was someone you loved lying there, there was just no getting used to it.
He stayed only ten minutes because a nurse told him Martinez needed all the rest he could get, and he didn’t like the way his friend gripped his hand before he left, because Al wouldn’t have done that if he hadn’t been scared to death.
‘Tell Gracie I love her,’ Martinez said.
‘Tell her yourself,’ Sam said.
Jess was out in the corridor, waiting for him, Cathy behind her.
‘What do you think?’ she asked.
‘That he’s in the best place,’ Sam said.
‘They don’t even know what’s wrong with him,’ she said.
‘Not yet,’ Sam said. ‘But they will.’
She looked drained, almost as bad, he thought, as her fiancé.
‘You need to get some rest,’ he told her.
‘I’m not leaving him,’ she said.
‘I’ll stay, too,’ Sam said. ‘Keep you company.’
‘No way,’ Jess said. ‘You know how important your case is to Al, so you have to go home and get some sleep.’ She dredged up a small smile. ‘I promise to call you if there’s any change.’
‘Well, she’s sure devoted,’ Cathy said as they left the hospital.
Sam looked down at her, hearing scepticism. ‘You have a problem?’
‘I guess not,’ she said as they walked toward the parking lot.
‘Which means you do,’ he said. ‘Come on, sweetheart, spill.’
There were spaces available, but the place was still busy, and Sam remembered, walking Cathy to her Mazda, that it was always that way, even late at night. Little rest for relatives and friends of the sick.
‘Don’t you notice the way Jess looks at you?’ Cathy’s question came abruptly.
‘What do you mean?’
They reached the car that had been Grace’s until Sam had bought her a new Toyota, and his own car was of an age now, but he liked it and it still responded when he needed it to.
‘I shouldn’t be saying this,’ Cathy said. ‘I told Saul what I thought, and he said I should keep my mouth shut.’ She shifted from one foot to the other. ‘That isn’t exactly what he said, of course, being Saul, but it came to the same thing.’
Sam told her then to just spit it out.
So she did.
‘You’re growing a vivid imagination,’ he said sharply.
‘Don’t get mad at me,’ Cathy said. ‘I’m not being a bitch. I thought about it hard, in case I was, but I’m not.’
‘You never are,’ Sam said. ‘But no matter what you think – and by the by, I’m telling you, you’re way off-track – but even if you believe it, don’t you ever say anything like it in five hundred yards of Al, right?’
‘I’d never do that,’ Cathy said.
‘I should hope not,’ Sam said.
He waited until after he and Grace had enjoyed a late-night cuddle with their son, who’d woken up when he came home, for which Sam had thanked Joshua warmly, since at the end of days like these, as he’d told his son, there could be no finer bonus than the warm embraces of both his wife and child.
‘I think what Cathy said is balderdash,’ he said, unbuckling his belt and dragging off his pants back in their own bedroom, ‘but I’d like to hear you say that you think so, too.’
‘I’ve always liked the word “balderdash”,’ Grace said. ‘But I’m afraid I’m not completely sure, Sam. Cathy’s no fantasist, as we both know, and we also know she’s not a troublemaker.’ She paused. ‘And according to her, Mildred may have sensed something too, though they didn’t actually get around to discussing it.’
‘I’m glad to hear it.’ Sam sat down hard on the edge of the bed, unbuttoning his shirt, exhaustion starting to hit home.
‘I guess I wouldn’t dismiss it out of hand,’ Grace said. ‘At least, not the possibility that Jess may find you attractive.’ She smiled, picked up his pants, folded them. ‘Women do, you know.’
‘Not newly engaged women young enough to be my daughter,’ Sam said. ‘Especially not when they’re engaged to my partner and best friend.’
‘What I did dismiss,’ Grace went on, ‘was Cathy’s notion that Jess might be jealous of me.’
‘Is that what she said? I don’t think I gave her long enough to tell me that.’ Sam felt jarred enough to give it some thought. ‘I know Jess admires you, which is rather different.’
‘Nothing so much to admire, surely, from her point of view,’ Grace said. ‘Middle-aged mom and part-time shrink.’
‘I’m a middle-aged, low-ranking cop,’ Sam said, ‘but according to you, women find me attractive.’
‘Go figure,’ Grace said.
SIXTY-EIGHT
February 21
The news from the hospital when Sam called first thing Saturday was that Martinez’s condition had worsened overnight.
‘I’ll go visit on the way to the station,’ Sam said.
Grace read the fear in his eyes. ‘I’ll come by as soon as Mildred gets here.’ She paused. ‘I’d come now, but I don’t want to bring Joshua.’
‘Not to that place,’ Sam agreed. ‘But it would be good if you could come.’
‘Want me to call your dad?’
She’d lost count of the number of times David Becket – notwithstanding his paediatric specialty – had gone in to bat for family or friends over the past few years. Too many.
‘It couldn’t hurt,’ Sam said.
Jess was outside the CCU when Grace arrived, leaning against Sam, weeping.
‘What’s happened?’
Even in that instant of dread, Grace felt herself check out Jess’s tears.
No doubting her sincerity.
Shame on her for the thought.
‘Nothing’s happened.’ Sam drew away from Jess. ‘But he’s not doing good.’
‘I’m so sorry.’ Grace hugged him and Jess stepped further away, giving them space. Everything as it ought to be.
Except she ought not to be even thinking about such things, and Grace wasn’t exactly mad at Cathy, but at that moment she felt disappointment in her daughter for stirring up potentially destructive tensions without good cause.
‘What have they said?’ She directed the question evenly at them both. ‘Do they know what’s
wrong with him?’
‘Not yet,’ Sam said.
‘They’re waiting for results,’ Jess said.
‘More tests,’ Sam told her.
‘Poor Al,’ Grace said.
‘He’s pretty out of it,’ Sam said.
‘Can I sit with him for a while, do you think?’
‘I’m sure he’ll be glad to see you,’ Sam said, ‘if he comes to.’
Jess began weeping again, quietly. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I can’t seem to help it. I was just so sure – I kept on telling myself all last night that he’d be better by dawn, but he wasn’t, and I think he’s getting worse.’
Grace went to put her arms around her, and Jess hugged her back.
‘I have to leave,’ Sam told them.
‘I know,’ Grace said. ‘We’ll look after him.’
He blew her a kiss and strode off along the corridor toward the staircase.
‘OK,’ Grace said. ‘How about we go sit with your fiancé for a while?’
Jess stepped back, and Grace thought she saw something alter in her eyes, felt, for just an instant, that she saw resentment there.
‘Why don’t you sit with him?’ Jess said. ‘I could use some air.’
‘Sure,’ Grace said. ‘A little break’ll do you good.’
‘What’ll do me good,’ Jess said, ‘is Al getting better.’
It was resentment, Grace decided, then hoped she was imagining it.
Most of all, she hoped and prayed that Martinez would pull through.
Then they could all worry about whether Jessica Kowalski was the right woman for him.
Not that it was their place to do that kind of worrying, Grace reminded herself as Jess walked away, erect as a stiff-necked doll.
Now who’s being a bitch, she told herself.
And went into the CCU to sit with her sick friend.
SIXTY-NINE
Reporters had been waiting outside Miami General when Sam had emerged, though he’d made no comment other than to point out that his visit to the hospital was a private matter.
More of them out on the plaza when he reached the station.
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