Knife Music
Page 32
He turned out to only be half right.
“Carrie was here,” Josh calls Cogan up at work one day to tell him. “She stopped by a little while ago, around four, to say goodbye. She looked good. She left a package for you. She’s moving back east.”
When he gets home, he finds a medium-sized padded envelope in his mailbox. Inside, there’s a note:
Dear Dr. Cogan:
I hope this finds you well. I read in the paper that you had gone back to work and got your job back, which I was glad to hear. As for me, I’m off to boarding school in Connecticut. My father was able to pull some strings and get me in for the fall semester. It’s not top tier or anything but it seems pretty nice, and the people I met when I visited this summer seem cool. You always said Kristen would be better off on the east coast, and I guess, in a strange way, I’m taking your advice.
I think about everything that’s happened and I think about you sometimes, but I don’t really know how to put into words how I feel. I’m pretty mixed up, which is part of the reason my parents decided it would be best if I got a fresh start somewhere else. I’m grateful to you for saving my brother’s life but I also keep thinking that none of this would have happened if you hadn’t done what you did to Kristen. I could, of course, say the same thing about my brother. It makes things awfully complicated when you don’t know exactly who to blame, especially when maybe we were all a little to blame. But I do know what I saw. Which is why I thought you should have the disc they found in Kristen’s computer the day she died. She made it for you, though I’m not sure if and when she was going to give it to you. The list of song is below. I don’t know if you’ll want to play it while you’re operating, but maybe you should. I think you’ll like it. I did.
Split Screen Sadness—John Mayer
Blame it on the Tetons—Modest Mouse
All Apologies—Sinead O’Connor
Anthems for a Seventeen-Year-Old Girl—Broken Social Scene
Open Your Eyes—Snow Patrol
Honestly—Zwan
Maps—Yeah, Yeah, Yeahs
Kiss Me Deadly—Lita Ford
Believe Me Natalie—The Killers
We Will Become Silhouettes—The Postal Service
Float On—Modest Mouse
Can We Still Be Friends—Todd Rundgren
Lastly, I’ve enclosed something else that Kristen’s parents wanted you to have. They finally got her journal back from the police the other day. It was too painful for them to keep and they were going to destroy it at first, but then they decided you should have it. If you read it, you’ll understand why they don’t think I was lying. I know what I saw, Dr. Cogan, and I’ll never forget it.
Yours truly,
Carrie Pinklow
44/ UNDER MONET’S WATER LILIES
Sept. 7, 2007—7:38 a.m.
“HEY,HEY,THERE HE IS,”KLEIN GREETS COGAN A COUPLE OF mornings later in the cafeteria for breakfast in their usual spot. It’s just after seven-thirty and there are only a handful of people scattered about the room. “You seem rather chipper, old boy.”
“Got six hours last night. Straight.”
“Impressive,” Klein says enviously. “No action?”
He shakes his head. “A double MVA early on but that’s it. Real quiet.”
“You hear about Franklin?”
“No, what?”
“He has this guy come in the other day, in the middle of the day. He says he’s been shot. He tells him he’s got a bullet high in his chest, right here.”
Klein points to a spot just below his right clavicle.
“OK.”
“So Franklin sees the skin’s bruised there, but it’s not broken, which seems weird. But he looks at the film and sure enough, the bullet’s lodged there. Only he can’t find an entry wound. He looks everywhere and he can’t find it. And so he says, ‘Excuse me, sir, but I can’t find an entry wound. Where did you initially get shot?’ Well, of course, the guy knows he’s looking for the entry wound, but he doesn’t say anything until he asks. And he gives him an ‘Oh-by-the-way-I-forgot-to-tell-you. ’”
“Gotta love those. You know you’re going to get right to the real heart of the problem when a patient says, ‘Oh, by the way . . .’”
“Never fails.”
“So where’d he get shot?”
Klein leans forward a little and whispers, “Right in the asshole.”
“No shit.”
“Yeah. It turns out this guy was fucking some dude’s wife, and the guy comes home and pops him right in the ass, between the cheeks. And the fucking bullet rattles around inside him, doesn’t hit anything vital, and lodges in his shoulder. Is that amazing or what?”
He winces, thinking about it. “I don’t know whether to call him lucky or not.”
“Oh, he was lucky. Hey, what’s with the sunglasses?”
“Patient gave them to me. I told him I was going down to Costa Rica on vacation.”
Klein takes a closer look at the Ray-Bans, which are dangling from Cogan’s neck, attached by a Croakie.
“Not bad,” he says. “You going with anybody?”
“Carolyn.”
“A little bonus action, huh?”
“Separate rooms. Just friends.”
“Yeah. Uh-huh.”
“She can’t date a former client for six months.”
“What happened to her guy?”
“Got the boot. Seems he’s been a little too preoccupied these days with his business.”
“And suddenly you’re Mr. Attentive?”
“Let’s just say that I have a newfound appreciation for the people who were there for me in my hour of darkness. And that appreciation is manifesting itself in different ways. One happens to be attentiveness. She’s a good woman. I want to give her a chance.”
“I see,” Klein says, not taking the assertion as seriously as he should. “Teddy C., version 2.0. Must be a popular download.”
“It helps that it’s free.”
“You slut.”
Klein takes a bite out of his cinnamon-raisin bagel. Cogan waits for him to finish chewing, then says, “I’ve got something for you.”
“Cool. What?”
He puts Carrie’s clear, generic CD-R case down on the table in front of him. The case doesn’t have a label, so Klein can see the disc inside. She labeled it Knife Music II with a black Sharpie.
“This is from Carrie, Kristen’s friend.”
“You saw her?”
“No, but she sent me a little care package and this was in it.”
“That’s kind of creepy. Kristen made a mix for you, didn’t she? It was pretty good if I remember correctly.”
“Yeah, it was. And this one’s good, too. But that’s not the most interesting thing. There was something else in the package.”
He puts the journal down on the table next to the CD-R. Monet’s water lilies adorn the cover of the hardbound notebook. A little yellow Post-it, inserted at about the midway point of the notebook, is sticking out of the top.
“Is that what I think it is?” Klein asks, a hint of edginess in his voice.
He nods. “Kristen’s diary. Open to the page the Post-it is attached to.”
“Why?”
“Just open it.”
He does as he’s told.
“Now I want you to read to me starting from the second-to-last paragraph on the page.”
“What’s this about, Ted?”
“Read it, Klein.”
After a moment’s hesitation, he lowers his voice and says, “The full weight of a man on top of me isn’t something I’d ever really felt before. A grown man. It was something. I didn’t feel pinned, though. Or claustrophobic. He was tender. He kept kissing me on my neck and then on my boobs. I felt his boner on my leg. I kept waiting for it to come but he took his time, which is good, I suppose. But as each minute passed, I got more nervous. And then, like that, I felt it—”
Klein looks up at him, a pained expression on his face. “Ted,
this isn’t cool. People can hear.” He glances around, seeming to hope someone might come to his aid. But the place is practically empty.
“Don’t worry. Keep going.”
Again, Klein takes a moment before continuing. “It wasn’t as painful as I thought, but it was definitely like a sharp jab,” he reads, his voice wavering. “He went slowly at first and then he was pumping harder and I could feel him going deep inside me and it hurt but I did my best to relax and find the joy in it because that’s how I wanted to remember it. It’s funny how when you’re doing something—you know, doing something real important—you actually end up projecting yourself into the future and thinking back on something while you’re still there. But it kind of crystallizes the moment. I remember his warm breath on my neck. He was breathing hard, but he wasn’t looking at me. He kept grunting. I wasn’t sure what I should be doing. So I said, ‘Fuck me. Fuck me like you mean it,’ because I’d once seen a woman do that in a movie. And that got him grunting more, which I thought was a good thing. Then I heard him whisper in my ear, ‘I’m going to count down from ten and when I get to one I’m going to come.’ And then he started counting. Ten . . . nine . . . eight . . . seven . . .”
Klein stops at seven and looks up at him.
“There are only two guys I’ve ever told about that,” Cogan says. “You and Reinhart. I think it was at this very table that I told you. I believe you were talking about the lack of sex you and your wife were having and I suggested a way for you to spice things up a bit.”
“Look, I don’t—”
“And when I read that you know what I thought? I thought the Rhino weighs a good seventy-five to eighty pounds more than I do. But you and me, Kleiny, we’re about the same weight and have the same tenor of voice. And well, you have more gray hair, but in the dark, that’s pretty hard to notice.”
Klein doesn’t say anything. He’s now looking down at the diary, his lower lip quivering.
“Why, Klein? You were my best friend.”
“I’m sorry,” he says, tears welling up in his eyes.
“Why?”
“Because I didn’t fucking know she was sixteen years old, that’s why. I thought she was older.”
“I don’t understand. What’s that got to do with anything?”
Klein looks at him beseechingly. He doesn’t want to explain, but he knows he has to.
“Tell me, Klein.”
“OK, don’t shout. It was a mistake. I made a mistake. It was stupid. After being out with you guys that night for my birthday, I came home and Trish was asleep. Typical. So I called you and I heard that you had women there. And I thought it was the usual types you hang out with. I didn’t know. I thought you had two there and shit, it was my birthday, my wife was goddamn passed out, so I got in my car and went over. When I got to your place, the lights were off. I went around through the side gate to the backyard like I sometimes do and the sliding-glass door was open a crack. I went into the house, and then I saw that there was someone in the guest room. And I sat down at the edge of the bed. And when I did, she woke up and took my hand. She took my hand and put it under the covers. And she was naked. I’m sorry. I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”
He’s crying now.
“And you had intercourse with her?”
Klein doesn’t answer. He’s blubbering.
“Tell me,” he says.
“I did. I fucked her. You won’t tell Trish, will you?”
“Jesus, Klein.”
“I’m sorry,” he repeats.
“I don’t get it. You were going to just stand by and watch me lose my career and possibly get convicted of rape and manslaughter. What did I do to you to deserve that? What?”
“Nothing,” Klein says. “You were just you.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
Klein wipes his nose.
“I’ve always envied you, man.”
“For what? For the women?”
“Sure, there were the women,” Klein says. “But it wasn’t just that. There’s an effortlessness to you, man. You’re good-looking, people like you, and you’re always on your game—and people respond to that. They want to be around that. I wanted to be around that. But sometimes, you know, I would start to hate you for having those qualities because I knew I didn’t have them. And then I would hate myself for hating you because you were my best friend.”
“Fuck, Klein. It’s one thing to be jealous and another to let my life go down the toilet. The punishment doesn’t fit the crime.”
“I know, Ted. But I couldn’t have handled it. I had a wife. I had kids. You were single. I knew you could handle it. I knew you could get off. And look, you’re better for it. You’re a better man.”
“Better, yes, but more forgiving, no.”
“Please don’t tell Trish. I’ll make it up to you.”
“How, Klein?”
“I’ll figure out a way. I will.”
“I’m afraid it’s too late,” he says. And with that, he gets up and takes both the CD and diary and puts them in his bag. He gives Klein a napkin to wipe his face.
“It’s over, right?” Klein asks.
He doesn’t answer. He just takes a moment to stare at him in utter disdain. Then he turns his back on him and walks away.
“Ted,” he hears Klein call after him pleadingly. “Ted. Tell me it’s over.”
“For him,” says Madden as he enters the room and moves toward Klein, holding a pair of handcuffs. He’d been standing just outside the cafeteria, listening to their whole conversation through an earpiece.
“Unfortunately for you, Doctor, it’s just beginning.”
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Acknowledgements
PART 1 - GALL AND GLORY
1/ CODE THREE
2/ WHY TODAY?
3/ PARTING THE RED SEA
4/ DOMESTIC DISPUTE
5/ KEANU REEVES’S AURA
6/ A MOMENT OF FATAL IMPULSIVENESS
7/ SEAVER GOES THE DISTANCE
8/ JENGA
9/ THREE BALLS DANCING
10/ SHADES OF RED
11/ THE COUNTDOWN
12/ EMERGENCY VISIT
13/ DICK-NAR
14/ SAY IT
15/ A MINOR ACT OF RECOGNITION
PART 2 - CROSSING THE LINE
16/ THE ACCIDENTAL WOMANIZER
17/ OPEN WIDE
18/ VISITORS
19/ PROFESSIONAL ADVICE
20/ PROBABLE CAUSE
21/ BLUE FORD
PART 3 - DISCOVERY
22/ SOCIAL LOGICAL
23/ THE QUADFECTA
24/ LIKE LIKE HER
25/ SLOPPY KISSES
26/ WHO’S THE PI?
27/ THE WRITING EXERCISE
28/ DELETED SCENES
29/ KING KONG
30/ COOKING WITH MSG
PART 4 - COMING CLEAN
31/ BECKLER’S MERCY
32/ NOTHING, BUT THE TRUTH
33/ WAS WHAT IT WAS
34/ MISSING MINUTES
35/ REDHOTS AND ROSE PETALS
36/ THE PIZZA
37/ THE MOTHER TERESA OF HACKERS
38/ SCREAMING IN WHISPER
39/ A LESSON IN PITCHING
40/ THE DOG GETS MANGIER
41/ BART’S JOURNAL
42/ TAKING ONE FOR THE TEAM
43/ BUSINESS CLASS
44/ UNDER MONET’S WATER LILIES