by Alex Barclay
‘You could move in with me,’ said Ben.
Ren paused. ‘Um … you live in D.C… .’
‘You know what I mean …’ said Ben. ‘I could apply for a transfer to Denver …’
Can. Not. Breathe.
‘What?’ said Ben. ‘What are you thinking?’
‘Literally I had no thoughts on that,’ said Ren. ‘None.’ I was too busy trying not to pass out.
‘Could I ask you to have some?’ said Ben.
Ren smiled. ‘Yes. I’m … I will think about that.’
Aaagh.
‘I meant to ask you,’ said Ben, ‘are you supposed to be drinking on those meds you’re taking?’
Well, fuck you, Ben.
‘Ren? Are you there?’
Fuck you.
‘Ren?’
Fuck. You.
‘What?’ said Ren.
‘I’m just asking …’
‘Yeah, well don’t ever ask me that again,’ said Ren.
‘Hey—’
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
Janine had ordered more drinks.
Wonderful, unwise move. I love you.
‘Ben sends his love, and was sorry to hear your news,’ said Ren.
‘He’s a sweetheart,’ said Janine.
Hmm.
‘I got some good news on Jesse Coombes while you were outside,’ said Janine, holding up her phone. ‘Well, not for him, but for us. His cover’s been blown at the ranch, a tabloid’s gotten hold of the story. Now that it’s in the public domain, we shouldn’t have a problem gaining access to him.’
‘Not if Howard Coombes can help it,’ said Ren.
‘Well, he’s more than welcome to sit in,’ said Janine.
‘Won’t that be fun?’ said Ren.
Janine tried to smile.
‘You’ll get through all this, Janine Hooks,’ said Ren. ‘We will focus on, in the wise word of Charlie Sheen, “winning”. You’re a strong lady. It’s what first attracted me to you.’
‘I have a confession to make,’ said Janine. ‘Speaking of attraction. I might have a spot soft for someone …’
‘Ooh,’ said Ren. ‘Who?’
‘Robbie. Your Robbie.’
Oh, shit.
Janine stared at her. ‘What?’ she said. ‘What? Define that reaction!’
I caaaan’t.
‘I say this with great heaviness of heart,’ said Ren, ‘but I wouldn’t go there, if I were you.’
‘What?’ said Janine. ‘Why?’
And now I’m the one sending wind from sails. ‘He’s just not in a great place,’ said Ren. ‘I don’t want to betray a confidence, but … I don’t think he’s ready for a relationship. You’re my best friends in the world, you know I adore you both, but … I don’t want you to be hurt in any way.’
‘What?’ said Janine. ‘Robbie wouldn’t hurt a fly.’
‘I know,’ said Ren, ‘but, please, just trust me on this. He wouldn’t mean to hurt you, obviously. He’s just … he’s got family stuff going on.’ Not porn stuff. Nothing to do with sex addiction. ‘He hasn’t been himself,’ said Ren, ‘and I just don’t want to see you get caught up in anything. That’s the most I can say. And I mean it with no disrespect to either of you.’
‘This sounds really serious,’ said Janine. ‘I’m thrown …’
‘Look, I’ve been in your shoes, years ago – I was warned off someone … not that I mean I’m warning you off Robbie … but anyway, I ignored the advice. And I wish I hadn’t. You’re more sensible than me. I’m hoping this will work on you.’ She smiled.
‘I’m not bending my brain around Robbie hurting people,’ said Janine. ‘Sorry.’
‘I know,’ said Ren. ‘It’s … complicated.’
‘Well, I’m surprised … I thought we’d really connected. Maybe I mistook his …’ She shrugged. ‘Maybe I mistook some kind of vulnerability for openness. I thought it meant he liked me.’
‘No – I’m not saying you didn’t connect!’ said Ren. ‘I’m just saying …’
One month ago my reaction would have been the exact opposite. Go for it! Yay!
‘What?’ said Janine.
Oh, I am a destroyer of dreams.
‘I just don’t want you to be hurt. I mean, of course he likes you …’
Can we please stop talking about this? Though, this is my fault. Who gives me the right to say anything or to stop anyone doing anything? If I had never been born and Robbie and Janine met in a bar, they could have gotten together, she would have to take on whatever issues he had, he may have told her, he may not—
‘I guess,’ said Janine, ‘it’s like – meeting a nice guy like Robbie … it doesn’t happen to me every day. Every year … It’s all right for you.’
‘What?’ said Ren.
‘Well, you’ve got Ben,’ said Janine, ‘and possibly that cute guy over at the bar you’ve been smiling over at for the past half hour …’
Ouch. ‘I’m not smiling smiling.’
‘I don’t think he sees it that way,’ said Janine.
‘I don’t care what way he sees it,’ said Ren. ‘I don’t even know the guy.’
Silence.
‘It’s just … you’ve got someone,’ said Janine. ‘So I just don’t think it’s particularly fair that you stop me from going near Robbie. I thought you’d be cheering me on.’
‘I’ve got someone because I met him, just like this, at a bar, just like you could meet someone here tonight.’
‘Yeah, if you weren’t …’
Weren’t what? ‘I’m not stopping you going for it with Robbie,’ said Ren. ‘That’s your decision. I’m sorry I said anything. I was trying to—’
‘I’m sorry too,’ said Janine. ‘Let’s agree to disagree.’
‘I really was only—’
‘It’s OK,’ said Janine. ‘I can’t just unlike him, though.’
Ren nodded. ‘I know.’
‘I’m going to the ladies’.’ She left.
Shit. I totally screwed up.
The cute guy at the bar smiled over.
Well, hello, there. Yes, I’m quite the catch. I’ve just hung up on my boyfriend – yes, I have one! – I’ve pissed off my best friend, and I am nuts.
Ren buried her head in her phone until Janine came back.
‘I guess we should be heading home,’ said Janine.
‘Yup,’ said Ren. She got up and started putting on her coat.
The cute guy made a sad face.
Ren smiled at him.
Consider yourself lucky.
Like one of Aileen Wuornos’ surviving johns …
49
Ren woke up the next morning, her head throbbing, her stomach hollowed out.
Where am I?
The drapes … the walls. Oh. Janine’s. Oh … Robbie. Oh … Ben.
Shit.
Ren picked up her cell phone.
She texted Ben:
Sorry about last night. But please don’t ask me about meds/alcohol.
Ben replied:
I forgive you for last night. But if you’re doing anything that affects how you treat me, I am going to ask about it.
Ooh. You’re right.
I’m sorry. Talk later. XX
You actually are right. Who the hell do I think I am? I need to stop speaking to everyone.
She texted Janine.
R u awake? Sorry about last night. Please ignore what I said about Robbie. I am not the relationship police. XX
Janine texted back.
And neither am I. Sorry too – smiling at cute guys not a crime. Breakfast at Table Mountain Inn x
Ren sat in front of a half-eaten plate of waffles, bacon and blueberries, an almost-empty glass of orange juice and a half-full mug of coffee. Janine had a fruit salad and a black coffee.
‘I need drugs,’ said Ren.
‘Your wish …’ said Janine. She handed her a bottle of Advil.
‘Thank you, thank you, thank you. I can’t believe I ran out.’<
br />
‘Neither can I.’
Ren’s phone started to ring. ‘Ooh,’ she said. ‘Eli Baer, N.Y. – please let it be something enlightening.’
She picked up. ‘Hey, Ren, it’s Eli – I’ve got some interesting news for you. I’ve taken another look at the phone records of the Princes’ home phone. There’s a cell phone number on it that we’ve traced to a Carolina Vescovi.’
‘Oh my God,’ said Ren. ‘As in Vescovi’s restaurant? As in the last place Viggi Leinster was seen alive?’
Janine’s eyes went wide.
‘Yes,’ said Eli.
‘So the case Laura Flynn wanted to talk to Janine about was definitely that?’ said Ren.
‘Looks like it,’ said Eli. ‘I’ve mailed you her number.’
‘Thank you, Eli. We could use some good news on this day of great suffering.’
‘What happened?’ said Eli.
‘Drinking, Eli. Drinking happened.’
Ren hung up. ‘Can you believe that?’
‘Wow,’ said Janine. ‘A breakthrough over breakfast.’
The door to the inn opened, the bell rang. Ren turned around. ‘Oh my God,’ she said, turning back to Janine, leaning in. ‘It’s the guy from the bar.’
Janine looked past her. ‘Don’t look – I shit you not, he’s coming our way.’
‘Ladies,’ he said.
‘Hi,’ said Ren and Janine.
‘Did you enjoy your night?’ he said.
‘Yes, we did,’ said Ren. ‘But we’re definitely regretting some of it. You?’
‘Well,’ he said, eyeballing her. ‘It could have ended better …’
You baaad man. ‘Well,’ said Ren, ‘maybe next time you’ll have a happy ending.’
He laughed out loud. Janine did too.
Oh. Dear. God. That wasn’t even on purpose. ‘Well, enjoy your day!’ said Ren.
He handed her his business card as he was leaving.
‘You have to be kidding me,’ said Ren when he was gone. ‘Men are unbelievable.’
‘That was high-larious,’ said Janine. ‘Don’t you admire his courage?’
Ren held up the business card. It felt alive in her hand. ‘Please let it say he’s a clown. Or any kind of circus performer. Or a wedding planner.’ She looked down at it, then turned it toward Janine. The only thing printed on it was a phone number.
Janine raised her eyebrows. ‘Serial killer it is, then …’
‘Imagine sleeping with that guy,’ said Ren.
Don’t imagine that. Why would you do that?
‘I mean, he looks normal,’ said Ren. ‘And he’s gone in the morning and the only thing left behind is this! I’d be in the shower for a week.’
‘That’s why I don’t do anonymous hook-ups,’ said Janine.
‘I’d love to say “neither do I”. Well, I can say neither do I … any more.’
‘It’s just so dangerous,’ said Janine.
Ren pointed a corner of the business card at her. ‘So you’re absolutely sure you don’t want this …’
They finished breakfast laughing, and stepped out onto the street.
Ugh. Too hot. Too hot. Someone up there is actively trying to set me alight. A dark angel with a magnifying glass … Ben’s guardian angel. Smile at another man: feel the wrath of a thousand suns sear your skanky soul.
Ren threw the card into the next garbage can.
I just smiled at the guy. Jesus.
Imagine if I had slept with him. Stop.
But imagine.
What is wrong with you?
Janine was staring at her phone. ‘I’ve always wanted to say this,’ she said, looking up.
‘Say what?’ said Ren.
‘Well, well, well …’
Ren laughed. ‘Well, well, well what?’
‘I just got a text from Kohler,’ said Janine. ‘Sweating has taken place: Morgan Greene has decided to sell someone’s soul to the devil to get a lighter sentence on the robbery.’
‘Whose soul?’ said Ren.
‘Jesse Coombes’,’ said Janine.
‘Praise the Lord.’
Kohler was waiting for them in an empty interview room at the Sheriff’s Office. There was a paper evidence bag on the table.
‘Greetings, ladies,’ said Kohler. ‘Take a look inside of this.’
‘What is it?’ said Ren.
‘It’s an offering from Morgan Greene,’ said Kohler. ‘Turns out we had the story of the car at the ranch all wrong. It seems Jesse Coombes was up to his old firestarting tricks. And more …’
Ren and Janine put on latex gloves. Janine reached into the bag and pulled out a journal: dark, once white-edged, now dirty, partially burnt.
She opened it. Ren leaned in to look. There was a photo clipped to the corner of the blank contents page. It was of Conor Gorman. There were more photos … Conor Gorman, sitting on one of the sofas at the ranch, smiling.
Handsome young man.
There were a few more underneath: Conor in the tack room, his back to the camera. Conor on the basketball court. Conor walking into the shower block. Conor …
Whoa.
WTF?
‘That headless body shot,’ said Ren. ‘That’s Conor. I know by the red bracelet.’ She looked at the next one.
‘Well, that’s a fresh tattoo,’ said Ren. ‘Look at the scabs.’
Across the bottom of his back was a tattoo of a reclining black cat with its paw stretched up toward his right shoulder blade.
‘He had to have gotten it while he was at the ranch,’ said Ren. ‘Ranch security is as high as ever. Is there a tattoo parlor in Conifer?’
‘No,’ said Janine. ‘But there’s Ink Corp in Golden.’
She flipped through the rest of the pages of the journal. Each was titled Sermon, followed by a colon, and the subject. Sermon: Pain, Sermon: Ability, Sermon: Shame, Sermon: Penance. The final one: Sermon: Betrayal. Betrayal. Betrayal.
‘This belongs to Jesse Coombes,’ said Janine.
She went through more of it. There was one last photo of Conor, a simple headshot, and all over it was scrawled in red ink:
Rubyman Rubyman Rubyman Rubyman Rubyman Rubyman.
50
Ren, Janine and Kohler all stared at each other.
Kohler raised his eyebrows.
‘And how did Morgan Greene say he had this?’ said Ren.
‘He’s saying nothing,’ said Kohler. ‘He wants promises.’
They laughed.
‘I’ve left him to think further about it,’ said Kohler.
‘This is fucked up,’ said Ren, taking the journal from Janine. ‘Is Jesse Coombes completely insane? I mean, did anyone check behind his ear for a 666?’
‘That’s standard JeffCo procedure …’ said Kohler.
‘He tried to burn the journal, though,’ said Janine. ‘Would that not show he’s over this infatuation? And, it’s not like he did anything extreme with the first “Rubyman”.’
‘If he was trying to burn it, it’s because it’s evidence of the crazy,’ said Ren. ‘Evidence of how obsessed he was. This could be an escalation.’ She handed Janine one of the shirtless photos of Conor.
Janine turned to Kohler. ‘I’ll talk to the judge about this little journal development – that should hurry things along with the warrant.’
Kohler nodded. ‘Oh, I think so.’
‘I am going to kick Kristen Faule’s Disney ass,’ said Ren. ‘The lying—’
‘You’ll have to play nicey nicey until we get to speak with Jesse Coombes,’ said Kohler. ‘Not that I’m trying to tell you how to do your business …’
Ren smiled. ‘Is this litter-warden vengeance?’
‘Oh, you weren’t there when he bawled them out of it,’ said Janine. ‘You did him a great service.’
‘Do they all hate me now?’ said Ren.
‘I kept your name out of it,’ said Kohler. He smiled.
‘Janine made a major breakthrough on Viggi Leinster,’ said Ren.
/> Janine flashed a look at her.
‘Really?’ said Kohler.
‘Yes,’ said Janine. ‘Turns out that’s the case Laura Flynn was calling me about the day she died. There’s a call I can make while we’re waiting to hear back about Jesse Coombes.’
Janine and Ren sat in front of Viggi Leinster’s file. They had propped the photo up in front of them. It was an affecting image; Viggi Leinster was a beautiful, elegant innocent. Tousled blonde hair, huge blue eyes that weren’t lost or vacant, but maybe a little sad.
‘Ready to rock?’ said Ren.
‘I sure am,’ said Janine. She dialed Carolina Vescovi’s number. Ren listened in on the other line as Janine explained who she was and asked about the phone call from the Prince home.
‘Oh,’ said Carolina. ‘Yes. A friend’s daughter is working on a documentary for film school on my parents’ restaurant. She wanted to use a montage of photos my mother had and the school told her she would need to get permission from anyone featured in them.’
‘And one of the Princes was featured?’ said Janine.
‘Yes – Walter Prince. My mother recognized him. His only surviving relative is his grandson, Robert Prince.’
‘And did he give you permission to use the photo?’ said Janine.
‘No,’ said Carolina. ‘I was under no circumstances to use the photo.’
‘Really?’ said Janine.
‘Oh, yes,’ said Carolina.
‘Did he say why?’ said Janine.
‘No,’ said Carolina, ‘that was the strange part. You could barely even see the man’s face. It was his big bulky shoulder, a sliver of a profile, nothing very identifiable. However, it still had to be done properly, according to the film school. There was a woman in the corner of the photo – again, you could barely make her out, kind of looking up at him a little starry-eyed.’
‘Do you think they were together?’ said Janine.
‘Hard to say,’ said Carolina.
‘But your mom didn’t say that it was his wife …’
‘No,’ said Carolina. ‘It wasn’t his wife. Not that it mattered who she was – when Robert Prince called me back, he said we couldn’t use the photo, and he threatened legal action. Then his wife called back, again, very nice and said was I sure that this was Walter Prince, that her husband had been quite upset and she couldn’t understand why. I said “Yes – I know my mother’s elderly, but her memory is sharp.”’