Duplicate Keys (29 page)

The resident nodded.

12

D
ETECTIVE
Honey was much brisker than usual. For once he seemed to be agitated, annoyed with Alice and with her friends. What time had the first buzz come, how long had it taken her to get downstairs, had she seen anyone, no matter how remote, on the street, had Mr. Reschley said anything, had Mr. Reschley been conscious at any time. Alice’s replies were monosyllabic; Honey hadn’t the time for anything else. Finally, he said, “Is there any reason why Mr. Reschley should be deposited on your front step?”

It was impossible not to answer candidly. “I don’t really know, except that he stayed with me earlier in the week.”

“When the department was under the impression that Mr. Reschley was away from the city?”

Alice nodded.

“Mrs. Ellis, you didn’t inform me that you had seen Mr. Reschley this week.”

“You didn’t ask me.”

Honey’s eyebrows lowered. “Mrs. Ellis, I’m not going to tell you about the penalties for giving misinformation in an investigation.
You know that there are such penalties. I’m going to talk to you about something more personal.” Someone had drifted toward them. Honey looked up and glared; the man scurried away. “I realized before this, Mrs. Ellis, that you were not being very co-operative in this matter. As I look back on the past two weeks, I see a reluctance on your part to participate in the investigation, even when you seemed to be co-operating.

“In a professional sense, this reluctance is neither very unusual nor very inconvenient, which is why I have overlooked it up until now. At first I thought the problem was mine, that you might have co-operated more enthusiastically with another detective on the force.”

“Ray wasn’t under arrest. How was I to know that the stuff about him being in Miami wasn’t just a trick on your part? I assume you know what you’re doing.”

Honey ignored her. “Do you know what a violent crime is, Mrs. Ellis? Among other things, a violent crime is the beginning of a train of events, and a sign that whatever balance a given social network has achieved is strained. The crime is a change, and the change is always sudden and profound, affecting every member of the network in unforeseen ways and often violently. Sometimes the murderer kills again, and other times violence simply happens again, through other agents. Something else is always true. The parties to the violence, whether guilty or not, always assume that they know what is going on and can predict what will happen and can make their own judgments about what to do, when nine times out of ten, they don’t, can’t, and shouldn’t. In the end, the investigating officer, whose job is to try and see the larger picture, is blocked and hindered by the ignorant confidence of these parties, and violence that might not have erupted does, and another person is hurt or killed. Do you understand?”

Lectured, Alice snapped back, “Are you blaming me for this beating?”

“Should I?”

“What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to tell me everything you know. I want you to understand that you have to gain by the investigation, not to lose by it. I want you to take precautionary measures for your own safety, such as having your locks changed, and I want you to understand that your relationship to every associate has changed in ways you can’t even guess.” He looked at his watch. In spite of her aggressive tone, she felt dumbfounded.

“Now, Mrs. Ellis, is there anything else that you haven’t told me about your activities or the activities of your friends?”

“Do you want to know about Jeff Johnson, Ray’s friend? He was there with Ray at my place before.”

“I have interviewed Mr. Johnson, although not in this matter.” Honey made some marks in his notebook. “Anything else?”

Alice shook her head.

“Do you understand my remarks about candor, Alice?”

Alice nodded. Honey stood up with a sigh and called over the doctor, who said that Ray might be able to talk late that afternoon, and in a moment the detective was gone. Alice sat quietly, her head against the wall, for a short time.

W
HEN
she walked into her apartment, her phone was already ringing. Assuming it was Honey, Alice picked it up gingerly. It was the voice of Jim Ellis, deep, breathy, forever intimate. “Alice?” he said. “What’s happening? I was hoping you would call me.”

“I’m sorry, I—”

“There hasn’t been anything about it out here, and nothing in the
Times
that I could find, either. Who did it? Did they find anyone?”

“It just happened this morning. It was awful. There was blood everywhere, in fact there still is. I haven’t even had a chance to take off my dress, can I—”

“Alice, what are you talking about? The murder was two weeks ago.”

“Oh, that! I’m sorry—”

“What are you talking about?”

“I found Ray beat up on my doorstep this morning. They punctured his eardrum on purpose, over and over. The doctors are afraid—”

“Who punctured his eardrum?”

“He hasn’t been able to talk. I’m not sure. There was this weird guy he was hanging around with earlier this week. No affect. That’s where he got the coke, I’m sure, but I haven’t talked to Ray. He was unconscious. I’m not exactly sure what is going on.” Her voice petered out. She could hear Jim smoking. Finally he said, “Don’t hang up, but go change your clothes and get yourself something to drink, whatever you have.”

“There’s some brandy.”

“Good, get that. I’ll hold. Take your time.”

Alice put down the phone and did as she was told. Five minutes later, she came back to it and sat down with a cup of the bitter, vaporous liquor. When she picked up the phone, Jim said, “Now take two deep breaths and tell me what’s been going on.”

“The other thing is that they arrested Noah.”

“Noah!”

“Yes.”

“Noah Mast actually killed Denny and Craig, actually killed Craig? Did that have to do with cocaine, too? What is going on there?”

“Craig was sleeping with Rya.”

“Bitch!”

“Well, it’s not exactly clear how voluntary it was on her part. You know Craig. Sometimes it was easier to do what he wanted than what you wanted.”

“But it doesn’t make sense that he killed Denny, too. And how does Ray fit in?”

“I don’t know if he does. He’s the only one with an alibi, but also the only one with a real motive. He got the guys some cocaine. Ten thousand dollars’ worth. It wasn’t paid for, as far as we know.”

“Where is it?”

“That’s the sixty-four-dollar question. At least, I’m sure that Ray doesn’t know, and I don’t know. And Susan doesn’t know.”

“What the fuck is going on back there? What’s happened to everyone?”

“I wish I knew. I’m fully aware of how bizarre it all is, believe me.” She was waiting for him to ask how Susan fit in, but he did not, rather to her relief. He said, “How do you feel?”

“I don’t know. Swirling. Like I’ve been spinning around and around and am going to fall down and break my neck. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Susan—”

“How are you?”

“Me?” he barked.

“You! Your family! Mariana!” She said it easily, without even the ghost of a stammer.

“Oh, fine. We’re fine. I’ve just been terribly concerned. That city is a hole, you know. You don’t realize it until you get away from it. I told Craig—”

“I don’t know. We’ve had beautiful weather, and there are flowers everywhere.”

“You should have—”

“Nothing bizarre ever happens in California, right?”

“That’s beside the point. When you get away, you can see things in perspective.”

“Perspective! Perspective is thinking that parallel lines meet!”

“Why are you mad?”

“You’re a snot! You haven’t been here, you don’t know what’s going on, and you’ve still got loads of opinions about it—”

“Alice—”

“And why do you always say my name in that patronizing affectionate way, as if I had to be led gently back to my senses?”

“Let’s not argue right now.”

“Let’s do argue! There’s nothing we can do about Ray or Denny or Craig. I think we’d better argue.”

“I’m sorry about the tone of my voice, but whenever I talk to you, I feel like I have to be careful.”

“Or what?”

“Or something will happen.”

“What could happen? Really, what could happen? It’s already happened. Our relationship was severed two years ago.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“Well, what do you mean? That I would go crazy or commit suicide or something?”

“I think we should leave this discussion for a more appropriate time.”

Alice imagined Jim and Mariana worrying about her. His evasion told her that they had, that they had titillated themselves with worry about her. If she did commit suicide, then their marriage would attain real dramatic grandeur. She said, “I never once thought of committing suicide, even the very day you disappeared without a word. It didn’t make me want to
kill
myself.”

“I’m sure—”

“You know, George Sand was always afraid some lover was going to die in her arms, actually die from delight at being her lover.”

“You have to admit that you’ve always acted very—”

“Very what?”

He weighed his words. “Very obsessed. You were very dependent.”

“Yes, I was.”

The sun behind Alice cast her shadow over the yellow and green tablecloth. She wondered what would be said next and who would say it. She heard Jim eat something. After that he sighed
a couple of times. Alice said, “Did you love me? This time I’ll believe you.” And was Mariana listening now?

Jim said, “Yes, very much.” He said it dully, truthfully. She believed him, possibly for the first time in her life.

“Why didn’t our marriage last, then?”

“I think because I felt like I was throwing it into a bottomless pit. You didn’t appreciate it.”

“I appreciated you.”

“But you were also the great lover and giver. The only one.”

Alice winced. “That’s what Susan said. We talked about you last night.”

“Susan—”

“Well, how is Mariana? You didn’t answer me.”

“Actually, she’s pregnant again. She’s at the church.”

Alice’s eyebrows lifted at the notion of religion in the life of James Calvin Ellis but she only said, “When’s the baby due?”

“Middle of January.”

“Is she really at church?” Alice laughed.

“Why is that funny?”

“Well, it’s Saturday, for one thing. And I’ve always thought she was listening whenever we talked. I’ve never called you or talked to you without imagining her on the extension, being very quiet.”

“I don’t think she’s ever been here when we’ve talked, except the last time when you called to tell me about the guys.”

“Will you forgive me for imagining it?”

“Will you forgive me for worrying that you might commit suicide?”

“Do you think they’re equal insults?”

“Do they have to be?”

“I guess not.”

“I forgive.”

“Me, too.” Then she said, “Can I say something else possibly insulting?”

“Why not?”

“I can’t imagine you two as parents, only as participants in a grand passion, or as California sybarites.”

“We’re very domestic. I’m actually reminded rather often of your parents. More than of mine.”

“What kind of baby do you want?”

“A healthy one.”

“Was it awful with the other one?”

“Very.”

“I was really sorry about that, though I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“Thanks.”

“Do you want to get off now?”

“Do you?”

“I should.” Alice looked at her watch. “I should make some calls. Everything is a mess here.”

“Let me know about Ray. Are you in danger?”

“Of course not. None of this really concerns me, except as an unlucky bystander. The detective thinks I should get my locks changed, but I can’t see—”

“Do it. Pay attention to him. Get a twenty-four-hour guy and I’ll send you the money.”

“It isn’t that. Do you really think I should? No one has my key except—”

“Do it anyway.”

“Okay.” Alice hung up with a pleasant feeling of mutual affection. Across the street, Henry’s windows were shadowed and blank.

T
HE
locksmith said that he would be there about two. At four-thirty he rang the buzzer, awakening Alice from a deep, blank, timeless sleep. When she leaned against the wall and tried to gather herself together, he said, “Hey, the locksmith, man. I came to change your locks.”

“Okay.” But it took her an age with the locks she had. Her thick fingers seemed to slide off them without effecting any movement. She put her face in her hands and rested. Then he was there, behind the door, knocking. Alice bit her lip, and at last opened the door. “I was taking a nap,” she told him. All he needed to complete his costume as the last derelict hippy was a mongrel dog on a piece of string. Alice estimated that he had not washed his hair in three months and not combed it in six. He picked up his tool box and she stepped back to let him at the door.

“You have a robbery or something?” he said, squatting and unscrewing things.

“Not exactly. Some people have keys.”

“Bad shit,” he replied.