Home Fires (31 page)

He bent nearer her. “What does? What matters, Susan? Tell me.”

“Love.”

“Love made you cut your arms.”

“I— Yes. Yes, it did that. You’d been talking about cutting wrists.…”

Skip waited.

“You showed us that woman’s arm. Made her show it.”

He nodded. “I suppose I did.”

“So I thought that might work for me. Did you know I’d tried to kill myself before?”

He shrugged. “You didn’t tell me, but I guessed it. You were in a suicide ring. I found that out shortly after you came on board.”

He paused, expecting her to ask how he knew, and ready to refuse that information. She did not.

“You planted the bomb. It killed two young women.”

Susan shook her head.

“You didn’t plant it?”

“We didn’t want to kill them. Just Edith Eckhart.”

“She’s effectively dead now,” Skip said. “You don’t have to worry about her anymore.”

“She’s here.… Another name.”

From the doorway, Dr. Ueda said, “You’re tiring her. Please leave immediately.”

“I’ve got one more question,” Skip told Dr. Ueda. “After that, I’ll have a few for you. It will be to your advantage to answer them, believe me.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“Hardly. We’ve got a mess here, and the sooner we straighten it out and see that the right people go to jail—if anyone does—the better it will be for all of us.”

He turned back to Susan. “Answer this, and I’ll go. You said
we
didn’t want to kill them. By
we
, did you mean the ring? Or someone here?”

“Rick. Rick helped me and I helped him. Then she was with you. I didn’t think I could do it so he said it was all right, he’d set it off. He’d send a signal. Only he’s dead now, isn’t he? Isn’t Rick dead?”

Skip rose. “Yes. That was why you tried to cut your wrists.”

“I nearly won.” Susan’s voice was louder that he had expected, and firmer. “There was a glass in the bathroom.” Her voice rose again. “I was brave!”

“You’re brave enough to live,” Skip told her, and kissed her forehead.

*   *   *

When they were seated in the tiny book-lined office that had become Dr. Ueda’s, she asked, “Are you trying to put that poor girl in prison?”

“No. I’m an attorney, Doctor.”

“I know. A famous one.”

“Did you also know that your patient—you called her ‘that poor girl’—is my secretary?”

Folklore, Skip reflected, insisted that Orientals never showed emotion. Dr. Ueda’s surprise was evident, although less than obvious. Another myth discredited.

“She is. Naturally, my firm will defend her. As I told her, I’ll be a witness for the defense; so I can’t be her trial attorney. Even so, I want to lay the groundwork now. Are you aware that she planted the bomb that killed two young women on this ship?”

Slowly, Dr. Ueda shook her head. “I didn’t know that, either.”

“She did. She admitted it to me in there, and I feel certain she’ll admit it to others—to the police, as soon as we dock. It means we can’t simply try to convince a jury that she isn’t guilty. That would be unethical, and unwise as well. We’ll have to plead her deranged mental and emotional state. If we succeed—as I think we will—she may get the treatment she needs. If we fail…” Skip shrugged.

“Lethal injection.”

“Correct. We’ll need a deposition from you. If the prosecution doesn’t challenge your deposition, we won’t have to call you as a witness. I’m not asking for that deposition now. You’ll need time to think, and you may want to consult your own attorney. When you’ve had time for both, I’ll send somebody to depose you.”

“She tried to kill herself.” Dr. Ueda hesitated. “Tried hard. She had slashed her arms—both arms—with broken glass.”

Skip nodded. “Do you need someone to blame for that? Blame me.”

“You dumped her?”

“Yes. I terminated our relationship. I didn’t think of it as dumping her at the time, but perhaps she did.”

To his surprise, Dr. Ueda smiled. “We like to dump men, not the other way around. We think men can take it. Men are tough. I’ve dumped three.”

Skip nodded.

“We say you’re just little boys inside. It isn’t true, but we say it. Then we like to think that rejection can’t hurt you—that rejection won’t hurt little boys.” She sighed. “Haruki was— You don’t want to hear about my personal life.”

“I’ll listen, if you want me to.”

“I don’t. I was thinking about your secretary. About my patient.”

“Susan. Her name’s Susan Clerkin.”

“Did she begin as a clerk? Filing? All that sort of thing?”

“I don’t know. I suppose so.”

“She probably changed her last name, hoping the new name would help her get a job. I don’t suppose you know her original name?”

Skip shook his head. “It had never even occurred to me that she might have changed it.”

“It’s hard for women to find work. It has been since before I was born.”

“Hard for men, too.”

“Not as hard as it is for women. There are always more women, and there are fewer women in the Army.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

Dr. Ueda smiled. “You’ve left the script, Mr. Grison. You’re supposed to say fewer women enlist.”

Skip smiled, too. “Sorry.”

“It’s when I win. I prove that more women enlist than men. Almost twice as many women flunk out during training. What is it?”

“Nothing.”

“I hurt you without meaning to, and I’m very sorry. Let me change the subject. I went to medical school here, thinking that when I graduated I’d go back to Japan and practice there. They wouldn’t take me—our government wouldn’t. They told me to become a nurse. They needed nurses, or that’s what they said. I came back instead.”

“Are you afraid you’ll be deported if you give us a favorable deposition?”

Dr. Ueda sighed. “I’ve been an NAU citizen for years. Even if I wasn’t, I wouldn’t give you—or anyone else—a favorable or unfavorable deposition. I’m going to make a true one, the truth as I see it or as nearly true as I can get it.”

“That’s all I ask,” Skip told her.

“You said she’s killed two young women on this ship. Who were they?”

“Their names? Amelia and Polly. I don’t recall their last names.” Skip fell silent, remembering. “I talked to one of them once. First on the phone, then in her office—in the social director’s office. They worked for her.”

“Virginia? I met her, oh, a few days ago. Before the hijacking. That seems like a long time ago now.”

“Correct. Virginia Healy. Amelia and Polly were her assistants. Susan wanted to kill Virginia, but Virginia wasn’t there when the bomb went off. The assistants were. Now I wish I knew which one I talked to.”

“You’re contracted with a girl named Chelle. Chelle Blue.”

“Correct.”

“A moment ago, you indicated that you and my patient had been, ah…”

“Together. Yes. For nine years.”

“Did she think you left her for Virginia?”

Skip sighed. “I see what you’re getting at. No, I left Susan for Chelle. I … Chelle and I contracted just out of college. She had gotten her bachelor’s and joined the Army, and I had completed law school. When she came back from outsystem duty, I went to meet her. I thought she might want to void our contract.”

“She didn’t?” Dr. Ueda looked uncomfortable.

“No. And I certainly didn’t. She had divorced her parents before she went in. She hated her mother, or said she did. I thought it would be the same thing for me. We would terminate our contract by mutual agreement, and I’d contract with Susan.”

“You wanted that?”

Skip shook his head. “I wanted Chelle. She is all I’ve ever wanted, really. I was overjoyed when she didn’t want to terminate our contract.” He paused. “I think—no, I know—that Susan had already joined a suicide ring by then.”

“Oh you gods!”

“Correct. Virginia is the senior member. It’s the others’ duty to kill her, and Susan came to do it.” Skip rose. “That was why those two young women died. Which was what you wanted to know. Have you heard enough?”

“She joined the ring before you dumped her?”

“Correct.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, and I’d like to. I could offer three or four guesses, but they would be of no value to you or anyone. Guesses rarely are. If you find out, will you tell me?”

“That will depend on what the reason is,” Dr. Ueda said.

*   *   *

The first-class dining salon was a paradise of gold and ivory three decks high, with opulent balconies for A and B Decks. “We’re to meet another couple,” Skip explained. “An elderly man with a beard, and your social director. Have they come already?” He was stiff and sweating in dinner jacket, formal shirt, and black tie.

The headwaiter awarded him a superior smile. “I really wouldn’t know, sir. Their reservation would be under the name of…?”

Chelle said, “Blue.”

“Healy,” Skip announced firmly. “It should be in the name of your social director, Virginia Healy.”

“Blue,” the headwaiter said. He was looking at his screen. “Table for four. Follow me, please.”

Table seventeen was near an open window and well away from the kitchen, the piano, and the center of the room. At present, it was unoccupied. Skip held Chelle’s chair (outpointing the headwaiter) before taking a seat himself. “I thought this was your mother’s party.”

“It is. She must’ve made the reservation in my name.”

“You said ‘Blue.’ ”

“Right. She told me that.” Chelle looked thoughtful. “Maybe it’s because she works here. Maybe employees can’t make them.”

It seemed best to change the subject. “How is your arm?”

“Lots better. I know what you’re worried about, and we can. Just as long as you don’t grab my arm, we should be fine.”

“I wasn’t thinking of that,” Skip said.

“Uh huh.”

He changed the subject. “I passed out, didn’t I? I fainted. We were in that stateroom on A Deck—in Jerry Brice’s stateroom where Rick Johnson had been shot—and I must have lost consciousness. Did I fall down?”

Chelle nodded.

“But you were conscious. You saw and heard whatever went on afterward.”

“Sure.”

“What did? Will you tell me about it? Please?”

“Sure, but there isn’t a lot to tell. With two good arms I could’ve picked you up and helped carry you back to the doctor, but with one arm busted there was no way. I phoned, and she sent up two guys with a stretcher. They carried you back down to the infirmary, and I went with them. The doctor checked you over, said you needed a CAT scan, and kept you there overnight. They can’t do CAT scans here.”

Skip nodded.

“Next day she called and said there wasn’t anything she could do there that couldn’t be done in our room. I got Joe and Angel to carry you, and Achille and I went down with them. The doctor told me how to take care of you and promised people would come around.” Chelle paused. “They have, sometimes. We thought—I think everybody thought—you’d still be out when we docked.”

“I’m trying to remember who was present when I lost consciousness for the second time. Was your mother there?”

“No. I think it was just that mechanic and me. There was nobody in the cabin when we got there.”

“Where was your mother?”

“I don’t know.” Chelle shrugged. “Does it matter?”

A waiter asked whether they were ready to order. Skip explained that they were waiting for another couple, and Chelle ordered a bottle of champagne.

“The man with the beard shot Rick Johnson,” Skip said when the waiter had gone.

“Right.” Chelle nodded. “He grabbed the woman’s gun. I told the captain about it.”

“Rick blew when he was shot. He was a cyborg.”

“I remember you saying something about that. I guess the bullet hit his reactor or whatever.”

“Not necessarily, but that’s not to the point. The flash burned Trinity. She fell down, and you and Virginia went to help her.”

Chelle nodded again.

“She’s a big woman, and you couldn’t get her on her feet. Gary Oberdorf and I got her up with your help and walked her to the elevator. I believe I can name all the people who were on that elevator with us. Correct me if I’m wrong.”

“Your memory’s probably better than mine,” Chelle said. “Who do you think?”

“Gary Oberdorf, Jerry, and Trinity herself.”

“You’re right. I’d forgotten the kid, but he was there.”

“Who wasn’t there?” Skip’s forefinger doodled on the immaculate table cloth.

“Everybody else in the world. What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Who wasn’t on the elevator whom you would expect to be there?”

There was a long silence. The champagne arrived, Skip sampled it and nodded, and the waiter poured a glass for each of them. Chelle sipped hers twice before she spoke. “Mother. Mother wasn’t there.”