The Museum of Desire: An Alex Delaware Novel(85)
“It won’t be up to me, Crispin. Why the desire to testify?”
“It would be interesting and recreational.”
I said, “A lot of people would be worried about testifying.”
“A lot of people are low-functioning automatons who care what other low-functioning automatons think of them. I want to get up in the witness box and be asked to swear on a Bible and refuse in a loud voice because I’m an atheist. Given the quality of my information, after a protracted debate among the lawyers and the judge, I’ll be allowed to affirm my truthfulness the way I see fit. Once that’s settled, I’ll inform everyone in the courtroom what I saw but I will fix my eyes on the two of them. I’m certain to be a star witness. What do you say about that?”
“I’m sure you’ll be convincing.”
“I will be,” he said. “I can make people think things.”
CHAPTER
42
He sprang up again and gave the aquarium another poke, setting off piscine panic. Then he walked to his glass desk, shoved the collection of Rubik’s cubes to the floor, and began working one of his laptops.
Screenful of geometric designs. As he manipulated, he hummed atonally.
“Is there anything else you want to tell me, Crispin?”
“On your way out inform Haley I’m ready for breakfast. I want anchovies.”
* * *
—
No sign of his mother. The maid was in the kitchen, wiping counters with something that smelled of vinegar.
I said, “Crispin’s hungry.”
She said, “He’s always hungry,” and kept washing.
* * *
—
I saw myself out, sat in the Seville, and phoned Milo.
He said, “One of a kind. Mentioning the Rolls says he’s probably being straight.”
I said, “The woman’s description fits, too.”
“Midsized and dark-haired, yeah, that sums up Okash. The light-haired guy’s probably our Herr Whatever. Okay, thanks, this goes in the book. Not that the kid would ever want to testify.”
“Quite the contrary,” I said. “He’s pawing the dirt and waiting for the starter gun. It might even be the reason he called me back.”
“Why would he put himself through that?”
“For the attention.”
“Huh. From what you saw, could he handle it?”
“He probably wouldn’t spook on the stand but I’m not sure the case would survive.” I told him about the boy’s yen for confrontation over his oath.
He said, “Can’t you see Nguyen dealing with that? All right, hopefully we won’t need him. I did get Okash’s friendly manager to go up and take a look at Okash’s apartment. She refused to do anything but a once-over, says no purse, phone, or keys in plain sight, no Okash, that stench of escape is growing. Maybe I was wrong about Dugong and he tipped her off. I got Key West PD to do a drive-by at his home, guy lives in a shack-type place, is in front painting away. Sleepy can’t find any flights Okash has taken but she could be with The Herr driving somewhere. Still waiting for Okash’s phone records and that’s it. Thanks for practicing your craft. Or is it an art?”
I said, “I’m steering clear of art.”
CHAPTER
43
Custody paperwork filled the rest of the day, followed by dinner with Robin that I cooked and catching up with psych journals. I went to sleep at eleven p.m., woke up at midnight, one a.m., two thirty.
As four a.m. approached, I remained wide awake, eyes open, muscles tight, synapses jangling. I tried to deep-breathe myself back to sleep. Doctor-soothe-thyself failed and at four forty-five a.m., I got out of bed, made my way to the closet, and got dressed in jeans, a sweatshirt, and running shoes.
Robin stirred. I kissed her forehead and went to the kitchen. Blanche stirred from her service-porch crate.
I opened the unlocked grate, received a somnolent lick.
After writing a note to Robin, I left.
* * *
—
When you’re compulsive, even new habits die hard.
No doubt where I was going.
Rolling down the private road topped by my house, I had to brake hard to avoid a buck with a full-on rack of antlers. He stared at me, flexed chest muscles, and bounded off into the brush. Moments later an enormous owl soared out of a pine tree and was swallowed by a lavender-black sky.
The Seville’s windows were open. Cool May air and scurry-noise blew through. I got cold and shut the window. Didn’t like the ensuing quiet and put the radio on.
KJazz. Stan Getz playing “Desafinado.” Nice and mellow but it didn’t matter.
* * *
—
The Glen was free of vehicles. I sped to Sunset, made an easy left turn, and drove toward Beverly Hills. Thinking about Crispin Moman making his way up Benedict Canyon, intent on fecal revenge.
Driven by forces he’d never understand.
Lucky him.
* * *
—
Easy to take my time on a deserted Benedict Canyon. I spotted it well in advance.