think so. I didnât see anything.â
âCome on, you were right there beside me. You must have seen something . Maybe you think that it wasnât particularly important, but you never know. It might give the cops that one small piece of sky thatâs going to finish the jigsaw.â
Astrid said, âThe truth is, Frank, I wasnât supposed to be there. I was supposed to be someplace else.â
âOh. Oh, right, I understand. But couldnât you make an anonymous phone call?â
âI didnât see anything, Frank. Nothing at all.â
There was a long silence between them. Eventually Frank nodded toward the painting of the six blue-faced women and said, âWhat do you think thatâs all about?â
âItâs about women and their mystery. If you look at the faces for long enough, the eyes appear to open.â
âI didnât know that, and Iâve been coming to this place since day one.â
âThatâs because youâve never looked at it for long enough. Look at me, Frank. Go on, really look at me. Who do you see?â
âUm . . . I donât exactly know what youâre asking.â
âIâm asking you to see me, thatâs all. Describe what you see.â
âI see . . . What do I see? A young woman of maybe twenty-three, twenty-four years. Brown hair, blue eyes. Maybe a Swedish or a Polish mother, judging by your cheekbones. Sure of herself, independent. Lives on her own, maybe with a white cat.â
Astrid laughed. âSorry, no white cat. But what else do you see?â
âI donât know. I donât know you well enough. What do you do for a living?â
âA living? Nothing. Not now. But I used to pretend to be somebody else.â
âYou used to what ? I donât think you and I are talking on the same wavelength.â
âOh, yes we are. Or we could, if you really wanted to. Tell me about you.â
âThere isnât much to tell. Frank Bell, very distantly related to Alexander Graham Bell. Very, very distantly. Thirty-four and one half years old.â
âThatâs it? No career?â
âOh, you want my whole life story? OK . . . my father used to run a hotel in Ojai so he expected me to run it after he retired.â
âBut you didnât?â
âNo way. I hated the hotel business. Hotel guests behave like swine. They steal everything, they break everything, and you should see what they do to the mattresses. So I took a job as a bartender, and then I cleaned swimming pools, and then I took dance lessons, and then I appeared as an extra in three episodes of Star Trek Voyager , wearing a red jumpsuit and a false nose and pretending to drink Aldebaran whiskey in Ten Forward.
âWhile I was waiting around the Star Trek set I wrote a TV pilot about two Mid-Western farm boys who always wanted to be famous rock stars. I sold it to Fox, made a success of it, end of story.â
â If Pigs Could Sing ,â smiled Astrid.
âThatâs the one.â
âI love that show. I really adore it. Dusty and Henry, theyâre so kind of gentle and goofy, and I just love their grandpa. Whatâs that song he always used to sing? The one about the limp?â
ââThe Girl With The Left-Footed Limp.â It went to number ninety-seven in the Hot One Hundred. And straight back out again the next morning.â
Astrid reached across the table and took hold of both of Frankâs hands. On her wedding-band finger she wore an emerald ring. If the emerald was real, thought Frank, it must be worth nearly ten thousand dollars. She looked as if she were about to say something but then she didnât.
âWhat?â he asked her as their drinks arrived.
âI was just thinking that you wonât feel like writing that kind of stuff anymore, after losing Danny.â
âNot just yet, maybe. But nothing is ever really funny
âCome on, you were right there beside me. You must have seen something . Maybe you think that it wasnât particularly important, but you never know. It might give the cops that one small piece of sky thatâs going to finish the jigsaw.â
Astrid said, âThe truth is, Frank, I wasnât supposed to be there. I was supposed to be someplace else.â
âOh. Oh, right, I understand. But couldnât you make an anonymous phone call?â
âI didnât see anything, Frank. Nothing at all.â
There was a long silence between them. Eventually Frank nodded toward the painting of the six blue-faced women and said, âWhat do you think thatâs all about?â
âItâs about women and their mystery. If you look at the faces for long enough, the eyes appear to open.â
âI didnât know that, and Iâve been coming to this place since day one.â
âThatâs because youâve never looked at it for long enough. Look at me, Frank. Go on, really look at me. Who do you see?â
âUm . . . I donât exactly know what youâre asking.â
âIâm asking you to see me, thatâs all. Describe what you see.â
âI see . . . What do I see? A young woman of maybe twenty-three, twenty-four years. Brown hair, blue eyes. Maybe a Swedish or a Polish mother, judging by your cheekbones. Sure of herself, independent. Lives on her own, maybe with a white cat.â
Astrid laughed. âSorry, no white cat. But what else do you see?â
âI donât know. I donât know you well enough. What do you do for a living?â
âA living? Nothing. Not now. But I used to pretend to be somebody else.â
âYou used to what ? I donât think you and I are talking on the same wavelength.â
âOh, yes we are. Or we could, if you really wanted to. Tell me about you.â
âThere isnât much to tell. Frank Bell, very distantly related to Alexander Graham Bell. Very, very distantly. Thirty-four and one half years old.â
âThatâs it? No career?â
âOh, you want my whole life story? OK . . . my father used to run a hotel in Ojai so he expected me to run it after he retired.â
âBut you didnât?â
âNo way. I hated the hotel business. Hotel guests behave like swine. They steal everything, they break everything, and you should see what they do to the mattresses. So I took a job as a bartender, and then I cleaned swimming pools, and then I took dance lessons, and then I appeared as an extra in three episodes of Star Trek Voyager , wearing a red jumpsuit and a false nose and pretending to drink Aldebaran whiskey in Ten Forward.
âWhile I was waiting around the Star Trek set I wrote a TV pilot about two Mid-Western farm boys who always wanted to be famous rock stars. I sold it to Fox, made a success of it, end of story.â
â If Pigs Could Sing ,â smiled Astrid.
âThatâs the one.â
âI love that show. I really adore it. Dusty and Henry, theyâre so kind of gentle and goofy, and I just love their grandpa. Whatâs that song he always used to sing? The one about the limp?â
ââThe Girl With The Left-Footed Limp.â It went to number ninety-seven in the Hot One Hundred. And straight back out again the next morning.â
Astrid reached across the table and took hold of both of Frankâs hands. On her wedding-band finger she wore an emerald ring. If the emerald was real, thought Frank, it must be worth nearly ten thousand dollars. She looked as if she were about to say something but then she didnât.
âWhat?â he asked her as their drinks arrived.
âI was just thinking that you wonât feel like writing that kind of stuff anymore, after losing Danny.â
âNot just yet, maybe. But nothing is ever really funny
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