about my visit, including your brother Ricky.”
“Ricky doesn’t talk to me anymore.”
“Very sorry to hear that.”
“On one condition. You tell me now how you persuaded my ex.”
“Fair enough. I showed her a color picture of herself on all fours with a dog. The dog’s fire-engine-red penis is in full evidence, ready for action. The dog’s tongue hangs out. There are suspiciously colored smears on her cheeks. Her tongue is buried in the dog’s ass.”
Extended silence.
“What type of dog?”
“A Chihuahua – named Lyle.”
Extended silence.
They return to the shop’s back room.
The coffee. The biscotti.
Castellano finally speaks. His voice atremble. “Tell me you doctored that thing. Tell me it never happened. My judgment with her was off. Granted. Tell me it wasn’t
that
off.”
“The photo is authentic. Unbeknownst to you, you married a dangerously sick woman, capable of anything. Thank God, Tom, you didn’t have children with her.”
“Thank God,” Castellano making the sign of the cross. “Don’t be a stranger, Eliot. Come over once in a while for coffee.”
“I promise, and if you think of anything, no matter how trivial it may seem, call me immediately. May I take the rest of the biscotti?”
The light is flashing on Conte’s answering machine. Hits play: You have two new messages. First message, left today at 2:16 P.M.
El, Robby. Turn on your fuckin’ cell. Your father expressed heavy sadness in the company of Father Gustavo that he rarely sees you. Father Gustavo recommended patience, but Silvio is really up there in the years. What else can I say? I’d like to see you in the next day or two concerning you know what. Call me.
Second message, left today at 3:26 P.M.
Hello, Eliot. This is Joan Whittier. You may remember me as Joan Dearborn, a long time ago. Our kids used to have play dates at each other’s houses. I read about what happened in Laguna Beach and I am so sorry … oh, God … this is terribly awkward. I have information for you that came to light a month ago when Christine, my daughter … do you recall her? She’s been in therapy for many years, can’t hold down a job, and has struggled with an eating disorder … it came out that … you may remember that Bunny and Ralph Norwald had daughters we all occasionally exchanged play dates with? Ralph sometimes babysat. Christine had a memory of Ralph, she says he molested her when she was at his house to playwith Cindy and Judy Norwald. I don’t put much stock in this recovered-memory idea, but it made me remember that once when I was going to take Chrissy to the Norwalds’ she balked and kicked out a window in our apartment. Another time she bit me so hard she drew blood. I don’t know what to say except I know that after he divorced Bunny, Ralph married Nancy when your girls were quite young. I also know that Chrissy was in touch with your girls in recent years. She says they didn’t have jobs and were both bulimic like her and living at home … like Chrissy is. If you want to talk my cell is –
The call is dropped.
He retrieves the number, but doesn’t call. Ralph Norwald. A fleeting image. Happy face. Goofy smile. A superficial man … who became rich. Nancy was ignorant of it? She knew and didn’t know? She didn’t want to know, because she knew?
CHAPTER 9
He leaves a message:
Robby, El. I’m taking a wild guess your lovely wife didn’t keep it a secret I stopped in. She made a fine lunch and we had a productive conversation. Uh … listen, I have a plan to uh … neutralize the party in question. Neutralize, shall we say, with prejudice. I’ll give you a ring tomorrow night or early Tuesday morning. Okay, that’s it,
paesan
. Stay out of this biblical rain.
He thinks about calling Joan Whittier, but can’t do it. He’ll never be able to do it. Puts his head down on the desk, just to close his eyes for a minute or so as he retrieves Joan’s image from thirty years
“Ricky doesn’t talk to me anymore.”
“Very sorry to hear that.”
“On one condition. You tell me now how you persuaded my ex.”
“Fair enough. I showed her a color picture of herself on all fours with a dog. The dog’s fire-engine-red penis is in full evidence, ready for action. The dog’s tongue hangs out. There are suspiciously colored smears on her cheeks. Her tongue is buried in the dog’s ass.”
Extended silence.
“What type of dog?”
“A Chihuahua – named Lyle.”
Extended silence.
They return to the shop’s back room.
The coffee. The biscotti.
Castellano finally speaks. His voice atremble. “Tell me you doctored that thing. Tell me it never happened. My judgment with her was off. Granted. Tell me it wasn’t
that
off.”
“The photo is authentic. Unbeknownst to you, you married a dangerously sick woman, capable of anything. Thank God, Tom, you didn’t have children with her.”
“Thank God,” Castellano making the sign of the cross. “Don’t be a stranger, Eliot. Come over once in a while for coffee.”
“I promise, and if you think of anything, no matter how trivial it may seem, call me immediately. May I take the rest of the biscotti?”
The light is flashing on Conte’s answering machine. Hits play: You have two new messages. First message, left today at 2:16 P.M.
El, Robby. Turn on your fuckin’ cell. Your father expressed heavy sadness in the company of Father Gustavo that he rarely sees you. Father Gustavo recommended patience, but Silvio is really up there in the years. What else can I say? I’d like to see you in the next day or two concerning you know what. Call me.
Second message, left today at 3:26 P.M.
Hello, Eliot. This is Joan Whittier. You may remember me as Joan Dearborn, a long time ago. Our kids used to have play dates at each other’s houses. I read about what happened in Laguna Beach and I am so sorry … oh, God … this is terribly awkward. I have information for you that came to light a month ago when Christine, my daughter … do you recall her? She’s been in therapy for many years, can’t hold down a job, and has struggled with an eating disorder … it came out that … you may remember that Bunny and Ralph Norwald had daughters we all occasionally exchanged play dates with? Ralph sometimes babysat. Christine had a memory of Ralph, she says he molested her when she was at his house to playwith Cindy and Judy Norwald. I don’t put much stock in this recovered-memory idea, but it made me remember that once when I was going to take Chrissy to the Norwalds’ she balked and kicked out a window in our apartment. Another time she bit me so hard she drew blood. I don’t know what to say except I know that after he divorced Bunny, Ralph married Nancy when your girls were quite young. I also know that Chrissy was in touch with your girls in recent years. She says they didn’t have jobs and were both bulimic like her and living at home … like Chrissy is. If you want to talk my cell is –
The call is dropped.
He retrieves the number, but doesn’t call. Ralph Norwald. A fleeting image. Happy face. Goofy smile. A superficial man … who became rich. Nancy was ignorant of it? She knew and didn’t know? She didn’t want to know, because she knew?
CHAPTER 9
He leaves a message:
Robby, El. I’m taking a wild guess your lovely wife didn’t keep it a secret I stopped in. She made a fine lunch and we had a productive conversation. Uh … listen, I have a plan to uh … neutralize the party in question. Neutralize, shall we say, with prejudice. I’ll give you a ring tomorrow night or early Tuesday morning. Okay, that’s it,
paesan
. Stay out of this biblical rain.
He thinks about calling Joan Whittier, but can’t do it. He’ll never be able to do it. Puts his head down on the desk, just to close his eyes for a minute or so as he retrieves Joan’s image from thirty years
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