بخش 03 - فصل 16

16

Hodges is making scrambled eggs when Janey comes into the kitchen on Saturday morning in her white robe, her hair wet from the shower. With it combed back from her face, she looks younger than ever. He thinks again, Fortyfour? “I looked for bacon, but didn’t see any. Of course it might still be there. My ex

claims that the great majority of American men suffer from the disease of Refrigerator Blindness. I don’t know if there’s a help line for that.” She points at his midsection. “Okay,” he says. And then, because she seems to like it: “Yeah.” “And by the way, how’s your cholesterol?”

He smiles and says, “Toast? It’s whole grain. As you probably know, since you bought it.” “One slice. No butter, just a little jam. What are you going to do today?” “Not sure yet.” Although he’s thinking he’d like to check in with Radney Peeples out in Sugar Heights if Radney’s on duty and being Vigilant. And

he needs to talk to Jerome about computers. Endless vistas there. “Have you checked the Blue Umbrella?” “Wanted to make you breakfast first. And me.” It’s true. He woke up actually wanting to feed his body rather than trying to plug some empty hole in his head. “Also, I don’t know your password.”

“It’s Janey.” “My advice? Change it. Actually it’s the advice of the kid who works for me.” “Jerome, right?” “That’s the one.” He has scrambled half a dozen eggs and they eat them all, split right down the middle. It has crossed his mind to ask if she had any regrets about last night, but decides

the way she’s going through her breakfast answers the question. With the dishes in the sink, they go on her computer and sit silently for nearly four minutes, reading and rereading the latest message from merckill. “Holy cow,” she says at last. “You wanted to wind him up, and I’d say he’s fully wound.

Do you see all the mistakes?” She points out complartment and uynlocked. “Is that part of his– what did you call it?–stylistic masking?” “I don’t think so.” Hodges is looking at wouldn’tr and smiling. He can’t help smiling. The fish is feeling the hook, and it’s sunk deep. It hurts. It burns. “I think that’s the kind of typing you do when you’re

mad as hell. The last thing he expected was that he’d have a credibility problem. It’s making him crazy.” “Er,” she says. “Huh?” “Crazier. Send him another message, Bill. Poke him harder. He deserves it.” “All right.” He thinks, then types.