فصل 01 - بخش 06

HOLLY

July 22nd–July 24th 1

She put back the office phone (which she always brought home with her, although Pete kidded her about it) on its stand next to her home phone, and sat quiet in front of her computer for perhaps thirty seconds. Then she pushed the button on her Fitbit to check her pulse. Seventy-five, eight to ten beats faster than normal. She wasn’t surprised. Pelley’s story of the Maitland affair had excited and engaged her in a way no case had since finishing with the late (and very horrible) Brady Hartsfield.

Except that wasn’t exactly right. The truth was she hadn’t been really excited about anything since Bill had died. Pete Huntley was fine, but he was – here in the silence of her nice apartment, she could admit it – a bit of a plodder. He was happy to chase the deadbeats, bail-jumpers, stolen cars, lost pets, and daddies delinquent on child support. And while Holly had told Alec Pelley nothing but the truth – she really did abhor violence, except in movies; it made her tummy hurt – chasing after Hartsfield had made her feel alive in a way nothing had since. That was also true of Morris Bellamy, a crazy literature buff who had killed his favorite writer.

There would be no Brady Hartsfield or Morris Bellamy waiting for her in Dayton, which was good, because Pete was on vacation in Minnesota, and her young friend Jerome was on vacation with his family in Ireland.

‘I’ll kiss the Blarney Stone for ye, darlin,’ he had said at the airport, employing an Irish brogue every bit as awful as his Amos ’n Andy accent, which he still put on occasionally, mostly to offend her.

‘You better not,’ she’d said. ‘Think of the germs on that thing. Oough.’

Alec Pelley thought I’d be put off by the strangeness, she thought, smiling a little. He thought I’d just say, ‘This is impossible, people can’t be in two places at the same time, and people can’t disappear from archived news footage. It’s either a practical joke, or a hoax.’ Only what Alec Pelley doesn’t know – and I won’t tell him – is that people can be in two places at the same time. Brady Hartsfield did it, and when Brady finally died, he was in another man’s body.

‘Anything is possible,’ she said to the empty room. ‘Anything at all. The world is full of strange nooks and crannies.’

She booted up Firefox and found the address of the Tommy and Tuppence Pub. The closest lodging was the Fairview Hotel, on Northwoods Boulevard. Was it the same hotel the Maitland family had stayed in? She would ask Alec Pelley via email, but it seemed likely, bearing in mind what the older Maitland daughter had said. Holly checked Trivago and saw she could get an acceptable room for ninety-two dollars per night. She considered upgrading to a small suite, but only for a moment. That would be padding the expense account, a shoddy business practice and a slippery slope.

She called the Fairview (on the office phone, since this was a legitimate expense), made a reservation for three nights starting tomorrow, then opened Math Cruncher on her computer. In her opinion it was the best program for solving everyday problems. Check-in time at the Fairview was three o’clock, and the turnpike speed at which her Prius got optimum gas mileage was 63 MPH. She figured in one stop to top up the tank and get a no doubt substandard meal at a roadside rest … added forty-five minutes for the inevitable slowdown due to roadwork …

‘I’ll leave at ten o’clock,’ she said. ‘No, better make it nine fifty, just to be safe.’ And to be even safer, she used her Waze app to suss out an alternate route, should that be necessary.

She showered (so she wouldn’t have to do it in the morning), put on her nightie, brushed her teeth, flossed (the latest studies said flossing was not useful in protecting against dental decay, but it was part of Holly’s routine, and she would be content to floss until she died), took out her hair clips and put them in a line, then went into the spare bedroom, padding in her bare feet.

The room was her film library. The shelves were lined with DVDs, some in colorful store cases, most homemade courtesy of Holly’s state-of-the-art disc burner. There were thousands (4,375, currently), but the one she wanted was easy to find, because the discs were alphabetized. She took it down and placed it on her nightstand, where she would be sure to see it when she packed in the morning.

With that taken care of, she got down on her knees, closed her eyes, and folded her hands. Morning and evening prayers had been her analyst’s idea, and when Holly protested that she did not exactly believe in God, her analyst said that a vocalizing of her concerns and plans to a hypothetical higher power would help even if she didn’t. And that actually seemed to be the case.

‘It’s Holly Gibney again, and I am still trying to do my best. If you’re there, please bless Pete while he’s fishing, because only an idiot goes out in a boat when he doesn’t know how to swim. Please bless the Robinsons over there in Ireland, and if Jerome really is thinking about kissing the Blarney Stone, I wish you’d make him think better of it. I am drinking Boost to try and put on a little weight, because Dr Stonefield says I’m too thin. I don’t like it, but each can has two hundred and forty calories, according to the label. I’m taking my Lexapro, and I’m not smoking. Tomorrow I’m going to Dayton. Please help me to stay safe in my car, obey all traffic rules, and help me to do the best I can with the facts at hand. Which are interesting.’ She considered. ‘I still miss Bill. I guess that’s all for tonight.’

She got into bed and was asleep five minutes later.