'There's no hurry,' Pen told her. 'You can decide later. Right now, I think we should go over and see Joyce.'
'What for?'
'She's Dad's wife.'
'Some wife. She wasn't even there. How come she wasn't there? Isn't a wife supposed to stay with her husband when he's half dead in the hospital?'
'He's not half dead.'
'Really? Three-quarters? Seven-eighths?'
'Cut it out, Mel.'
'Mom would've stayed with him.'
'They only let us stay for about five minutes.'
'There's a waiting room.'
'Look, for all we know Joyce could've spent the whole night there.'
'I'll just bet she did.'
'Maybe you'd better not see her, if you're going to act this way.'
'I've got a great idea. Why don't you go and see her without us. Give her my regards.'
'Okay.'
They reached Bodie's van and climbed in. He started the engine. 'Where to?' he asked.
'My apartment, I guess,' Pen said. 'I'll take my car over to Dad's place, and you guys can catch up on your sleep.'
'Never mind,' Melanie said from behind them. 'I want to see her, after all.'
'Are you sure?'
'Yeah, I'm sure. I've got a few questions I'd like to ask.'
Pen turned in her seat to look at her. The movement twisted her blouse slightly, opening a gap between two of its buttons. Bodie saw smooth, shadowed skin on the side of her breast. 'Such as?' Pen asked.
'Such as where was she when Dad got hit.'
'She was with him,' Bodie said. 'She was there when he was brought into the emergency room.'
'How come she wasn't hurt?'
'We'll find out,' Pen said. Her blouse was drawn tight against her breast. The glossy fabric was molded to it, filled, rounded, puckered just a bit in the shape of a disk at the very front. Bodie looked again at the skin inside the small opening. Then he put on his safety harness. 'But let's not make it an inquisition,' Pen added. 'Joyce is Dad's wife, regardless of what you might think of her. Dad loves her, so we have to treat her with respect. Okay?'
'I guess so.'
Pen turned to the front.
'Which way do I go?' Bodie asked, looking at her face and being careful not to lower his eyes. Her face wasn't bad to look at, either.
'Make a left at the light.'
He nodded, checked the side mirror for traffic, and pulled out.
He realized that he was now feeling pretty good - a vast change from a few minutes ago.
Looking at Pen hadn't hurt any.
If we stay with her, I'll get plenty of opportunities.
He wished he hadn't mentioned a motel. It was pretty clear that Melanie would rather stay at a motel than at Pen's apartment.
It'll work out,
he thought.
I'll plead penury.
Except for Pen giving occasional instructions on where to turn, the sisters were silent during the drive. Bodie imagined they must both be dwelling on the situation, wondering how their father got hit and whether he would recover. Maybe remembering times they'd spent with him.
Melanie had more than the tragedy to cope with. She also had her burden of guilt.
She'd been holding a lot of grudges, blaming him for the death of her mother, apparently dumping on him with a vengeance when he married Joyce.
She was probably wishing she'd been nicer to him.
'You'd better get to the right,' Pen said.
He eased over. They were on San Vicente, and the air streaming in through the open window was cooler than it had been a few minutes ago. Bodie suspected they were approaching the ocean, though there was no sign of it ahead.
The road had a wide, grassy center strip that appeared to be a haven for joggers.
Must be great for the lungs,
Bodie thought,
running your little heart out down the middle of a busy street.
'You'd better slow down,' Pen said. 'It's coming up, and you really can't see the road until you're almost on top of it.'
Bodie checked the mirror, then took his foot off the gas pedal. The area over there was heavily wooded. He couldn't see the road yet.
He flicked the arm of his turn signal, eased down on the brake, spotted the side road concealed among bushes and trees, and turned onto it. He drove slowly along the single lane. Though he could see no houses, he found evidence of their presence: patches of fence visible behind shrubbery and vines, mail boxes on weathered posts, now and then a garage, an occasional driveway entrance with a gate, a few cars parked half on the road so that he had to steer carefully around them.
The cars were not slouches: a Jaguar, a Porsche, a Ferrari, a Mercedes that looked incredibly huge and alien among the sleek sports cars.
'You can pull over behind the Mercedes,' Pen told him.
Speaking of alien - his VW van in with these ritzy vehicles. Folks would figure it must belong to the help. Caterers, perhaps. A party at the Conway residence.
A wake.
He maneuvered his van over to the right as far as possible. Bushes scraped its side. It was still jutting an uncomfortable distance into the road, but no more so than the Mercedes.
He hopped down. Instead of trying to squeeze through the passenger door, Pen swung her legs onto the driver's seat and scooted across. She gripped the steering wheel to pull herself along. Bodie tried not to look at her blouse.
He held out his hand. Pen took it, and he helped her out.
'Thank you.'
He let go of her hand, perhaps a bit too quickly. Melanie had pushed the seatback forward. He moved in, gently gripped her upper arm, and steadied her as she stepped down.
They walked past the gray Mercedes. Melanie frowned at it.
Near the front of the car stood a mailbox like the others along the road. This one bore the name CONWAY in black metal letters.
A gap in the bushes revealed a wooden gate. Farther up the road, a break in the foliage made way for a garage. The closed garage door was only a yard off the road. Must be dicey backing out, Bodie thought.
Pen, leading the way, unlatched the front gate and swung it open. She stepped through, followed by Melanie. Bodie went next and closed the gate.
The lawn was a trim carpet of grass. Most of it was shaded by trees, which blocked Bodie's view of the house's upper story. The walkway led past a small, concrete fountain. In the center of the fountain stood a pudgy cherub wearing a mischievous leer and nothing else. Water spurted from his brass penis, splashing into the pool.
Bodie wondered if Whit was responsible for that. It was the mark, he thought, of either upper class sophistication at its worst, or a nice bit of nasty wit. The latter, he hoped. He could like a guy who got a kick out of pissing statues.
The white stucco house had the look of a hacienda. An open porch ran the length of it, shadowed by a red tile roof. A dozen flower pots were suspended by rope from the porch ceiling. Beyond them were some white, wrought-iron chairs and a love seat which couldn't be very comfortable but looked cheery. There were big windows on each side of the front door.
Pen stepped onto the porch and rang the doorbell.
Bodie heard chimes inside.
The door was opened by a young woman with a grief-twisted face who gasped, 'Oh, honey,' and threw her arms around Pen. After a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek, she seemed to notice the other sister. 'Melanie?'
Melanie received a hug and kiss while she stood motionless with her arms hanging. She didn't resist, just took it like a kid being greeted by a distant, annoying relation.
Done with the hugging, Joyce shook her head. 'It's so awful. I'm so glad you're both here.'
'Melanie drove in last night,' Pen said. She looked around. 'This is her friend, Bodie.'
Bodie said, 'Nice to meet you,' and stepped forward to shake the offered hand.
Step-mom looked about the right age to be an older sister, and had the sleek features of a fashion model. Right now, she was showing a white jumpsuit belted in at her waist. It had zippered pockets at the breasts and thighs, and one long zipper down the front. Each zipper had a big, dangling golden tab for easy opening.
She wore a thin gold chain around her neck.
She had a soft tan, curving cheeks, coral eyes, and thin eyebrows that were a shade darker than her blond hair. The hair was cut in a boyish, pixie style as if meant to show off her ears. She wore big, hoop earrings.
Whit, quite obviously, had been a very lucky man before last night.
'Please,' she said. 'Come in.'
She led them across a red tile foyer. In spite of the jumpsuit's loose fit, her walking drew it taut against her buttocks.
The living room had a plush carpet of the same burgundy shade as Pen's blouse. It also had a man on the sofa, who got to his feet as they entered.
Melanie stopped short.
' Harrison,' Pen said in a low voice.
'He's been such a sweetheart through all this,' Joyce said.
'Pen,' he said. He looked and sounded somber. He took her hand and patted it. 'I'm so sorry.'
She pulled her hand from his grip.
Harrison turned to Melanie, shaking his head. He picked up her dangling hand and squeezed it. 'A terrible thing,' he said. 'Terrible.'
Joyce said, 'This is Melanie's friend, Dobie.'
'Bodie,' he corrected, and shook hands with Harrison.
The man had a firm grip. He was somewhat taller than Bodie, maybe six-two. He was slim, but he had muscles inside his polo shirt. Bodie squeezed the guy's hand a little harder than necessary. ' Harrison Donner. I'm Whit's law partner and an old friend of the family.'
The old friend of the family must've been pushing thirty.
'Nice to meet you,' Bodie said, giving his voice some extra force.
The man had a calm, self-assured quality that wasn't arrogance, but almost.
I'm sure he's a great guy,
Bodie thought.
A real sport
.
He no doubt belonged to the Mercedes outside, though a Porsche seemed more in character.
'Why doesn't everyone sit down and make themselves comfortable?' Joyce suggested. 'I'll get us some coffee.' She went out.
Harrison returned to his place on the sofa. Pen looked around the room until he was seated, then went to the far end of the sofa. Bodie sidestepped to a stuffed chair and sat down. Melanie sat on the carpet at his feet. She rested an arm on his knee. He stroked her arm.
'Have you been to the hospital?' Harrison asked.
'We were just there,' Pen said.
'Joyce and I were there through the operation. I think she's holding up quite well under the circumstances.'
Melanie's other hand covered Bodie's hand, pressed it gently, and stayed there.
'Were you at the accident?' Pen asked.
He shook his head. 'Joyce phoned me from the emergency room. She'd called you first, but you apparently weren't home and she got your answering machine. She needed someone to be with her.'
'So naturally she called you,' Melanie said.
'You weren't exactly available, young lady. Joyce did, in fact, put a call through to your number in Phoenix to no avail.'
'We were probably already on our way,' Bodie said.
Harrison looked puzzled.
Joyce came in carrying a silver tray. She set it on the table in front of Harrison and began to pour coffee into china cups. When they were full, she inquired about cream and sugar. No takers. She passed out the cups. She was shaking enough to make them clitter against their saucers.
Taking one for herself, she sat in a chair near Pen's end of the sofa - about as far from Harrison as the furniture would allow.
To Bodie, her choice of seats had a guilty look.
She obviously knew how it must appear to the sisters, finding her here with Harrison.
Bodie felt a little sorry for her.
Harrison resumed his puzzled expression. He directed it at Pen. 'Let me see whether I understand the sequence of events, here. Melanie and her friend were already en route to LA at the time Joyce attempted to call her. Therefore, you telephoned her with the news of the accident last night. So tell me, where have you been since then? You didn't phone? You didn't visit the hospital until this morning? Weren't you at all concerned about your father's condition?'
' Harrison, stop it,' Joyce said.
Pen looked grateful for the support. 'The thing is,' she said, 'I didn't get your message until this morning.' She frowned at Harrison. 'I don't even know why we're discussing this. All that really counts is Dad. I mean, Mel and I don't even know how he got hit.' To Joyce, she said, 'Were you with him?'
The woman nodded.
'We'll get to that in good time,' Harrison went on. 'I'd like to find out how Melanie learned about the accident if you didn't tell her last night.'
'Why are you so concerned about it?' Melanie asked. 'Let's just say that inconsistencies trouble me. I'm an attorney, after all. A good portion of my time is devoted to hunting them out. It's how one goes about discovering the truth.'
'You want the truth?'
Harrison nodded.
'I saw it happen.'
'Oh?'
'In a vision.'
'Let me get this straight. Are we talking ESP, telepathy, that sort of thing?'
'That's right,' Melanie said.