We looked around for a while in perfect silence. When we got back to the living room, Susan turned to me.
“Sweet Jesus,” she said.
4
Lunch was lobster and mango salad
with fresh rolls and a bottle of white Grave. Susan and I put the wine away for later. After lunch we toured the grounds, which were everything that grounds ought to be. It was a warm and pleasant day for October. We found a bench near the front of the house and sat on it and watched the guests begin to gather.
“Exactly what is this event,” Susan said. “You’ve never said.”
“You never asked.”
“I was just so thrilled you invited me,” Susan said. “I was nearly speechless.”
“Understandable,” I said. “The central event is the marriage of Heidi Bradshaw’s daughter, Adelaide, to a guy named Maurice Lessard, whose family owns a pharmaceutical company.”
“Adelaide?” Susan said.
“Ever-loving Adelaide,” I said.
“How old?” Susan said.
“Twenty-two, I think.”
“Puts Heidi in her forties, then,” Susan said.
“I’d guess,” I said.
Heidi Bradshaw came across the lawn at full stride.
“I’m so, so sorry,” she said, “not to have been here to greet you when you arrived.”
“Busy time,” I said, and introduced Susan.
“I’m thrilled, Miss Silverman,” Heidi said. “I’ve heard the big boy here speak very well of you.”
“My pleasure,” Susan said.
Susan was perfectly pleasant, but I could hear the chill.
“Actually,” I said. “It’s Dr. Silverman.”
“Really?” Heidi said to Susan. “A medical doctor.”
“I’m a psychotherapist,” Susan said. “But please, call me Susan.”
“Therapist? How fascinating. Is it fun?”
“Not always,” Susan said.
“Well, I bet it’s useful for managing the stud, here,” Heidi said, and shared an intimate smile with me.
“Sadly, I’m not trained in adolescent psychology,” Susan said.
“Oh, you’re so funny,” Heidi said. “Omigod, there’s Leopold.”
She turned from us and rushed into the arms of a darkly tanned gentleman with white hair, who might have been a famous conductor, as he was stepping from the carriage.
“Did we find her annoying?” I said to Susan.
“We did.”
“Was it the ‘Miss Silverman’ that did it?” I said.
“You seemed quick to correct her,” Susan said.
“I felt your pain,” I said.
“It was a put-down.”
“To call you ‘Miss’?”
“Trust me,” Susan said. “And she was so intimately proprietary with you.”
“Intimately?” I said.
Susan said, “Yes . . . stud boy.”
“I don’t know how it looks for us in the long term, though,” I said. “She dropped me for that orchestra leader in a millisecond.”
“I don’t like her,” Susan said.
I was looking at her. She was looking at the people climbing out of the second carriage. Her face stiffened.
“Oh my good God,” she said.
I looked. Stepping out of the carriage, dressed as usual, and carrying a small suitcase, was the Gray Man. He glanced over at us. I looked back. He gave no sign.
“Friend of the bride?” I said to Susan. “Or friend of the groom?”
5
“Maybe he doesn’t see us,”
Susan said.
“He sees us.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Rugar doesn’t not see things,” I said.
“Is that really his name, do you think?”
“It’s the one he used last time,” I said.
“In Marshport?”
“Yeah,” I said, “two, three years ago.”
“When he helped you?”
“Yep.”
“How about when he almost killed you?”
“Yeah, he was Rugar then, too,” I said. “Almost ten years.”
Carrying his small suitcase, Rugar walked across the lawn toward us.
“Dr. Silverman,” he said to Susan. “A pleasure to see you again.”
Susan nodded without saying anything. Rugar was wearing a gray blazer, gray slacks, a gray shirt with a Windsor collar and sapphire cuff links, a charcoal tie with a sapphire tie clasp, and black shoes with pointy toes.
“Spenser,” Rugar said.
“Rugar,” I said.
He smiled.
“Our paths seem to keep crossing,” Rugar said.
“Kismet,” I said.
“I hope we are not here on conflicting missions,” Rugar said.
“Tell me what you’re here for,” I said, “and I can tell you if there’s conflict.”
Rugar smiled again. It was more of an automatic facial gesture than an expression of anything.
“You could,” Rugar said. “But you wouldn’t.”
“How do you know?” I said.
“Because I wouldn’t,” Rugar said.
“I’m not sure we’re as much alike as you think we are,” I said.
“We seemed rather alike in Marshport,” Rugar said.
“The first time we met, you almost killed me,” I said.
“But I didn’t,” Rugar said. “You almost put me in jail.”
“But I didn’t,” I said.
“So I guess we are starting even here,” Rugar said.
“You wish,” I said.
Again, the meaningless smile.
“You have never lacked for confidence,” he said.
“Never had reason to,” I said.
“And perhaps you are more playful than I,” Rugar said.
“There are viruses more playful than you are,” I said.
Rugar nodded.
“But you know as well as I do,” he said, “that the game we play has neither winners nor losers. There are only the quick and the dead.”
“I know that,” I said.
“Makes the game worth playing, perhaps.”
“Especially for the quick,” I said.
“‘Only when love and need are one . . .’” Rugar said.
“‘And the work is play for mortal stakes . . . ’?”
“You know the verse,” Rugar said.
“You assumed I would,” I said.
“I did,” Rugar said.
“We quick are a literate bunch.”
“Let us hope it continues,” Rugar said.
He nodded gravely to Susan.
“Perhaps we’ll chat again,” he said.
We watched him walk back across the lawn toward the house. Susan hugged herself.
“God,” Susan said. “It’s as if there’s a chill where he’s been.”
“If I remember right, at the depths of Dante’s Inferno,” I said, “Satan is frozen in ice.”
“It’s as if Rugar has no soul,” Susan said.
“Probably doesn’t,” I said. “Got a couple of rules, I think. But soul is open to question.”
“Does he frighten you?”
“Probably,” I said. “If I think about it. He’s pretty frightful.”
“But . . . that won’t influence what you do,” she said.
“No.”
The day had darkened. I looked up. Clouds had begun to gather between us and the sun. The day was still. There was no wind at all.
“Gee,” I said. “He really does leave a chill.”
Susan glanced up at the sky and shrugged slightly. When she was focused on something, it was hard to get her off it.
“Do you think it’s a coincidence that he’s here and you’re here?” Susan said.
“Hard to figure how it wouldn’t be,” I said.
“But do you think it is?” Susan said.
“No. I don’t think it’s a coincidence.”
“So if it isn’t,” Susan said, “what does it mean?”
“I don’t know,” I said.
“So you’ll just plow along,” Susan said, “doing what you do, and awaiting developments.”
“Yuh,” I said.
6
By the time I had mastered
my tuxedo and clipped on my bow tie (fashion titan though I was, I had never accomplished the art of the bow tie), the view through the tall windows was gray. The skies were dark and low. The ocean was nearly the same color and very still. It took a long stare to see the line where the horizon traced between them. There was still no wind, but there was something in the atmosphere that suggested that some wind would be along.
I had a foot up on an ivory-colored hassock and was putting a short .38 revolver into an ankle holster when Susan came down the hall in a white dress that fit her well. She looked like she was receiving an Academy Award for stunningness. I took my foot off the hassock and put it on the floor and shook the pant leg down over the gun.
“Wow!” I said.
She smiled.
“I thought much the same thing when I looked in the mirror,” she said.
“How about me?” I said.
“I thought you’d say ‘Wow!’ too,” she said.
“No, my appearance,” I said. “Don’t I remind you of Cary Grant?”
“Very much,” Susan said, “except for looking good.”
“That’s not the way you were talking an hour ago,” I said.
“An hour ago,” Susan said, “you were seducing me.”
“Which wasn’t that difficult,” I said.
“No,” she said. “It wasn’t.”
We stood together, looking out at the gathering weather.
“I thought the storm was supposed to miss us,” Susan said.
“You can’t believe the weather weenies,” I said.
“What’s left,” Susan said.
“Don’t get existential on me,” I said.
She smiled and looked at me carefully.
“You seem so unlikely a person to own his own tux,” Susan said.
“It’s hard to find my size in the rental stores,” I said.
“Or anywhere else, I would imagine,” Susan said. “Did you tie that bow tie?”
“I don’t know how,” I said. “If I bought one, could you tie it for me?”
“I don’t know how,” Susan said.
“The things you do know,” I said, “more than compensate.”
“Well, no one can tell if it’s a clip-on anyway,” she said.
We looked out the window some more.
“What is the plan?” Susan said.
“We meet in the chapel,” I said, “at four. We stay with Heidi Bradshaw, sitting in her pew during the ceremony and being handy during the reception.”
“The chapel,” Susan said.
“I think on other days it’s a library,” I said. “But Heidi’s party planner has chapelized it for today.”
Far out to sea, a vertical flash of lightning appeared fleetingly.
“Don’t see that so much,” I said. “This time of year.”
Susan nodded. Her shoulder pressed against my upper arm as we stood. There was a kind of breathlessness in the air outside the window, as if the lightning had ratcheted up the tension in the atmosphere.
“Why do you think he’s here?” Susan said.
I knew who she meant.
“He’s not a social kind of guy,” I said. “I assume it’s business.”
She nodded.
“We don’t really know quite why you’re here,” she said.
“Same answer,” I said.
“Maybe he doesn’t know, either,” Susan said.
“Maybe,” I said.
The lightning flashed again, and the leaves on some of the trees near the house had begun trembling faintly. Susan turned suddenly against me and put her arms around me and pressed her face against my chest. It was almost unthinkable that she would hug me at such a time and mess up her outfit. I put my arms around her lightly and patted her softly.
“If he kills you,” she said, quite calmly, “I will die.”
“That would make two of us,” I said. “He won’t kill me.”
“I would die,” Susan said.
The first scatter of raindrops hit the window.
“No one’s done it yet,” I said.
“He came close ten years ago,” Susan said.
“Close only counts in horseshoes,” I said.
I patted her gently on the backside. She nodded and straightened.
“You can’t leave this alone,” she said. “Can you?”
“No,” I said.
“I understand,” she said.
“I know you do.”
“It was the gun,” she said. “Seeing you put on the gun.”
“I always wear a gun,” I said.
“I know.”
“We need to get going,” I said.
“Yes,” she said.
We stood for a bit longer with our arms around each other, while the rain became more frequent against the big window. Then Susan stepped back and looked at me and smiled.
“Here we go,” she said. “Let me just check the mirror that having a mini-breakdown hasn’t messed up my look.”
“Nothing could,” I said.
She walked to a full-length mirror at the end of the hall and studied herself for a moment.
“You know?” she said. “You’re right.”
7
As we walked the long corridor
toward the chapel, I could hear the faint sound of a helicopter landing on the pad behind the house on the south side of the island. A helicopter is like a tank. Once you’ve heard one, you always remember.
“Late,” I said to Susan.
“What?”
“Chopper,” I said. “Lucky they got down before the storm starts to rumba.”
“You think the storm will get worse?”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t even hear the helicopter,” Susan said.
“That’s because you’re focused on me in my tux,” I said.
“Of course,” she said. “You’re always listening, aren’t you?”
I nodded.
“Sometimes I peek,” I said.
She looked at me sideways as we walked.
“I’m aware of that,” she said.
Behind us, lightning spilled briefly into the hall through the big French doors. A few seconds later there was a grumble of thunder.
“Storm’s still a ways off,” I said.
“Something about the time between the lightning and the thunder?” Susan said.
“Lightning’s traveling at the speed of light,” I said. “Thunder’s coming at the speed of sound. The closer they are, the more they coincide.”
“My God, Holmes,” Susan said in her lowest voice. “Is there no limit to your knowledge?”
“I’ve never quite been able to answer, ‘What does a woman want?’”