Remembrance Page 75

“They’re not the kind you’d like, Slater,” Jesse said, quickly opening the bottle and dumping the contents into his hand. Counting swiftly, he asked, “How many have you given him?”

“Just a few. I put them in the whiskey bottle when he wasn’t looking. I didn’t want him to taste them.”

Jesse swore. “You gave him sleeping pills in alcohol?”

At Jesse’s appalled expression, I shrugged. “It is a big bottle. He’ll be fine, just a little out of it for a while.”

“Thank you for your medical diagnosis, Dr. Simon.” Jesse had already pulled out his cell phone, ready to dial 911. “Why would you do such a thing?”

I bit my lip. I was going to have to tell him eventually. Look at everything that had happened because I hadn’t told—because Becca hadn’t told. Oh, wait. We were talking about me now.

But in the end, Paul was the one who spilled the beans.

“Sleeping pills? That’s a new low, even for you, Simon.” He reached into his jacket pocket for his own cell phone. “I should have known you never had any intention of holding up your end of the bargain. I’m texting Blumenthal to go ahead with the demo on Monday.”

This caused Jesse to pause while making his call. “There that word is again. Bargain. What bargain?”

“Um,” I said, my panic rising to new heights. “Nothing. Just—”

“Oh, ho.” Paul grinned as he continued to tap into his phone. “Awkward. Sorry, Simon. But a deal is a deal. And by attempting to drug me into a stupor, you just voided ours.”

Jesse’s dark gaze burned into me. “Susannah. What is he talking about?”

Before I could say a word, Paul went on, “Oh, don’t be too hard on her, de Silva. You should be impressed, as a matter of fact. It’s hard to find women as loyal as this one these days—at least ones who aren’t interested only in your money, which wouldn’t be a problem for you, I know, but for me, I—”

“Okay, that is enough.”

I stood up, throwing my balled up napkin to the side of my newly delivered bowl of black truffle risotto with Parmigiano-Reggiano, which at this point I had no interest even in trying.

“Come on, Jesse,” I said. “We don’t have to sit here and listen to this. Let’s go.”

But Jesse stayed where he was.

“No,” he said. His eyes were as dark as Paul’s were light—but even darker than usual, since I saw the now-familiar shadows creeping in. “I’m interested to hear about this bargain.”

I began to feel afraid, despite the string quartet playing lightly in the background.

“Jesse, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. He’s . . . he’s on drugs, remember?”

Paul took a deliberate swig from the whiskey bottle. “Sweetheart, I’ve got news for you. I pop pills like candy. How do you think I maintain my extremely unhealthy lifestyle while looking so good? A few sleeping pills mixed into my hooch aren’t going to bother me in the least because I took four dexies before we left the bar. Anyway, what the two of you have together is really sweet, and I’m envious, especially since you both have to know by now it’s going to end.”

“And how is that?” Jesse asked.

“Well, there are no documented cases that I know of human and reanimated corpse copulation, but I think it’s likely such a thing would fly in the face of all physical and natural law. If you ask me, that’s what’s probably going to unleash whatever demonic entities reside within the good doctor here. But what do I know? I’m no expert. I guess we’ll find out Monday, won’t we? Oh, that’s the bargain we had, de Silva. Your girlfriend was going to let me bang her if I didn’t tear down her old house. But now that deal is off. So good luck not slaughtering the bride.”

veintinueve


“Jesse.”

He didn’t respond. Instead he rose from his chair and swept wordlessly past me—but not, as I initially feared, to lift Paul Slater from his chair and hurl him through the nearby plateglass windows.

To my surprise, Jesse walked right past Paul—who’d shrunk in his seat, clearly expecting some kind of blow—then out of the restaurant, never once looking back, though I called his name again. The last I saw of him, he was disappearing out the front door, his broad-shouldered back stiff as a soldier’s at attention.

“Ouch,” Paul said, straightening in his chair. He reached for his whiskey bottle. “That must have smarted, Simon.”

“Shut up, Paul.” I lowered myself into the nearest seat. Even if I’d wanted to go running after Jesse—and I didn’t see what that would accomplish—I wasn’t sure my legs could support me. “I can’t believe you just did that.”

“Oh, please.” Paul poured pinot noir from a new bottle into one of the many glasses in front of my plate. “If you two really had such a great relationship, he’d have stuck around, no matter what I said.”

I gave him a sour look. “He left to keep himself from killing you.”

Paul laughed. “Probably. I bet he’s waiting out in the parking lot for you, faithful dog that he is. Woof, woof.”

“You’re disgusting.” But I hoped he was right.

“May I make a suggestion? Leave here with me on my jet. That guy is going to go full Satan’s spawn on Monday, especially now, seeing how much you’ve pissed him off. And as much as you’ve annoyed me, too, Simon, with your behavior tonight, I really would hate to see you die. I dislike seeing beautiful things go to waste. Which reminds me, before we go, help me finish this wine. It’s twelve hundred dollars a bottle.”

That child is lost, and very frightened, and in so much pain, Aunt Pru had said. And lost children in pain can sometimes be very cruel. They lash out and hurt others, sometimes without meaning to. But sometimes on purpose, too.

Maybe she really had meant Paul, and not Lucia.

“Paul,” I said, ignoring the wine and reaching into my bag. “Do you recognize this photo?”

Paul glanced briefly at the screen saver on my cell phone, then shrugged.

“Sure. You showed it to the dirtbag earlier. Why?”

“They’re my stepnieces.” I scrolled through the photos of the triplets on my phone, giving him a brief slide show. “Brad and Debbie Ackerman’s triplets. Only you knew her as Debbie Mancuso, of course.”

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