Imperfect Strangers

CHAPTER 9

Sandy slept solidly, dreamlessly until after nine in the morning, and when he awoke he felt the disorientation that he often knew in strange places, but never in his own bedroom. Then, before he could lift his head, the previous evening flooded back, and this time, he let it come. Best to face it, put it in perspective. He couldn't be blamed for what had happened to Joan, could he? After all, he had done everything in his power to stop it. Not exactly. He had started everything with the meeting in the park with Peter Martindale. But, of course, Joan, herself, bore some responsibility for what had happened to her, because of her treatment of him, didn't she. He considered that for a moment, then, with some effort, absolved himself of all guilt. It didn't work.

He found Angus in the kitchen eating cereal.

"Morning, Dad, how are you feeling?"

"All right, I think. Amazingly enough, I slept well."

Angus nodded. "So did I. It's a phenomenon called 'self-anesthetization,' I think; a defense of the mind."

"It really happened, didn't it?" Sandy asked.

"It did, I'm afraid. By the way, a Detective Duvivier called, asked that you phone him back. The number's on the pad by the phone."

"I'll call him in a little while," Sandy said, pouring himself some orange juice.

"Pretty fancy name for a cop, isn't it? Duvivier?"

"He's Haitian; a rather elegant fellow."

"Is he the one who thinks you had Mom killed?"

"I don't know if he really thinks that, or if he just had to ask."

"Don't worry, if he really suspected you, he'd have read you your rights first. If he didn't do that, he can't use anything you said against you."

"Why doesn't that make me feel better, I wonder?"

"About Duvivier?"

"Yes. I mean, although I had nothing to do with Joan's death, it's bad enough that a policeman might think I did."

"Never mind what he thinks," Angus said. "It's enough that you know you're innocent. If you didn't do it, he can't prove you did it, right?"

"How do you know all this police stuff, Angus? We didn't send you to law school, did we?"

"I never miss 'NYPD Blue'; it's an education."

Sandy nodded. "Are you on duty today?"

"I was, but I called in. Strangely enough, I think I could have worked, but I thought it might look funny if I came in only a few hours after my mother died."

"I appreciate your offer to go to Scotland; I don't think I would have wanted to make the trip."

"I was going to take a couple of weeks off after I'm certified, so I may as well start in Aberdeen."

Sandy finished his orange juice, went to the phone and called Duvivier.

"Good morning, Mr. Kinsolving," the detective said. "I hope you're feeling better."

"Thank you, yes; still a lot of disbelief, but I'm all right."

"I wanted to let you know that the medical examiner will release your wife's body on Tuesday morning. He will have finished his work by that time."

"Thank you. What do we do then?"

"Contact a funeral director; he'll know what to do."

"Detective, I spoke last evening with my son and my wife's brother; is there any reason why we should not have my wife's body cremated? We had planned to take her father's ashes to Scotland for burial in the family plot, and it occurred to us that Joan might have wanted her remains to be there, too."

"No reason whatever; once the ME has completed his examination, there are no restrictions on what you may do." He paused. "Mr. Kinsolving, I wanted to let you know ahead of time that I will be speaking with all sorts of people you know about this case. I didn't want you to find out from them."

"I understand. Speak with whomever you like; it's all right with me."

"Thank you, sir. Do you travel very much on business?"

"Yes, I'm in London about one week a month; I also visit the Napa and Sonoma Valleys from time to time, and I'm in France two or three times a year."

"When did you last travel, sir?"

"I returned from London last Monday, on hearing of my father-in-law's illness."

"And when do you plan to travel again?"

"Well, I had planned a trip to the West Coast this week, but under the circumstances that will be postponed until my wife's affairs are settled and some decisions have been made about the operation of the company without my father-in-law."

"So you plan to be in New York for at least another week?"

"At least. Detective, are you telling me not to leave town?"

"Oh, no, sir; I just wanted to know if you would be available if I should need to talk with you again."

"Of course. You can contact me at my office during the week, or at home at night. I hope very much to hear from you that you have caught the person responsible for this."

"I hope so, too, sir. Tell me, do you have any other telephone numbers at home-other than the one we're talking on?"

"Yes, we have two other lines, consecutive numbers; the third is for a fax machine."

"Thank you, Mr. Kinsolving; I won't keep you longer. Goodbye."

Sandy hung up the phone.

"He wanted to know all your phone numbers?" Angus asked.

"Yes."

"He probably wants to tap them."

"Tap my phones? Isn't that illegal?"

"Not if he gets a court order."

"Angus, you watch too much television." He was glad of it, though; he'd have to be careful on the phone.

• • •

After breakfast Sandy took Angus for a long walk in Central Park. He reflected that, although he lived only across the street from the park, he rarely went there. He resolved to take more walks. "How are you feeling about your mother?" Sandy asked.

"I guess the way I've always felt about her," Angus replied. "Removed. You and I were always closer than Mom and I."

"Did you resent being sent away to Exeter at fourteen?"

"No, not really. It seemed like the thing to do, I guess; so many other guys I knew were going off somewhere to school. Isn't it a little late to be asking me?"

Sandy shrugged. "From the moment you were born, Joan wanted you to go to Exeter. I'm not quite sure how she settled so firmly on that school. Over the years she would talk about it, and it became a done thing without any argument."

"I remember her talking about it. It's so strange; I'm not exactly sad about her death. I mean, I'm sorry that she had to go through that, but I'm surprised at how little effect it's had on me."

Sandy felt exactly the same way, but he didn't say so. "You may feel differently after a little time has passed; or, on the other hand, you may go right on feeling the same."

Angus nodded. "What are you going to do now?"

"Well, Joan's death changes quite a lot in my life. Or rather, it keeps my life from being changed the way it would have, if she'd lived. I'll see Laddie tomorrow, and we'll come to some sort of accommodation. Laddie has never liked confrontation, and he'll want to settle everything as quickly and as amicably as possible."

"I always felt kind of sorry for Uncle Laddie," Angus said.

"Why?"

"Well, he seemed so much under Granddad's thumb."

"Believe me, Angus, we were all under Jock's thumb. To tell you the truth, I never minded that much. I had a rather weak father myself, and having a man of such authority over me was something I didn't dislike. In fact, I think it made me better at my work. If I had an idea I wanted to try out, I thought about it very carefully before I broached the subject to Jock. I knew I'd have to be ready to defend it on all sorts of grounds, and it made me do my homework and not go off half-cocked." He stopped and looked at his son. "You never needed second guessing, you know."

"I didn't?"

"Not from somebody like Jock. You always knew exactly what you wanted to do. You resisted the idea of joining the company long before Jock or anybody else had even raised the subject. You wanted medicine, and all of us knew that it would do no good to try and persuade you to do anything else."

"I guess that's true."

"Fortunately, the idea of your being a doctor appealed to Joan. I can't tell you what hell she could have put us both through if she'd had her heart set on your doing something else."

"I can believe that," Angus said. "Well, I guess we'll lay her to rest in Scotland and try to get on with our lives."

"I guess we will," Sandy replied. And the two strolled on through the spring morning.