Box

52

Dr. Gideon Box.

The display on my cell phone says Trudy’s calling. I answer with, “Has the detective gone?”

“No. He wants to see you.”

“Why?”

“He wants you to make a statement.”

“With you there?”

“I don’t know. Probably not. But I told him you were alive, and here in town.”

“I can be there in five minutes,” I say.

I get there, say hi to Trudy, and she introduces me to Detective Tan, who immediately takes me to the hospital chapel and records my statement. When that’s done, he fills me in on what happened after I left the hotel.

Renee flew into a drunken rage and trashed the room. When the other hotel guests complained, the front desk called the room and got no answer. They sent a security guy to check things out. After knocking and getting no response, he opened the door with his pass key. Found Renee passed out on the bed with a gun beside her. Moments later a policeman showed up, thanks to Trudy’s concern for my safety. When they try to rouse Renee, she babbles an amazing story about killing her husband and her best friend, strangling Aunt Lori, and lynching her step mother.

“I believe all those things are true,” I say.

Detective Tan says, “So do I. But there’s no proof, and drunk babbling does not a confession make.”

“Why not?”

“The defense team will hire ten psychiatrists who’ll swear that drunk people often confess to crimes they’ve never committed. And they’re right. By way of example, my wife had too much to drink one night, and-I shit you not-confessed to killing Elvis.”

“Maybe she did.”

“She was eight months old when Elvis died.”

“I’m assuming you didn’t haul her ass to jail.”

“No. And I won’t be hauling Renee there, either.”

“What about the gun?”

“She’s got a permit. We’re doing ballistics on it, but my guess is it’ll come back clean.”

“Why am I alive?”

“That I can’t answer, assuming your story’s true. If it is, you’re one lucky son of a bitch.”

I go back to Trudy’s room and give her a kiss on the cheek.

“Is he bothering you, Trudy?” Clem says.

“Can you give us some privacy, Clem?” she says.

“No. My orders are to stay here the entire time he’s in the room.”

“That was when they were sortin’ things out. They cleared Dr. Box of any wrong-doing. The only reason you’re here is to protect me from Daddy and Darrell.”

“Until the Sheriff himself changes my orders, I’ll follow the ones I’ve been given.”

She sighs.

I say, “Do we really care if he hears us talk?”

“Why wouldn’t we?”

“It’s a small town. Within an hour he’ll know everything we said anyway.”

“I don’t care. I’m not answering any personal questions as long as he’s in the room.”

“I’ll respect that. How much did the detective tell you?”

“A hell of a lot more than you did.”

“Like what?”

“Like how you took a shower after letting Renee in the room because you wanted to get cleaned up for her after spending several hours in jail.”

“What? How did he know that? I just told him five minutes ago! And anyway, there’s a simple explanation for-”

“He also told me how you asked her to monitor the phone in case you received any important calls, and that’s how she was able to call me, and of course there’s the little part about how she ordered you a big room service dinner, and how you drank a bottle of wine together-”

“She drank the wine, I just-”

“And how you painted her toenails, and-”

“At gunpoint!”

“He said she was completely naked, and-”

“Just from the waist down!” I say, outraged.

“Can you hear how this might be taken the wrong way?”

“Yes, but-”

“He told me you got her drunk.”

“Yes, but-”

“I’m so proud of you!”

“What? You are?”

“Oh, for the love of God!” Clem says, from his post, on the other side of the room.

“Shut up, Clem!” Trudy says. To me she says, “I’ve spent all night thinking about your offer, and I’ve decided if you’re still interested, I’ll go to New York City with you. On one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“We can’t ask each other any questions about our past.”

“That’s nuts!”

“We start fresh. Beginning right now.”

“I think I have a right to know what happened at the fence.”

She sighs. “And I have a right to know what you were hoping to do with Zander at the riverbank, with your pants around your ankles. But you know what? I’ve got the good taste not to ask.”

“That’s a copout!” I say. “A one-time thing. From what I hear about the fence-”

“Gideon,” she says. “Look at me.”

I do as she says.

“Do you really care what happened at the fence?”

“Yes,” I say. “Absolutely!”

“Is it more important than us? Think before answering.”

I pause a moment.

And another.

Then say, “No.”

She smiles. “Right answer. Now kiss me. Very gently.”

I look for a place on her face that isn’t swollen, bandaged, or bruised.

“Where?” I say.

“Surprise me.”