The office, when I finally got there, seemed a touch unreal. The light was too bright. The furniture shimmered in the fluorescence, vague, unfamiliar. My colleagues had a vulpine air. I saw an accusation in every glance. I tried to avoid them. I closed my office door.
All I wanted to do was sleep. I eyed the sofa on the far wall. It threatened to seduce me. I fought to resist its charms. Its soft cushions. Its inordinate length. Room enough and then some for a tall man, say six foot two, to lie upon. To sleep. To dream.
I shook myself. I had a job to do.
What next?
I figured it was time to talk to Jules again. Get his take on the twins. Find out why he didn’t tell me about them. An innocent omission, perhaps? Never came up?
Sure.
At the loft I rang the bell. Nobody answered. I rang again. I waited. I rang a third time. A small, thin voice came through the speaker. Yes?
It’s Rick Redman, I said. Is Jules there?
No, the voice said.
Maybe I could come in and wait for him?
No, said the voice.
Charm school. A wonderful thing.
Is this Lisa? I asked.
There was a long pause.
What do you want? the voice asked.
It’s Rick, I said. I’m the lawyer. Helping Jules. Would you mind letting me in? I won’t bother you. I’ll just hang around. You can throw me out any time you want.
Another long silence.
The buzzer rang.
I pulled open the door. I found my way to Jules’s door. It was ajar. Nobody in sight. I called Lisa’s name. No answer. I invited myself in. I found an Anchor Steam in the fridge. I sat down on the beanbag chair. Brown corduroy. Nice. I sipped the beer. It was cold. It felt good.
Lisa appeared. She was eyeing me from the other end of the huge room. She looked as small and frightened as a misplaced mouse.
Come and join me, I said.
Unh unh, she replied, shaking her head.
Why not?
You’re the lawyer.
We’re not all bad. In fact, as lawyers go, I’m not bad at all.
You were hired by Jules’s dad.
I confess. But Jules is my client. I’m acting for Jules. If his dad asked me to do anything that wasn’t in Jules’s interest, I’d refuse.
Right, she said sarcastically.
No, really. Join me over here. Give me a chance.
She came over gingerly, without taking her eyes off me.
As though I might leap up any second, smack her with a broom.
Sit, sit, I invited.
I felt a touch presumptuous, acting as though this were my home, not hers.
But she sat down.
You been seeing Jules for a long time? I asked.
She looked at me for a few seconds. I thought I could see a tear forming at the corner of one eye. She nodded slowly.
How long?
Three years.
I detected a need to talk, to confide. I knew I had to be careful, not to scare her off. But if I did it right, she might have something useful to say.
You from New York? I asked.
Long Island.
Really? I have a lot of friends out that way.
Silence.
You going to school?
I was going to F.I.T.
Ah, I said. I always wondered about that name. Fashion Institute of Technology. You’d think they might have come up with something a little more, I don’t know, artsy.
Silence.
You said ‘was.’ Did you graduate?
No. I dropped out.
You didn’t like it?
She shrugged.
What made you quit?
Long pause.
I needed to take care of Jules.
Does Jules need taking care of?
More than you know.
How so?
He’s very fragile.
She uncrossed her arms. A good sign.
Are you afraid he’s going to hurt himself? I asked.
The tear reappeared. She nodded.
Is that what you were fighting about, when I came over?
Her eyes widened.
How did you know that? she asked.
I didn’t. It was just a thought. So that was it?
Yes, she whispered.
She hung her head.
Geez, I said. I didn’t realize it was that bad.
He’s had it very hard.
I know. He told me.
He did?
She looked surprised.
He did, I said.
The tears began to flow.
I don’t know what to do, she said softly, wiping at her cheeks. I feel like I have to be with him every minute of the day.
Really?
She looked up sharply.
To make sure he doesn’t hurt himself, she said. He cuts himself, you know.
I didn’t know that.
On his stomach. He’s got scars all over. He’s got this Japanese sword. It’s sharp as a razor blade.
I remembered the scars. The books. The nunchuks. The kid had a samurai fetish, evidently.
Are you worried he’s really going to hurt himself?
What do you think?
Has he seen somebody about this?
She laughed a mirthless laugh.
Jules? You got to be kidding. He never wants help from anybody.
If I suggested somebody, do you think we could talk him into seeing them?
Never, she said. He’s Superman, you know. Not the comic book one. The other one.
Nietzsche?
That one.
The superman in his cave? Waiting to come out and conquer the world? Needs no help from anybody?
That’s the one, she said.
Super fucking Samurai Man. This was one dangerously messed-up kid.
She got up. I figured she was going to the bathroom, to cry a bit, or whatever. I got up too. To get myself another beer. But as she passed by she turned and pushed me back into the chair. Swung her leg over me, feline quick, sat facing me on my lap. She put her arms around my neck. She put her face on my chest. It happened very quickly. I was confused. Did she need a fatherly hug? I put my arms around her. She was tiny and soft. She was crying. She felt very warm against me. I felt too large. Awkward. She lifted her face to mine.
It’s going to be all right, I said.
She put her mouth on mine. It was small and soft and wet and tasted like need.
I felt a stirring that I hadn’t felt in years.
Oh God, I thought, tell me the nightmare is over.
But not like this.
I pushed her back.
Lisa, I said, I’m sorry. I want to help you. But this isn’t right. We shouldn’t be doing this.
I know, she said, suddenly calm and with an air of wisdom that startled me. But I wanted to taste you.
She had a little girl’s voice. But she wasn’t any little girl.
She smiled a tear-stained smile. I returned her smile.
Okay, I said. You’ve tasted me. Now I think you’d better get back to that couch. Before Jules walks in.
Oh, he’d be okay with it, she laughed, lifting herself off me and going to the kitchen. Do you want a beer?
Sure, I said.
I was dizzy with the sudden changes of mood. Four, I could count, in less than half an hour.
This was one interesting girl.
Jesus, I reminded myself, she’s not more than five years older than Kelly.
The front door opened. Jules was home.
Anxiety. Disappointment. Fear. Relief. How was Lisa going to act? Would she tell Jules? Had I irretrievably destroyed my objectivity, my credibility? Could I get her alone again sometime?
Hey, said Jules, as though my presence was expected. What up?
I came by to ask you a few things, I said. And tell you a few.
He flopped down on the couch.
Lisa bite your head off yet?
Not at all. She’s been very nice.
Not too nice, I hope, he said, shooting her a Look.
I’m always too nice, according to you, she said from the kitchen, projecting her voice across the vast loft space.
That’s a fact, he said, and turned to me again. What up? he said.
He had a strangely confident air, for a young kid under suspicion of murder. One who, I had just learned, had a frightening propensity for self-mutilation.
Tell me about the twins, I said.
He fixed me with a level stare.
What about them?
Why didn’t you tell me about them? Let’s start with that.
Why should I?
I don’t know. It seems like it might be a detail worth knowing.
They got nothing to do with this.
I don’t know that. I don’t think you know that either.
Shit, man, I try not to think about those little slime-buckets, okay? It didn’t come up.
What’s so slimy about them?
You met them?
One of them.
Then you don’t have to ask.
I guessed he was right.
Lisa brought over a couple of cans of Heineken. I took both, tossed one at Jules. He caught it clean. With his right hand.
Lisa vanished. Upstairs, I presumed.
Did you see either of them that day?
Who?
Ramon and Raul.
What day?
The day Larry was killed.
Them? Nah. Why would I have seen them?
Just asking. What about your father? Did you see him?
I try to stay as far away as possible, he sneered.
Tell me about the poker game.
What poker game?
The one where Larry said you lost two grand to him.
I told you, man, Jules laughed. The guy was wired. Wasn’t no two grand.
Well, who else was at the game?
Shit, man, whose side you on anyway?
I’m on your side, Jules. I’m your lawyer. Everything you tell me is privileged. I couldn’t tell anyone about it even if I wanted to. I’m just looking for somebody who can maybe corroborate your story.
He looked me in the eye, his lips curled in a good imitation of someone who didn’t believe a word I was saying.
What difference would it make, somebody says I owed him, says I didn’t?
He had a point, I supposed. If somebody confirmed that he did owe Larry, all that would prove was that Larry had been right about the debt. Perhaps hurt my client’s credibility a bit. That wasn’t my goal. If they said there was no debt, all it meant was that Jules was right. Either way, it wouldn’t change the fact that Jules and Larry disagreed about it. That they had a fight. And it wouldn’t say a thing about whether Jules chased Larry to the alley.
Listen, Jules, I said, I’m just trying to get all the facts here. You don’t need to keep answering my questions with questions.
Okay. Yes, no, maybe.
I’m trying to help you, Jules.
I know. Sorry. Whatever. Sorry. Sometimes I just say shit, you know? It comes into my head. If I don’t let it out, it stays there. It fucks me up.
All right, I said. I understand. Listen, maybe you need someone to talk to. I could put you in touch with somebody. Somebody who’s real good to talk to.
You’re kidding, right?
No.
Jesus, man, I don’t need no fucking talk buddy. I just need a high-caliber rifle and a clear field of vision.
That’s not going to help anything, Jules.
He gave me a hard glare. Then he laughed.
I know, he said. I was just pulling your chain.
I wondered.