receptionist fled. “Sit down.” They both sat, and Talba waited, searching her memory for any hint of poor health from Babalu.
Suicide!
she thought, and the thought was like a blow.
What if she couldn’t handle Jason’s betrayal?
“She died of an overdose,” he said.
“Overdose? Of prescription drugs?” But Babalu never took drugs.
“Of heroin.”
“Heroin! She’s the last person…”
He nodded. “That’s right. She was murdered.”
Talba shook her head. “I don’t know if I’m ready for all this. Why are you so sure?”
“Because she didn’t use heroin.”
“She did once, if that’s what killed her.”
Now he shook his head, “She didn’t. She was a healer. I
knew
her. She. Didn’t. Do. Heroin.” Each word separate, jaw clenched, as if he’d been having an argument about it.
“What do the police think?”
“They think she committed suicide.” His delivery was sullen, that of a child harangued by authorities. “They found your report.”
“Suicide occurred to me, too.”
His head was virtually flapping in the breeze again. “No way. She. Didn’t. Do. Heroin. Therefore she couldn’t have committed suicide.”
“I know you want to believe that…”
“Look, don’t you think I’ve been through hell in the last two days? I loved her. We were going to get married. I cheated on her and she’s dead. I’d like to kill
myself
for what I did.” He wouldn’t meet her eyes now, looking at his lap, speaking in that low, depressed, chastened voice.
Talba was at a loss. She wanted him out of her office, so she could think about all this, let the shock wear off.
“Well, I appreciate your letting me know.”
“I didn’t come here to let you know. I came here to hire you. I want you to find the murderer.”
“Me? Of all people! Why me?”
“Because you knew her. You cared about her. She talked about you. She even read me some of your poetry. She admired you a lot.”
“But you have reason to hate me.”
“I don’t hate you.” He changed position, seeming uncomfortable. “The person I hate’s myself.”
I can see that,
Talba thought, but didn’t say. It looked as if a long, unpleasant morning was about to get a lot worse; she was going to have to humor him, at least for awhile. “Well, tell you what,” she said. “Why don’t we get some coffee and get comfortable. Would you like some coffee?” She got up and went to get some, mind racing. At least he didn’t seem dangerous, she thought. Who and what he was wasn’t clear to her, except for one thing—he was a very depressed, very chastened young man. She could at least hear him out.
When she returned, he took the coffee without thanking her, hardly seeming to notice its existence. “I hate myself for what I did. But I’ll tell you something—I did it out of… well, sadness. Babalu was distant. She was moody; she wouldn’t tell me what was wrong. I felt she was trying to move out of the relationship. She wouldn’t even…” He stopped, a kicked-puppy look descending onto his features as if blown there by the wind.
Remember,
Talba said to herself,
he's an actor.
She said, “She wouldn’t even do what?”
“She kept putting me off about the wedding date. She wouldn’t set a date.”
She shrugged. “She thought you were cheating on her.”
“No. I mean, I wasn’t then. This whole Valerie thing was a reaction—do you understand that?”
“I understand it makes you feel better to think that.” He was making her impatient.
He sighed. “Listen, I
swear
—the whole thing started with her.”
She heard Eileen start back down the hall and didn’t bother to reply until the other woman arrived. “Everything all right?” Eileen asked.
“Fine.” Talba nodded, reassuring Jason, she hoped.
He looked embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to speak so loudly.”
“I guess I was harsh. I’m sorry.”
“No. You’re right. I guess I sound like every asshole who ever cheated. But look here. Babalu’s
Suicide!
she thought, and the thought was like a blow.
What if she couldn’t handle Jason’s betrayal?
“She died of an overdose,” he said.
“Overdose? Of prescription drugs?” But Babalu never took drugs.
“Of heroin.”
“Heroin! She’s the last person…”
He nodded. “That’s right. She was murdered.”
Talba shook her head. “I don’t know if I’m ready for all this. Why are you so sure?”
“Because she didn’t use heroin.”
“She did once, if that’s what killed her.”
Now he shook his head, “She didn’t. She was a healer. I
knew
her. She. Didn’t. Do. Heroin.” Each word separate, jaw clenched, as if he’d been having an argument about it.
“What do the police think?”
“They think she committed suicide.” His delivery was sullen, that of a child harangued by authorities. “They found your report.”
“Suicide occurred to me, too.”
His head was virtually flapping in the breeze again. “No way. She. Didn’t. Do. Heroin. Therefore she couldn’t have committed suicide.”
“I know you want to believe that…”
“Look, don’t you think I’ve been through hell in the last two days? I loved her. We were going to get married. I cheated on her and she’s dead. I’d like to kill
myself
for what I did.” He wouldn’t meet her eyes now, looking at his lap, speaking in that low, depressed, chastened voice.
Talba was at a loss. She wanted him out of her office, so she could think about all this, let the shock wear off.
“Well, I appreciate your letting me know.”
“I didn’t come here to let you know. I came here to hire you. I want you to find the murderer.”
“Me? Of all people! Why me?”
“Because you knew her. You cared about her. She talked about you. She even read me some of your poetry. She admired you a lot.”
“But you have reason to hate me.”
“I don’t hate you.” He changed position, seeming uncomfortable. “The person I hate’s myself.”
I can see that,
Talba thought, but didn’t say. It looked as if a long, unpleasant morning was about to get a lot worse; she was going to have to humor him, at least for awhile. “Well, tell you what,” she said. “Why don’t we get some coffee and get comfortable. Would you like some coffee?” She got up and went to get some, mind racing. At least he didn’t seem dangerous, she thought. Who and what he was wasn’t clear to her, except for one thing—he was a very depressed, very chastened young man. She could at least hear him out.
When she returned, he took the coffee without thanking her, hardly seeming to notice its existence. “I hate myself for what I did. But I’ll tell you something—I did it out of… well, sadness. Babalu was distant. She was moody; she wouldn’t tell me what was wrong. I felt she was trying to move out of the relationship. She wouldn’t even…” He stopped, a kicked-puppy look descending onto his features as if blown there by the wind.
Remember,
Talba said to herself,
he's an actor.
She said, “She wouldn’t even do what?”
“She kept putting me off about the wedding date. She wouldn’t set a date.”
She shrugged. “She thought you were cheating on her.”
“No. I mean, I wasn’t then. This whole Valerie thing was a reaction—do you understand that?”
“I understand it makes you feel better to think that.” He was making her impatient.
He sighed. “Listen, I
swear
—the whole thing started with her.”
She heard Eileen start back down the hall and didn’t bother to reply until the other woman arrived. “Everything all right?” Eileen asked.
“Fine.” Talba nodded, reassuring Jason, she hoped.
He looked embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to speak so loudly.”
“I guess I was harsh. I’m sorry.”
“No. You’re right. I guess I sound like every asshole who ever cheated. But look here. Babalu’s
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