Reunion at Red Paint Bay - By George Harrar Page 0,65
more weeds, spraying her shoes with dirt. She brushed off her shoes, lifting one foot up at a time to do it. Bits of dirt still stuck to her tan shoes like purposeful specks of contrasting color. He thought they looked interesting that way. “I saw him at Red’s at lunch,” Simon said, “and he started asking all these questions about the missing guy, Paul. Since you saw him a couple of times …”
“You’re counting on me not saying anything, aren’t you?”
“I know you’re not supposed to talk about people you see. But I didn’t think I should hold back that he was your patient since he’s missing and may have committed suicide. I didn’t actually say you were seeing him anyway. I implied it. I figured you’d sort things out with Tom.”
“Well, he’s sorting it out. Apparently once I called 911, it became a police matter.”
“You mean you can talk about him?” Simon tried to portray only casual surprise, a kind of ethical inquisitiveness in his voice, but he was sure she could sense something more.
“I can talk about how a man who said his name is Paul Chambers prevented me from leaving my office this week, but I won’t reveal anything he told me during our sessions. That’s what’s important to you, isn’t it, that the police don’t know why he was in Red Paint?”
Simon straightened a limp stalk to its pole and re-fixed the tie holding it. He had little hope a tomato would grow on the plant, but he thought he should give it the opportunity. In his garden, everything had its fair chance. He wiped the sweat from his face with the back of his hand. “It probably would be better if they didn’t know that.”
“They could get a subpoena. Then I’d have to decide what to do.”
“Would you cooperate, if you were subpoenaed?”
“I might,” Amy said, “if they just want information to help find him.” She noticed the dirt still on her shoe and bent down to rub it away, but the dark brown just rubbed deeper into her tan sandals. “You don’t want the police to find him, do you?”
He yanked a dead leaf off the stalk. “Why do you say that? Of course I hope they find him.”
She shifted side to side, blocking the sun and then letting it strike him again, a strobe effect. She said, “Do you know where Paul Chambers—Paul Walker—is?”
He shielded his eyes to see her. “How would I know that?”
“That’s not answering my question. Do you know where he is?”
Simon didn’t, exactly. The last he’d seen the man he was sinking into the dark waters of the bay. Perhaps he climbed out when Simon dove under looking for him. Perhaps he floated away unseen to a different shore. Perhaps he did drown. There were several possibilities at least. Without a body, who could say he was really even dead? “No, I don’t know where he is.”
“Why would it take you so long to answer, Simon? You either do know or you don’t.”
“Like I said, I don’t.”
“Then why take so long to answer?”
“What are you doing, timing my answers to see if I speak fast enough for you to believe me? Is there some two-second rule I don’t know about?”
“The rule is we tell each other the truth.”
“Are we talking about Jean Crane again? Because I explained that to you, I didn’t force her to have sex.”
Amy cocked her head, adjusting to the shift in subject. “This isn’t about Jean Crane. It’s about her husband who came to Red Paint to get revenge on the man he thought raped the woman he married—that’s you, Simon. Now he’s disappeared.”
“And you think I had something to do with that?”
“Did you?”
He stood up to face her, just a few feet between them. It felt good to be so much bigger. “Now you’re avoiding the question,” he said. “Do you think I had something to do with this guy’s disappearance?”
Her eyes narrowed, trying to bore into his soul where surely the truth must lie. Souls should come with protective armor, he thought. They shouldn’t be open for inspection. Four seconds, five, six …
“Why are you taking so long to answer?” he said.
“Yes.”
“Yes?”
“Yes, I think you know something about him being missing.”
“I can’t tell you how comforting your faith in me is,” Simon said. “Makes me realize how strong our marriage is after sixteen years.”
“I haven’t been living with a secret. I’m an open book to you. But for our whole married life