dock, and it turned out to be some pretty good marijuana.'
'Yeah. Yeah, that's about what I thought. This whole place has that smell to it. Fucking amateurs. They ought to just sail their pretty boats and leave the work to people who understand it, you know? I mean, sometimes they get in the way and then measures have to be taken and some guy finds a few bodies floating around under a dock instead of a few bales of weed. It's too bad.'
Billy took another large swallow of beer and coughed on it.
'But that is neither here nor there. I took a walk, looked at all those boats, and got my mind serene. And then I figured out what to do ... or at least, the start of it and the shape of how it should go afterward. I don't have all the details worked out yet, but that'll come.
'I walked back to the main drag and made a few more calls - follow-up calls. There is no warrant out for your arrest, William, but your wife and this nose-jockey doctor of yours sure did sign some papers on you. I wrote it down.' He took a piece of paper out of his breast pocket. "'Committal in absentia." That sound right?'
Billy Halleck's mouth dropped open and a wounded sound fell out of it. For a moment he was utterly stunned and then the fury which had become his intermittent companion swept through him again. He had thought it might happen, yes, had thought Houston would suggest it, and even thought Heidi might agree to it. But thinking about something and hearing it had actually happened - that your own wife had gone before a judge, had testified that you had gone loony, and had been granted a res gestae order of committal which she had then signed - that was very different.
'That cowardly bitch,' he muttered thickly, and then the world was blotted out by red agony. He had closed his hands into fists without thinking. He groaned and looked down at the bandage on his left hand. Flowers of red were blooming there.
I can't believe you just thought that about Heidi, a voice in his mind spoke up.
It's just because my mind is not serene, he answered the voice, and then the world grayed out for a while.
It wasn't quite a faint, and he came out of it quickly. Ginelli changed the bandage on his hand and repacked the wound, doing a job that was clumsy but fairly adequate. While he did it, he talked.
'My man says it don't mean a thing unless you go back to Connecticut, William.'
'No, that's true. But don't you see? My own wife.'
'Never mind that, William. It doesn't matter. If we can fix things up with this old Gypsy, you'll start to gain weight again and their case is out of the window. If that happens, you'll have plenty of time to decide what you want to do about your wife. Maybe she needs a slapping to sharpen her up a little, you know? Or maybe you just got to walk. You can decide that shit for yourself if we can fix things up with the Gyp - or you can write Dear Fucking Abby, if you want. And if we can't fix things up, you're gonna die. Either way, this thing is gonna get taken care of. So what's the big deal about them getting a paper on your head?'
Billy managed a white-lipped smile. 'You would have made a great lawyer, Richard. You have this unique way of putting things in perspective.'
'Yeah? You think so?'
'I do.'
'Well, thanks. Next I called Kirk Penschley.'
'You talked with Kirk Penschley?'
'Yes.'
'Jesus, Richard!'
'What, you think he wouldn't take a call from a cheap hood like me?' Ginelli managed to sound both wounded, and amused at the same time. 'He took it, believe me. Of course, I called on my credit card - he wouldn't want my name on his phone bill, that much is true. But I've done a lot of business with your firm over the years, William.'
'That's news to me,' Billy said. 'I thought it was just that one time.'
'That time everything could be out in the open, and you were just right for it,' Ginelli said. 'Penschley and his big stud-lawyer partners would never have stuck you into something crooked. William - you were a comer. On the other hand, I suppose they knew you'd be meeting me sooner or later, if you hung around long