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“The man you saw coming out of Joanne Yardley’s house the day she was raped—”
“Well, obviously, he looked a lotlikeStu Whatley. I described him to Detective Wellesley the day of the rape. A few days later she came by with a photo. A mug shot. She told me he’d been arrested for rape before. She said he was a real bad guy. I don’t remember if she said those things before or after I identified him.”
“And in court?”
“By that time, I was sure it was him. I mean, they showed me other photos. I became more and more convinced. Oh God this is horrible. That man, he did rapesomeone, didn’t he?”
“He was arrested before but pled to a lesser charge.”
“So hemightbe a rapist?”
“The only thing we know for certain is that he didn’t rape Joanne.”
“Oh, God.”
I took a sip of my coffee—it was good—and watched her face. She was reconfiguring how she thought about things. How she thought about what she’d done.
“This all means there’s someone out there who looks a great deal like Stu Whatley, someone whoisdefinitely a rapist.”
“I suppose it does. So, you feel like Brenda could have influenced your identification of Stu Whatley?”
“Yes, that’s the right way to put it.”
****
As I was leaving Candy Van Dyke’s, I called Ronnie and asked if he wanted me to pick anything up on my way home.
“There’s nothing on television tonight. Can you get a movie?”
“Sure. What are we having for dinner?”
“I went to Ralph’s and got some stuff. I’m thinking stir-fry. It has to be fast. I have a client at seven-fifteen.”
“Are you sure you want a movie?”
“The house is in Rose Park. They’re not going to make an offer, so I’ll be home by eight. I promise.”
“What movie do you want?”
“Splash.”
“We saw that at the movies.”
“I know. I want to see it again.”
I agreed to look for it, though I had little interest in seeing it again. Then I told him I loved him and said good-bye.
Broadway Video was next to the Park Pantry and across the street from the coffee shop and Star of Siam. Our house was close enough that we could walk to the video store and often did. I parked a half a block north on Junipero and walked back to the video store.
The new releases were next to the door when you walked in, along the window looking out at Broadway. They did not haveSplash, though there was a poster for it hanging over the checkout counter next to the price chart. They hadThe Usual Suspects;Showgirls;Mary Poppins;To Wong Fu, Thanks for Everything Julie Newmar(we’d seen it twice);Copycat;The Three Caballeros—I was trying to decide when something drew my eye.
Across the street, standing in front of Star of Siam, was a round, little man of around sixty. What hair he had, which wasn’t much, was silver and overgrown. He wore a green Army jacket with a lot of pockets. It suggested he had the mistaken idea he was some kind of action hero. I swear he was staring directly at me, though I wasn’t sure he could see me. I went back to looking at the video boxes, except I wasn’t looking at them at all. I picked one up and pretended to read the back but held it so I could look out at this man.
Hamlet Gilbody?
Which was ridiculous. There were half a million people in Long Beach, more if you counted the tourists who swarmed the Queen Mary. There was no reason to think this was the private eye from Chicago who was looking for me—other than the fact that he was the right age and dressed like a cartoon detective. And that he was standing there staring at the video store.
I “read” three more video boxes. He didn’t budge. Where had he come from? Had he followed me from The Freedom Agenda? Did he know that I worked there? Or had he simply not believed Cindy and decided to hang around in this area until he spotted someone who looked like me?
