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“Where are you, Lindsay?”
“I’m very tired, Doctor. But as I’ve said before, I work with great people. I work hard to get bad people off the streets. Murder is always on the table. Today, despite everything that happened, I’m feeling pretty good about cuffing that son of a bitch. That’s the truth.”
Dr. Greene smiled at me.
He said, “How would you feel about taking some time off?”
“That sounds like a good idea. One snag.”
“Which would be?”
“Joe has a job offer from the FBI. Full time. Right away.”
I told Dr. Greene that Joe hadn’t accepted the offer yet. He was still caring for Julie from after school until whenever I got home. We still had to discuss how to fill the “daddy gap” for Julie. I knew we wouldn’t be the only working parents with a nearly five-year-old, but I didn’t have a nine-to-five job and if Joe went back to the FBI, his day would have elastic hours, too. Even with Mrs. Rose as backstop, I didn’t know how we would manage it.
The last time I’d seen Dr. Greene, I’d asked if I was done with therapy when I could decipher the modern art paintings on his walls. It had been a joke, but I’d been itching to get out of this enforced psychotherapy. Now, I was glad for the therapy, but needed to go home. I looked at the set of three paintings and the white walls. They were all composed of lines and swirls and colors without names.
I said, “I can interpret the paintings all right, but I’ll save that for another time. Our hour is up, Doc. See you next week?”
“Yes, of course. And call anytime if you need to talk.”
He offered me theChronicleand I was glad to have it. I thanked the doctor and headed home.
CHAPTER 103
THE WEEK AFTER Cindy was released from the hospital, twenty-three days after her launch event at Book Passage, Claire, Yuki, and I had a conference call with Rich from Yuki’s office.
Yuki asked, “Okay for us to come over?”
Rich said, “She’s still, you know, fragile. She would like to see you guys, but no dancing.”
Claire said, “If no dancing, what then?”
“You know. Girl talk. Say she’s looking good. And no spicy food, either.”
I said, “Flowers okay?”
“Pastel colors should be okay.”
I laughed at his joke and said, “We’ll be careful.”
We’d stopped at Lucky to buy flowers, soup, and ice cream, piled into Claire’s Escalade, and drove to Kirkham Street. During the drive, we all got quiet. I was thinking about Richie’s dumpster dive and Cindy’s survival about a minute short of death.
Claire said, “I know we’re scared, but she made it, girlfriends. Our mission is to get her to smile.”
Rich and Cindy live in this small three-room apartment, a cute place that’s, as the saying goes, as snug as a bug in a rug.
Claire parked her boat. Yuki rang the bell, jogging in place as we waited at the doorstep. Claire and I laughed at her, but we were as eager to see Cindy as she was. Rich opened the door and the three of us greeted him with hugs.
“Come on in, Murder Club ladies. What can I get you?”
Yuki, Claire, and I edged past Richie and found our dear friend in PJs, lying on the sofa under a pale blue blanket. Yuki called over her shoulder, “We’re good, Richie. Oh. Could you put this in the freezer and this in a pot. And these in a vase.”
Richie took our shopping bags, and we each leaned in and gave Cindy gentle hugs. Then Rich was back. He moved over a couple of chairs as we told our friend how good it was to see her.
Cindy beamed and waggled her fingers at me which I translated as a request for another hug. I got down on my knees so she didn’t have to move or strain vocal cords injured by Blackout’s hands. She whispered in my ear, “Tell me everything.”
“We will.”
