Page 133 - Labelle Gramercy, Detective

Airtight

Larry looked at him. “Maybe you’re right. Living in close quarters
like that, I couldn’t expect you to reveal all your concerns and
complaints to me. I’m an internist, not a priest or psychotherapist.
What went on within—and between—you during the experiment
was not an open book. We each had our private time and personal
space; we budgeted for it and made sure it was available, and as far as
I can tell, it was a good thing we did. So I cannot diagnose in
retrospect the state of Laurel Reath’s mind this morning when we
prepared to leave the dome and re-enter a world of problems ignored
or deferred. You may feel you knew her better than we did, Toro, but
the police are looking for something more than our opinions.”
Toro leaned forward and put his large calloused hands on the
table. A year under the lights had robbed his skin of most of its tan,
but physical labor had kept him in shape. I could tell that he wanted
to argue with Larry, but couldn’t find the words. Instead he frowned,
shook his head, and slumped back in his chair with arms folded. The
silence was awkward. The sandwiches were long gone, so I stood up
and asked about coffee, playing hostess to an unresponsive group of
guests. It was already past my cocktail hour.

<< 4 >>

Blanche Mandel returned to a mute and introspective group of
people. Her appearance did little to raise anyone’s spirits because it
was obvious she had been crying. I expected the others to rally
around her, but only Larry rose from his seat and went to her.
For an instant she looked as if she would accept his comforting;
then she burst out in tears and sat down as far away from everyone
else as she could. We looked at each other blankly. I couldn’t stand
the indifference.
“Isn’t anyone going to give her a Kleenex, at least?”
“Relax, Kelly.” Larry signaled me to sit down. “Blanche likes to be
alone when she’s unhappy. We all know that.”
“Well, I’m sorry: I didn’t.” I sat down.
A minute or so passed while Blanche snuffled and dabbed at her
eyes. Boy, I really wanted a drink. Coffee would have to do, although
I knew the more caffeine I took now the more alcohol I’d want later

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