J is for Judgement

would."
    "Will you think about it?"
    "Sure."
    "Do you mind if I tell her we've spoken?"
    "I don't see how I can prevent it."
    There was a fractional silence. "Are you really this unforgiving?"
    "Absolutely. Why not? Just like Grand," I said. "I'm sure she'll appreciate the attribute."
    "I see," she said coolly. "Look, this is not your fault, and I don't mean to take it out on you. You're just going to have to give me some time here. I've made my peace with the fact that I'm alone. I like my life as it is, and I'm not at all sure I want to change."
    "We're not asking you to change."
    "Then you better get used to me the way I am," I said.
    She had the good grace to laugh, which in an odd way helped. Our good-byes were slightly warmer. I said all the right things, and by the time I hung up my churlishness was already fading to some extent. Content so often follows form. It's not just that we're nice to the people we like. . . we like the people we're nice to. It works both ways. I guess that's what good manners are about, or so my aunt always claimed. In the meantime, I knew I wouldn't be driving up to Lompoc any time soon. To hell with that.
    I went across the hall to the restroom, and when I got back the phone was ringing. I made a lunge and snatched up the receiver from the far side of the desk, easing my way around until I reached my swivel chair. When I identified myself, I could hear breathing on the line and for one split second I thought it was Wendell.
    "Take your time," I said. I closed my eyes and crossed my fingers, thinking, Please, please, please. "This is Brian Jaffe."
    "Ah. I thought it might be your father. Have you heard from him?"
    "Nuhn-uhn. That's why I called. Have you?"
    "Not since last night."
    "Michael says the car Dad came to his place in is still parked at the curb."
    "He was having car trouble, which is why I gave him a lift. When did you last see him?"
    "Day before yesterday. He came by in the afternoon and we talked. He said he'd be back last night, but he never showed."
    "He may have tried," I said. "Someone took some shots at us and he disappeared. This morning we found out the Lord was gone."
    "The boat?"
    "Right. That's the one your father was on when vanished."
    "Dad stole a boat?"
    "Well, it looks that way, but nobody really knows at this point. Maybe that's the only way he could think of to get out. He must have felt he was in real jeopardy."
    "Hey, yeah, getting shot at," Brian said facetiously, I fleshed out the story for him, hoping to ingratiate myself. I nearly mentioned Renata, but I bit the words off in time. If Michael hadn't known about her, chances were that Brian didn't, either. As usual, given my per. verse nature, I was feeling protective of the "villain" of the piece. Maybe Wendell would have a change of heart and return the boat. Maybe he'd talk Brian into "coming in," and the two would turn themselves over to those spun-sugar eggs with a hole you could peek in, revealing a world much better than this.
    Brian breathed in my ear some more. I waited him out. "Michael says Dad has a girlfriend. Is that true?" be said.
    "Ah, mmm. I don't know what to say about that. He was traveling with a friend, but I really don't know what their relationship consists of."
    "Right." He snorted with disbelief. I'd forgotten he was eighteen years old and probably knew more about sex than I did. He certainly knew more about violence. What made me think I could fool a kid like him?
    "You want Renata's number? She may have heard from him."
    "I got a number to call and this machine picks up. If Dad's around, he calls back. Is this the one you have?" He recited Renata's unlisted number.
    "That's it. Look, why don't you give me your current location. I'll pop over there and we can talk. Maybe between us we can figure out where he is."
    He thought about that. "He told me to wait. He said don't talk to anyone until he gets here. He's probably on his way." He said this without conviction in a tone oozed with uneasiness.
    'That's always possible," I said. "What's the plan?" Ute I really thought Brian would spill the beans to me.
    "I have to go."
    "Wait! Brian?"
    The phone clicked down in my ear.
    "Goddamn it!" I sat and stared at the receiver, willing it to ring. "Come on, come on."
    I knew perfectly well the kid wasn't going to call again. I became aware of the tension rippling through my shoulders. I got up and moved around the desk, finding a bare expanse of carpeting where I could stretch out on