The Night Listener : A Novel

spurned lover, as if Donna might have offered more than marital advice when they met for that lunch in New York. Had their last heated exchange on the phone been complicated by something else? Had Findlay been denying his doubts because of feelings for Donna? And, if so, had he and I been seduced by two sides of the same person?
    I wanted to kick this around with Jess, but we had left so much unresolved after our fight. And I was afraid he’d tell me to stop obsessing and get a life—something I knew in my heart I was no longer able to do.
    Anna arrived late that afternoon to find me on the sofa in a pathetic state. She set down her briefcase as soon as she saw me.
    “What happened?”
    I outlined the catastrophe as succinctly as I could. It sounded even worse when reduced to its essence.
    “Well,” she said with a shrug. “It’s not like you didn’t try.”
    “Right.”
    “Have you talked to him since it happened?”
    “Once. But I told him I would try to fix things.” I could see Pete lying there as I spoke, probably in his oxygen tent, gasping for breath as he waited for me to come through.
    “Are you gonna talk to him again?”
    “Well…yeah. But I can’t handle it right now.” Anna’s dark, intel-ligent eyes were fixed on me so intently that her question seemed more than idle curiosity. “Why do you ask?” She sat down on the edge of the couch next to my feet. “I hope you don’t mind but…I talked to Edgar about this.”
    I drew a blank.
    “My brother?”
    “Oh, yeah. Your twin.”
    She nodded. “He works as an intern out at Skywalker Ranch. Sort of a glorified flunky.”
    “Cool job, though.” I could picture a male version of Anna bustling through that fantasy factory in the Marin hills, a blueprint for the new Star Wars prequel tucked under his arm. Doing some quick arithmetic, I realized that those twins had barely been born when the first Star Wars was filmed. I would have killed for such a glamorous job at Edgar’s age.
    “One of Lucas’s producers eats at my mom’s restaurant, so Edgar made a pitch to him one day. Anyway …I told Edgar about this kid of yours and his mom and all, and he said there’s a real simple way to figure out if they’re the same person.” I groaned and pulled a sofa pillow over my face.
    “Shouldn’t have blabbed, huh?” Anna said.
    “No, not that. I’m just burned out. And disgusted with myself. I don’t wanna creep around anymore, Anna. It makes me feel too guilty. I would never have raised the issue in the first place if I’d known that Findlay was such a worm. In fact, I’d be blasting him in public right now, if I had any way in the world to—” I cut myself off.
    “To what?”
    “Nothing. Forget it.”
    “To prove that the kid exists, right? At least to yourself. To prove that he and his mom are two separate people. That’s all you need, right?”
    I nodded glumly.
    “Well, there’s a simple way to do that. You just get a voiceprint made. You know, those things the cops use.”
    “I know what they are, but…”
    “Well, they’re just as good as fingerprints, Edgar says. Even if somebody’s trying to disguise his voice. Or hers .”
    “Maybe so. But it would just humiliate him further. There’s no way you could keep it secret. It would be all over the place in no time.”
    “Why? I don’t get it.”
    “Anna, look. Whenever the cops get involved…”
    “You don’t need cops. That’s what I’m saying! Edgar could have it done out at Skywalker! They’ve got the best sound equipment around. And nobody would have to know.” I sat up on one elbow. “I thought you said he was a flunky.”
    “Well, yeah, but…he knows this girl who’s a sound person.” She widened her eyes in a meaningful way.
    “A girlfriend, huh?”
    “Probably. Who knows? He’s such a private little squirt.” I smiled at her. “I thought twins were supposed to share everything.”
    “That’s a big misconception. It’s not that way with us at all.”
    “Really?”
    “When somebody knows you really well, you just have to hide things even more.”
    Had I been doing that with Jess? I wondered. Had he been doing that with me?
    “Let’s go check your machine,” said Anna, already assuming I’d approved her voiceprint scheme. “I bet there’s something on there we could use. You never erase your messages.” She headed for the stairs, then stopped abruptly, beckoning me like a siren. “C’mon.”
    “Look, Anna. This is not