Pretty desperate. And desperately confused. My brother’s notes and manuscripts filled my head with disturbing and half-formed images, barely deserving the label of thoughts. The codeine was still active, but it wasn’t cutting the pain completely. I gripped my wrist to stop the throbbing.
“I teach people how to avoid trouble,” she said. “They pay me money.”
“Well, staying away from trouble is certainly what we need to learn,” Banning said with false cheer. “Some months ago I tried to convince a young man to see you—perhaps you remember, we missed an appointment? Rob Cousins?”
Callas’s face was impassive.
“He’s dead,” Banning said sadly. “This is his brother.”
“Sorry for your loss,” Callas said to me. She looked down at the steel table and tapped her fingers against her bare crossed arms. “Gentlemen, I have work.”
“I am sure that if he remains alive, Dr. Cousins could pay your fee . . . within a few months,” Banning said. I gave him a startled look.
“Not interested,” Callas said. “Thought I’d tell you personally rather than blow you off on the phone. Besides, you didn’t leave a number. Time to go, gentlemen.”
“What did you learn about us?” I asked. I thought she might enjoy a chance to show off a bit. Her eyes gleamed.
“Mr. Banning is notorious,” she said. “And you’ve got yourself into more trouble than I want to deal with right now.” She smiled; she had seen through my ploy.
We followed her out of the office, still clutching our bottles. Callas unlocked the door and leaned into it, making the wheels squeak again. She pointed. I went, my face hot.
Banning stood his ground. I thought he was about to get himself karate-chopped and pitched out on his ear.
“You will doubtless want to know—” Banning began.
“I’m sorry,” I said, coming between them. “Mr. Banning was mistaken to bring us here.”
“Right,” Callas said.
Banning looked stricken. “I must—”
“Pleased to have met you, Mrs. Callas,” I said, and pulled Ban-ning away.
Footsteps echoed in the stairwell behind us. I let Banning go and swiveled and crouched.
“Banning, is that you?” a female voice called, breathless in the heat. A young woman in a white summer dress climbed the final step and turned the corner. Beneath a broad yellow sun hat, she wore dark glasses.
Callas gave a low, derisive snort. How loosy-goosy I had become. The woman was so unexpected, so out of place, I did not recognize her. She pulled off her glasses.
“I heard you on the stairs,” Lissa said. “I’ll pay, if money’s the issue.” To me she said, “Rob would have wanted it that way. How much?”
The women assessed each other. Callas seemed to like what she saw. “Under the circumstances, and considering the students, thirteen-five for a thorough assessment and a four-week training session.”
“That seems reasonable,” Lissa said.
To me, it sounded outrageous.
With a long wave of her arm, Mrs. Callas beckoned us back into her loft.
I took Banning aside as Callas brought out more bottled water and added sliced apples, crackers, and cheese. We stood in a side hallway leading to a partitioned, freestanding kitchen and two bathrooms. “Eat nothing on that tray,” he warned me in an undertone.
“Do you know Lissa?” I asked.
“I’ve met her.”
“How did she know we were here?”
Banning looked uninformed, like a schoolboy accused of lifting candy from a classmate’s desk.
“You called her, didn’t you?”
He just stared.
I held up my hands in futility. My life was not my own. Owing anything to Lissa seemed worse than owing Banning. I still felt guilty for the thoughts she made me think. That sundress.
“I’m frankly surprised she came,” Banning said. “Obviously, not for my sake. She doesn’t like me. And I haven’t attracted the attention of a woman since my mistress in Manchester left me ten years ago. A Jewish mistress, I might add.”
“I don’t want Lissa paying for this!”
“You should have made your objections known earlier. I’m sure Callas has her signing a binding contract even now.”
I slapped the wall with my injured hand. They must have heard in the office.
“Look,” Banning said. “I’d just as soon she go away, but we don’t have much choice. You’re as vulnerable as a fawn on a freeway. You need what Callas has.”
“Why am I letting you lead me around like a . . .”
“An aging bigot whose harpies are barely less formidable than your own?” Banning toshed, very British. He frowned as if tasting something bitter and rejoined Lissa and Callas.
