Runner (25 page)

In the early evening she stood at the car rental at the Oakland airport. She turned in the car she had rented in Santa Barbara, then took the shuttle to the terminal. The first flight to the east that had an empty seat to sell her was headed for Atlanta, but she took it. She knew that when she got there she would have to get on a flight to Philadelphia or Newark in order to catch another one for Buffalo. The trip would probably take her the rest of the night and most of the next day, but if she got home by midnight it would still be Saturday, technically.

Jane went through the security checkpoint, watching the crowds, searching for familiar faces. As soon as she was beyond the check-
point she went into a ladies' room and put on the blond wig and the outfit she had worn when she had flown to Santa Barbara. On her way to the gate where her flight to Atlanta would be boarding, Jane stopped at a pay telephone and dialed the number of the apartment in Minneapolis.

There was no answer, but the voice mail kicked in. Jane was pleased to hear the generic female voice the phone company had chosen to personify it. "We're sorry, but the customer at this number is not able to answer right now. If you would like to leave a message, begin speaking after the tone." After a few seconds, the tone sounded, and Jane said, "Hi. It's me. I wanted to let you know that I visited your father today. He's fine, and he said to tell you he loves you very much. He understands exactly why you couldn't be there, and that you won't be able to visit in person. He said he wanted to be absolutely sure you knew he didn't blame you for anything that's happened, and he's very glad about his grandchild. I told him how to get in touch with me when he's out. So don't worry about him. I should tell you that there was a woman waiting in the parking lot of the prison when I came out, and she tried to follow me to you. She had long hair—dyed an unnatural black. I suppose it could be a wig. I'll see you in a couple of months. Stay safe." She hung up, moved off, and walked past her gate, scanning the waiting areas near it for familiar, unwelcome faces.

Andy Beale sat in his study and listened to what Grace Kandinsky, his private detective, had to tell him about her day of watching Richard's hired woman at the prison. After a time he realized that he was sitting with the phone pressed against his ear and wincing. The whole situation had turned into a disaster, in spite of all his advice. It wasn't that difficult, either. Richard's people had known the woman would be coming, and probably bringing Christine with her. All they really had to do was wait outside the prison for her to walk right into their trap. Instead, they had sent one woman to sit in the parking lot to watch for her. Their attempt had been stupid, inadequate, and halfhearted. When she sounded as though she had finished her report, he said, "Is that it?"

"That's it," she said.

"Then you can come home now. Send me a bill."

"You bet I will."

Andy Beale hung up, put on his sport coat, walked out to the car and began to drive. When he reached the freeway and turned south
toward La Jolla, Beale only got angrier. Richard had been a disappointment when he was in nursery school, and he had never improved. He had been a mama's boy without being particularly nice to his mother. That probably should have been a sign and a warning. The kid had wanted every bit of Ruby's attention twenty-four hours a day, but when he had her attention, he used it to make her miserable—whining, crying, and complaining.

Throughout childhood, Richard was always too hot or too cold. He was hungry but he hated whatever food she gave him, cranky and sleepy but never willing to go to bed and give everybody a rest. In school he was a bully, but he got beaten up more often than the school's weakest kids because he was so cowardly about only picking on them that he attracted bigger bullies. The reason why Andy and Ruby Beale had started spying on him after he was in high school was that he was so damned sneaky.

Richard was always hiding things he had but wasn't supposed to have, lying about things he did, and pretending he had done things he hadn't. By Richard's junior year in high school, Andy Beale had seen exactly as many fake report cards as real ones. The fakes always arrived early. When the fakes came, Andy would wait a week and call the school to ask that a set of duplicates be sent to his office. He never explained to anyone at the school why it was necessary. Was he supposed to tell them his only son was a liar and a fraud? The purpose of the exercise wasn't to expose Richard's crimes and get him kicked out of school. It was only to allow Ruby and Andy to know what their son was really doing. It always amazed Andy that the false report cards didn't hide anything very serious: All Richard had been concealing was laziness and mediocrity.

In certain dark moods, Andy Beale had even considered the discrepancies between the real and the fake cards amusing. Richard
always found it necessary to make himself into a phenomenon, a straight-A student who inspired flattering comments from teachers, even though there was no space on the card for them. In this Richard apparently had only been imitating his teachers' actual practice. Now and then an exasperated teacher would scrawl in a margin, "Seldom came to class!" or "Failed midterm for violation of honor code!"

Upon reflection, what Andy Beale objected to most wasn't Richard's sneakiness. It was his stupidity, his lack of foresight. If Richard gave himself straight As, didn't he realize his mother would expect him to be valedictorian? Didn't he realize that she expected him to be admitted by every college he applied to? No, Richard didn't think that far ahead. Everything he did was for temporary advantage, or even a brief reprieve from work.

Being Richard's father was heartrending for Andy Beale. He felt that Richard deserved to get caught, but he couldn't bring himself to rat on his own son. Telling school administrators what a little shit Richard was would cause Ruby terrible pain and, if she found out who had told, make her angry at Andy in a way he would never overcome. He was afraid her resentment would eventually lead to the end of the marriage. As the offenses Andy knew about accumulated, he became paralyzed. If the school ever found out, then Richard would lose the most precious possession of all, the opportunity to change. He would always remain a bully, a sneak, a loafer, a coward. So Andy had let him go on, hoping that as Richard matured, he would improve. It had, in the end, been the worst thing he could have done. Richard had only grown from a little snake to a big one.

The one change during Richard's time in college was that Ruby had gradually given up. One day when Richard was in college at San Diego State, she had gone to visit him at his off-campus apart
ment. She knew the way and had a key because it was a unit in an apartment complex that belonged to the Beale Company. She had called ahead and told him she was going to take him out for a nice dinner. When she got there, he was gone. He had stood her up. She had called and come back the next day. He had stood her up again. He had treated her that way on her birthday. Richard had kept doing things like that over and over. He was always too busy to see his mother, but he compiled an academic record so dismal that it astounded Andy that Richard didn't flunk out. He would stop answering his phone, and then Andy would find that someone had charged a vacation for two in Hawaii to Ruby's credit card number. There were bills for an incredible number of dinners, trips, even charges at jewelry stores, but no steady girlfriend that Andy ever saw.

Richard had always had trouble with women. What man hadn't? But his trouble was always peculiar. Richard had inherited Ruby's eyes and facial structure, so he was a very good-looking man. He had inherited Andy's physique. He looked the way Andy had forty years ago—flat stomach, broad shoulders—and he was reasonably light on his feet. He was very good at attracting women, but terrible at keeping them once he had them. After a short time with Richard they always left. Andy wondered if women were taking advantage of Richard.

Andy had called a woman private detective named Grace Kandinsky, just like the painter, to get in touch with a few of Richard's old girlfriends and a few women who had dated him, and see what they had to say about him. Andy had even listed a half dozen who had merely worked in the office. The project had taken Miss Kandinsky months, and when it was over, Andy asked her to give him the short version.

She was a difficult young woman to shock. She had begun as a police woman working vice, and later, narcotics. She said, "Summary?"

"Yes."

"He's not a nice man."

"I'm paying you thousands of dollars for that?"

"No, for wasting countless hours of my time asking questions. If you'd like to listen to all the recordings I made, you're welcome to them. I spent so much time talking to women in bars, my boyfriend asked me if I was a lesbian. What I found out is what you'll find out—he's not nice to women."

"Tell me something specific. One thing."

"He tells them he'll love them forever, but forever means until he gets tired of them. In the meantime he controls everything they do. He checks up on them and spies on them—runs in your family, huh?"

"I'm not paying extra for comedy."

"I'm sorry." She looked at him sympathetically. "I really am."

"You're sorry for me because what you're telling me is that my son is a creep."

She cocked her head. "I think that's true. I'm also sorry for making jokes. It's just because I'm nervous. It's a serious situation for you, and for him, but he doesn't know it, or care, or something. I guess that's the common theme of what I found out. He just doesn't care about other people."

Andy had paid Grace Kandinsky and gone on with his life as though he had never met her. He had never said anything to Ruby about the detective when he had hired her, and he didn't say anything afterward.

Ruby still cared very much about Richard. But she cared for Richard the way she would have cared for a mangled toe. She had no high expectations for what it could do, but it still hurt like crazy, so there was no question that it belonged to her.

Ruby had begun to yearn for grandchildren at that time. She had said, "Andy, I want Richard to find a wife as soon as possible, and get started making grandchildren. That's the best we can do now—get as many of them as possible and start teaching and training and guiding. I'd hate to think that the culmination of our two family bloodlines was nothing but Richard. We can't let that happen. We'll spend a lot of time with his children, pick out a couple of the best ones after a few years, and see if we can do it right this time."

He had thought about it. Ruby had worked a lifetime beside him and hadn't asked for much in return. While he was building the real estate business she was working, too, first as a waitress and then as a nurse, keeping each of her paychecks only long enough to verify the amount and the deductions and then signing it over for deposit to their company, so Andy could use the money to buy more property. She had spent her evenings and weekends during most of those years working beside him on the company bookkeeping and paperwork. The rest of her time had been devoted to Richard.

Andy Beale was willing to do a great variety of things that people didn't anticipate. The only thing he couldn't do was turn down a serious request from Ruby. Their only child, Richard, had been a disappointment to her, so if she wanted another chance with the next generation, he would try to give it to her.

When he reached the office, he almost drove into the reserved space at the end that belonged to Richard, but thought better of it. There was no point in irritating him just for the sake of irritating him. Andy pulled his Lexus around the building and parked in the back on the far side of the Dumpster, where it wasn't easy to see.

He went into the office, sat at Richard's desk, and began examining the files that contained the notes and reports on current operations. He happily occupied a half hour that way, and then Richard came in, looking harried.

When he saw his father at his desk, he froze, trying to hold his temper. "What are you doing here? Is this going to be a habit?"

"I doubt it," said Andy. "I've got better things to do than sit in an office."

"Oh, that's right," said Richard. He took his coat off and hung it on a hanger in a high, narrow space in one of the teak cabinets that covered the far wall of the office.

"I've noticed you've been doing a lot of work." Andy closed the file he'd been reading and tossed it on the desk with a flop. "Cut it out."

"What?"

"I said cut it out. Stop it."

"I thought you were always worried that I wasn't running the business properly. Not enough profit to fill the gas tank of your flagship."

Andy Beale pursed his lips, and congratulated himself on having the presence of mind to recognize that his irritation proved he really was too defensive about the boat. He said cheerfully, "I've built a good business, and over the past five years or so you've done pretty well with it. The rents are coming in, and the last developments are built and selling very well. But it's time to turn all your attention to what I asked you about last time."

"Christine?"

"Yes, Christine. It's important to your mother, and that makes it important to me."

"I thought you were going to solve the whole thing for me. Didn't you say that? I'm not sensitive enough to handle it, so you were going to."

"Not sensible enough is more to the point. It's a situation that calls for some understanding of women. If a girl will move in with
you and let you get her pregnant, then you were the one she wanted. They all walk around looking at each man they meet and asking themselves, 'Could this be the one?' and she decided you probably were. Whatever else happened afterward that made her leave can be gotten over. Women have an infinite capacity for fooling themselves about men."

"Apparently."

Andy kept himself from blustering, "What the hell does that mean?" and said, "Speaking of women, I just heard that the woman who helped Christine leave you has been to visit Christine's father in Lompoc."