“Kyle Holborn? Officer Holborn?”
“That’s what I said.”
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Howard said.
Gregor Demarkian knew exactly what he was doing, and he felt good doing it. In fact, he felt good for the first time since he’d arrived in Mattatuck, New York.
2
When Howard Androcoelho was finally out of sight and out of mind, Gregor had the urge to get going and get on with it: call Rhonda Alvarez at the FBI; call Ferris Cole and hear about the bodies. Instead, he reached for his phone and tried first Bennis, then Donna, then Fr. Tibor Kasparian, listening to that strange distant ringing all phones gave you in imitation of what was supposed to be happening on the other end. Of course, it wasn’t what was happening on the other end. Bennis and Donna and Tibor all had ring tones they’d bought, little snatches of music, all kinds of things. Tibor’s general ring tone was the theme from Looney Tunes. Gregor found himself wondering why phones could do all the things they did but not give you the ring tone the person you were calling would be hearing. It was a silly thought, useful for nothing. It was the kind of thing Gregor thought of when he was tired.
When Bennis did not pick up, and Donna after her, Gregor got worried. He had a leaden, sickened feeling that he had failed to check in when he ought to have. He imagined their phones on silent and the ringing going on and on and on, but mute, while old George passed away in a hospital bed while the one person he wanted to hear from was nowhere to be found.
On the other hand, Gregor did not know that he was the one person old George wanted to hear from. In fact, it was unlikely. Old George had family. But still.
Gregor didn’t leave voice mail messages for Bennis or Donna. He didn’t have to. Their phones would tell them they had missed a call from Gregor Demarkian. He thought he would leave a voice mail for Tibor if Tibor didn’t pick up, but then, when the ringing had just begun to feel endless, it cut off, and Tibor said, “Krekor? This is you?”
Gregor took a deep breath and expelled it very slowly. He hadn’t been aware that he’d been this tense until this moment.
“Yes,” he said. “Yes, Tibor. This is me. I just wanted to check up on, you know, things. I feel like I haven’t been checking in anywhere near enough.”
“You have been checking in constantly, Krekor. Bennis complains about it. You did not want to call Bennis this time?”
“I did call her,” Gregor said. “She didn’t pick up. I called Donna, too. She didn’t pick up, either.”
“They have left the baby with Lida and taken Tommy to the movies,” Tibor said. “Then they’re going to take him to Chili’s to eat. Maybe they’re still in the movies.”
“Maybe they are,” Gregor said, feeling better.
“The movie is called Cats and Dogs: The Revenge of Kitty Galore,” Tibor said. “I went with Grace and her friend who plays the violin the other night. It is a really terrible movie, but I liked it. The way I liked Jacqueline Susann. I felt sorry for the friend who plays the violin.”
“Why?”
“Because he is in love with Grace,” Tibor said, “and Grace is only pretending she is not in love with the doctor who is an intern at that hospital downtown. You can see the problem there.”
“Yes,” Gregor said, “I can definitely see the problem there. What about our problem? What about old George?”
“It is the same as the last time you called me,” Tibor said. “He drifts in and out, sort of, but he doesn’t seem to be getting any worse. He just doesn’t seem to be getting any better. He talks to people. He really isn’t very confused except when they give him the pain pills—”
“Pain pills? He’s in pain? Has he always been in pain?”
“Krekor, please,” Tibor said. “They’ve been giving him pain pills from the first day. You know about this. We have talked about it.”
“It’s not a good idea, giving a man that age pills that depress his body functions. That’s what pain pills do, after all. They—”
“They’re not loading him up,” Tibor said. “They’re giving him the lowest possible dose, in an attempt to keep him comfortable. And it seems to be working. He is comfortable. He is not fading. He is just there. I think maybe he is waiting.”
“Waiting for what?”
“For his birthday,” Tibor said. “I have seen it in other old people, Krekor, it is not uncommon. They know they are dying and they are ready for it. They are not in that place some people are where they hate the idea and will do anything to fight it. But there is something they are waiting for. Something they want to do first. I think old George wants to wait until his birthday. I think he wants to be officially one hundred years old. And then. Well.”