"Guess I'm right at home now," he mused, recalling how politely they used to treat him less than a year before when they still considered him an infrequent guest. With no interest in joining them for cat and mouse fare, the judge went off to the kitchen to rummage through Stacey's refrigerator. Not that he intended to cook anything; he had always left the culinary arts to the women in his life. But if he could find the right combination of leftovers, he might heat something up in the microwave. Otherwise, he intended to send out for pizza.
It was while bending over, poking behind jars of who-knows-what that Judge Carl felt suddenly dizzy. Grasping the refrigerator door with both hands, he stood up slowly, careful not to let the blood rush down from his head too quickly. He felt short of breath. His knees felt weak, too. He closed the door and shuffled his way back to the living room where he could plop down on the sofa and have a cigarette.
"Damn it, Bets," he mumbled as he pulled a Marlboro from its pack. He did not light it, though. He just held it in his hand, watching his fingers quiver slightly, as he breathed deeply to regain his composure.
"I'm getting too old for this shit," he said in the direction of the computer that contained Bets' messages. "Hell, I'm even getting too old to enjoy a smoke."
When Jeremy's two replies beeped their arrival at Stacey's a little later, Judge Carl was still full of worry but much more relaxed. He opened the document addressed to him, and found himself pleasantly surprised: first by the speed with which the response had come all the way from England, and second by the polished nature of Jeremy's prose. He respected a man who could express himself well. Either Jeremy Gere was a very smooth writer, or he somehow managed to leave his heart on the shelf when he wrote. The judge resolved to send him one more email before logging off for the day. He owed it to this man, Bets' lover, to let him know exactly what was going on.
Please try and understand how Stacey feels. She is hurt, she is in extreme pain, and she only wants Bets to be safe. She blames you, which in her state she has to find someone to blame. I'm not asking you to forgive her, because I'm sure she will never change her feelings about you. But please, just try to see how she is struggling with the idea of Bets taking her life. I sincerely apologize.
I myself am trying hard to blame no one. I think my energy is better spent, under these circumstances, trying to locate Bets. I had an idea come to me just a bit ago about where Bets might be. I talked with Bets' uncle. I am a man of the law and he is not, if you understand my meaning. He has very close contacts with certain people, in New York and other cities. They have ways of finding people that you and I would not wish to imagine. If she has checked into a hotel, for example, his people will know. They will tell him and he will call me when he knows, one way or the other.
I also know of two places she might have gone, that had slipped my mind. Bets is not dumb. If she does not want to be found, she has the knowledge to go underground and never be found. Also she has the connections to find the help, medical and what not, with people underground. I'm going directly over to Shirley's and confront her. If my theory is right, she will know where Bets might be. And she will tell me. Or her ass will be in a sling. (laughing)
I feel if I could just reach Bets, talk to her, I would be able to get her to come home. I would, at that moment, hug her tightly, and then slap the shit out of her. (smiling with you)
It's very hard for me, and I understand your pain. I cannot imagine what you are feeling, being in England and waiting for news about the woman you love. I'm sure Bets did not mean for all of us to be going through this ordeal. Do you? Are you angry at Bets? Or do you understand where her head is at? Please don't be angry with Bets. Please write back to me and explain what you are feeling. If I do find Bets, she will want to know. I know you have no one who you can express your feelings to. Or maybe you do. I don't know. Like Stacey, I'm also in the blind here, when it comes to how you feel. I'm just reaching out to a man that Bets loves very much, and would not want you to be in so much anguish I'm sure that wherever she is at, she is coming to grips with all of this. If you don't want to write to me, or you don't want to hear from Bets, if I do locate her, please just send the word. I will explain all to Bets, the best I can.
If my theory is right, I should be with Bets in the next few hours. Maybe sooner if I can get through to Shirley. At least, if anything, I will know if she is alive. These people are ruthless. The underground is another world, and they respect Bets for her work and efforts in protecting their world. I introduced Bets to this world. They trust me and will tell me what I want to know. I'm just fucking angry I didn't think of it sooner. Sorry about the language, I don't express my emotions in a proper manner. Especially where Bets and Stacey are of concern. I have grey hair, and I think the shit has grown pure white today. (chuckling)
I must laugh, this is what Bets would want me to do. I need a drink badly. When this is all over, you and I should disappear and just tie one helluva good one on. I would have liked to meet you. Bets has also told me many things about you. She has said the same about you and expresses the utmost respect for you. The woman has loved you for a long time. I was jealous at first, and ashamed for having such feelings. Bets has a way about her that makes life very difficult. It is her thinking process, but you know, the time she spent with you, she was changing before my eyes. She was letting you love her in a way that I wanted, so many years ago.
I'm closing now. I will write when I have found or heard some information about Bets. It should be late this evening or in the morning. Stacey has explained you are are about five hours ahead of us. I'm hoping to have this dealt with before you wake in the morning. Should be before 6 a.m. your time. If Bets is found, I'm taking her to my place. I will pause at her home, though, for correspondence from you. And I will send you word. Hang in there. My thoughts are with you.
Sincerely, Carl
P.S.
After dispatching his electronic message to Jeremy, Judge Carl had checked on Stacey's two children in the den. They scarcely acknowledged his presence, engrossed as they were in video cartoons.
Dear Mr. Gere,
I thought you might like to know: I had the honor of meeting Bets' father on several occasions. She is her father over and over. He was a good man, he taught Bets all the aspects of survival: how to think, how to read people, and how to take care of herself. He also taught her some nasty habits, but this was his way to teach her that not all people are always good. Also in this teaching, he didn't do well in the love department. The man didn't know how to love anyone but Bets. We both know the result. The person who Bets is today. I do hope we find her quickly.