Rating: ★★★★☆ Tags: Mystery Detective, General, Fiction

particularly rigid back; I tried to make myself comfortable,
as urged, but found the only posture the chair allowed was
that of a chastised student: 
Pay attention and sit
up.
Desi didn’t ask me why I was in his living room. Or
explain how he’d immediately recognized me. Although
they were becoming more common, the double takes and
cupped whispers.
‘May I get you a drink?’ Desi asked, pressing two
hands together: business first.
‘I’m fine.’
He sat down opposite me. He was dressed in
impeccable shades of navy and cream; even his shoelaces
looked pressed. He carried it all off, though. He wasn’t the
dismissible fop I’d been hoping for. Desi seemed the
definition of a gentleman: a guy who could quote a great
poet, order a rare Scotch, and buy a woman the right piece
of vintage jewelry. He seemed, in fact, a man who knew
inherently what women wanted – across from him, I felt my
suit wilt, my manner go clumsy. I had a swelling urge to
discuss football and fart. These were the kinds of guys who
always got to me.
‘Amy. Any leads?’ Desi asked.
He looked like someone familiar, an actor, maybe.
‘No good ones.’
‘She was taken … from the home. Is that correct?’

---

‘From our home, yes.’
Then I knew who he was: He was the guy who’d shown
up alone the first day of searches, the guy who kept
sneaking looks at Amy’s photo.
‘You were at the volunteer center, weren’t you? The
first day.’
‘I was,’ Desi said, reasonable. ‘I was about to say that.
I wish I’d been able to meet you that day, express my
condolences.’
‘Long way to come.’
‘I could say the same to you.’ He smiled. ‘Look, I’m
really fond of Amy. Hearing what had happened, well, I had
to do something. I just—It’s terrible to say this, Nick, but
when I saw it on the news, I just thought, 
Of course
.’
‘Of course?’
‘Of course someone would … want her,’ he said. He
had a deep voice, a fireside voice. ‘You know, she always
had that way. Of making people want her. Always. You
know that old cliche´: Men want her, and women want to be
her. With Amy, that was true.’
Desi folded large hands across his trousers. Not
pants, trousers. I couldn’t decide if he was fucking with me. I
told myself to tread lightly. It’s the rule of all potentially
prickly interviews: Don’t go on the offense until you have to,
first see if they’ll hang themselves all on their own.
‘You had a very intense relationship with Amy, right?’ I
asked.
‘It wasn’t only her looks,’ Desi said. He leaned on a
knee, his eyes distant. ‘I’ve thought about this a lot, of
course. First love. I’ve definitely thought about it. The navel-
gazer in me. Too much philosophy.’ He cracked a self-

---

effacing grin. The dimples popped. ‘See, when Amy likes
you, when she’s interested in you, her attention is so warm
and reassuring and entirely enveloping. Like a warm bath.’
I raised my eyebrows.
‘Bear with me,’ he said. ‘You feel good about yourself.
Completely good, for maybe the first time. And then she
sees your flaws, she realizes you’re just another regular
person she has to deal with – you are in actuality Able
Andy, and in real life, Able Andy would never make it with
Amazing Amy. So her interest fades, and you stop feeling
good, you can feel that old coldness again, like you’re
naked on the bathroom floor, and all you want is to get back
in the bath.’
I knew that feeling – I’d been on the bathroom floor for
about three years – and I felt a rush of disgust for sharing
this emotion with this other man.
‘I’m sure you know what I mean,’ Desi said, and smiled
winkily at me.