As instructed, Linda arrived at Kier’s house at four o’clock that afternoon. She pushed the doorbell; Kier answered on the intercom.
“Who is it?”
“It’s me, Linda.” She paused. “You sound different. Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
“I brought some papers you need to sign.”
“Just sign them yourself. You can forge my signature.”
“You know I don’t do that.”
There was a long hesitation before he relented. “The door’s unlocked. Let yourself in.”
She pushed open the door and stepped inside, stopping in the foyer to remove her coat. “Where are you?”
“In the living room.”
She gasped when she saw him, “Omigosh . . .” Kier was lying on the couch. His nose had been set and bandaged and he had a bag of frozen peas on his forehead. His braced ankle was elevated on a stack of pillows. Both eyes were blackened. She quickly walked to him.
“What happened?”
“Grimes wasn’t all that happy to see me. Or maybe he was. I’m not sure.”
“He hit you for apologizing?”
Kier grimaced. “I didn’t get that far.”
“What can I do for you?”
“You can get me another cold pack from the refrigerator.”
Linda lay her coat and the documents on the coffee table in front of the couch and went to the refrigerator, returning a moment later holding a blue cold pack and a bag of succotash. “Do you want the ice pack or the vegetables?”
“I’ll try the ice pack.”
She sat down next to him, lifted the bag of peas, then gently laid the ice pack on the bridge of his nose. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.”
“It was a great idea. One of my best.”
She couldn’t tell if he was being facetious. “Maybe you could just phone everyone . . . or write a nice note.”
“I destroyed their lives and you think I should write them a note?”
“It would be safer.”
“I can’t argue with that.”
“It’s a good thing he didn’t have a gun.”
“He didn’t need one. He had a dog.”
“Exactly. So you’ll write notes?”
“No.”
She stood, shaking her head at his stubbornness. “It’s your funeral.”
“No, I’ve been to my funeral. This isn’t so bad.”
“The documents are right there—on the table. There’s a drywall contract for the Bunten job and Tim Brey needed you to sign off on the development contract for the Allen property.”
“I’ll look at that later.” He adjusted the icepack. “How is Brey?”
Linda grinned. “Like a death row inmate with a commuted execution date. I think he’s waiting for the old James Kier to return.”
“Good. It will keep him humble. Did he decorate the place?”
“Decorate?”
“Decorate, for Christmas.”
She smiled. “Yes. It looks nice. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Oh, Robyn at Le Jardin called this morning. Someone wants to rent the Garden Reception area on New Year’s Day. But they want a discount.
“Robyn knows we don’t do that.”
“She knows. But in this case she thought she should ask.”
“I pay her not to bother me with these details.”
“It’s for your son’s wedding.”
Kier lifted the cold pack to look at her. “Jimmy? Why didn’t he call me?”
“According to Robyn, the bride and her mother chose the place. She was pretty certain that they didn’t know you owned it.”
“But Jimmy does . . .” He lay back down. “He doesn’t plan to invite me.”
“You don’t know that,” Linda said.
Kier sighed. “Yes, I do.” He closed his eyes. After a moment he said, “When I went to the other James Kier’s memorial service I met his son. He said his father was his best friend. Mine doesn’t even want me to come to his wedding. How could I have gone so wrong?”
Linda didn’t say anything.
“Tell Robyn to just give them the place. The catering, flowers, everything they need.”
“I’ll call.” She put her coat back on. “So now what?”
“Back to the list.”
“Who’s next?”
“The Wysses.”
“The Wysses,” she said thoughtfully. “Estelle’s in her eighties. At least you know she can’t beat you up.”
“After what I did, she still might try.”
“Well, keep your guard up this time. I think you can take her.”
He smiled in spite of his pain. “Thanks.”
“I’ll put the peas back in the freezer. Would you like me to get you something for dinner?”
“No. I’ve got instant noodles in the cupboard.”
“Noodles. Great. Call if you need anything else. Good night.”
“Good night.”
She stopped at the edge of the room. “Mr. Kier?”
“Yes?”
“I know your first visit didn’t exactly go the way you hoped. But I’m proud of you anyway.”
He looked at her. “At least someone is.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She let herself out. Kier held the icepack closely to his nose. Why didn’t you call me, Jimmy?
