Gray Area by George P. Saunders Read Free Book Online Page B

breath of ocean air, and again knocked at the
front door.
    This time it opened after about a minute.  She was there, towel
wrapped around her head, wearing a red flannel robe.
    “Ms. Linda Baylor?” he said, clearing his throat and putting on his best
routine just-the-facts-ma’am expression.
    “Who’s asking?” she said in a low husky voice that seemed accustomed to
interrogating versus being interrogated.
    Diamond pulled out his wallet and let the flap fall, revealing his
badge.  “Lou Diamond.  LAPD.”
    Linda allowed a small smile to cross her lips.  “Marshall’s
brother,” she said at last.  “Come in.”
    He followed her inside, closing the door behind himself.
    “That’s some connection,” he said.  “How did you know—”
    “That you’re his brother?  Please,” she sighed, as if it was all too
obvious, and a bore to boot.  “I’ve seen your picture in Marshall’s
office.”
    “Oh,” Lou said, mildly surprised to hear that Marshall kept a picture of
him.  “You and your wife,” she clarified.
    Lou’s heart did the funky chicken.  The mention of Maria suddenly
filled him with an aching depression.  He decided to shut up for a moment
and take in the room.
    The house was exquisitely decorated, every table, chair and lamp an
antique.  After getting an eyeful of her upstairs—the modern sleekness,
the perfect attendance to personal grooming, even the way she dried herself—he
had expected something different.  Something maybe nouveau riche, or even
vaguely faux Picasso.  Fake, he mused, summing it all up in a single word.
    But Linda Baylor was a constant surprise. 
    “You like antiques,” he commented tonelessly.
    “You noticed,” she said, heading for an oak-covered wet bar near the
front terrace sliding doors.  Diamond continued to scan the house. 
Next to antiques something else was prominent.  Animals.  One kind of
animal in particular: small, large, stuffed, plastic, wooden, cute.
    Seals.
    The place was lousy with knick-knack seals.  They perched in every
corner, on every desktop, on every ledge or counter. 
    “You like seals, too,” he said.
    Linda dropped some ice into two glasses.  “You might call it a
fetish, Officer.”
    “What’s the attraction?” Diamond turned to look at her directly.
    Linda Baylor didn’t even blink.  “One of the few animals on the
planet that doesn’t want to hurt anything.  They live to play.  And
to make love.  Did you know that seals mate for life?
    “Now I do.”
    “A very peaceful creature,” Linda continued, licking a finger clean of an
errant ice chip.  “Ironically, they’re being murdered by the thousands
worldwide.  Clubbed and skinned for their pelts.  By men, of
course.  The greatest killers in the universe.  The greatest rapists,
too.”  She paused, reached for some Chivas, then turned to him. 
“Scotch?” 
    “Drink of choice among us rapists,” he said casually.  “Thanks.”
    Linda poured the scotch, handed him a glass, then glanced at her
watch.  “It’s almost two thirty in the morning, Mr. Diamond.  And
aside from letting you watch me finish my shower, what can I do for you?”
    There it was.  She’d known he was gawking at her from the top
terrace.  And she had let him.  Hell, he thought—she probably liked it.  Christ knows why, but it perked his perp antenna up a little higher
in terms of making Linda Baylor a very suspicious character.
    “I didn’t mean to intrude,” he said softly.  “No one answered the
door first time around.  So—”
    “So,” she interrupted gracefully.  “I hope you enjoyed the show.”
    She drank her scotch.  In a single gulp.  A no-bullshit girl,
Diamond thought suddenly.
    “Ms. Baylor,” Diamond began once more.  “Listen—”
    “Call me Linda,” she said.  “After all—we’re not exactly strangers
anymore.”
    She was fencing with him.  Fucking with him was more
accurate.  Seeing how much she could get away with, or maybe