flynn_gillian_gone_girl (1) (858987), страница 43

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He ushered me toward a two-mantable as if we were going to play chess. This is a conversation for us partners, Bolt saidwithout having to say it. We’ll sit at our little war-room table and get down to it.“My retainer, Mr. Dunne, is a hundred thousand dollars. That’s a lot of money,obviously. So I want to be clear on what I offer and on what I will expect of you, okay?”He aimed unblinking eyes at me, a sympathetic smile, and waited for me to nod.Only Tanner Bolt could get away with making me, a client, y to him, then tell me whatkind of dance I’d need to do in order to give him my money.“I win, Mr.

Dunne. I win unwinnable cases, and the case that I think you may soonface is—I don’t want to patronize you—it’s a tough one. Money troubles, bumpymarriage, pregnant wife. The media has turned on you, the public has turned on you.”He twisted a signet ring on his right hand and waited for me to show him I waslistening. I’d always heard the phrase: At forty, a man wears the face he’s earned. Bolt’sfortyish face was well tended, almost wrinkle-free, pleasantly plump with ego.

Here wasa confident man, the best in his field, a man who liked his life.“There will be no more police interviews without my presence,” Bolt was saying.“That’s something I seriously regret you did. But before we even get to the legal portion,we need to start dealing with public opinion, because the way it’s going, we have toassume everything is going to get leaked: your credit cards, the life insurance, thesupposedly staged crime scene, the mopped-up blood. It looks very bad, my friend. Andso it’s a vicious cycle: The cops think you did it, they let the public know. The public isoutraged, they demand an arrest.

So, one: We’ve got to find an alternative suspect. Two:We’ve got to keep the support of Amy’s parents, I cannot emphasize that piece enough.And three: We’ve got to x your image, because should this go to trial, it will in uencethe juror pool. Change of venue doesn’t mean anything anymore—twenty-four-hourcable, Internet, the whole world is your venue. So I cannot tell you how key it is to startturning this whole thing around.”“I’d like that too, believe me.”“How are things with Amy’s parents? Can we get them to make a statement ofsupport?”“I haven’t spoken with them since it was confirmed that Amy was pregnant.”“Is pregnant.” Tanner frowned at me.

“Is. She is pregnant. Never, ever mention yourwife in the past tense.”“Fuck.” I put my face in my palm for a second. I hadn’t even noticed what I’d said.“Don’t worry about it with me,” Bolt said, waving the air magnanimously. “Buteverywhere else, worry. Worry hard. From now on, I don’t want you to open yourmouth if you haven’t thought it through.

So you haven’t spoken to Amy’s parents. I don’tlike that. You’ve tried to get in touch, I assume?”“I’ve left a few messages.”Bolt scrawled something on a yellow legal pad. “Okay, we have to assume this is badnews for us. But you need to track them down. Nowhere public, where some assholewith a cameraphone can lm you—we can’t have another Shawna Kelly moment. Orsend your sister in, a recon mission, see what’s going on.

Actually, do that, that’s better.”“Okay.”“I need you to make a list for me, Nick. Of all the nice things you’ve done for Amyover the years. Romantic things, especially in this past year. You cooked her chickensoup when she was sick, or you sent her love letters while you were on a business trip.Nothing too ashy. I don’t care about jewelry unless you guys picked it out on vacationor something. We need real personal stuff here, romantic-movie stuff.”“What if I’m not a romantic-movie kind of guy?”Tanner tightened his lips, then blew them back out.

“Come up with something, okay,Nick? You seem like a good guy. I’m sure you did something thoughtful this past year.”I couldn’t think of a decent thing I’d done in the past two years. In New York, thoserst few years of marriage, I’d been desperate to please my wife, to return to thoseloose-limbed days when she’d run across a drugstore parking lot and leap into my arms,a spontaneous celebration of her hair-spray purchase. Her face pressed up against mineall the time, her bright blue eyes wide and her yellow lashes catching on mine, the heatof her breath just under my nose, the silliness of it.

For two years I tried as my old wifeslipped away, and I tried so hard—no anger, no arguments, the constant kowtowing,the capitulation, the sitcom-husband version of me: Yes, dear. Of course, sweetheart. Thefucking energy leached from my body as my frantic-rabbit thoughts tried to gure outhow to make her happy, and each action, each attempt, was met with a rolled eye or asad little sigh.

A you just don’t get it sigh.By the time we left for Missouri, I was just pissed. I was ashamed of the memory ofme—the scuttling, scraping, hunchbacked toadie of a man I’d turned into. So I wasn’tromantic; I wasn’t even nice.“Also, I need a list of people who may have harmed Amy, who may have hadsomething against her.”“I should tell you, it seems Amy tried to buy a gun earlier this year.”“The cops know?”“Yes.”“Did you know?”“Not until the guy she tried to buy from told me.”He took exactly two seconds to think.

“Then I bet their theory is she wanted a gun toprotect herself from you,” he said. “She was isolated, she was scared. She wanted tobelieve in you, yet she could feel something was very wrong, so she wanted a gun incase her worst fear was correct.”“Wow, you’re good.”“My dad was a cop,” he said. “But I do like the gun idea—now we just need someoneto match it to besides you. Nothing is too far out. If she argued with a neighborconstantly over a barking dog, if she was forced to rebu a irty guy, whatever you got,I need. What do you know about Tommy O’Hara?”“Right! I know he called the tip line a few times.”“He was accused of date-raping Amy in 2005.”I felt my mouth open, but I said nothing.“She was dating him casually.

There was a dinner date at his place, things got out ofhand, and he raped her, according to my sources.”“When in 2005?”“May.”It was during the eight months when I’d lost Amy—the time between our New Year’smeeting and my finding her again on Seventh Avenue.Tanner tightened his tie, twisted a diamond-studded wedding band, assessing me.“She never told you.”“I haven’t heard a single thing about this,” I said. “From anyone. But especially notfrom Amy.”“You’d be surprised, the number of women who still find it a stigma. Ashamed.”“I can’t believe I—”“I try never to show up to one of these meetings without new information for myclient,” he said.

“I want to show you how serious I am about your case. And how muchyou need me.”“This guy could be a suspect?”“Sure, why not,” Tanner said too breezily. “He has a violent history with your wife.”“Did he go to prison?”“She dropped the charges. Didn’t want to testify, I assume. If you and I decide towork together, I’ll have him checked out. In the meantime, think of anyone who took aninterest in your wife. Better if it’s someone in Carthage, though. More believable.

Now—” Tanner crossed a leg, exposed his bottom row of teeth, uncomfortably bunched andstained in comparison with his perfect picket-fence top row. He held his crooked teethagainst his upper lip for a moment. “Now comes the harder part, Nick,” he said. “I needtotal honesty from you, it won’t work any other way. So tell me everything about yourmarriage, tell me the worst. Because if I know the worst, then I can plan for it.

But if I’msurprised, we’re fucked. And if we’re fucked, you’re fucked. Because I get to y away inmy G4.”I took a breath. Looked him in the eyes. “I cheated on Amy. I’ve been cheating onAmy.”“Okay. With multiple women or just one?”“No, not multiple. I’ve never cheated before.”“So, with one woman?” Bolt asked, and looked away, his eyes resting on awatercolor of a sailboat as he twirled his wedding band.

I could picture him phoning hiswife later, saying, Just once, just once, I want a guy who’s not an asshole.“Yes, just one girl, she’s very—”“Don’t say girl, don’t ever say girl,” Bolt said. “Woman. One woman who is veryspecial to you. Is that what you were going to say?”Of course it was.“You do know, Nick, special is actually worse than—okay. How long?”“A little over a year.”“Have you spoken to her since Amy went missing?”“Yes, on a disposable cell phone. And in person once. Twice. But—”“In person.”“No one has seen us.

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