Baker came back, looking sharp-eyed and ready to say something.

Cathy Poulson got there first, saying, “Okay, I’ll be open and tell you everything. If you pledge that you’ll do your best not to violate my privacy.”

Baker said, “We’ll do our utmost best, ma’am.” Looking relaxed- too loose, Lamar could tell there was something on his partner’s mind.

The three of them sat back down.

Cathy Poulson said, “Jack and I had a relationship- ancient history, before I met Lloyd. I’m from California, too. LA. That’s where I met Jack.”

Another West Coast connection, like the shrink. Lamar wondered if Delaware knew her, then told himself he was being stupid. Ginormous city like LA, what were the chances…

Cathy Poulson said, “That’s it.”

Baker said, “A relationship.”

“Yes.”

“Why’d you decide to meet last night?”

“Jack called me to let me know he was in town. Out of the blue, you could’ve knocked me over with a feather. He said he’d heard about Lloyd’s passing and was real sweet about it- Jack could be like that. He said he’d had some rough patches himself but of course nothing comparable to what I was going through…which I thought was extremely empathic. I’d heard a bit about what Jack had gone through- from the media, not personally. The lifestyle issues, the career ups and downs. For him to put all that aside and consider my pain, I thought that was…kind.”

Baker said, “So he called to say hi.”

“We talked a bit. He said he’d had a terrible fear of flying after that helicopter thing- I read about that, too. He said he’d lived with his fear for years, finally decided to conquer it and get some therapy. The flight to Nashville was a big accomplishment. He sounded so incredibly proud. As if he’d just had a number one hit. I told him that was wonderful. Then we talked some more about Lloyd. Then he asked if I wanted to get together. I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised, but it caught me off guard. I didn’t know how I felt about that.”

“Not sure you wanted to see him.”

“To tell the truth,” she said, “we didn’t part on great terms. Back in the old days, Jack could be tough.”

“How so?” said Baker.

“Mercurial- moody. Drugs made it worse. Then there were all those women. Groupies- do they still call them that?”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Lamar. Thinking: All those gigs I played, never saw a single one.

“All those groupies,” said Cathy Poulson, “you can’t really expect a man to be faithful…anyway, it was jarring, hearing from him so many years later. Maybe my grief was what led me to say okay, I’m still not sure. He told me there was a club he was going to, over on First, could we meet there. I agreed. But right after I hung up, I regretted it. What in the world was it going to accomplish? I considered calling him back and canceling, but didn’t want to hurt his feelings. Especially with his conquering his fear- I didn’t want to set him back. Can you understand that?”

“Sure,” said Baker.

“I mean that would make me feel guilty, stressing him to the point where he backslid.” She glanced to the side. “Back in the good old days, I had plenty of experience with backsliding.”

“Drugs,” said Baker.

“The whole crazy scene,” she said. “Funny thing was, no one really saw it as crazy except me. I never indulged. Not once, never. I respect myself way too much for that. Jack, of course, was another story. I spent many a night walking him around. When a doctor needed to be called, I was usually the one who did it.”

“You had a close relationship,” said Lamar.

“Such as it was. But ancient, ancient history, gentlemen. That’s why I wasn’t sure I wanted to play the reminiscence game with him. Still, I didn’t want to upset Jack, so I didn’t cancel. Instead, I showed up late.” A glassy smile, almost intoxicated. “I thought that was the perfect solution.”

“Showing up late?”

“Of course. That way, we’d have minimal contact but I’d have fulfilled my obligation.”

Once again Lamar thought of Cathy as a master director. Baker said, “You’d say hi, nice to see you, then you’d go your separate ways.”

“Exactly,” said Cathy Poulson. “Frankly, when I saw Jack I was shocked and that made it easier. My image of him was stuck back in the time when we were together. He had been a handsome man. Now…”

She shrugged.

“Not too well preserved,” said Lamar.

“That makes him sound like a lab specimen but I’m afraid you’re right.” She sighed. “Poor Jack. Time hadn’t been kind to him. I drove there expecting a good-looking man- which was foolish after all those years had passed. What I saw was a heavy old bald man.”

Not unlike her late husband, thought Lamar.

She picked up her glass of lemonade. “We had a little hug, chatted briefly, then parted ways. I will tell you this: Jack wasn’t upset, the entire encounter was friendly. I got a clear sense that he felt the same way I did.”

“Which was?”

“Don’t fix it if it ain’t broken,” said Cathy Poulson. “Whoever wrote that famous book was right. You really can’t go home. Psychologically, I mean.”

Lamar still had a feeling about the woman and would’ve stuck around to see if he could tease anything more out of her. But he could tell Baker was antsy. A few more of Lamar’s questions made his partner downright restless, perched on the edge of the sofa, ready to spring up like a frog at a fly.

Lamar said, “Thank you, ma’am. If you think of anything else, here’s our number.” He handed her a card and Cathy Poulson placed it on a table in an absent way that let him know he’d never hear from her again.

She said, “Of course. Would you like me to put some lemonade in a little bottle?”

9

Back in the car, Lamar said, “Okay, what?”

“Okay, what what?”

“The way you were itching to book, El Bee. Sportin’ a rash?”

Baker grinned huge- an unusual sight. “Drive.”

Lamar made his way back to Belle Meade Boulevard, passed more mansions. Engine roar sounded at their rear end. A couple of rich kids in a BMW convertible testing the speed limit. They got inches from his rear bumper. He let them pass, heard laughter.

Baker said, “Did you notice that there’s no pictures of her kid in the living room?”

“Sure did. Not too many of her late great husband Lloyd, either. I figure her for one of those narcissists, it’s all about me.”

“Or maybe something else,” said Baker. “When I go to use the facilities, I notice an alcove up a ways. She’s got alcoves, niches, whatever, all over the place. Has these little prissy figurines, glass globes, that kind of stuff. But the one near the john has a picture. In a nice frame, just like the ones on the mantel, and it shows her kid. Big old blond bubba, could be a twin of the one in the picture we found in Jeffries’s hotel room.”

“Owen the rugby player,” said Lamar. “By the way, that one is definitely Melinda’s kid. I found a picture in an old copy of People magazine.”

“Good for you,” said Baker. “Now just let me stay on track here for a second, Stretch. This other kid- Poulson’s kid- is wearing a uniform, too- real football, with the pads and the black stuff under the eyes. And I’m telling you, he could’ve had the same papa as Owen. Same coloring, beefy, big jaw. To my eye, an even stronger resemblance to Mr. Jack Jeffries. That makes me curious so I turn over the photo and on the back there’s an inscription. ‘Happy Em’s Day, Mom, You Rock, Love Tristan.’ The really interesting part is the handwriting. Block letters with little flourishes on the caps. I’m no graphologist but to my eye, a dead match in handwriting for those silly lyrics we found in the hotel room.”

“ ‘Music City Breakdown.’ ”

“What it’s looking like,” said Baker, “is a whole bunch of stuff broke down.”