Together they maneuvered down a lynx mounted on a branch that was attached to the wall. Lunde sprayed the lynx’s coat with something from a bottle. Bob went over to the glass case with the butterflies.
“How old are these?”
“My father’s butterflies? Forty, forty-five.”
“It’s wonderful, the way the color is preserved.”
“My grandfather said that butterfly wings don’t fade like otherdead bodies, that they’re like mementos of the dead. With each passing year the color gets stronger.”
Bob nodded. Continued to study the butterflies while Lunde dried off the lynx with a tissue. Hesitated a moment. Then asked: “What makes you think I’m lonely?”
Lunde carried on drying for a few moments before replying. “It’s in the eyes. Always the eyes. I saw it the moment you entered the store. Your eyes expressed the same thing as Tomás. Loss. Anger. Desperation. Loneliness.”
“Did you tell him that too? That you knew he was lonely?”
“Tomás? He said so himself.”
“What did he sayaboutbeing lonely?”
“Lots. That it was slowly driving him crazy.”
“And is he crazy, do you think?”
Lunde shrugged. “It looks that way, don’t you think? Normal people don’t kill other people. Although the same could be said of those that killed his family. I don’t think your guy is any better or any worse than anyone else, he’s just been unlucky. His world was shattered. He said that what tormented him most was that those idiots hadn’t killedhim,the only one who could pose any threat to them.”
“Yes,” said Bob. “I know what he means.”
“Give me a hand again here?”
After returning the lynx to its place they went back into the workshop and Lunde continued working. Bob fell asleep with his head against the wall. He dreamed. It was the same dream. He was holding a pistol and firing at a tiny head with a cotton candy halo of fair hair. He was woken by the sound of Lunde talking on his cell phone:
“Yes, I’m just leaving now.” Bob heard the twittering of a female voice at the other end and saw the broad smile on Mike Lunde’s face. “Meatballs? Mm, that sounds good.”
He hung up.
“Sorry,” said Bob as he sat up in the chair and wiped the dribble from the corner of his mouth. “I had a bad night.”
“You were sound asleep. That’s good.”
“I heard meatballs. With brown sauce, potatoes and mushy peas?”
Lunde smiled. “Yes, as it happens. How about you?”
“Guess.”
Lunde leaned his head to one side and looked at Bob. “I’m guessing you’re going to eat alone, and you don’t give a damn where or what.”
“Bull’s-eye.”
Bob then noticed Lunde’s hesitancy. It was as though he was wondering whether to invite Bob home with him. Then perhaps he saw the warning signs in Bob’s eyes and let it drop.
“One more thing,” said Bob. “You said you didn’t know if Gomez has a phone, but he has your cell number, it’s printed on your business card. Given that he knows we’re looking for him, it could be he won’t take the chance of showing up here in person but he’ll call you instead.”
Lunde nodded. “You could be right there.”
“Can I borrow your phone for a few seconds?”
Lunde tapped in a code that opened it and handed it to Bob. Bob went online and downloaded an app.
