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Show -146 "Of Carlo? He's my kid brother," I said. "But I'm surprised; I didn't think he cared about women." "He doesn't like his mother much," Morgan said. The night before we were to fly to Mt. Hood to scatter Adam's ashes, Alice had invited us all to dinner. I accepted for everybody but at the last second, when we were on our way out the door, my baby brother balked. "I won't go." "Why not?" "She's a bitch." "Yeah? Well come along anyhow. She wants to see us all," I told him. He shook his head and gave the door-jamb a moody kick, but in the end he came. "None of us feel too close to Alice," I told Morgan. "She was Adam's girl but she was never a mother to us, not even to Carlo." That night she served us veal, green beans, roast potatoes, a bitter salad. Afterwards Jacob and I found ourselves sitting in a corner; he rested his elbows on his knees, his head drooped. Under our feet a Norwegian throw-rug spilled a patch of pale green and icy blue. "I have a theory." Jacob spoke without looking up. "Want to hear it? All right: Adam did shoot himself-I know a way that he could have done it. He tied the gun to |
