During the weeks I was healing, Morrell or Lotty came to see me almost every day. Lotty brought flowers that well–wishers, believing I was in a brain–damaged stupor, sent to her office. Darraugh Graham, my most important client, sent a miniature orange tree and a note that said if I ever felt able to get back to work he was eager to continue to do business with me. I was touched, and relieved as well, although Morrell, collecting mail from my office, found an ominous number of letters from clients canceling my services. (We find a large firm such as Carnifice better meets our security needs at this time… .)

Mr. Contreras visited me regularly while I was at Berman. Once he learned he could bring Mitch and Peppy, he’d bundle the dogs into the Rustmobile and drive down, careful to follow Morrell’s instructions to keep anyone from tailing him. The dogs helped my recovery. When I ran around the gardens behind the institute with them, I started feeling more like myself.

A bouquet of anemones came with a note from Abigail Trant, wishing me a speedy recovery from all my ailments. After her surprise visit the week before my arrest, I wasn’t exactly startled, but I was very pleased.

I saw Mrs. Trant’s name in the papers from time to time, especially as the swim meet Eleanor Baladine had organized drew near: the Herald–Star, in its new role as shill for Global Entertainment, actually treated the event as front–page news. The meet was to raise money for several children’s programs dear to Abigail Trant, Jennifer Poilevy, and Eleanor Baladine. The three women were photographed around Eleanor’s pool, looking like beauty queens in their sleekly fitting swimsuits. Tickets were a thousand dollars; anyone with a child under thirteen who wanted to compete should get in touch with Alex Fisher at Global.

Another evening Lotty arrived with an outsize bouquet of scarlet and gold flowers and a letter from Murray Ryerson.

Dear Vic,

I can’t believe you’re really lying in a stupor. Half of it’s denial, and the other half is my sources: they can’t find you in any of the nursing homes in the area. So maybe Lotty Herschel will bring you these flowers and my letter.