He put jasmine blossoms in Lucy’s hair. Then a blossom each for the twins. He tried the same with Robert, but his son pulled away, laughing.

“Nothing too hot tonight, darling?” Lucy said. “The children.”

“The children, of course, dear. Speaking of hot, the real heat comes from capsaicin, which is stored in the ribs of these chili peppers. Capsaicin is an irritant and burns whatever it touches, even skin, so it’s wise to wear gloves. I’m not wearing gloves, of course, because I’m not wise. Also, I’m a little crazy.” He laughed. Everyone did. But Lucy looked worried.

Shafer served the dinner himself, without any help, and he announced the name of each dish both in Thai and in English. “Plaa meuk yaang, or roast squid. Delicious.” “Mieng kum, leaf rolls with ‘treasures.’ Yummy.” “Plaa yaang kaeng phet, grilled snapper with red curry sauce. Delectable. A little hot, though. Hmmm.”

He watched them tentatively sample each course; as they tasted the snapper, tears began to run down their faces. Erica began to choke.

“Daddy, it’s too hot!” Robert complained, gulping.

Shafer smiled and nodded blithely. He loved this — the flowing tears, his perfect little family in pain. He savored each exquisite moment of their suffering. He’d managed to turn the dinner into a tantalizing game, after all.

At quarter to nine he kissed Lucy and started off on his “constitutional,” as he called his nightly disappearing act. He went out to the Jag and drove a few blocks to Phelps Place, a quiet street without many lights.

He took liberal doses of Thorazine and Librium, then injected himself with Toradol. He took another Xanax.

Then he went to his doctor’s.

Chapter 59

SHAFER DIDN’T LIKE the arrogant, asshole doormen at Boo Cassady’s building, and they didn’t like him, he decided.

Who needed their approval, anyway? They were shiftless, lazy incompetents, incapable of doing much more than holding open doors and offering up ingratiating smiles to fat-cat tenants.

“I’m here to see Dr. Cassady,” Shafer announced to the familiar black wanker with Mal jauntily pinned on his lapel. It was probably there so that he wouldn’t forget his own name.

“Right,” said Mal.

“Isn’t that ‘Right, sir’?”

“Right, sir. I’ll ring up Dr. Cassady. Wait right here, sir.”

He could hear Boo through the doorman’s staticky phone receiver. She had no doubt left explicit instructions that he be let up immediately. She certainly knew he was coming — they’d talked during the car ride from his house.

“You can go up now, sir,” the doorman finally said.

“I’m fucking her brains out, Mal,” Shafer said. He waltzed to the elevators with a grin. “You watch that door now. Don’t let anyone take it.”