11/22/63: A Novel

I wasn’t going to tell him what her final words had been, that was private, but I could give him something. He would pass it on to Ellie, and Ellie would pass it on to all Sadie’s friends in Jodie. She’d had many.

“She asked if the president was safe. When I told her he was, she closed her eyes and slipped away.”

Deke began to cry again. My face was throbbing. Tears would have been a relief, but my eyes were as dry as stones.

“Goodbye,” I said. “Goodbye, old friend.”

I hung up gently and sat still for quite some time, watching the light of a Dallas sunset fall red through the window. Red sky at night, sailor’s delight, the old saying has it. . but I heard another rumble of thunder. Five minutes later, when I had myself under control, I picked up my debugged phone and once again dialed 0. I told Marie I was going to lie down, and asked for an eight-o’clock wake-up call. I also asked her to put a do-not-disturb on the phone until then.

“Oh, that’s already taken care of,” she said excitedly. “No incoming calls to your room, orders from the police chief.” Her voice dropped a register. “Was he crazy, Mr. Amberson? I mean, he must have been, but did he look it?”

I remembered the cheated eyes and daemonic snarl. “Oh, yes,” I said. “He certainly did. Eight o’clock, Marie. Nothing until then.”

I hung up before she could say anything else. Then I took off my shoes (getting free of the left one was a slow and painful process), lay down on the bed, and put my arm over my eyes. I saw Sadie dancing the Madison. I saw Sadie telling me to come in, kind sir, did I like poundcake? I saw her in my arms, her bright dying eyes turned up to my face.

I thought about the rabbit-hole, and how every time you used it there was a complete reset.

At last I slept.

9

Hosty’s knock came promptly at nine. I opened up and he ambled in. He carried a briefcase in one hand (but not my briefcase, so that was still all right). In the other was a bottle of champagne, the good stuff, Moët et Chandon, with a red, white, and blue bow tied around the neck. He looked very tired.

“Amberson,” he said.

“Hosty,” I responded.

He closed the door, then pointed to the phone. I took the bug from my pocket and displayed it. He nodded.

“There are no others?” I asked.

“No. That bug is DPD’s, and this is now our case. Orders straight from Hoover. If anyone asks about the phone bug, you found it yourself.”

“Okay.”

He held up the champagne. “Compliments of the management. They insisted I bring it up. Would you care to toast the President of the United States?”

Considering that my beautiful Sadie now lay on a slab in the county morgue, I had no interest in toasting anything. I had succeeded, and success tasted like ashes in my mouth.

“No.”

“Me, either, but I’m glad as hell he’s alive. Want to know a secret?”

“Sure.”

“I voted for him. I may be the only agent in the whole Bureau who did.”

I said nothing.

Hosty seated himself in one of the room’s two armchairs and gave a long sigh of relief. He set his briefcase between his feet, then turned the bottle so he could read the label. “Nineteen fifty-eight. Wine fanciers would probably know if that was a good year, but I’m more of a beer man, myself.”

“So am I.”

“Then you might enjoy the Lone Star they’re holding for you downstairs. There’s a case of the stuff, and a framed letter promising you a case a month for the rest of your life. More champagne, too. I saw at least a dozen bottles. Everyone from the Dallas Chamber of Commerce to the City Board of Tourism sent them. You have a Zenith color television still in the carton, a solid gold signet ring with a picture of the president in it from Calloway’s Fine Jewelry, a certificate for three new suits from Dallas Menswear, and all kinds of other stuff, including a key to the city. The management has set aside a room on the first floor for your swag, and I’m guessing that by dawn tomorrow they’ll have to set aside another. And the food! People are bringing cakes, pies, casseroles, roasts of beef, barbecue chicken, and enough Mexican to give you the runs for five years. We’re turning them away, and they hate to go, let me tell you. There are women out there in front of the hotel that. . well, let’s just say Jack Kennedy himself would be envious, and he’s a legendary cocksman. If you knew what the director has in his files on that man’s sex life, you wouldn’t believe it.”

“My capacity for belief might surprise you.”

“Dallas loves you, Amberson. Hell, the whole country loves you.” He laughed. The laugh turned into a cough. When it passed, he lit a cigarette. Then he looked at his watch. “As of nine-oh-seven Central Standard Time on the evening of November twenty-second, 1963, you are America’s fair-haired boy.”

“What about you, Hosty? Do you love me? Does Director Hoover?”