Guns in the Gallery

‘Because if you’re anything like a decent healer – and I get the feeling you are – then you aren’t just going to be checking out my body, you’re going to be looking inside my soul. And I’ve got a lot of clutter down there in my soul, and some of it’s clutter I’m ashamed of.’

Jude nodded. What Sam Torino was saying to her didn’t seem strange at all. With an inward smile, she thanked the Lord that Carole wasn’t in the yurt with them at that moment.

‘OK, Sam, just relax. I’m just going to check where the pain is.’ Jude ran her hands expertly along the contours of the woman’s body. No contact was actually made with the designer clothes, her fingers hovered a couple of inches above the famous contours. They kept being drawn back to one source of heat.

‘That’s where the pain is, isn’t it?’ pronounced Jude, lightly touching a spot just above Sam’s right buttock.

‘Hey, you’re good,’ said the model. ‘Got it in one. Any idea how to get rid of the sonofabitch?’

‘I can try.’ Jude focused her energy on to the troublesome area. ‘So you say this started at the time of the divorce?’

‘In the run-up to it, yeah.’

‘You know why, don’t you?’

‘Do I? You tell me.’

‘It’s because you’re Sam Torino. Everyone who meets you gets the full Sam Torino experience, regardless of whether you’re feeling very Sam Torino or not.’

‘Meaning?’

‘You know what I mean. You never give yourself a break, Sam.’

‘I do too. I programme gym visits and spa days into my schedules. If I listed the number of vacations I take it’d embarrass me.’

‘That’s not what I’m talking about. When you’re in the gym, when you’re on vacation, you’re surrounded by other people. Other people who admire you, who’re impressed with the way you manage all the demands of your life. They expect you to give them the full-on Sam Torino treatment every moment of the day. And you oblige them.’

There was a long silence. Still not touching the woman’s body, the knuckles of Jude’s hands were whitening with the intensity she was channelling into it. Then, in a long drawl, Sam Torino said, ‘Yes, Jude. You’re good.’ Then, after a moment, she asked, ‘Can you take away the pain?’

‘I think I can for the time being. If you want it to stay away, you’ll have to make some changes.’

‘Like what?’

‘For your condition I would prescribe solitude.’

‘How d’ya mean?’

‘Just as important as your gym and spa visits, you need time on your own. You should programme that into your schedule. Time to think.’

‘Are you talking meditation? Because I’ve done classes in that and—’

‘Classes, no. Classes are with other people. They still have expectations of you. You want to be alone when the only person who has expectations of you is you.’

‘I have very high expectations of myself.’

‘Of course you do. And that’s good. All I’m asking is that you carve out for yourself half an hour a day to think about those expectations. Are they realistic? Would it really matter that much if you let your guard slip for a moment? Why not allow a little imperfection into your life? You’re a human being. All human beings have flaws.’

There was an even longer silence while Sam Torino took this in. Then she said, ‘Do you know how much you’re asking?’

‘I know exactly how much I’m asking.’

‘Hm.’ More silence. ‘I’ll give it a go. More “Me Time”.’

‘Don’t think of it as “Me Time”. Think of it as “Nothing Time”. Just time when you stop feeling the pressure to be Sam Torino. See where it takes you.’

‘OK.’ She flexed her long legs. ‘The pain’s easing, you know.’

‘Yes. A little bit longer and it’ll be gone . . . for the time being.’

‘And whether or not I keep it away is up to me, huh?’

‘Sure is,’ said Jude, dropping into a parody Canadian accent.

‘Right.’ Sam Torino looked around the interior of the treatment yurt. ‘Funny, this place doesn’t have any ghosts . . . considering what happened here so recently.’

Jude was shocked. ‘I didn’t know you knew about that.’

‘Ned told me.’

‘You know Ned?’

‘Sure.’

‘Can I ask how?’

‘No problem. There are a lot of events which people with a certain level of income get involved in. Charity fund-raisers, that kind of stuff. I can’t remember the first one I met him at, but we kind of got on and stayed in touch.’

‘So is that why you’re here for the Walden launch?’

‘Sure.’

‘I thought Gale Mostyn had organized your participation.’

Sam Torino let out a haughty laugh. ‘Gale Mostyn are not big players. I have my own personal PR company. Sure, Gale Mostyn can organize a line-up of reality TV hopefuls, but they don’t have access to the A-list.’ Somehow her words didn’t sound arrogant. She was just describing the realities of celebrity life. ‘And, incidentally . . .’ She reached into her back trouser pocket and produced a neat card case. ‘If you ever need to contact me, use this mobile number. If you try going through my PR people, they won’t let you near me.’

‘Thank you,’ said Jude, pocketing the card she’d been given. ‘So, Sam, I assume you heard from Ned about what happened to Fennel?’

‘Sure. I also heard that you were the one who found the body.’