Nemesis by Joyce Carol Oates

Author:Joyce Carol Oates
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781504045162
Publisher: Open Road Media Mystery & Thriller
Published: 2017-02-17T05:00:00+00:00

Part III

16

For years afterward, speaking of his friend Nicholas Reickmann’s death, and so hideous a death, Rory Carter would shut his eyes and shudder and say, “The frightful thing was, Nicky had no premonition of what was to come. He prided himself on his powers of intuition, as he called them, his ability to read others’ souls, and those of us who knew him well—let’s say those of us who Nicky in his sweet dear but rather princely manner allowed to know him well—were continually struck by his ability, yes, almost to read us; it was more than just sympathy, it was empathy, that strange, mysterious gift given to some, a very few, and altogether alien to others. So to think that Nicky Reickmann of all people entertained his killer after we left, that night—that the poor man didn’t sense, in the other, what his purpose was!—it’s really quite unsettling, it leaves me bewildered, yes, rather vexed, and cross, about the intuitive powers of the sensitives among us, of whom Nicky Reickmann was decidedly one. Ah, to hear him play his clarinet, to hear him play piano, to hear him (when he could be coaxed into doing so, among friends) sing: what a privilege! We all have our talents, of course, of course of course, but Nicky Reickmann was the real thing. Yet Nicky didn’t know and couldn’t escape. Wouldn’t you have thought he might have had a premonition?

“But there we were, Nicky and Dabney Sloane and me, having an uproarious time, a few drinks, a joint or two—of course we did feel, at least initially, some awkwardness, some reserve, about being in Rolfe Christensen’s house (that is, Dabney and I felt that way: we’d never set foot in it before, but Nicky had been spending a good deal of time over there, sometimes spent the night, sorting through Christensen’s papers and such, trying to catalogue things—‘My Augean stables!’ Nicky would say, screwing up his pretty face as if smelling a foul odor, but Nicky didn’t mean it truly; Nicky didn’t mean it entirely, I’m sure; he was fond of the old boy, as he’d say, and Nicky Reickmann of all people was no hypocrite), but we—well, I must confess, it seems a bit shameless of us, doesn’t it, we did enjoy ourselves as we invariably did in one another’s company, for what are close dear friends but the persons in all the world with whom you can relax and make an absolute fool of yourself should you so wish, knowing they won’t be critical, and won’t judge. So Nicky served us drinks, and we smoked a bit and sat there in the great man’s music studio listening to these extraordinary tapes Nicky had discovered among Christensen’s things, of which I suppose I should not speak: the tapes weren’t of music, or weren’t of music primarily, but had—well, how shall I put it, other elements, vocal elements—unrehearsed, ‘aleatory,’ you had to listen closely to figure out what in heaven’s name

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