Oddly, silence reigned throughout the large vaulted courtroom once the story was finished. Apparently a cold-blooded confession was a lot to process.
Phil turned the witness over to the prosecution, and Nadine Raphael slowly rose from her chair. I saw that a few hairs had slipped free of her bun. Otherwise, she looked perfectly calm and composed.
“Were you offered a deal to make this confession, Troy?” she asked.
“Unofficially. Cop said if I confessed, he’d try to get me a lighter sentence. Look, they had my handprint. The DNA will convict me, so I took my best shot. I’ve fully cooperated. Right, Your Honor?”
The judge was so stunned he looked like he was about to keel over. “Uh, yes. Right.”
“I have no further questions,” Ms. Raphael said.
“Hey, Matthew,” Wagner called out, leaning toward where my brother was sitting. “You’re free now, buddy. I’ve saved your life. I hope you appreciate all I’ve done for you.”
Matthew rose up like a grizzly bear, knocking his chair to the floor. His fists clenched and he looked like Goliath in chains. In other words, the Matthew I knew and loved was back.
“You killed Tamara, you sick son of a bitch!” he bellowed. “You killed my son!”
Matthew took one step forward, and that was all that was needed. Chaos erupted. Guards lunged for Matty. The audience rose to their feet for a better view as first two, then three burly men wrestled my brother back into his seat. The jurors were almost falling out of the jury box.
The judge pounded his gavel until the plate he was pounding it on shot off the bench. Then he pounded the bench itself until he got a semblance of silence.
“Bailiff!” he thundered. “Clear the courtroom! Do it now!”
83
Matthew was escorted out of the courtroom, having just shown the jury what he looks like when he’s angry. It was a pretty unfortunate last image, considering he was still technically on trial, and I hoped it didn’t make the jury second-guess everything they’d just heard.
The courtroom finally came to order.
Phil put Caputo on the stand, and after the cop testified about the physical evidence on the dumbwaiter, the defense rested its case.
Nadine Raphael made her closing argument to the jury, saying in summation, “In the months since Tamara Gee was murdered, the apartment where she died was left unattended. How can we know if the evidence was genuine, or if it was tricked up? You cannot believe Troy Wagner, a narcissist who testified so that he could be a hero to his hero and bask in his fifteen minutes of fame. This is not Troy Wagner’s trial. It’s Matthew Angel’s trial, and we’ve proved to you that he’s the man who killed Tamara Gee.”
Phil’s summation was equally simple and brief. He said, “Matthew Angel is innocent. The prosecution has not proved him guilty beyond reasonable doubt, or guilty at all. The prosecutors had a circumstantial case that was destroyed when Troy Wagner, one of their key witnesses, told you he killed Tamara Gee. Wagner didn’t just make a confession. He left pristine, irrefutable evidence at the murder scene that backs up his confession. Troy Wagner killed Tamara Gee by stabbing her fifteen times with a paring knife and in so doing, also killed Trevor, her unborn child.
“You must do the right thing, ladies and gentlemen. You must find Matthew Angel not guilty, so he is free to pick up what remains of his unjustly shattered life.”
I looked at Harry and Hugo. They were both beaming with hope. Philippe had done a good job. Now all we could do was wait.
The judge told the jury that their decision was very important and it had to be deliberated based on the facts brought to them during the trial. The twelve shell-shocked men and women filed out, and court was adjourned.
“I don’t get it,” Hugo said. “That guy just confessed. Why don’t they just say Matty’s innocent so we can get him the heck out of here?”
“Doesn’t work that way, bud,” Harry said, ruffling Hugo’s hair. “But hopefully it won’t take the jury too long to state the obvious. It doesn’t look like we’ll hear anything today though.”
We all stood there for a moment: C.P. holding Harry’s hand, Hugo leaning against my side, my hand clasped around his shoulder. I was exhausted, but I had no idea where to go or what to do.
“Come on, you guys,” Jacob said, slinging his arm around my back. “Let’s go home.”
84
An hour later I slipped into baby-blue fleece pajamas and lay back on my bed. Dr. Magnifico had prescribed lots of rest, so when we’d returned to the Dakota, Jacob had ordered me straight to my room, which was fine by me. I’d never been so exhausted in my entire sixteen years. I cued up Debussy’s La Mer on my iPod and pressed the buds into my ears.
It was still light outside my windows, but with the blinds drawn, my room was dark. Still, I slept fitfully, my dreams peppered with images of guns and knives, of Gary, of James, of Adele, of Matthew and my parents, and of snakes and Mr. Borofsky. I kept waking up with a start, but every time I did, I found someone sitting in a chair near my bed. Harry. Hugo. Jacob.
“Has the jury come back yet?” I’d ask, clutching my sheets.
And each time the answer would be “Not yet. Try to sleep.”
The last time I dozed off, it was finally dark outside and Jacob was watching over me. I finally sank into a deep, dark sleep.
“Where is she?” a voice growled.
I blinked my dry eyes and sat straight up in bed. Hugo was curled next to me like a giant jungle cat.
“What the hell was that?” I gasped.
Hugo rubbed his eyes. “What?”
Suddenly, a huge shape filled my doorway.
“Matthew!” Hugo and I screeched.
My big brother barreled into the room as I got to my knees, and hugged me so tightly I could hardly breathe. I saw Philippe over his shoulder, hovering in the hall, grinning from ear to ear.
“How can I ever thank you, Tandy?” Matthew said. “You saved me. Do you know that? You saved your big brother.”
“All in a day’s work,” I said with a shrug, but my huge grin betrayed my indifference.
“I can’t believe you’re back!” Hugo shouted, jumping on Matty’s back. He locked his arms around Matthew’s neck and held on for dear life. Matthew reached around and pulled him off with a laugh, tossing him back onto my bed like a rag doll. Hugo was so happy he was practically hysterical.
“Dude. You’re back?” Harry said, stepping into the room in a daze.
Matty clasped hands with Harry, then drew him into a tight one-armed hug. My emo twin’s eyes were quickly oozing tears. Jacob joined Philippe in the doorway, and it was all I could do to keep from choking out a happy sob myself.
My family was together again. It was a perfect moment.
Matthew looked around at all of us, his eyes shining, and put it more aptly than I ever could have.
“Damn, it’s good to be home.”
85
Hugo shouted, “Farty time!”
He let one loose and laughed. Gotta love little brothers.
“No, Hugo,” I said, waving my hands in front of my face. “Just no.”
“Sorry. I meant party time!”
There was a one hundred percent consensus that we were in desperate need of a big blowout family celebration. Jacob huddled with Harry and Hugo, money was distributed, and I was elected to stay home with Matty while the men went out in search of exoneration-worthy food.
“So? What do you want to do?” I asked Matthew.
“I want to take a shower,” he replied with a sigh. “A nice long hot shower.”
So he did. And he was still in there twenty-five minutes later when the guys returned with bulging bags of assorted booty and unpacked it on the kitchen island.
Jacob had bought wine with low—almost negative—alcohol content and had gotten something totally booze-free and fizzy for Hugo. Harry and Hugo had gone to the store and loaded up on chips and guacamole, then hit our favorite local pizza place. They’d b
ought two extra-large pies. Extra everything. Especially artichokes, which were Matty’s favorite.
“Is he ever coming out of there?” Hugo asked, hovering near the bathroom door.
“Give the guy a break. He hasn’t had a real shower in weeks,” Harry said.
“Why don’t you set the table?” I suggested, kneading Hugo’s big shoulders. “By the time you’re done I’m sure he’ll be out.”
Hugo was just placing the last napkin as Matthew emerged from the bathroom in comfy sweats, his skin ruddy from the hot water. He paused at the entrance to the kitchen, whipped the towel off his head, and spread his arms wide.
“Meet the new Matty Angel!”
“Oh. My. God,” I said, my mouth hanging open.
Matthew’s dreads had been completely sheared off. His dark hair was about a half inch long all the way around. He rubbed his head and grinned.
“What do you think?”
“You look like an alien,” Hugo commented.
Matty whipped the towel at him.
“Actually, you look like you’ve lost twenty pounds,” I said. “How do you feel?”
“Clean,” said Matty. “I can’t say enough about being clean. I’m never taking a hot shower for granted again.”
Harry loaded up his favorite old bands—the Stones, the Who, the Velvet Underground—into a playlist, plugged his iPod into the stereo, and dialed up the volume while Jacob laid out the food. As soon as everything was set, we attacked. The five of us ate and laughed and then ate some more. By the time it was over, I felt like I was about to burst.
At this point, some city kids our age would have gone clubbing and gotten seriously, unattractively drunk. But this was us, and we had Hugo. When the food was gone, we whipped out some games we hadn’t played in ages.
We played Apples to Apples. We played Bananagrams. We played Trivial Pursuit and The Settlers of Catan and Never Have I Ever. We cracked one another up until we were spraying fizzy apple juice across the table.
We were high on life. Matty was home, there were no snakes, Jacob had saved me from certain death, and a serial killer was headed to Rikers Island, thanks to us.
Honestly, if Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny had walked through the door right then, it wouldn’t have been that big of a deal.
Jacob sipped his wine and basked in the kid stuff, laughing out loud, fending off the calls from the lobby about the noise. I watched as he and Matty chatted, getting to know each other for the first time. It seemed like they liked each other, and I was glad. Because I knew Jacob wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.
At midnight, Harry said good night and headed off to bed. Matthew was next, carrying Hugo over his shoulder. He paused halfway down the hall and looked back at me.
“Home sweet home,” he said with a contented sigh. “Thanks again, Tandy. I owe it all to you.”
“Anytime,” I replied, my heart brimming.
A moment later, Hugo’s door closed, and then everyone in the building probably heard Hugo screaming and screeching and laughing as Matty tickled him half to death. The two of them would be bunking together until Matty figured out his next move, and I had a feeling that in the meantime, there would be no peace.
Not that I minded. Not one bit.
I cleared the table and tried to help with the dishes, but Jacob waved me off.
“Go to bed, Tandy. Doctor’s orders, remember?”
“Right,” I said, letting out a breath. I realized for the first time that there was a dull, persistent throb at the base of my skull. It had probably been there all night, but I’d been too happy and distracted to notice. “It’s been a long few days, huh?”
“That is an understatement,” Jacob replied with a smile. He gave me a long hug. “Good night, Tandy.”
“Night, Jacob.”
I turned and padded down the hall to my pale blue sanctuary. I didn’t plan on going directly to bed, though. There was something I had to do, but I’d been avoiding it.
The time had finally arrived.
86
I sat on the edge of my bed and took the postcards from James out of the drawer in my bedside table. The card on top of the stack had the newest date, the fifth in the series of five.
The front of the card was a cityscape shot from the window of an airplane. The clouds were fluffy and pink from the waning sun in the foreground. The plane was heading into the night sky in the distance.
I turned the card over and read what James had written:
Tandy, Tolstoy wrote this in War and Peace, and I swear it’s almost as if he leapt into the future and wrote it for me.
“The whole world is divided for me into two parts: one is she, and there is all happiness, hope, light; the other is where she is not, and there everything is dejection and darkness…”
Tears came into my eyes. James really had loved me. But so much time had passed. He was with another girl now, and my fantasies about finding him and getting back to the way we’d been were not just futile, they were messing with my brain, with my life. And if Royal Rampling was on the up-and-up, they could even mess with my family’s future.
I took a deep breath and walked over to the shredder next to my desk. I ran the postcards, one at a time, through the metal teeth. I only hesitated once. I read the last note again; then I pressed on. When the cards had all been chewed to shreds, I took the basket out to the hallway and dumped the contents down the chute into the incinerator.
I know what you’re thinking, friend: Are you kidding me?
But no, in fact, I’m not.
Don’t get me wrong. It wasn’t easy. In fact, it felt like someone was slowly tearing a jagged slit through my pericardium—that’s the membrane that surrounds the heart—and then hacking away at its center.
Paints a pretty picture, doesn’t it?
So yeah, it was painful beyond belief. But I had to do it. I had to acknowledge that my fantasy of living happily ever after with James Rampling was over.
And now it was time to move on.
87
I awoke to find Jacob shaking my arm. Again.
“Tandy, this is your second and last wake-up call. You have to get up.”
“Why?” I moaned. “Why, why, why?”
I cracked my eyes open and saw tension in my uncle’s face. What had happened now? More snakes? Had Matthew gone AWOL? Was Hugo hanging from the ceiling beams again?
I sat up straight. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, for once,” he said, almost disbelieving. “You need to pack. Take enough clothing for at least three weeks. Bring casual clothes, rubber-soled shoes, and also nice things for dinner at, say, very good restaurants.”
I watched with narrowed eyes as he walked toward my bedroom door. I was waiting for the punch line. “Did you finish off that bottle of Mogen David all on your own?” I asked.
Jacob laughed. “I’m not drunk, and this isn’t a joke. It’s a surprise, Tandy. So let’s go. That’s an order.”
“When did I join the Israeli army?” I groused, throwing the covers off my legs.
“Oh, and please make coffee after you pack. I’ve got to drag the others out of bed.”
I stared at my now-empty doorway, trying to piece this together. What kind of surprise required clothes for three weeks?
I heard Jacob next door in Harry’s room, giving him the same pitch he’d given me. Good luck. Harry practically lived to sleep. I pulled a suitcase down from the top shelf of my closet, bunched up half my clothes into it, tossed in some shoes, and zipped it up. I was officially packed.
A half hour later, my brothers and I were on the street, shooting dazed looks at one another. Each of us had asked where we were going and Hugo had even threatened to fart some more if Jacob didn’t talk, but Jacob’s only response was “It’s a surprise.”
He was putting name tags on the luggage, which was lined up at the curb, and making sure the bags were all securely closed. About half a dozen horns honked, and I looked up to find C.P. comin
g toward us, crossing against the light.
“Hey, C.P.!” I said happily. “Come to—”
But she breezed right past me and basically flung herself into Harry’s open arms. They hugged for a second, then walked away from us, their heads bent close together.
“Wow, T. You got dissed,” Matty said joyfully. I shoved him as hard as I could. He didn’t flinch. I scowled over at Harry and C.P. They were hugging again and she was crying.
“Enough already!” I resisted the temptation to roll my eyes.
A livery cab pulled up at the curb—a big black SUV. “Harry! Let’s go!” our uncle shouted, getting into the front seat with the driver. Matty and Hugo climbed into the third row and I slid across the second.
Harry kissed C.P. good-bye—briefly, thank God—and got into the backseat next to me.
“Red Hook, Brooklyn,” Jacob told the driver.
Brooklyn? Not JFK or LaGuardia? Not Newark?
“Yes, sir,” the driver said.
Harry said, “Hang on a minute.”
Then he jumped out, exchanged a few words with C.P., and gave her a back-bending, tongue-twisting, totally disgusting kiss that lasted at least thirty seconds.
“Gross,” Hugo said, scrunching his face.
“Took the words right outta my mouth, Hugo,” I said, giving him a fist bump.
Matty laughed and slid his sunglasses on. “When are you two going to grow up?”
“But what about the germs, Matty?” Hugo wailed. “The germs!”
Even I had to laugh at that one.
Finally, Harry got back in the cab and slammed the door. He was grinning like an idiot. “Okay. Let’s go.”
Rolling my eyes, I Googled Red Hook, Brooklyn, on my phone, opened the link, and showed it around to the boys. “Red Hook is famous for two things. Unless we’re moving into public housing, I guess we’re going on a cruise.”
“Come on,” Harry said.
The Private School Murders Page 20
