Writing a Wrong

by Betty Hechtman

  ‘I offered to send him the letters by email, but he didn’t want to do it that way. So we arranged it so that he’d come to my place and print up what I’d created for him.’ I shrugged again. ‘I’m in a service business, so whatever the client wants.’

  ‘Could I see one of the letters?’ Ben asked.

  ‘Why not?’ My client had always deleted what I’d written for him after he’d made any changes and printed them up. But it was my habit to always create a backup copy, so I had copies of everything I’d done for him. We went into my office and I pulled up one of the early letters I’d done. Ben read it over my shoulder.

  Dearest One,

  You have made me believe in love at first sight. From the moment our eyes met, I sensed something phenomenal had just happened. And now that we’ve spent more time together there is no doubt in my mind that you are the one. It probably sounds selfish, but it is all about how I feel when I’m with you. It is as if my whole world went from black and white to technicolor. I only hope you feel the same. I look forward to getting to know everything about you. I long to toast the sunset with you and welcome the sunrise with you, too, my dear.

  Xoxo

  ‘The rest of the letters were similar, but lately he’d also been having me write short notes that he either left around for her or mailed. He said they were to remind her of him during his travels. They said things like, It’s hard to get through a Monday without seeing you. I quoted lines from poems and songs.’

  ‘Is that what women want?’ Ben asked.

  I shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Personally, I’m more of an “actions speak louder than words” type.’

  He looked at me and smiled. ‘Wow, you uttered a cliché.’

  I hung my head. ‘Here’s another one – guilty as charged. The trouble is they just say things in such a quick way. So, there you have the whole story.’ I picked up my coffee mug. ‘Well, almost.’ I told him about how I’d found out Ted’s address.

  ‘I hope that doesn’t mean that you’ve decided to play detective again.’

  ‘I suppose I have. I need to make sure that detective doesn’t try to pin it on me.’

  ‘I understand, but you might do yourself more harm than good if he thinks you’re interfering with his case.’

  ‘Spoken like a brother cop,’ I said.

  ‘I’m just trying to help. By the way, do you think that engagement party is going to include dancing? I have the weekend off. Maybe we could do some more research.’

  NINE

  Saturday morning I was sitting at my computer, starting to work on the assortment of clients. Even though I hadn’t gotten a response from Haley about my proposal, I felt confident that she was going to go ahead with hiring me. I was already rethinking what she was calling the place. I thought that having ‘ice cream’ in the name of the shop gave people the expectation of pastel colors and traditional flavors, but the inside had a high-tech look and she seemed bent on having odd flavors. I thought of suggesting either The Frozen Experience or maybe The Taste Experience. As a joke to myself I thought of I Can’t Believe It’s Ice Cream. I’d keep that one to myself, since Haley didn’t seem to have much of a sense of humor about how weird her flavors were. I hoped she’d rethink going ahead on a Caesar salad flavor. Just thinking about it made me gag.

  But that wasn’t my business, was it? I was just hired to write some copy, not give her advice. It was my tendency to get too involved with my clients. I had to remind myself not to care too much.

  I started brainstorming about how to describe the place. How to make it clear that it wasn’t an old-time ice-cream parlor, but rather a taste experience. I stopped and thought about how Haley saw herself. She seemed to view herself more as a food scientist than a treat provider. When I’d asked her if she kept a list of the recipes for the different flavors, she called them formulas.

  I reached a dead end for now and decided to let it go for the moment and moved on to describing the flavor I’d tried. I came up with the description of a delightful mélange of your favorite breakfast items. Bite-size pieces of buttermilk pancakes laced with amber maple syrup, wrapped in frozen sweet cream and finished with a sprinkling of crispy bits of maple-wood-smoked bacon.

  I saved the file and closed it, opening up the one I’d set up for LaPorte’s menu items. I thought back to the chopped vegetable salad and typed in a mélange of carrots, peas, corn, beans and more swirled in a creamy dressing with a hint of curry. I stared at the word mélange and made a mental note not to repeat it too much in other descriptions. I thought of possible substitutes like ‘mixture’, ‘combination’, and ‘symphony of’.

  I sat back in my chair, considering what to do next. I could see the hard copy of the chapters of the second Derek Streeter mystery sitting on the bookshelf. It was easier to ignore a file on my computer, but the actual pile of papers was a persistent reminder. I pulled out the last few pages to see where I’d left Derek. When I saw that I’d stopped in mid-sentence, I remembered I’d read something suggesting it was good to stop in the middle of a scene or sentence because it was easier to pick up when you next went to work on it. That might work if it was a matter of one day to the next of working on the manuscript, but not when it was weeks. Maybe even many weeks. I had to go back a number of pages to figure out what was going on with my detective and his current murder.

  I’d made Derek a thoroughly modern private investigator in terms of his attitude, but he still relied on his instincts and observations rather than a bunch of technological tools.

  The story had him hired by a man who thought his scientist wife was selling secrets to the enemy. Since who-knew-who’d be an enemy of the US when the book came out, I decided to make up a country. She was working for Urlandia, which was located somewhere near Russia and China. I was going to call it The Girl with the Valuable Vial. I realized that I probably should have said woman, but it didn’t roll off the tongue the same way Girl with … whatever I chose to put after it. I was about to attempt to finish the sentence I’d left half done, when my cell phone rang.

  I didn’t even get out a hello before Ben said, ‘Help!’ The word help was enough to send a surge of adrenalin, but it was somewhat tempered by his tone which didn’t sound like it was a true emergency.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ I asked, sitting straighter.

  ‘My sister left me alone with Mikey. Quentin’s father had a heart attack and they rushed off to the hospital. She left a lot of instructions, but Mikey isn’t cooperating, even when I used my cop voice. Could you come downstairs?’

  I saved my work and went down to the second floor. Ben had the door open. Mikey was holding on to his leg, wearing only a shirt with a teddy bear on it and a diaper that dangled on one side.

  ‘I tried to change his diaper, but he wouldn’t cooperate. The best I could do was stick the wet one back on.’

  ‘So, since I’m a woman, I’m supposed to be a diaper-changing expert?’

  He nodded with a sheepish expression.

  I was hardly an expert, but I’d done my share of babysitting. I peeled Mikey off of his leg and took him into his room. I used my old trick of telling the toddler that I needed his help. I had him in a dry diaper in no time and dressed in pants. Ben gave us a smile and a thumbs up when we emerged a few minutes later.

  ‘I’m supposed to feed him, too,’ Ben said, pointing toward the kitchen. I used more stuff from my babysitting days and made peanut butter and jelly pinwheel sandwiches.

  ‘Can I have one?’ Ben said, watching as Mikey grabbed one of the circle-shaped slices in each hand.

  I made another sandwich and sliced it up. Ben watched as if I was a super magician.

  ‘Sara said something about taking him out for a walk,’ Ben said between bites. ‘My compliments to the chef.’ He held up one of the slices before popping it in his mouth.

  ‘Are you saying you want me to go with you?’ I said and he nodded.

  ‘I am embarrassed to admit that I am befuddled by a three-year
-old. It would be so much easier if I could give him a beer and a salami sandwich and we could watch basketball together.’

  I got my jacket and we gathered up Mikey and his stroller and headed outside.

  It was another reminder-that-spring-was-on-its-way day. There was no need to zip my jacket or add a hat and gloves. Ben had no problem unfolding the umbrella stroller and Mikey climbed into it.

  We didn’t mention a destination, but I must have still been in Derek Streeter mode because, without any conscious effort, I directed us to the red-brick high-rise that Ted had listed as his address.

  There were no cop cars this time. The building was on a corner with two wings and a grassy area with trees in between. I knew the apartment number was 406 and looked up at the fourth floor, wondering which windows had belonged to him.

  We were almost past the building when a black Crown Victoria pulled up to the curb and I saw the driver. I nudged Ben. ‘That’s his car. Detective Jankowski, the one who came to my place.’

  We kept walking, but I looked back. The detective got out of the driver’s side and a woman got out of the passenger side. She seemed about my age and there was something haphazard about her appearance. Her honey-colored hair was pulled back into a tiny ponytail and it looked like she was wearing sweats under her coat. ‘I bet she’s connected to Ted,’ I said, staring at her. ‘The fact that Detective Jankowski brought her here makes me think she lives in the building. Maybe Ted’s neighbor.’ I realized it sounded kind of random, so I explained that I’d found out Ted’s address.

  Ben tried to get me to turn away. ‘He probably took her in for questioning and is bringing her back. The apartment would have been taped off and she had to stay somewhere else.’

  ‘You got all that from a few glances at her?’ I said, impressed.

  ‘I might have cheated a bit. I called in a favor and got some inside information. I’m assuming she’s the one who found him. Her name is Rita Sandusky and they were living together.’

  I looked at her more intently. ‘She must have been the one who got the letters.’

  ‘I don’t know about that, but it appears he interrupted a burglary and got stabbed with a knife from the kitchen.’

  ‘How do they know he interrupted a burglary?’ I asked.

  ‘If you notice, I said it appears he interrupted a burglary. The place had been tossed.’ He looked at me intently. ‘That’s cop talk for ransacked.’

  ‘I know what the word means,’ I said. ‘Derek Streeter said it in The Girl with the Golden Throat.’

  ‘That’s right, you did,’ Ben said.

  I stopped and looked at him. ‘You read The Girl with the Golden Throat?’

  ‘Yeah,’ he answered with a smile. ‘When my sister gave me the series of workshops, I wanted to see what kind of person was leading them. It was good, but speaking as a cop, I hate to see an amateur out-think a professional.’ He added a little chuckle to the last comment. ‘Ed could learn a lesson or two from you. The way you described Derek’s encounters with his client were pretty hot without being obvious.’

  I felt kind of weird. It hadn’t occurred to me that anyone in the group had read my book, least of all him. I suppose it was fair play since I got to look at their writing and I felt myself blushing, but I didn’t let it deter me from taking in what was going on around me.

  I took a last look back, inadvertently making eye contact with Detective Jankowski. There was no doubt he recognized me. I started to walk faster. ‘The detective made me.’ I leaned toward Ben. ‘That’s detective talk for recognized.’

  Ben rolled his eyes just as Mikey decided to jump out of the stroller and took off down the sidewalk.

  ‘Didn’t you belt him in?’ I said.

  ‘I forgot and please don’t tell my sister,’ he said as the two of us ran off after the toddler.

  My front door didn’t do much of blotting out the noise in the hall and I heard Sara’s and Quentin’s voices when they returned. We’d caught up with Mikey and secured him in the stroller for the ride home. All the activity had left Mikey worn out and, when I’d left to go upstairs, he was asleep on the floor, hugging a stuffed animal.

  I’d gone back to my computer as soon as I’d gotten home and been so inspired by our little adventure that I went right back to working on the Derek Streeter book, and was so deep in it that I jumped when I heard someone at my front door.

  Ben was standing with his fingers to his lips when I opened it. I motioned for him to come in and closed the door behind him. ‘You can speak now,’ I said with a smile.

  He led me out of the entrance hall into the living room. ‘Sara thinks I went home,’ he said, finally feeling free to speak. ‘We talked about taking another shot at checking out couple’s behavior. As long as I’m here and it is Saturday night.’

  I saw his point but, before I responded to it, I asked about Quentin’s father. It turned out the heart attack had seemed mild and the prognosis for now looked good. ‘So, what do you say we get some dinner and check out the other diners?’

  ‘Well, as long as you’re here and it is dinner time,’ I said, going to get my coat. ‘The funny thing is that we probably both instinctively know the moves, and if we were a real couple we’d just do it naturally.’

  ‘But we’re not,’ he said, ‘and I’m not a smooth operator like your dead client.’

  We decided to stay local and go to the Mezze down the street. We were sure to encounter a lot of students on dates and our attire was fine. He was dressed for Mikey duty in well-broken-in jeans and a long sleeve teal blue knit shirt. I had on dark wash jeans and a black turtleneck. We both were wearing sneakers. We tiptoed down the stairs, barely holding in chuckles as we passed Sara’s door.

  As we walked toward the sunset, the Unitarian Church steeple was in silhouette and the carillon from Rockefeller Chapel was chiming. We had to wait for a table at the Mezze. I used the time to examine the body language of the people waiting with us.

  I nudged Ben and pointed with my shoulder to the couple in front of us. He had his arm hanging over her shoulder. ‘I like that. It somehow says they’re close and comfortable with each other,’ I said.

  ‘Like this?’ Ben said, putting his arm around my neck so it dangled along my arm. The woman in front of me leaned her head toward the guy and I did the same. ‘I think we found something.’ And then we both sort of freaked at our closeness and he abruptly retracted his arm as I pulled my head away.

  We finally got a table and ordered burgers. His was meat and mine a plant-based version. Then we started glancing around at the crowd. I offered to take notes.

  ‘To your right,’ he said. I turned and saw a couple sitting adjacent to each other at the next table. ‘Look how close they’re sitting. They are definitely in each other’s bubble of space.’

  ‘Very good,’ I said, scribbling it down. When I looked up, I nudged him. ‘That spells true love.’ The couple at another table were sharing a piece of apple pie. She had finished the portion on her plate and glanced at the hunk still sitting on his. He glanced up at her and smiled as he transferred the piece to her plate. ‘If you’d had their apple pie you’d understand. It’s that delicious,’ I said.

  I looked toward the front and was surprised to see Tizzy come in. She glanced around the tables and when she saw me, her face lit in a smile. Then she saw who I was with and her eyebrows went up as she came over to the table.

  ‘I’m picking up a pizza. I thought it would be ready,’ she said. ‘Love the thick crust, but it takes so long.’ She had stopped next to my seat. ‘Mind if I join you while I wait?’

  ‘Of course,’ I said as Ben pulled out the chair next to him. I realized any moment she was going to make a comment about Ben and me being there together, so I stepped in before she could and told her about Ted.

  ‘The dreamboat? He’s dead?’ she said, surprised. ‘Did he live in that high-rise a few blocks over?’ I nodded in answer. ‘That must have been why there were all the cop cars. Wha
t happened?’

  Ben and I exchanged glances and it was clear he wanted me to answer. I told her what I knew, but she seemed disbelieving. ‘Stabbed with a kitchen knife and his girlfriend is the one to find him. Sounds pretty convenient for her. What were you doing for him?’

  There was no reason to keep it a secret now, so I told her. ‘You think the letters were for his girlfriend?’ she asked.

  ‘Maybe, probably.’ I felt my shoulders slump. It was a reminder that I had compromised my way of doing business with him. ‘He barely told me anything about the person the letters were for. I will never do that again,’ I said. ‘If someone wants love letters, I’m going to know who I’m writing them to and what kind of person they are.’

  The hostess waved at Tizzy and she got up. ‘Pizza’s ready. See you Tuesday.’ She walked off in a purposeful manner.

  ‘It’ll be all over the neighborhood by then,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘I probably shouldn’t have told her about the love letters or the mistake I made.’

  Ben smiled. ‘There’s the Internet and then there’s Tizzy.’

  After my observation about the apple pie, we shared a piece, though we kept to our own portions. When the check came, he went to take it, but I objected. ‘We could split it,’ I said.

  He shook his head. ‘I was brought up to believe the guy pays.’

  ‘But that’s if it’s a date,’ I said.

  ‘But you helped me with Mikey,’ he said, still holding on to the check. He finally agreed to let me leave the tip.

  We walked back to my building and stopped out front. When I glanced up the street, I saw Ed approaching. No doubt on his way to the market around the corner. I dreaded having another member of the writing workshop see us together. Particularly Ed. He was the most likely to say something embarrassing, but it was too late to duck inside. He stopped next to us, looking us both over with what could be best described as a leer. ‘You two together on a Saturday night. What’s going on here?’ he said, adding an all too obvious wink.

  ‘Nothing,’ we said in unison. Ed rolled his eyes and went on to the corner.