The Twenty-Year Death

by Ariel S. Winter

  We got to the grave where several folding chairs had been arranged facing the empty hole. Mary hung onto me for support, but I felt as though I could just as easily topple over on her. I hadn’t had a drink that morning, and I was feeling shaky.

  I poured her into a seat, but continued to stand myself, facing the grave. I could feel Healey and Dobrygowski behind me, watching from their respectful distance. I began to worry that they were allowing me to attend my son’s funeral out of courtesy, and were planning to arrest me as soon as it was over. At the thought, my mouth went dry and my chest grew taut, and it was sheer exhaustion that prevented me from bolting. Exhaustion and the knowledge that making a half-hearted attempt to escape two younger men in a cordoned-off cemetery was crazy and would just make my case look worse.

  Great Aunt Alice grabbed my sleeve, startling me. She had her cane in the hand that held my sleeve, and Connie had her other arm. “Shem, help me will you?” Her back was hunched, so that she couldn’t look up at my face.

  I took her arm, and with Connie’s help, we guided her to the empty folding chair on the end, leaving two chairs between her and Mary. I insisted that Connie take one, and Mary pulled me down in the other.

  The pallbearers, along with two gravediggers in dungarees, worked the coffin onto a set of canvas straps that hung over the grave on a large stainless steel frame. When it was in place the minister began. He had asked me before the ceremony if I’d wanted to say anything, but I’d declined. He invited Mary to say a few words.

  She brought out a much-worried crinkled paper from her small handbag, and stood but did not turn, instead addressing the grave. Her voice was thin, and she had gotten through barely a sentence before she broke down in tears. She waved away any help, managed to regain herself, and continued, although I think she left a lot of it out, the writing on the paper was so small and she only spoke for another minute tops.

  Hearing Mary bawl like that nearly made me lose it too. I felt like it was kind of my fault that she had to feel that bad, but I bit down and did what I could to not let it bother me. I wasn’t going to give the cops the satisfaction of seeing me cry.

  When she finished, the minister asked us to rise. Connie and I stood, but Great Aunt Alice stayed seated, her hands propped on the top of her cane. The cemetery workmen stepped forward and began to undo the locks on the canvas straps, lowering the coffin slowly into the ground as the minister talked about dust to dust. The workmen expertly pulled the canvas straps from the grave and moved off to be unobtrusive. Mary continued to cry, and it kept making me feel worse, but I made it. All of the other funereal trappings were just trappings, things I had long ago internalized and drained of feeling.

  The minister finished, and went around the grave. The rest of the little crowd broke up, and started to make their way back to the street where the line of cars was still facing further into the interior of the cemetery. Having been closest to the grave during the ceremony, I was one of the last to leave. Palmer had waited for me.

  “Shem, it’s been a hell of a month. Just a goddamn hell of a month.”

  “Yes,” I said, not knowing what else to say.

  “We still need to meet. Could you come around to my office sometime in the next few days? I’d like to sit and talk with you a minute, let you know what’s going on with the estate.”

  “What’s going on with the estate?”

  “This isn’t the place to go into it. It’s just what we talked about on the phone. But since Joe died intestate it’s not going to be quite as straightforward as it could be. We don’t have to meet for long. You think you can swing by?”

  “When do you want me?”

  “Anytime is fine. Just drop in.”

  “Okay.”

  “You’ll do that?”

  “Okay.”

  “Good. Good.” He paused, and his voice grew much more somber. “Shem, I’m so sorry.”

  I said nothing.

  “It’s been a real hell of a month.” He clapped me on the back, rubbed once or twice, and then guided me forward with a hand on the back of my neck, leading us out. Healey and Dobrygowski were still by their car watching me, and when Healey saw that I was looking, he gave a little wave.

  Great Aunt Alice and Connie stood at the end of the path at the edge of the road. “Shem, are you coming back with me or you going back with the hearse?” Great Aunt Alice asked.

  Neither option would move quickly enough to avoid the detectives. The entire entourage had to drive forward before getting to a turnaround where they could head back. I was as good as trapped.

  While I stalled, Palmer walked past us towards his car. Mary’s parents had her in the front seat of their car, and I saw her father hand her a flask, and it made me feel awfully thirsty.

  “Well?” Great Aunt Alice said.

  The detectives started towards me, staying on the grass, out of the way of the mourners, but walking along until they were even with me. They stepped between the cars.

  “Mr. Rosenkrantz.” It was Detective Healey. “A word.”

  “Oh, enough’s enough,” Great Aunt Alice said. “If you catch us, you catch us, otherwise you can make your own way.”

  Healey and Dobrygowski were beside me then. “We won’t be long, ma’am,” Healey said, but Great Aunt Alice didn’t even look at him. He turned to me. “I’m sorry to be doing it like this, Mr. Rosenkrantz. This isn’t really the place for it.”

  “No, it isn’t,” I said. My stomach was in my throat, but I tried to make my expression fierce.

  “It won’t take a minute. You haven’t heard anything of Ms. Abrams?”

  “Ms. Abrams?” I said, and my shoulders dropped and my knees went weak. They weren’t going to arrest me. Not just then anyway.

  Dobrygowski gave a little ‘huh’ at that to show he was amused.

  “You were staying with a Victoria Abrams at the Somerset,” Healey said.

  “Right. Vee.” I turned to Dobrygowski, making sure to look him in the eyes. I just needed to be indignant, the way that anyone would be if the cops showed up at their son’s funeral. “Maybe you remember all your friends by last name five minutes after you bury your son.”

  He held up his hands palms out in apology, but he didn’t look sorry. “I didn’t mean anything.”

  “He didn’t mean anything,” Healey said, giving him a chastising look. He turned back to me. “Have you heard from her?”

  Up and down the row of cars, engines came to life.

  “I haven’t heard from Vee,” I said, trying to decide how to play this. It was probably best not to deny the relationship, but to deny everything else. “I’m worried. Why? Is she okay?”

  “Sure, she’s fine,” Dobrygowski said. “Just peachy.”

  “We don’t know,” Healey said. “We’re looking for her.”

  “What’s your relationship with Victoria Abrams?” Dobrygowski said.

  “She’s my girl—She, we’re...We live together.” I decided to switch back to anger. “What’s this all about? You come out to the cemetery, pester me at my son’s funeral, in front of all of my family, my friends.”

  “You don’t really have much family left,” Dobrygowski said.

  “Listen, you,” I said, forcing myself to take a step towards him, all the while my heart beating so hard I could hear the blood in my ears. “I’ve had just about enough—”

  Healey put his hand out as if to block me. “You’ll have to forgive Dobrygowski.” He looked at his partner. “That was uncalled for.”

  Dobrygowski gave another ‘huh.’

  “Did you know that she also goes by the names Nancy Martin and Michelle Grant?” Healey said.

  I swung around to face him. “How would I know? I don’t know. She did?” It wasn’t that much of a surprise that Vee had other names, but I was flustered by the fact just the same.

  “We got a pretty interesting rap sheet from Cleveland on her.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “I don’t care.”

 
; “Oh, but you might care about this,” Dobrygowski said. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure you’ll care. When ‘Vee’ went by Nancy Adams there was a fire in her house. This was in the suburbs right outside of Cleveland.” I waited for it. “There was this fire and her husband was killed.”

  17.

  They watched for a reaction to that. “Her husband?” I said, confused.

  “You didn’t know she was married before?”

  “What do you mean before? I didn’t know she was married ever.”

  A horn honked, and I jumped bringing my hand to my chest. The police looked back at the car we were standing in front of just as the car to our other side pulled away. The caravan was moving again. We stepped off onto the grass.

  “Look, I need to go,” I said. “I can’t handle this right now.”

  “Of course, of course,” Healey said. “Just a few more questions. We can take you anywhere you need when we’re done.”

  I didn’t like that, but it was probably better to get it over with.

  They took my silence for assent. “So Vee, Nancy, Ms. Abrams. You didn’t know about her husband.”

  “I just told you I’d never heard of Nancy whatever-you-said or this other name. I don’t understand what this has to do with me.”

  “Please, don’t get upset, Mr. Rosenkrantz. I know you’ve got a lot on your mind. We’re sorry to have to tell you more.”

  “I don’t understand,” I said again, but then I flashed on it. Vee had used the murder/arson combination before. How could she be so stupid! I proceeded cautiously. “So what are you saying? Vee killed her husband and set the house on fire?”

  “There were those who thought that,” Dobrygowski said.

  I looked at him, and he gave me a steel look back. I had been wrong to dismiss him as an oaf. If there was any danger of being found out, it would come from him, not Healey. Healey came on with all of the talking, but he was a good guy at heart. He didn’t want to do it. It was just his job. I knew how that was. But Dobrygowski...I knew his kind too, they got an idea and they never let go.

  “There was some question with the insurance company,” Healey went on. “And the police there—it was just a small town—they just weren’t sure, but they weren’t going to give anything to that insurance company, so they wouldn’t get behind the murder theory, and the insurance company paid up and that was that.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Just that it’s a funny coincidence,” Dobrygowski said.

  “Funny!” I flared, and I didn’t care if I was overreacting.

  Healey put his hand out again to restrain me. “He didn’t mean anything by it, Mr. Rosenkrantz.”

  “I didn’t mean anything by it,” Dobrygowski said.

  I took deep breaths and tried to count to ten in my head. If I lost my temper, I was liable to do something stupid.

  “You’ve just become very rich,” Dobrygowski said. “That must be some consolation to you.”

  “What consolation?”

  “We spoke to Mr. Palmer,” Healey said. “He told us that your son doesn’t have a will. That you stand to come into a lot of money. The family might contest it, of course, but that’s something.”

  I had to be careful here. “I just lost my son, and you’re talking about money,” I said.

  “I’m sorry. I know it’s crude. It’s an unpleasant job.”

  “So I’ve heard,” I said.

  “You didn’t know about the money?”

  “Palmer just told me now. But not before.”

  They switched back to Vee.

  “So you lived with Victoria Abrams?” Dobrygowski said.

  “Why?” I said, narrowing my eyes.

  “We just want to establish what she might have to gain.”

  So they knew. “Yes, we live together. In San Angelo.”

  “So she could expect to see some money if it came your way.”

  “She could, but she wouldn’t be getting any. She won’t be getting any.”

  “No?” Dobrygowski said.

  I crumpled my features into a question. I needed to still look confused. I needed to be stupid.

  “Do you know where Victoria Abrams is?” Healey said.

  “No, I don’t.” It was technically true. They weren’t asking where she had moved when we checked out. Just where she was now. “Why?”

  “Can you believe this guy,” Dobrygowski said.

  I made as though it had just dawned on me then. “You think she killed my son and set his room on fire?”

  There was an uncomfortable silence. “So you have no idea where she is?” Healey said.

  And Dobrygowski jumped in, “Did you know her boyfriend was Carlton Browne, a well-known gangster here in Calvert? Her other boyfriend, I mean.”

  “I...” The caravan of cars had turned and was almost upon us on its way back out of the cemetery. “I...I’m sorry, I’ve told you what I know. And quite frankly, right now, I don’t want to know any more of what you know.”

  “Why’d you leave the Somerset?” Healey said.

  I stepped towards the road. Great Aunt Alice’s car was almost upon us. “Because Vee’s boyfriend found out about me,” I said, my eyes on the cars.

  Healey took a step towards me to try to recapture my attention. “So you think she’s with Browne?”

  Great Aunt Alice’s car was abreast of us now, and slowed. I walked to the rear door, relieved to have an excuse to be done with them.

  “Don’t you want to know what happened to your son?” Healey said behind me.

  I jerked open the front passenger door. “I know he’s dead,” I said. “Isn’t that enough?” I slammed the door behind me. I could feel both detectives watching me as we pulled away, but I kept my eyes forward.

  Yeah, I was stone cold. On the outside. But in fact I was badly shaken. Only days before it had sounded as though things were exactly as Vee had said they would be. Now it sounded like the police knew just about everything.

  I got angry. Vee had done this before! Why hadn’t she told me? How would I have handled it if she had? Badly. Very badly. Like I said, I’m not one for physical altercations, believe me, I’m not. But she still should have told me. Of course the police would put two and two together with something like that in her past. I thought Vee was too smart to make such an obvious mistake. But she had. She’d used the same ploy twice, and now they were on to her for it.

  And then it hit me. They were on to her for it. They thought she’d done it. For all of Dobrygowski’s innuendo, they had only asked about her. Because if they’d asked at the hotel, they’d know that I’d come back that night before the fire could have started. Because I had. And if the deskman told them that, he’d probably also told them that Vee had gone out. She’d had a car brought up from the garage. The garage people would remember that, too, that time of night. If the police thought Vee had done it, well, then part of her plan had worked. The important part. The part about me.

  But probably it was just a matter of time until they stumbled upon me. And when they did, I was going to be arrested. And thinking more on it, I was pretty certain they had the death penalty in Maryland. Sure they did. I was going to die here, and there went all of the Rosenkrantzes in one fell swoop. No, not all. Clotilde in her clinic out west was one more. What would become of her?

  I had to warn Vee. The way they’d get me for sure was if they got her. She’d spill everything, especially if she thought it might save her.

  At Great Aunt Alice’s I went right up to my room. I called the Somerset. The front desk answered after only one ring. “Somerset Hotel. How may I assist you?”

  “I’d like to reach a party in Suite 12-2,” I said. For some reason I knew that I shouldn’t ask for Vee by name.

  “Of course, sir.”

  There was a dead click, and then the phone was ringing. “Hello?”

  It was a man’s voice. I couldn’t tell if it was Browne’s or someone else’s. My tongue was frozen. If it was Bro
wne, the last thing Vee needed was for him to know I was calling. I hung up the phone without saying anything.

  I lay back on the bed and tried to think it through, only my mind was caught on a loop thinking the same thing over and over. Vee needed to be moving, she needed to get out of Calvert, and she needed to get as far away as she could, because with that other incident in her past where she’d used arson to cover up murder, there was no way that they wouldn’t try to hang Joe’s death on her now. How could she be so stupid to use the same scheme? She needed to get out of Calvert. I needed to get through to her, and she needed to get moving. How could she be so stupid?

  When it got where I couldn’t stand it anymore, I tried the hotel again. Twice. And each time the desk would put me through to Browne’s suite and a man would answer the phone and I’d hang up and start my worrying all over. After the third call, I decided that a whole bunch of hang-ups would be just as bad for Vee as if I were to say who was calling so I resigned myself to waiting until I saw her at our rendezvous the next day. And my thoughts circled and circled all night.

  18.

  The next day was overcast. Thick ash clouds blocked the sun, but they didn’t do one thing to help with the heat. Instead they just trapped the humidity, making the day heavy and draining. I walked from Great Aunt Alice’s and arrived at the Somerset ahead of our meeting with a sheen of sweat covering my whole body, my shirt stuck to my back. I took out my handkerchief and wiped my brow and the back of my neck and put it away. My nerves were as frayed as they could be, thinking on it all night, and the only thing that kept me from ducking into the bar for a drink was my heartburn, so bad I thought I might throw up.

  Since I was early, I went to the desk to check if I had any messages. I’d asked for them to be forwarded to Great Aunt Alice’s—that’s how the police had found me last week—but I thought it was odd that I hadn’t gotten any messages from anybody. I didn’t recognize the man at the desk. They had an awful lot of people working there.

  “I just checked out about a week ago,” I said. “I was wondering if I had any messages that might not have reached me. My name’s Shem Rosenkrantz. I was in room 514.”