The Witch and the Borscht Pearl

by Angela Zeman

  “Certainly, dear. Come Rachel.”

  It seemed too mousy the way Mrs. Risk descended the staircase behind Bella, but I bit my tongue to remind it to behave itself and followed Mrs. Risk. Then I noticed how Mrs. Risk kept her left hand hidden in her pocket and brightened. Maybe we hadn’t been humiliated for nothing. I cheered up and finished my wine on the trip downstairs.

  12

  AT THE SIDEBOARD (FOR refills) I asked her in an undertone what she’d found, but she gave her head a negative twitch, so I took the hint. As I turned away, I noticed a picture on the opposite wall—across a dining table easily able to seat twenty—a huge oil portrait of Solly.

  “You know, if he wasn’t wearing that modern suit, he’d look like some kind of knight or royalty,” I commented.

  Mrs. Risk turned to look. “Then you’ve never studied the portraits of royalty, dear. They’re usually an unprepossessing bunch.” After a sidelong glance at me, she added, “That means homely. But the knight comparison is apt. He does look a bit rakish.” She folded her arms and examined the portrait.

  “He was so handsome,” put in a voice, loaded with tearful passion, from somewhere by my elbow. I looked down to discover Zoë standing there with an empty glass in hand. She looked at me as if just noticing who I was, and scowled. I moved to give her access to the drinks.

  “I’ll bet lots of women thought Solly was handsome,” I ventured.

  Deep puce washed across her wizened face and she scowled at me. “Why don’t you two paskudnyika just go home?!” She stumped off back into the front room.

  “Whew, we’re on her top twenty list,” I said.

  “You struck a nerve with your usual panache,” said Mrs. Risk.

  I frowned. “Do I want to know the translation of paskud—uh—?”

  “No, dear. Not until you’re older,” said Mrs. Risk, and it gave her so much amusement to say that that I left her standing by the sideboard chuckling to herself, and followed Zoë into the front room, preferring her frank hatred to Mrs. Risk’s humor. I walked straight into a conversation between Pearl and the excitable blonde from the cemetery.

  While speaking, Pearl addressed her as ‘Viv’, which jogged my memory. I’d heard her name at the birthday party after all. This gave me the dubious pleasure of discovering that Mrs. Risk’s guess as to the blonde’s identity was—of course—correct.

  I ducked back into the dining room and hissed, “Vivian Steiner’s in here. You won your bushel of belladonna. C’mon.” Mrs. Risk coasted serenely in my wake back to Pearl’s side. I noticed some people were eating, which made my stomach growl.

  “Vivian Steiner,” Pearl said, responding to Mrs. Risk’s expectant expression, “I’d like you to meet two friends of mine, Mrs. Risk and Rachel.”

  Vivian, who at first looked uncertain whether she liked being introduced to us, perked up at the mention of my name. “You’re Jewish!”

  “You think so? Nobody ever told me.” I shrugged.

  Her eyes narrowed, puzzled. “Rachel what?” she demanded.

  “Just Rachel,” I said. I smiled at her to show her it wasn’t a gag. “That’s it.”

  “Rachel maintains the philosophy of some Native Americans, Mrs. Steiner,” commented Mrs. Risk. “When she finds a second name she likes, she’ll add it to the first one her parents gave her. In the meantime, she’s much like unshaped clay … she can become nearly anything she wishes.”

  “Excuse me,” murmured Pearl, winking at me, and she left us.

  “I confess, I had hoped to meet you here,” said Mrs. Risk. “Ilene Fox recommended that we talk.”

  “She did?” Vivian seemed taken aback at the idea. “Ilene actually spoke to you? That’s surprising. Well, it’s amazing anyone would speak to you, but especially Ilene. If you knew her, you’d know what I mean. But then, you don’t know any of us, do you.” She patted at her coiffed hair. Obviously, our reputations had spread.

  “You seemed really upset at the funeral,” I said chattily. “I can understand that. Funerals give me the creeps.”

  She fidgeted more with her hair, then blurted, “I get too emotional, I know. I just love Pearl so much.” She seemed suddenly ready to burst into tears. “I don’t see how she can stand how Bella took her place with Solly. I know I wouldn’t be able to.” She inhaled raggedly and looked away, blinking. After a minute, she regained control and added tautly, “I wouldn’t put up with Bella one more minute, myself, if it wasn’t for Pearl.”

  “Pearl’s lucky to have such a loyal friend,” I said. “But when I saw her, uh, at Solly’s dinner party, before Solly—” My mind raced, searching for a gentler phrase for ‘was murdered,’ but skipped it, finally. “Anyway, Pearl seemed okay about Bella and Solly. In fact, if anything, she looked happy about it.”

  “That’s Pearl all over,” said Viv. “Never thinking of herself. I was there when Bella popped in on Pearl’s birthday party,” she said with a snuffle. She paused to burrow in her tiny tubular purse, which was dangling open. It was covered with the same material as her dress. She pulled out a lace trimmed handkerchief and dabbed at her nose. She tucked it back into the purse, and snapped the clasp shut. It promptly popped open again.

  Her abundant bosom threatened to overflow her neckline with each breath as if the snug sheath left her inadequate room for oxygen. Quite an eyeful, for the over fifty crowd.

  “I was there, too,” I said.

  “Oh? Oh, yeah. Anyway, it was unbelievable. Waltzing into the middle of Pearl’s party like she owned the place,” she cast a glance around the room, “same as she’s acting as if she owns the place here. The chutzpah.” She sniffed again. “I couldn’t believe my eyes, at first. But there was no question who she was. Some of us knew her as a kid, and we recognized her. She recognized us, for God’s sake! Said hello, Zoë, hello, Roselle. Like she was at a goddamned supermarket opening.” She made a puffing noise with her lips.

  “Announcing that she wanted forgiveness. After thirty years, mind you. Thirty years! And then, ‘I’d like us to go off and talk about it’ she says to Pearl. Right in the middle of the goddamned party. I was so outraged on Pearl’s behalf that I told Bella she’d done the unforgivable. I’d never forgive it. After that, I had to go up to the house and lie down for a while. Why Pearl didn’t have another heart attack right then and there I’ll never understand.”

  “What happened in the house?” I asked.

  “Why, I guess she got her wish. They came in and talked a whole lot. Later I saw Pearl and Solly giving her the tour of the place, like she was going to buy it or something.”

  “Then she left?” asked Mrs. Risk.

  “I suppose. I went outside again to find a drink and I didn’t see her after that. Maybe she had to collect her things from somewhere. To move in, I wouldn’t be surprised. That’s probably what she’d planned.”

  “I heard she didn’t have any ‘things’ to collect,” I said. “That she was so poor she had absolutely nothing.”

  “Humph. Maybe nothing by her exalted standards now. She wasn’t well-dressed, I’ll give you that. A rag, she wore that day. But I haven’t seen her in it since. Somebody’s financed her a wardrobe I sure wouldn’t mind having.”

  I remembered the beautiful things hanging now in Solly’s closet. Classy stuff.

  “Did she ever move in with Pearl?” asked Mrs. Risk.

  Vivian twitched her shoulders, “Well, I shouldn’t be telling you this … but I heard that she was going to, but then never did, because of the theft of the pearl necklace. You know, Pearl’s famous necklace?”

  “Everybody knows about the necklace,” I put in. “I wish I’d seen it.”

  “You never did?”

  “Well, we were going to—uh—” I suddenly glanced at Mrs. Risk. She looked as if she were only politely listening, but her lids had lowered like a reptile’s. “Only in newspaper pictures a couple of times,” I finished hastily.

  “Yes,” said Vivian sighing dreamily. “It’s a famous piece.
The sexiest thing ever. Pearls are so—so—sensual. Maybe that’s what attracted Bella to take it in the first place.”

  “I understand that she’d never heard of the necklace until after the theft,” put in Mrs. Risk, her eyes gleaming strangely. “According to Solly, that is.”

  “Well—so maybe she didn’t know it was famous, and that’s why she took it,” said Vivian with triumph. “Not knowing that it was so recognizable, she might’ve thought she could pawn it somewhere—especially if she was so poor.”

  “Solly was convinced of her innocence,” I said.

  Vivian bristled. “Solly would believe anything told him by a woman with her clothes off.”

  Mrs. Risk’s eyebrows went up at that, but she said nothing.

  So I said, “Solly was a womanizer?”

  I expected a thoroughly venomous ‘yes’, and so was thrown off balance when she answered coolly, “Absolutely not. Solly may have mixed with women when it suited him in the past—after all, he was unmarried and a vital man. But in the last year, he had remained devoted.”

  “But devoted to whom, dear?” asked Mrs. Risk.

  Vivian looked her square in the eyes and said with a tight smile, “Why, Pearl. He was going to marry her. He’d been in love with her for years, we all knew it. He had no interest in other women until that slut slithered through the front door. She seduced him, you can count on it.”

  “Count on what, Vivian?” asked a by now familiar husky, but very feminine voice. We turned to face Bella.

  Vivian looked at Bella, her eyes like chips of green glass, and said nothing.

  “Mrs. Steiner was discussing Pearl’s birthday party with us,” said Mrs. Risk, smiling charmingly at Bella.

  “That’s the day I first met Solly,” interrupted Bella. “It’s going to be some time before I’ll be able to think of that day again,” she said with a chilly smile at Vivian. “Perhaps you could talk about something else. You know, Vivian is a fairly recent widow herself. I’m sure she can understand how I feel.”

  A tremor passed over Vivian’s body. “You’re no widow,” she said with loathing. “You barely knew him.”

  “I knew him well enough to—”

  “To what? Fuck him for money?”

  Bella’s mouth closed with a snap. After a few beats during which I could hear both her and Vivian’s breathing, she said, “I wouldn’t linger here much longer tonight, Vivian. Out of respect to Pearl and Solly both, for this one night I won’t throw you out. But if you have any feeling for them, you’ll be careful what you say from now on. Or you’ll be hearing from my lawyer.” She wheeled and left us.

  I glanced at Mrs. Risk. Mrs. Risk turned to Vivian and said softly, “Pearl seems to be very fond of her sister in spite of the turn of events, Mrs. Steiner.”

  Still gazing icily in the direction of Bella’s exit, Vivian said, “Call me Vivian. I don’t care what Pearl thinks. She’s always been too blind about people for her own good.” She glanced at Mrs. Risk and amended, “I mean, well, she’s too soft-hearted. She’s always been too soft-hearted. That’s why we all look after her so much. I gotta get something to drink. I saw some good wine behind that plonk, want some?”

  Mrs. Risk smiled gamely. “Thanks, no. I have some already.” And we watched Vivian stalk off into the direction of the dining room on her four inch heels, hips grinding, shoulders thrown back.

  “Well, there goes that theory.” I grinned at Mrs. Risk.

  “What theory?”

  “That people who appreciate good wine are a ‘breed apart.’ Could it be she’s a mongrel?”

  “Humph.”

  A tall man edged towards Mrs. Risk. He cleared his throat and smiled, capturing her attention. He had medium long silvery hair combed straight back and a trim mustache enhanced by a grey tweed suit and a tropical tan. He bent his lean body towards her, “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Bruce Altman, a friend of Pearl’s.”

  Mrs. Risk gave him her hand, which he grasped in both of his. “I’m Mrs. Risk, and this is my friend, Rachel. We’re neighbors of Pearl’s, from Wyndham-by-the-Sea.”

  He flicked his eyes my way, and then stopped to do it again, slower. After a few heartbeats of examining my face, he sighed, nodded, and returned his full attention to Mrs. Risk, evidently judging her a more available possibility, probably based on age. It’s happened to us before among older men. He hadn’t released Mrs. Risk’s hand yet. I stifled a laugh and mentally wished him luck. If he wanted to join the ranks of Mrs. Risk’s admirers, he’d find himself scrambling to be noticed. She could attract some serious romantic attention when she felt like it.

  “It’s been a devastating day, don’t you think?” he asked, still holding her hand. She finally disengaged it herself.

  I said I agreed, but he didn’t much care what I said, so I backed away and looked for more interesting pastures. Pastures. That reminded me of grazing, which reminded me of food. As I left, I heard Mrs. Risk’s voice say, loaded with intent, “You’re Pearl’s lawyer? I see. How many criminal cases have you handled before now?” I laughed out loud. He might be a lawyer, but I’d bet he’ll learn some new interrogation techniques in the next few minutes.

  I followed my nose back into the dining room and food.

  People were everywhere, so I found an unused step on the staircase about half-way up, which put me at an interesting level. I could observe the hall, the foyer, and the south end of the dining room through its door. I made myself comfortable and dug in, all the while watching.

  Pearl floated from person to person, uninterested in the food or drink, staying nowhere for more than a smile and a few sentences. She wore a fiercely determined expression that even her smiles didn’t dispel. I noticed that Dr. Savoia, although he was an aggressive socializer, kept close to Pearl wherever she went. His diligence made me uneasy, bringing back earlier suspicions that Pearl was hiding how sick she really was.

  Bella was much less chatty, and hovered close to the front door. Candles burned in holders placed here and there, and gave the atmosphere a soft warmth. Bella smoked a cigarette now and then, rolling the excess ash into the crystal bases of the candlesticks. Meticulous Solly might not’ve liked that, I thought.

  In the hall, Simon Lutz and Zoë sat submerged in earnest conversation, facing each other on dining room chairs they’d shoved against the wall. They balanced plates on their knees and juggled glasses, forks, and napkins. Everyone seemed such old and familiar friends. I felt sharply Mrs. Risk’s and my status as outsiders.

  Vivian Steiner wandered sullenly through the crowd, glass of Mrs. Risk’s cabernet in hand. Her shoes were missing. I wondered how many refills she’d had, and if she’d bothered to eat. At the foot of the staircase, she stopped and talked to a couple sitting side by side on the bottom step blocking the way.

  After a few seconds, the man grinned and the woman huffily stood and squashed herself back against the wall, allowing Vivian to flounce up the stairs. She passed me without comment or glance. I hoped Bella would spot her going upstairs, more fireworks could be enlightening. But nobody seemed to care where Vivian went. Maybe because she was Vivian and belonged here, unlike Mrs. Risk and me. Intruders.

  Leeann walked through the hall slowly, balancing a plate and a glass of some amber liquid. When she spotted Zoë and Simon, she stopped to chat. Roselle’s voice could be heard now and then from the direction of the kitchen, which was on the other side of a swinging door at the rear of the hall. She seemed to be supervising the re-warming of some casseroles that had gotten cold. I could hear her through the closed door and she wasn’t even shouting. I felt a pang of sympathy for Simon Lutz’s ears, and I’m sure the housekeeper was thrilled.

  Vivian returned. To my surprise, instead of just passing me on her way down the stairs, she plopped down on the step above me and draped her arms limply across her knees. I wouldn’t have thought her dress allowed her that much bending room. But then, from the sour aroma of her, maybe she’d just dropped a pound or two in
to the toilet.

  “Those bitches,” she wheezed. “Those bitches don’t know what they’re talking about. As if Solly would leave anything to that … that …” words, luckily, failed her. So news of the bequest had leaked.

  “How did they find out?” I asked amiably, to keep the ball rolling.

  “I told ’em,” she said.

  “Beg pardon?”

  “Mrs. Harmon told me.”

  “Who?”

  She waved a hand towards the kitchen. “You saw her. The—the—”

  “Housekeeper?”

  “Yeah. She’s in the will, too. They read it this morning. Well, not really. Not offishully. I mean, she wanted to know if she had to find another job or if she could retire. I mean, she’s old enough, for crissakes. So the lawyer, whatzizname, tole’er. Solly allays tole’er she could retire when—Well, she got it, whatever’uz coming to ’er.” She was slipping fast, losing brain cells to the alcohol. She yawned. Her breath beat Simon Lutz’s cigars.

  “And what’d the lawyer say? Can she retire?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And so Mrs. Harmon told you that Bella—”

  “Gets the rest. He had millions. Millions. I know.”

  “But the, uh, bitches that said so were wrong?”

  “No, no. I mean, they said it was natcheral. Natural. To write his will in favor of his fiancée. A real fiancée, maybe! But a bitch like that, getting her claws on all that money? They weren’t even married yet. Most men wait at least until after the honeymoon, for crissakes. Figures. Solly’s too goddamned efficient, careful as a rabbi’s mother. That Bella allus wuz lucky.”

  She scrubbed at her nose roughly, and I sat thinking about poor deluded Solly … who’d caused Pearl to be in the position she was in—broke, rudderless in her crucial comeback, and on the verge of being accused of his murder. My sympathy hardened. Millions? He hadn’t squandered much, if any, of his own nickels on Pearl’s career.

  “He wouldn’t have done it if he’d been in his right mind … outta respect—for Pearl.”