by Angela Zeman
“If she didn’t love Solly, maybe she couldn’t stand the thought of marrying him,” I blurted.
Mrs. Risk and Michael turned together to look at me. Mrs. Risk’s brow puckered in distraction as she shrugged off my reasoning. Apparently they both considered unwillingness to marry a weak motive for murder.
“Did you look into Simon Lutz’s finances?” I finally asked, both to break the silence and to change the subject.
“No. Should I?” Michael asked. He led the way to his car.
“He told me she was one of the few performers he’d be willing to give up his agency for. To manage her like Solly did. Roselle told me he doesn’t make good money. And Pearl tends to stick to her old friends. We saw him this morning at Pearl’s house, helping her rehearse. He told us in front of her that he knows what’s good for Pearl. And Pearl’s used to having a manager to lean on. Well, look at Solly’s estate! Pearl made him rich, didn’t she?”
“Yeah,” said Michael with a sigh, just before he slammed the door behind me as I crawled into his back seat. “She sure did.”
“Rachel,” Mrs. Risk murmured to me while Michael circled the car to get in on his side. “We must talk. And you’d better make plans to spend the Saturday and Sunday after Thanksgiving at Krasner’s with me.”
“On the best shopping days of the year? That’s a big favor I’d be doing you. But no problem,” I said. “If you tell Michael about the box you found.” I folded my arms across my chest.
She swiveled to get a clear look at me, then turned back around with a sigh. “When the time comes.”
“When hell freezes over?”
“Not quite that soon, dear.”
21
MICHAEL DROPPED US AT my car. We drove off, waving benignly as he watched us exit the parking lot. Seconds later, she opened fire.
“What was the meaning behind that free-for-all burst of speculation at lunch? Since you didn’t bother to discuss it with me first, I can only surmise it was done for Michael’s benefit for a reason you’ve harbored in your largely unused mind.”
“You know, I’m getting tired of your snide references to my mind,” I said, fuming.
We were barreling up the road, if an old Corvette with a long wish list of repairs could be said to barrel, towards Bella’s house (on Mrs. Risk’s instructions.)
“I agree,” Mrs. Risk said, nodding, even though she was stiff with anger. “I apologize. I mustn’t castigate you for lack of formal training, especially since I’m the one who’s undertaken to remedy that lack.”
“So you admit it! Without asking how I felt about it first, too!”
“YES, yes. I suppose. But to lay possibly damaging conjectures out for Michael, to dump them in his lap without first—”
“I don’t think it’s right to conceal things from him, like you with Pearl’s stupid box!”
“Pearl had no idea whose box it was, you saw her reaction!”
“Pearl’s in show business! She lies for a living! She’s lied to us over and over, and you know it! Where’s all that hokey ‘we’re all just looking for the truth,’ if you hide things from Michael? Don’t you trust him? He’s damn near smart as you!”
“NO, HE’S NOT!”
“HAH! You just admitted your own conceit!” I gripped the wheel with both fists to give them something to do and hung on tight. In a supreme effort for self-control I lowered my volume and eased up on the gas.
“You are the most swollen headed,” I began in a reasonable tone of voice. Well, I attempted to make it reasonable.
“No,” she said in a tone just as semi-controlled. “I reject that. I am not. I’m merely realistic about my own abilities. Which are formidable.”
“Oh excuse me while I toss my lunch.”
“Vulgarisms betray a lack of communication skills.”
“Vulgar is what I am, if vulgar keeps you from going to jail, leaving me—”
“Pearl is innocent!”
“You’re too blind loyal for your own good! You aren’t allowing people to be flawed. People are only themselves, not what you wish they are!”
“My God. You actually realize that? My darling, I’m proud of you!”
“Uuuhhhnnnnn!”
“Tell me again about Bella and the Inn,” she said in a suddenly genuinely moderate and good humored voice. You’d think she’d won the argument!
After a few moments of deep breathing, I managed, “I said. Bella had checked in August 1st.”
“No, I got all that. I mean, what was it you wanted to say, but stopped yourself just in time in front of Michael?”
“Oh.” I thought for a moment, unscrambling my thoughts and anger. “Well. Pearl admitted she lied to everyone about Bella’s arrival being unexpected. And she let people believe Bella stole the necklace when she hadn’t, claiming at the same time to care about Bella. Although it’s really stolen after all. Now that’s confusing.”
“Never mind. Anything else?”
“It’s just that Pearl’s lies have all been about Bella.”
“Ah. Very nicely reasoned, dear. I’d let that simmer a while if I were you, it’s very promising. Add this to your recipe: possibly the lies are not about Bella, maybe they’re with Bella. Maybe they’re into something together.”
I brightened immediately. “You’re listening to me!”
“Of course. Why would I not?”
“Sometimes I feel like you don’t. Ever.”
She patted me on the knee. “Not true. Not ever true.”
I glanced sideways at her, frowning.
“What is it, Rachel? Something’s bothering you. Not our little contretemps, I hope. My heavens, two strong people such as we, are bound to collide once in a while. Even frequently. It means nothing, I hope you know that.”
“That’s not it.” I drove on for some minutes, but she waited without speaking. I glanced at her again, unhappily. “I’m watching you hide things from Michael, and this isn’t the first time.”
“Nor the last, I’m sure,” she said mildly.
“And you’ve dealt with other people like that, too. You’re pretty flexible with the facts sometimes.”
She nodded. “Whenever circumstances demand it. But you know I deplore lies, even necessary ones.”
“You do? Well, it’s kind of hard to tell.”
“Aah,” she said softly.
“Have you ever lied to me?”
After a pause, she said, picking her words with care, “It will be difficult for you to believe me if I merely answer no, won’t it? But I haven’t. I also haven’t the means to reassure you. How can one prove blameless conversation stretching back through two years?” She sighed.
I gave a short, bitter laugh. “You mean, it hasn’t been necessary to lie to me yet, huh?”
She smiled. “I suppose that’s it. The reason it hasn’t been necessary is because you’re the woman you are. You’re strong, clear-visioned, tough, thoroughly honest, with highly sensitive instincts, and a magnificent heart. We have no need for lies between us. Which is only one of many reasons I treasure you as a person and as a friend.”
I rubbed my eyes because the glare from the road was making them water. “I want a deal,” I declared.
“You want what?”
“A deal. That you be straight with me. All the time. Okay? Not even ‘lies by omission,’ like you called them.”
She squirmed in her seat. “Well, but you can get awfully headstrong. Taking off on your own, running counter to my plans when you think you know better. Events might force me to withhold information under certain—”
I howled with incredulous laughter, interrupting her. “Thinking I know better? Headstrong? Aren’t you talking about the wrong one here? That’s you, not me.”
Mrs. Risk’s chin lifted. “That may be your impression.”
“Well, to be fair, maybe both of us. Anyway. No lies, no omissions, no tiptoes behind my back. And what you said brings up another thing. You act like you’re the general and
I’m the lowest private in your army. No more issuing commands.”
“I suppose you won’t listen to reason about this.”
“No.” I gave her a sidelong glance, smiling. “You know how headstrong I can be.”
Mrs. Risk sighed. “Very well. I can only hope this foolish agreement won’t lead to disaster.”
“Yes. You’ll just have to hope.”
We turned into Bella’s driveway in time to witness Steve Graham popping out through Bella’s front door as if he’d been pushed. From the expression on his face, he felt pushed as well as looked it.
We exited the car in a hurry to intercept him. As soon as recognition dawned as to who we were, his sprint became a dead run for his car, which was parked out on the street.
Just when I thought I’d have to tackle him, Mrs. Risk pronounced, “Steve!” Stopping him in his tracks with that commanding tone of voice that she used so effectively, no volume required. I hope someday to learn how to do that.
He swiveled on his heel with shoulders hunched up around his ears, like a schoolboy caught doing something unusually despicable.
“Yes, Mrs. Risk,” he said. His eyes, pathetic and dark-circled, blinked rapidly. A breeze ruffled his silky brown hair and slung one end of his tie over the shoulder of his crumpled Burberry.
“Are you having difficulties with Bella?” she asked sympathetically.
“Not, uh, exactly.” He cast a longing glance at his car.
“What are you doing here?”
He fidgeted. “I had something I wanted to … I … Bella doesn’t …”
“Maybe I can be of help?”
“I doubt that, Mrs. Risk.” Looping the handle of his slim briefcase on his wrist, he clasped his hands tightly as if praying for release from Mrs. Risk’s iron will.
She leaned forward and her hand hovered as if she wanted to smooth his hair. “I’m sure that whatever it is, Pearl would want you to confide in me.”
I rolled my eyes at that one. You might as well tell her now and get it over with, I informed him in silent sympathy.
She continued serenely, “But if you’d rather not, I quite understand. I have no desire to pry into a confidential situation between you and your client.” She smiled gently, like a benediction.
The tension flowed from his body. His shoulders lowered to a more natural level and he straightened his back—poor unsuspecting boy.
She added, “You know, of course, that Pearl and Bella are under increasingly serious suspicion. You might have been warned that I’m helping the police gather evidence to arrest Pearl, but I think you’re an astute enough judge of character to cast that slander aside. Yes, you should never betray a confidence. Even if what you know might help us save Pearl.”
Wham. I don’t know boxing, but I know a knockout punch when I witness one.
Up went the shoulders again, squeeze went the tangled fingers, white went the knuckles. Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four … He folded.
“I TOLD them to tell the police,” he blurted. “I can’t be a part of this.” I thought he was going to cry. His face went as white as the clouds flitting through the blue sky overhead.
“I’m just not BUILT to conspire.”
“Darling.” She took his trembling arm by the elbow. “We’ll go somewhere quiet and talk. No, her car’s an abomination. We’ll take yours. Give Rachel your keys, dear. You’re in no state to drive. You’re lucky we’re here, you might have had an accident!”
I drove his Volvo. They sat in back together as if she was unwilling to break physical contact with him for even the short ride. She coddled the battle-fatigued accountant into one of East Hampton’s choicer pubs and ordered a bottle authoritatively. Well, she does everything authoritatively.
He gulped down about four ounces and we waited until he could breathe again. She refilled his glass and commanded him to sip, not gulp.
After blood began flowing more freely to his brain, although somewhat anesthetized now, he began to talk:
“I’ve been so frantic. Those women.”
“Bella and Pearl?” suggested Mrs. Risk.
“Yes. You see, I was thrilled when Marvin told me that one of his best and oldest clients was Pearl Schrafft. In fact, he said she was mainly responsible for him getting his company started. The Borscht Pearl, can you imagine it? ME, being HER accountant. I mean, she’s such a terrifically funny lady, the whole world loves her. You know what I mean. And he said I had to get to know her. Some day I’d be holding a full partnership in the firm and I had to meet all the clients.
“And then shortly after that—” He looked miserable again. “Marvin had his heart attack and died. It was such a shock, coming so soon. I mean, sure he told me he had a tricky heart, whatever that means. He said it was bad genes. He was really philosophical about it. He was a happy guy, you know, really crazy about his wife, which I thought was so nice. Said he couldn’t ask for more out of life. I just didn’t expect—” he waved a hand mutely in the air. I thought he would cry for sure, now, but he gulped and controlled himself. He took a few more sips of wine.
“I didn’t know if the clients would take to me. The ones I hadn’t met. But most did. Some left the firm, sure. About twenty percent. But Ms. Schrafft—Pearl—she was so nice about me being so young.” He gave Mrs. Risk a bleary grin. “And so goy. One night she asked me to accompany her to a revue in Manhattan some of her friends were doing. ‘Catskills on Broadway’ it was called. I took my wife, and we sat with her, sixth row center. We had the time of our lives. Then she took us backstage to meet the four comedian stars. They were all so nice to us, and she said such nice things about me, it was so … so …”
“Nice,” I finished for him wearily.
“Yeah. She acted as if we’d been close friends for years instead of just having met a few weeks ago. Anyway, also backstage,” his expression began to droop again, “was a manager of a place she said was one of her favorite venues. We got to talking to each other while she was busy with her other friends, and—I guess I wanted to seem on the inside with her, so I said how I handled her accounts now, and asked, like I was entitled to know, how much he used to pay her for a show. I mean, I knew she was planning on a comeback in a few months. I guess I was showing off. Well, he didn’t mind telling me, and we discussed fees for a while.” Steve shrugged his shoulders. “Money is my business, you know? It was just something I could talk about with him.”
“And what happened, dear?” asked Mrs. Risk. Her head tilted to one side as she studied him, and I swear she knew what he was going to say.
“Well, some of the numbers didn’t seem right. They stuck in the back of my head. About two days later, I finally gave in to this little alarm that kept going off in my brain, and I dragged out Ms. Schrafft’s records. The ones from the year right before her husband died. You know, her last few shows. And there it was.” He finished off his glass, and Mrs. Risk poured him another. We both said nothing as he sipped again gratefully.
Finally he took a deep breath and continued. “I called a few other places, got the names from her income records.” He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
Mrs. Risk patted him on the elbow. “You discovered Solly had been stealing from her.”
He nodded.
She leaned back in her chair and said softly, speculatively, “Her beloved, implicitly trusted Solly. I wonder for how long.”
In a croak, Steve said, “Twelve years. It was eerie. When I told her he’d been stealing, that’s what she said. She didn’t even have to think about it. I dug back as far as I could, and unless I made a mistake, she’s exactly right.”
Mrs. Risk smiled at him. “No darling. I don’t think you’re the kind to make a mistake.”
He flushed and blinked grateful guileless eyes at her. “I try very hard,” he said humbly.
“Twelve years? Why twelve?” I asked, bewildered.
“Think, dear. What happened in Pearl’s life twelve years ago?”
I was bla
nk.
“She married her beloved Bernie,” said Mrs. Risk in a soft voice. “The love of her life. They had such a passion together. I regret so deeply that you never met him, Rachel. He would have softened your anger towards men if you could have seen one who could love a woman the way he loved Pearl.
“Remember Zoë told us how Solly wanted Pearl, waiting faithfully year after year. When she married Bernie, I can only imagine the long frustration exploding in on Solly in a twisting, igniting rage. And to continue to be with her daily, witnessing the ruin of all his hopes and dreams. I have no doubt it turned his love to hate.”
“Well, wait until you find out what they DID!” declared Steve. His head bobbled on his thin neck as if it’d become too heavy to support.
“What did ‘they’ do, dear?” asked Mrs. Risk.
“They PLOTTED. They came up with a PLAN.”
“What plan, dear?”
He shook his head unsteadily. “Not sure.”
“He’s drunk,” I said to Mrs. Risk accusingly. I slid his wine glass out of his hand and pushed it out of reach. He didn’t notice.
Her mouth tilted up in one corner. “So he is, oh dear. Order him some dessert and coffee, would you? As sweet as possible, you know the drill.”
It arrived in minutes. Chocolate fudge mousse cake and a mocha cappuccino topped with whipped cream. Mrs. Risk’s formula for quick sobriety—a blast of sugar to whip up a frenzy of insulin which would scour the alcohol out of his bloodstream in no time at all. Hey, it works.
“Now. The plan?” She leaned forward suggestively as he dug into his cake. He hadn’t even questioned its appearance.
“Well, I don’t know all of it. They made me leave when they realized I didn’t like what I heard.
“Who’s they?” I asked, confused.
“Pearl and Bella!” Steve all but shouted, whipped cream dripping down his chin. “Bella was supposed to stage some kind of fake fight with Pearl. And that would make Solly think Bella hated Pearl like he did, see? Then Bella was supposed to get him interested in her so that she could worm evidence out of him or something. It was Bella who came up with the idea. But I think she was joking, because when Pearl thought it was a terrific plan, Bella got upset. I don’t think Bella wanted to do it, but she said since she owed Pearl bigtime, she’d do her best.”
