by Allan Retzky
There is a sense of controlled confusion as yet another two police cars arrive. Officers appear to mill around randomly, yet Posner suspects there is organization beyond the outward chaos.
Stern now appears as a vague shape at the very edge of Posner’s view. He is surrounded by four officers as he moves into a police car, his wrists in cuffs.
“Bastard. Fucking bastard.”
The words spew from Posner just as Bennett arrives at the car and opens the rear door.
“Time to put an end to all of this. Are you up to it?” He seems unduly solicitous considering all the trouble Posner’s put him through. At that moment another wave of grief attempts to overwhelm him. Somehow Bennett senses this and hugs him. Just like that. A hug a big brother might give him. Bennett is anything but the dashing television image of a policeman. Posner returns the hug. Now he’s ready to go ahead.
He exits the car, and they begin to walk into the woods.
“What happened there? I heard what sounded like a shot. Maybe more than one.”
“Later,” is all Bennett says.
From the corner of his eye, Posner sees a gurney being loaded into one of the ambulances. Wisdom is there and closes the rear door. Then a quick wave and the driver takes off for the trip to Southampton Hospital.
“Who was that?”
“I said later. Just keep going. We’re almost there.”
Posner’s eyes focus on the area directly ahead. A truncated focal length creates a kind of tunnel vision. All he sees is the gnarled sand pine looming ahead surrounded by a small cluster of uniformed police. When he’s within fifteen feet of the area, he notices two white-coated medical personnel and behind them an empty stretcher that rests on a gurney. He comes to a stop outside the circle of police and signals to Bennett. He stretches an arm outright towards spot on the ground that is already disturbed with the removal of a few shovelfuls of sandy soil. He sees a piece of silver plastic sticking out, nearly upright, like a marker mountain climbers leave.
“Here,” he says in a weak voice that follows his outstretched arm. “Right here.”
It’s all there. Nothing’s changed. So close to the surface Posner wonders how it ever survived undisturbed for all these months despite weather, animals, or even the occasional hiker. He’s positioned about ten feet away and watches two policemen with shovels move the soft soil from around the silver plastic. A form becomes more obvious as the surface material is removed. A departmental photographer’s camera clicks a procession of digital images.
Someone bends down and makes a small cut across the plastic. From his position he clearly sees the front of one white shoe stick out. He remembers the painted toenails and wants to be sick. He turns away just as Bennett joins him and supports an elbow.
“I think we have enough for now. Let’s take you back. First to headquarters and then where? Back to the hospital?”
“I guess so. At least for tonight.”
Bennett waves a patrolman closer and arranges for Posner to be returned to the county patrol car. Posner blindly walks in front of the policeman, his face a mask of sheer granite.
He sits alone in the car. The patrolman stands outside and speaks quietly into a handheld radio. Every few minutes the cop signs off and takes some nibble from an inside jacket pocket to chew. Posner needs to sleep. He knows it, but he is afraid of the dreams. Peace has its own price, but he doubts he will ever again find such comfort.
Bennett returns thirty minutes later. He enters the car and sits next to Posner. Two uniforms sit in front and one starts the engine and pulls out of the parking area as other vehicles still enter. He sees Posner watch the flow of traffic.
“They’ll be at it for quite a while yet.”
Posner feels insane, yet despite Sara’s death he senses a burden lifting.
Bennett leans back, pulls a small notebook from his jacket pocket and scratches something in the book with a fat ballpoint pen that was clipped to the edge. He finishes and notices Posner’s gaze as he returns the book to his jacket. He holds up the fat stubby ballpoint.
“I get them at the place where I have my stuff dry-cleaned. First pen I ever had that has a clip wide enough to fit around the notepad and not get lost. Isn’t that something?”
Posner smiles at the folksy way Bennett has let him enter his personal life. He doesn’t ask if Bennett has a family, yet assumes he must. Posner then becomes aware that he’s smiling. He leans back into the seat and sleeps, but there are no dreams.
He wakes to the muted sound of Bennett on his cell phone. Bennett looks at him and snaps the phone shut with one hand. Posner looks out the window and sees they are nearly in East Hampton. He couldn’t have dozed for long. His right arm rests just beneath the window, the hospital plastic identification tag still around his wrist. He reads his name and date of birth on the narrow plastic strip. There is also an unknown doctor’s name. He remembers nothing of his hospital admittance. He wishes he could forget that day on the Jitney just as easily, yet knows he never will.
“Feel better?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
“Good then. Let me fill you in on what’s happened. First, the body is that of Heidi Kashani. We won’t have official confirmation till the County ME’s office runs fingerprint and dental checks, but certain things in the field gave us good prelim results, like the pink-and-white dress. There was also the ID in her bag that was buried with her.”
Posner listens, but says nothing at first. All he can think of is sliding the straw bag across her body and into the plastic. And then out again to get the cell phone. And how lucky he was to have worn gloves and not leave prints. He shivers at the memory, and then speaks to quiet the images.
“What happened back there?”
“You did hear shots, two of them in fact. One of the troopers tripped over a log and discharged his weapon by accident into the ground. Another was so trigger-happy that the first round spooked him into doing the same thing. Lucky both shells hit nothing but dirt.”
“So no one was hurt?”
“Not exactly. The woman you probably saw is Heidi’s sister from Europe. She got scared by the gunshots, tripped over something and took a bad fall.”
“I saw her falling forward.”
“Well, she seems okay except for a probable broken bone in her foot, but nothing more than that beyond some facial scratches from the underbrush.”
“No one ever said she had a sister.”
“She looks a lot like Heidi. It was going to be a surprise, but things got out of hand before we could drop the bombshell on you and Stern.”
“On me?”
“It was a long shot, but you were one of the early suspects. Sorry.”
Posner exhales slowly before he looks straight up and into Bennett’s eyes.
“I think I understand. What happened to him? To Stern?”
He almost spits the name out.
“Our troopers were surrounding him. He was standing near the grave site holding a shovel as a weapon.”
“I saw that from the car.”
“When the gunshots went off and Brigid fell, he dropped the shovel and went to her. Must have thought she’d been hit. Damnedest thing I ever saw. A day before he kidnaps her and does God knows what else, and then he drops his only weapon and runs out to help her. We took him in without a struggle. All he cared about was whether she was all right.”
“What about the gun? The one he took from my house.”
“Funny guy, the doctor. He disarmed himself long before they got to the woods. It was under the back of the passenger seat in her Audi all the time he was out there with only a shovel, or a spade, if you want to be technical.”
Posner starts to speak, his mouth half open, and then stops. Some remote part of his conscience wants him to say that he could see Stern never intended to kill Sara. That it was all an accident. That Stern was holding the needle and was running out when he tripped on the stairs and fell into her. And that everything that happened to bot
h Heidi and Sara was somehow all his fault. But he says nothing. It’s easier to blame Stern for everything. Nothing he could say will bring Sara back.
“Want to say something?”
When Posner doesn’t answer, Bennett arches an eyebrow, looks away, and shakes his head. He also says nothing and tilts his head toward the window to stare at the passing village landscape and avoid further eye contact.
Posner takes in all of this. Bennett is probably thinking what a poor bastard I am. And that neither I nor Stern deserved any of this, but that’s the way things sometimes work out.
He watches the light dim as evening crawls in. Another five minutes till they get to headquarters. Another five minutes till he’ll need to face Bennett and the others and the whole process again. This time with the County people. After that it’ll all be over and back to the hospital. He shuts his eyes. He no longer needs the rest, but he’d rather not speak.
CHAPTER 30
Wisdom notes the time in his appointment book and circles it. The call came from the Austrian Consulate in Manhattan. They’ll be picking Brigid Kashani up the following day and taking her to JFK for an early evening flight to Geneva. Will he have time to see her on her way to the airport? At about two in the afternoon? She would like to say goodbye and thank him in person. Their language is all very formal and he feels his positive reply was equally proper.
As the time approaches to see Brigid, he can’t avoid having his thoughts drawn back to the case. It isn’t hard. Only ten days have gone by since the events at the Montauk Overlook. Dr. Henry Stern is undergoing psychiatric evaluation at Stony Brook Hospital Medical Center. He will likely be there for some time. The county attorney suggests that Stern will face a bevy of charges ranging from unlawful entry, auto theft, assault, battery, sexual abuse, and kidnapping relating to Brigid, and either manslaughter or murder two with regard to Sara Posner. They are still collecting evidence regarding his involvement in the death of Heidi Kashani, but murder charges are also likely in that case. Amos Posner’s observation of him at the burial site is compelling evidence together with Stern’s lack of alibi on the day she disappeared. And Stern’s countercharges against Posner sound no more than the incoherent ramblings of a cornered unstable man.
Amos Posner has been cleared of any involvement in Heidi’s death. It was never an issue. Wisdom spoke to Posner on the phone the previous day. While still distraught, he seems to be regaining some sense of emotional control. He projects guilt about the loss of his wife that initially puzzles Wisdom, until he realizes he knows nothing of their relationship and its hidden crevices. Posner did seem genuinely pleased when Wisdom tells him that both he and Bennett will be at the forthcoming funeral service, which can now occur with the release of his wife’s body.
Posner says he plans on selling the house as soon as possible and will, at some future date, be moving to northern California, as he and his wife had planned. Tomorrow he plans to come back to Amagansett from the city, where he’s been living, to go through his personal items. It is not a task Wisdom envies. Posner babbles on randomly for several minutes, but Wisdom lets him speak without interruption. At one point, Posner breaks into what Wisdom would only later describe as an ironic laugh, when he says he has heard from his lawyer that the Justice Department is dropping all of its inquiries into some past activities. Referring to his lawyer’s call, Posner keeps repeating the phrase, “This means I’m innocent,” over and over. Wisdom later thinks Posner might have referred to more than his federal issues, but he will never be sure. In retrospect Posner almost reminds him of one of those tragic figures in literature he studied in college. The poor son of a bitch inadvertently created his own mess by the simple act of speaking to a woman on a public bus. Unbelievable!
At three minutes to the hour his phone rings. Herr Weis calls from the car that they are there and parked outside headquarters.
“I’ll be right out,” Wisdom replies.
He would not think of having Brigid try to walk one extra step with a broken bone in her foot. The fall she took at the overlook could have done more damage, but she will still need a cast and crutches for another month at least. On the phone he’s tried to persuade her to stay on here to recuperate, but his suggestion was, at best, halfhearted. He knows she’ll never be able to fully relax as long as she wakes every morning to the sights and smells of the same air her sister breathed before she died, to say nothing of what she herself has gone through. She has given all the necessary depositions. She might be recalled for a trial, but the county attorney doubts it will be necessary. She dismisses the fact that she has a little time left on her lease.
No. It’s best for her to be on her way. It’s also best for him. He admits he went through a period of temptation that tested his own fidelity, or innocence in a way. He passed it once, but admits that he doesn’t fully trust himself to keep passing. No. Best that she doesn’t stay.
The car is a black Mercedes limo. How opulent, he thinks as he approaches, then mentally reprimands himself. She does have a broken foot and the limo has far more leg room.
Within her diplomatic community, she has also become somewhat of a celebrity. Weis approaches and extends a hand. Wisdom takes it and can’t help noticing that Weis wears a suit conspicuously like the one he wore at their first meeting a few months ago; a dark well-tailored charcoal-gray with a creamy white shirt and a matching dark tie. His shoes are polished black and shine like new glass. Maybe the man only has one set of clothes he thinks and smiles at the absurdity of the idea. Weis just seems to accept the smile as an example of traditional American friendliness.
“The driver and I will be over there,” Weis says pointing to a spot some fifty feet away.
The air is cool, but the sun pours enough heat through a clear sky, so neither Weis nor his driver need coats.
As Wisdom nears the car he sees that the rear limo door is slightly ajar. He pulls it fully open. She’s leaning back on one end of the seat with one leg propped across its length. A small cast encases her foot. She’s dressed much like when they first met, a dark suit jacket with matching pants and a simple white blouse buttoned to the neck. He notices and compliments her on a cameo pin that rests on her jacket lapel.
“Oh. This is new. I bought it at a shop in Sag Harbor yesterday. One good thing to remind me of this trip, excluding you and your colleagues, of course.”
Wisdom notices she emphasizes you and smiles.
“Please step in, if you don’t mind. There’s room to sit on your end of the seat.”
“Thank you.” He moves in and sits while avoiding the crutches on the floor.
“How’s the foot?”
“Getting better. I shouldn’t have too much problem after a few more weeks.”
“You must be happy to be going back home.”
“Well, I’m happy that all this is over and we know what happened to Heidi. I’m sorry this mess cost the life of Mr. Posner’s wife and basically destroyed his life and that of Dr. Stern.”
“You were very brave when it came to Stern.”
“Not really. Maybe at first, but then I realized he was no more than a frightened young man. Once that sunk in, I no longer felt in danger. Will he go to prison?”
Wisdom tries to avoid any opinion, however obvious the answer might be. It’s the way he was trained.
“That depends on all of his psychiatric exams, but I’d say that one way or another he’ll be incarcerated for some time.”
“He didn’t really want to kill anyone, you know. It was all what the English call ‘bluster.’”
“That may be true. Someday, maybe a jury will decide.” As he speaks he realizes she’s only thinking about Sara Posner, and not her sister.
“If there’s ever a trial, I’d like to come back and speak in his defense.”
“But he kidnapped you. Then threatened to rape and kill you.”
“But he didn’t. That’s the important thing. Don’t you think?”
Wisdom doesn’t answer.
He has no answer. The question is too moral in these circumstances and certainly too bizarre. All he can do is shrug his shoulders. Stern is a man who kidnapped and threatened a woman, most probably killed her sister, and then killed an innocent woman bystander and who now gains sympathy from the kidnap victim. No. He has no answer that makes any sense.
“Will you tell your parents?”
“No. It will only cause confusion and more grief. For them she died some time ago. It’s best to leave it that way.”
That’s when he tells her about his conversation with the rabbi in Brooklyn and Heidi’s volunteer work. He can’t let that bit of insight stay hidden. Brigid shakes her head in wonderment, yet says nothing at first.
“Maybe she was trying to somehow redeem herself,” adds Wisdom, who’s still not sure whether raising the issue is worth it.
“Perhaps you’re right, but there could be other reasons as well. For my family and me it’s still too little and too late as you say here. Still, thank you for telling me. Maybe some part of Heidi was better than we ever thought. I hope so.”
For a moment Wisdom thinks she might cry, but Brigid is tough to the end. Maybe in private, he thinks, but not in front of another person, especially a man. There doesn’t seem much more to say. She beckons him to come closer, then leans forward, kisses him on the cheek, and makes it seems like the most natural thing in the world. Her mouth lingers for a fraction long enough for him to inhale some scent. Then she pulls back.
“Go home and take care of your wife and children.”
