Feeney watched Spencer down the water, then he pushed the yellow legal pad and pen toward him. “Start writing.”
“Be quiet. You get used to it.”
“Are you talking to me?” Leo eyed Hawk.
She shook her head. “Why do you need the statement if you heard everything?”
Leo was trying not to smile. “We couldn’t hear a thing. It was all static. But he doesn’t know that. He’ll just reiterate on paper what he thinks we got a recording of. And sign it. It’s a beautiful thing, a signed confession. Anyway, you always need a signed confession.” He almost sang it. “Can’t go wrong with a signed confession.” Then, seriously, he said, “You could have gotten yourself and me in deep shit in there.”
“Could have. Didn’t.” She sounded disappointed. “Go back to the gyre.”
“Who are you talking to?”
“Isadora.”
“Can I talk to her?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“She can’t speak right now.”
“Why the hell not?”
“She’s…howling.”
“What in God’s name for?”
“She remembers.”
Monday
Chapter 27
We all wanted to sleep off what Olive had wrought Saturday night. She doesn’t do it often, but when she drinks, she puts herself in a stupor and gives the rest of us hangovers that can last for days. The memory that came to me as my own, after all these years, came to the rest of the Company as well. No one blamed her for getting drunk as a sailor with shore leave on payday. We were all right there with her for every swallow of sweet, potent Kentucky bourbon. Fortunately, I’m the least affected by her binges, but I still didn’t feel too steady. I would have welcomed a day-long nap. I didn’t need to be there for the denouement of my cases. I hand over the information, whatever it might be, and then I disappear, usually with a check in my pocket.
But I was the only one Claudia wanted with her, so there we sat, on a hardwood bench outside one of the many small courtrooms in the main courthouse building where criminal cases are heard. A drab environment in which to spend a sunny Monday morning.
Where are we?
Well, good morning, starshine, Hester drawled sarcastically. Thank you so much for giving us all a headache.
Yeah, don’t rag me anymore about my Coke.
Sorry, Cootie, it’s been a tough week.
Really? Next time things are too much for you to handle, just go to the gyre and stay there. Hester didn’t really blame her, either, but couldn’t miss an opportunity to claim the upper hand. Olive seldom felt contrite enough about anything to let that happen.
Please, don’t lecture me now, Hester. I’m sorry. Where are we?
We’re at the courthouse.
What for? They never let Isadora testify.
No testimony required. He pled guilty. Pled? Pleaded? Whatever. It’s just a matter of setting a date for sentencing and making sure he’s locked up in the meantime.
He’s rich. He’ll make bail.
Maybe not. Claudia’s uncle has to sign off on any big money...they don’t keep quantities like that outside a joint account of some kind, which requires two signatures unless one of them is dead. Manfred is alive and kicking and won’t let loose of a penny.
That’s interesting. Do you think it’s a cover for his own involvement?
He went off like a Molotov cocktail when he heard what Spencer has been up to all these years. He threatened to kill him with his own hands. Leo was a little half-hearted in telling him it wasn’t necessary.
Weren’t we supposed to see Ray yesterday? Did we...?
We cancelled.
Because of me? Ray must have been furious.
No, we had other things to do. And she wasn’t furious at all. She’s still feeling guilty about Isadora’s breakdown. Hester snickered. We can get mileage out of that for a long time. Oh, and we told her about the memory-thing…you know. I don’t think she believed us.
So what did you have to do yesterday?
Claudia asked Isadora to find out about her uncle.
As Hester recounted our Sunday to Olive, I revisited my phone conversation with Claudia. “My uncle says he didn’t know,” she told me, “and that if he had known, he would have stopped it. You can tell if he’s lying or not, can’t you? I just want to know if my kids still have a granduncle. And he wants to take care of Anna and Miriam. Wants them to move in with him and Phoebe. I told her she could stay in our apartment for as long as she wanted to. But she doesn’t want to live alone, and she didn’t want to come with us. I don’t blame her. The boys and I packed our suitcases and moved down to the Village with Vin on Saturday night.”
“I’ll go see him. Will he talk to me again?”
“If he doesn’t—that’s my answer isn’t it?”
“I suppose so.”
I felt like sleeping, but I went to see Manfred Burke.
He lived in a building overlooking Gramercy Park. I didn’t call first. The doorman buzzed upstairs and announced me.
Manfred surprised me by answering the door himself, inviting me in with a nod. As always, he was impeccably dressed in matching beige slacks and long-sleeved shirt and a tan and maroon argyle sweater vest. He was wearing leather slippers instead of shoes.
He offered me a comfortable chair and sat on the sofa facing me. All the furniture, whether painted or upholstered, was white. Color and pattern were supplied by a rich maroon oriental carpet and flowered wallpaper.
“I only want to ask you a couple of questions. Claudia sent me.”
“Yes, would you like something? A drink?”
Oh please God no drink, Hester almost wept.
“Or some coffee? Or tea? Or we have cranberry juice. My wife drinks cranberry juice. I should have bought stock.”
I declined everything. He didn’t look happy to see me, though he wasn’t hostile. I got right to it. “Did you know what your brother did to Claudia when she was a little girl?”
“I have no brother! He is dead to me!” He began to cry bitterly. “I should have. Shouldn’t I? Shouldn’t I have known? Why didn’t she come to me? Why didn’t she come to me?”
He cried into a large handkerchief and blew his nose. He took off his glasses and wiped his eyes and put his glasses back on.
“Did you know that he abused other children and was part of a network of procurement?”
“If I had known any of it, wouldn’t I have killed him? I swear to you I would have killed him. Or turned him in. No, I would have killed him.”
“Thank you, Mr. Burke.”
I left him crying on the sofa and let myself out.
Back home, I called Vin’s home number. Claudia answered. “Your uncle didn’t know. I think he would enjoy a visit from his grandnephews.”
“Was Miriam there? Anna?”
“I think he was alone.”
“Thank you. I’ll call Miriam. They’ll be good for each other, I think. He is already paying for Anna’s therapy.” Hester was finishing up her account. And you should have seen
that apartment! It looked like an old Russian whorehouse!
Olive still wanted to know, Why is she here?
She just wants to know the minute he is taken off to the slammer so she can go pick up Charlotte. She isn’t going to bring Charlotte back till she knows he is in jail and is going to stay there. It’s a THING. She wouldn’t even tell the police where the baby is. Leo wanted us to tell, but we wouldn’t, Hester said smugly. Client-detective privilege, don’t cha know!
Is there such a thing?
There is now. Leo didn’t push it. Claudia didn’t do anything wrong.
Where is Leo?
In the courtroom. He promised to come out and tell us as soon as they haul the sonofabitch off.
Like Faust to hell.
Lance, you here too?
Wouldn’t miss it. It’s epic. It’s Homeric. Biblical.
And we know he’
s going to be hauled off to jail, now, today?
Well, if the bro won’t pay and the confession stands, chimed Cootie.
The lawyer tried to talk him out of his confession, but I guess being abandoned by his family... We are just waiting for the word and then off we go.
How’s she doing?
How does she look?
Claudia, sitting next to me, unaware of the cacophony of voices in my head, looked thin as a wraith, white as paste. Her eyes were fixed downward, her hands knotted in her lap. Even after her outburst in the kitchen, even after her statement to Leo and a two-hour conversation with Ray, she wasn’t convinced that her ordeal was over and her daughter safe. And, she was still, probably, waiting for someone to die.
A few yards down the hall a table was set up with coffee and pastries and bottled water and juices. I decided to get a cup of coffee and something sweet. As I stood up, Claudia said, “Don’t leave.”
Even though we hadn’t said two words to each other all morning, my presence was somehow holding her together, since Vin and Michael Keating were both back in the small Village apartment with the boys. I sat back down and fished in my pockets. I found a half-roll of antacids. I shook them out into my palm and ate them all.
Sorry, Isadora, muttered Olive. I owe you one.
The door to our right swung open and Leo burst out as though flung from a slingshot. “They’re taking him out. No bail. Sentencing next week, but he’ll get the max.”
Claudia who had been locked up tight started to cry again. Different tears this time. More like irrigating waters to a parched field.
Leo stood over her and said, “You don’t have to worry about that old man anymore. He is going to die in prison. You have my word on that. And the judge’s too, if I read her face at all.”
“Was he smiling?” she asked, without raising her head.
“That smile washed out of his face like cheap ink running off a page. I think reality has finally sunk in for Spencer Burke.”
As it was for Claudia. She turned to me. “Did you call them?”
“Yes. They’re expecting us.” I had called Ray, too. She was ready to meet us there. Wouldn’t miss it for the world, she had said.
Now Claudia couldn’t get out of that building fast enough. I had no time to bid Leo goodbye. I just saw him grin as he watched us take off down the hall to the elevator, which was too slow. Claudia hit the button again and again, and once we were on it she fairly danced in place as we were lowered to the ground floor.
Fortunately, we had no trouble hailing a cab. I was afraid if we had been passed by she would have chased it down like a terrier. I got in first, and as she slammed the door shut behind her, she barked directions to the cab driver about where we were going and the fastest way to get there. I realized that people really are like their dogs and that, for the first time in my life, I had just ridden in an elevator, and for the second time in my life and the second time in three days, I was riding in a cab. I had no time to contemplate these new developments because Claudia fairly yipped, “Can you call Vin? He has to meet us there.”
“I don’t have a cell phone.”
“Oh.” She dug hers out of her purse and handed it to me and rattled off his number while I pressed them into the tiny keyboard. The little phone felt like a toy in my hands.
Why can’t we have one of these?
Because after we carried it around for thirty minutes it would stop working.
You don’t know that, Olive.
It’s an expensive experiment if it didn’t work. We don’t need one as long as we have a quarter in our pocket.
Vin answered before the first ring had finished, and before I could finish my sentence, he let out a whoop that rattled my eardrum. I asked him to call Ray and gave him the number.
I handed the phone back to Claudia.
“Do you think she’ll remember me?”
What I knew about infant memory probably did not apply to this situation, but—why not? I said, “I’m sure she will remember you.”
The cab driver was speeding up the Westside Highway and, as we turned off on Ninety-sixth Street, she handed me a wad of bills and directed him to the Buddhist Center. She had the door open almost before he came to a complete stop and was opening the gate while I paid the fare. I didn’t wait for change, but sprinted after Claudia, through the gate, up the walk and through the big wooden doors.
We found ourselves in a small, cool foyer with a glossy linoleum floor.
Oh, this is a good place. See the pretty statue.
To our right, a small standing figure looking like a child with shaven head in a monk’s robe, carved out of smooth luminous stone greeted us. The plaque on its wooden pedestal identified it as a Jizo, protector of children.
It’s so pretty.
Yes it is, Sula. Yes it surely is, crooned Sugartime.
Opening the door had rung a bell, which still echoed. We were soon greeted by a young woman in tan slacks, black sweater and stockinged feet, who came through an archway at our left.
“My name is Shiloh. I called this morning.”
She smiled broadly. “Oh yes! Ani is expecting you. My name is Laurie. I’m a volunteer here. Come with me.”
We followed her through a door to the right into a small room. Against two walls stood portable metal coatracks hung with a few jackets and sweaters and beneath them, in untidy rows, a number of pairs of shoes.
Laurie directed us, “Take off your shoes, here, please.”
Thank God you wore decent socks.
Laurie showed us through a curtain into what seemed to be a meeting room. “You can wait here.” I thought Claudia might explode if she had to wait another moment.
A few metal chairs were set up, with more folded in rows along one wall.The shiny wood floors reflected the light pouring in through the tall windows. At the front was a raised platform, with a smaller fabric-covered platform in its center. Dark orange drapes covered the back wall. As I turned to my right, Bethy-June and Sula oooohed in wonder. There was an alcove lined with fabrics in brilliant colors and designs. On a many-tiered altar was a larger-than-life-sized seated golden Buddha, glowing in the reflected lights of innumerable candles and oil lamps.
Laurie was gone. Without ceremony, a woman in robes of tangerine and maroon entered through a part in the drapes. A smile was on her face, a bundle in her arms.
Claudia, who had been silently streaming tears since we entered, emitted a sob and held out her arms.
The infant was bright-eyed and a little chubby. The nun placed the baby, swaddled in a multicolored striped blanket, in Claudia’s arms.
At the same time I heard a commotion in the coatroom. Vin, Ray, Michael Keating and the two boys had arrived. I heard Vin say, “Y’all be quiet now.” Laurie laughed, “They don’t have to be quiet. Your mom is in there.”
They all charged through the curtain and there ensued a lot of hugging and crying and jumping up and down, and not all the jumping was done by the two boys. Ray looked over them and smiled. She doesn’t smile often. When she does, she dazzles. The Catholic priest and the Buddhist nun shook hands warmly. Vin, who had ordered the boys to be quiet, was hooting I swannee! over and over again.
I stepped back, out of the way. Now that they were here, I wanted to exit as quickly and quietly as possible.
Hester protested. You’re going to slink off like John Wayne at the end of that movie? The one where he does all the work and doesn’t get to stay for the party?
I don’t like parties.
Well, I do! Let me stay.
No. This is a family thing.
Well, I’m not ready to leave yet. And Ray’s here. She’s not family. Look at that Buddha! Look at those colors! Can we get a Buddha? I want to get a Buddha.
Oh, for heaven’s sake, Hester. Olive, when it came to parties, agreed with me.
Well, it’s beautiful. It’s peaceful.
Who’s going to clean up all the wax?
You are.
I was just turning around to slip out past the family reunion and almost knocked over the nun who was quietly, smilingly, waiting behind me.
“Uh, sorry. Hello.”
“Hello.” She was small of stature and a bit stocky. Her hair was cropped to about a quarter of an inch all over her head and the color of pewter. Her skin was lined, a little rough, a bit jowly, her eyes a very warm brown.
“You are the one who called.”
“You are the abbess?”
“Yes. You can call me Ani. You are Isadora. But you are also... Shiloh. Isn’t that right? You are all Shiloh.”
When I looked into her eyes I felt embraced by a kindness that I never dreamed could exist. I felt Hester beginning to weep.
“You are welcome here,” she said. “Come back anytime.”
I felt an overwhelming urge to do just that. I wasn’t sure why. Perhaps just to bask in the alcove Buddha’s golden glow.
Then the abbess said, as if enjoying a private joke, spreading her hands in a fan-like gesture to include all of us, “You will join your selves and find no self at all, and then you will be happy. I promise.”
I had no idea what the hell she was talking about, but I knew she was telling the truth. This woman was all about truth.
Then she said, “Life can really be a pisser, can’t it?”
She laughed, and I, Isadora, laughed for the first time that I could remember.
Command of Silence Page 22
