A Darker Shade of Blood

by Lawrence J Epstein

  But it was enough.

  I was basking in the emotional glow of success when the phone rang.

  “Hello, Danny.”

  “Hi, Hannah. What’s going on?”

  “I need to speak with you.”

  “All right.”

  “Lunch tomorrow?”

  “Sure.”

  “The Mall. By the Sears entrance.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “It’s important, Danny.”

  “I said I’ll be there. That should be enough.”

  “It is with you. That’s true. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  When the great humor writer Dorothy Parker heard her phone ringing, she always reacted by saying, “What fresh hell is this?”

  That’s how I felt after hearing Hannah’s voice.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  We held hands as we walked through the Mall to the center and then on to the Food Court. I grabbed a couple of slices of pizza and some Pepsis and we sat down at one of the tables.

  “I want to shop for some clothes after we eat,” Hannah said.

  “Great because clothes shopping is right up there in a list of my favorite activities, a list that includes cleaning the gutters.”

  “You’re such a male. I didn’t mean that as a compliment.”

  The pizza was hot and tasty. The Pepsi was cold. It was my kind of lunch.

  “How’s your case going?”

  “It’s become more interesting.”

  “Isn’t the wife guilty? I mean she confessed.”

  “Who knows, Hannah? Mysteries are called mysteries for a reason. There are twists on every straight road.”

  “I have a twist.”

  Uh-oh.

  “Really? What’s that?”

  “It’s about you.”

  “And what’s my twist?”

  “You may not have a job after this trial.”

  “That’s true.”

  “Which means this is a really good time to consider your future.”

  “I don’t want to work for your father.”

  “And I don’t blame you. My father is a grouch. And then he has bad days.”

  “So you have an idea I suppose.”

  “My mother has a brother. He’s coming over for Thanksgiving. I thought maybe you would like to come over as well.”

  “And why would I want to do that?”

  “To see if you and my uncle get along.”

  “And what does your uncle do, Hannah?”

  “Ah. You’ll love this. You’re very creative. You have a fast mind. I’ve told my uncle all about you. He knew about your father from my father, and my uncle didn’t care.”

  “He deserves a medal for toleration of the criminal underclass.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “You didn’t tell me what he does.”

  “Right now he works in advertising. But get this. He’s starting his own firm in a few months. He needs to hire people. It’s like the world is setting itself up for you.”

  “Hannah, the point of advertisers is to sell people what they don’t want or need for a price they can’t afford.”

  “Don’t be silly. My uncle says advertising is the engine that drives the economy. He says ads should be funny to entertain people.”

  “He’s wrong. If an ad entertains then people will remember that they laughed and not remember the product.”

  “See? You should tell him that.”

  “I’ve got a job.”

  “Maybe. And what if you don’t? What are you going to do then? Sell burgers and fries?”

  “I’ll find my way. And why do you care so much about me getting a job?”

  “Danny, I’m thinking of your future, but I’m also thinking of my future. Now that we’re older and back together, I thought it was time to take stock.”

  I knew where she was going.

  “Danny, you care about me, don’t you?”

  “You’re a good person, Hannah. You mean well. You’re kind.”

  “And I’d make a good wife for you, wouldn’t I?”

  “You’d make a good wife for a lot of people.”

  “I don’t want to be the wife of a lot of people.”

  “I just meant that a lot of men would think of you as a great wife.”

  “And would you?”

  “Are you asking me to consider marrying you?”

  “Of course. Don’t be stupid. You’re so slow, we’d be eighty before you catch on and ask me. I have to take the lead.”

  It was big sigh time.

  This was not going to be easy.

  How could I say that in order to do good, I needed total freedom? How could I explain that being alone was a sacrifice I had to make in order to have that total freedom? I couldn’t say I didn’t love her and I couldn’t say that it didn’t matter whether or not I loved her. I thought of saying that there was something wrong with me. And maybe there was. Maybe because of my family and my work and my make-up I wasn’t the right person to marry. I wasn’t the right person to have a family. She would think I was scared. Or incapable of growing up. Or wanting to be an adolescent my whole life. She would think I was being selfish and cruel. She would yell at me that I didn’t care about her feelings.

  “Hannah, I’m seeing a psychiatrist. He gave me some tests. He says my father had something wrong in his brain, and he thinks I have it too.”

  “Oh come on, Danny. Your father was a killer.”

  “First of all, Hannah, you don’t know what I’ve done. But much worse my father didn’t...do what he did until he was almost thirty-five. I have seven years to go before that. What if I turn thirty-five and I snap? I can’t do that to you. Who knows? Maybe we’d have a child or two by then. My father had three children. He twisted all our lives. I’ve decided, after talking to the psychiatrist, that I can’t hurt anyone by marrying them. So, Hannah, find someone who can love you.”

  I looked up. I wasn’t sure whether she believed me or not. I was trying to protect her feelings and my own private thoughts.

  Suddenly, she stood up.

  “I’ve known you well for most of your life, Daniel Ryle. I think you made all that up. But even if you didn’t you don’t want to marry me. You should have just said that.”

  She turned and walked away.

  I decided my social skills still needed a bit of work.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  I hate the world’s too frequent reminders that I have an imperfect mind. I should have thought of it. The logic is easy. George Moss gets his tickets, but at the end of the film he expects a prize and doesn’t get it. The theater manager doesn’t understand. He’s never heard of WART or a prize. Moss goes to call the station, only he soon discovers that there is no station. Now he’s confused, then scared. Why were these people trying to lure him away from his home?

  He rushes home with his wife and dashes toward his desk. The letters from Marilyn Park are gone. The game is up. Somebody is going to blackmail him and destroy his family.

  He has got to get out. He packs a suitcase and vanishes into the night.

  I should have realized all this. I should have had Ari keeping an eye on the house.

  But my mind failed, so that when we arrived at the Moss house the next day, a teary Mrs. Moss told us her husband had gone and, no, she hadn’t heard from him and didn’t know where he was.

  I asked about family in the area, about friends from his school, about other friends, neighbors, anybody who might know where he is. She had no ideas. She said she was afraid to call the police because she didn’t know why he’d gone but she would have to call very soon.

  Ari and I said goodbye.

  My brain decided to go back to work.

  I had to ask someone how to disappear.

  To ask the question of who to ask is to answer it.

  I had to go see my father.

  My father was walking around the block when I arrived. He still needed to lose weight. He smoked too many cigars and sat sip
ping too much whiskey.

  We sat inside. He was sweating despite the cold.

  “I have a turkey sandwich for you. This is going to be our Thanksgiving.”

  I nodded and accepted the sandwich and some cole slaw. There weren’t going to be happy family memories along with it.

  “You’ll never guess who called me, Danny?”

  “You’re right. I don’t know your old friends.”

  “Half of them are dead. Old criminals don’t do well. No. It was Rabbi London.”

  “I didn’t know you knew him.”

  “Ah. Remember I was the one who originally hired Ari Eilat to look after you. Ari still calls now and then. He was grateful to me. I don’t push it, but he’s aware that he owes me. He knows I like to know what’s going on, and especially how I can help you.”

  “I’m going to tell him to stop calling.”

  “That’s not in keeping with the Thanksgiving spirit. The Pilgrims could eat with the Indians. You can eat with me.”

  “I suppose I can.” I suddenly had a thought. “Someone helped Rabbi London with his doctors.”

  “And who do you think did that, Danny?”

  “I think the Congressman-elect’s mother. She gives me money.”

  “So I don’t have to.”

  “So the money is clean.”

  “Of course. Who’s this Moss suspect you’re after?”

  “He’s on the run. That’s really the reason I came here. You have any ideas on how to look for him?”

  “What did he do for a job?”

  “Assistant principal at a junior high school.”

  “Any connections to those who live outside the law?”

  “I’m pretty sure not.”

  “So he has no connections to get a passport or new forms of identification. The cops are catching on to the one we all used of finding someone our age who died as an infant and applying for a social security number. Did he have access to money?”

  “That I don’t know, but I doubt it. I’ve seen his house and his car and his bank account.”

  “I won’t ask you about how you saw them. Did he withdraw any money?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. How much? That will tell you how far he could go.”

  “Five hundred dollars. He left the rest I guess for his family.”

  My father laughed.

  “I take it he’s not likely to rob banks. But he’ll get desperate. He might get a weapon and hold up stores or even people. Or he might break into peoples’ homes. But that’s stupid. It won’t take the cops long to get him if he does that. Are they even looking for him?”

  “No.”

  “So he’d be stupid to set them on his trial.”

  “He’s not stupid.”

  “Then he’ll hide out with someone he trusts and knows well. A single male who lives alone. Maybe a widower or someone who never married. I assume you’ve checked about drugs he uses, magazine subscriptions, and so on.”

  “You taught me well.”

  “I wish you didn’t mean that sarcastically.”

  “We are where we are, Dad.”

  “He probably had a Christmas card list. Go over it for our single friend. Go to a nearby pay phone. Check numbers called from there on the day he left. Check calls to his wife and check all the numbers. You’re not looking for Baby Face Nelson. He’ll be easy to find.”

  “Thanks for your ideas, Dad.”

  “Sure. I’m glad to be able to help you.”

  “And to celebrate Thanksgiving together.”

  “Yes, Danny, that too.”

  “I have an appointment with Al Flanagan, so you’re going to have to excuse me.”

  “Consider it done.”

  Flanagan wanted to meet at the Candy Kitchen in Bridgehampton. I got there early and called Betsy. I went over the ideas my father had given me. She wrote a list, and said she would be working on it.

  “It’s good to have someone who thinks like a criminal,” she said. “All I know is cops.”

  “It would be more useful if he weren’t my father.”

  “You know how Sherlock Holmes solved a case because a dog that was supposed to bark in the night didn’t bark.”

  “It’s always back to my father. He read those stories to me. Then he bought me two big volumes with all the Holmes stories.”

  “I guess he didn’t want you following in his footsteps.”

  “Mission accomplished.”

  “Anyway, Hannah hasn’t called. That’s the dog that didn’t bark although now that I say it out loud it doesn’t sound very complimentary.”

  “Was there a point in there, Betsy?”

  “Yes. She’s supposed to call if you two are serious. But she didn’t call.”

  “While I deeply appreciate your following my personal life, just let it go.”

  “Welcome to romantic freedom.”

  “Good-bye, Betsy.”

  “I can’t talk. My boss has sent me to work.”

  “You’re lucky to be working for such a thoughtful boss.”

  She just hung up.

  Flanagan was ten minutes late.

  “Traffic,” he said. “People say the Long Island Expressway is just a big parking lot. We’re getting to be Queens. There’s too many cars on the road and not enough road.”

  “Why good afternoon to you as well, Al.”

  “Yeah. All the nice stuff.”

  A waiter came over, and Flanagan ordered a grilled cheese sandwich and a chocolate ice cream soda.

  “It’s the soda, isn’t it? That’s why you wanted to come here.”

  “What? You think it’s for your company?”

  “I can dream, can’t I?”

  “Don’t talk to me until I’ve had some of the ice cream soda.”

  “Bad day, huh?”

  “Depends on your point of view. It’s been a good day for the criminals.”

  “Flanagan...”

  He held up his hand.

  We sat in silence. There weren’t many people in the store. It was unusually still.

  I knew Flanagan liked to eat in restaurants because he liked to eat wherever he could. But as I sat there I wondered why so much political conversation in Suffolk County, so much personal conversation for that matter, took place in diners and restaurants. Republicans met in a place in Coram. You could make a chart of diners where politicians regularly met. Some professor should do a study of it.

  The sandwich and ice cream soda finally came. Flanagan carefully unwrapped his straw and put it in the soda. Then, like it was a religious ritual, he took a long sip.

  “Okay,” he said. “I’m human again. What is it you want?”

  “I want your inside knowledge.”

  “About the Lucey trial?”

  “Yes. How’s the process going?”

  “It will take some weeks.”

  “Do they think she did it?”

  “They’re where we always were. Everyone still thinks our esteemed new member of Congress is a murderer and for whatever reason his wife is taking a bullet for him. I guess they think she’ll get a lighter sentence. She’s a mother. This was a blackmailer. But they’re wrong. She’ll be behind bars.”

  “And everyone is okay with her doing this? They’re not going after her husband?”

  “Let me introduce you to some concepts, Ryle. Laziness, clearance rate, and he’s got some money and power while she doesn’t. There’s no incentive as long as she keeps confessing.”

  “Is there any thought to someone else?”

  “Tell me who. Nobody makes sense. We checked Park’s boyfriend.”

  “I know. A good alibi.”

  “Yes. And we can’t find anyone else she blackmailed. Have you?”

  “Yes. That is, we know his name. I haven’t gotten him yet. But I will.”

  “Okay. Keep me informed. I think you’re wasting your time.”

  “You may be right. But I look down every mean street, every dead-end alley. It’s just
who I am.”

  “You carry a big burden being you. You should talk to a professional about being your father’s son.”

  “What’s this professional going to do? Go back and have me born to a different father?”

  I said good-bye to Flanagan.

  Instead of heading back west, I drove past the turn to Sag Harbor and headed to East Hampton. I drove around. The streets in East Hampton always confused me and I frequently got lost, so I stayed on the central streets. I had been to the John Drew Theater when I was young. There were adaptations of Philip Roth’s first stories. And Edward Albee, who lived in Montauk, had given a lecture on writing.

  I don’t know what I was hoping to discover. I was confused about the murder of Marilyn Park. I was confused about my relationship with Hannah. I was confused about Ari and Betsy and if we’d stay together as a team. I was confused about my job with Ken Lucey. I was confused about my feelings concerning my father. I was confused about who I was, what I was supposed to do in life, and the meaning and purpose of existence. Driving around turned out not to provide a solution to all these confusions.

  I stopped at the Rogers Memorial Library in Southampton. I walked in and sat down on a chair to try to clear my head.

  A woman walked over.

  “Excuse me, sir, but are you a member of this library?”

  “No, I just stopped in to clear my head and think.”

  “I’m sorry, sir, but the library is available only to our members.”

  I didn’t argue. I just got up and walked out.

  I turned left and then left again onto Main Street. People were walking with their heads down struggling with the cold. I almost didn’t feel it.

  There was a pharmacy on the corner. I stopped in.

  A man came up to me.

  “Can I help you, sir?”

  If you needed to illustrate the word “friendly” in the dictionary, you’d pick this guy’s face.

  “Is it all right if I just walk around?”