“I’m with you there. But there’s no point in dwelling on all of it. We did our jobs. Our part is over.”
“I know. But I can’t completely let go of it. Kind of like a fixation. Once you know a little, you want to know more. Pretty soon you’re spending a lot of your time doing research that doesn’t lead anywhere good.”
Richard nodded. “I understand. In the end, though, it sort of is what it is. Neither you nor I can change the world. The best we can do is try to leave it safer for our stay on it. If I can manage that, it’s a good day.”
“You ever wish you didn’t know some of the things you know?”
It was Richard’s turn to stare off into the distance. “All the time, Silver. All the time.”
“Kind of sucks, doesn’t it?”
“It’s a highly imperfect world. Always has been. But yes, it does suck.” He took a large swallow of wine and then picked up his knife.
Under the table, her foot traced along his calf, settling the matter for the moment.
“You have a nice ostrich, too,” she purred.
“Did you know that an ostrich can hit a top speed of over forty miles an hour?” Richard asked conversationally. “Compare that to a human, who in perfect shape might hit high twenties.”
She took a bite and smiled. “Wanna race?”
Chapter 28
Silver sat at the window, waiting for the inmate to arrive. Howard moved slowly and appeared to have aged fifteen years in the last month. He seemed surprised to see her, and then his face composed itself into its customary tranquil expression. He picked up the telephone handset, and she did likewise.
“Well, this is an unexpected surprise,” Howard said. His voice sounded strained, and something else. Thick.
“I’m full of them, Howard.”
“Yes, I suppose you are. How is Kennedy?”
“You got her hooked on Sherlock Holmes. She spends half her time now either reading stories or reading about him on the web. I had no idea there were so many sites devoted to a fictional sleuth.”
“He was always a favorite.”
An uncomfortable pause stretched until she broke it.
“How’s the writing coming?”
“Good. I actually got an agent, and we have a book deal. Big advance, too. Quarter million bucks. Too bad I can’t spend it in here.”
“That’s great, Howard. Sounds like you’ll get the word out.”
“That is what I’m hoping. The agent says they don’t put up that kind of money these days unless they plan to push it.”
“How far along are you?”
“About three-quarters of the way through. I’m now tackling the Federal Reserve. Most people don’t know that it’s a privately-owned bank that was created by the most powerful bankers of the era in 1913. Rockefeller, J.P. Morgan, Warburg, Lehman…”
She let that go by, preferring not to get into another disturbing discussion about the financial system.
“How are you doing, Howard?”
“I better write the last quarter fast.”
There wasn’t much more to say to that. They both knew he’d never stand trial for the killings.
“At least you have three squares a day.”
“If I wasn’t dying, the food would do it. It’s a really cruel and unusual punishment.”
They bantered a little more, and then the guard approached on Howard’s side of the glass, signaling that the visit was over.
That was the only time she ever went to see him. Silver had been hoping for some kind of closure, but in the end, she was only left with more questions.
~ ~ ~
Kennedy gripped Silver’s hand as they got out of the taxi, the anticipation palpable in her excited gaze at the grounds of the Metropolitan Opera House. Outside, huge banners celebrated the spring season of American Ballet Theater, including a full-length version of Giselle, which was their destination tonight.
They were half an hour early and already had their tickets, so as they watched the crowd of festively-dressed urbanites make their way to the theater, they played one of their favorite games, which involved guessing the story of a randomly selected person and then describing in great detail the specifics of their life.
Kennedy nudged Silver and gestured discreetly at a young woman with a dramatic, long, black dress, dyed black hair cut in a rough shag and full-sleeve tattoos on both arms proudly displayed as she walked with a young man wearing a stylish brown velvet suit cut in a zoot fashion.
“Her name is Alexandria. Alex for short,” Kennedy started.
“She’s a pitcher for the Yankees, but she-”
“Mom!” Kennedy protested.
“Sorry. Alex is an international spy working for the Bolivian secret police, who’s used her fame as a Latin pop singer and soap opera star to gain access to her real target, Antoine Duperry, the world famous clothes designer who is a favorite of the president’s wife, as well as a frequent guest judge on a number of second-rate talent shows.”
“Antoine, who moonlights as an usher for off-Broadway plays, uses performances of ABT as his launching point for his more wild designs,” Kennedy continued without missing a beat.
“Alex knows that Antoine has grown suspicious of her, but she is committed to gathering intelligence for the top secret Bolivian takeover plans of North America.”
Kennedy paused, pulling Silver to a stop next to her. “Time out. Where is Bolivia? Are you making that up?”
“No, Bolivia is where bowls come from. Hence the name. Bowlivia.”
“Like Latvia. Where lattes come from?”
“No, that’s Starbucks. Don’t you know anything?”
They exploded into giggles, both feeling more than slightly silly.
“Here, honey, let me straighten your outfit. It looks kind of like you fought your way out of the closet by putting on clothes. Did you even brush your hair?” Silver kneeled down in front of her, adjusting her top, which had shifted in the cab.
A shadow swept over them, created by the spotlights mounted on the front of the theater as they pointed down at the crowd. Kennedy’s eyes moved over Silver’s head, and Silver finished her emergency fix, ending by smoothing Kennedy’s hair with one hand before standing and facing the new arrival.
“Took you long enough,” Silver said to Richard, who was wearing a tuxedo in honor of the special occasion. “Although you’re forgiven because the penguin suit shows special creativity and effort.”
“Could I have the check, please?” Kennedy added helpfully.
“Be careful when you’re parking my car,” Silver added.
Richard smiled good-naturedly and took them both by the hand. “At these prices, it better be the best basketball game I’ve ever seen, or I want my money back.”
Afterword
