Louis glared at her. 'Anybody who knows that girl knows that the last thing she wanted was to marry.'
'Not your business, Louie, just not your business.'
'Well, did you shoot her? Or is your specialty cats?' He laughed.
Wendy leaned forward and grabbed his arm. 'Look, Lori's on vacation this week. I'm alone in the office. I'm stressed beyond belief. Don't start with me.'
'Hello, it's me, Wendy.' He gazed at the sky. 'Never forget how much I know about you.'
'What are you talking about? Is this a threat?'
'No, no. But I don't need a spotlight on me right now.'
'I gave you all this work. I thought we were friends. And now you're
me for a very unfortunate situation.'
'Wendy, people want your story.
now you've got the attention you've always craved. Your fifteen minutes of fame. How could I not be concerned—'
Wendy's face paled. 'You shit!'
'Maybe. But I'm all you have. I'd say you were one of my riskiest projects.' He gave her a bleak smile. 'So. Tell me about Prudence Hay; is
going to make it to her wedding day?'
'You cold bastard.' Wendy's eyes filled with tears. 'How could you be so cruel when things are so crazy, and I'm under such pressure—without even
to help me?'
'Oh, please, look who's talking.'
'It could have been you. It could have been any one of your boys. Don't look at me. Just don't look at me.' Wendy covered her face. 'I'm out of here,' she announced. 'I'm just gone. Don't try to call me. I hate you.'
Fifteen
A
pril burst outside into the radiant, early-evening light, grateful for the sweet breeze off the Hudson River. The whole time she'd been in Rabbi Levi's office she'd felt a tightness in her chest, as if Tovah's angry ghost were still trapped in the place where she'd died.
The rabbi had used the word
many times. That was what stuck in April's mind as she and Mike drove the few short blocks to the Schoenfeld house on Alderbrook Road. It was a terrible thing to interview a family before a funeral. It was just as terrible to interview a family after a funeral. Tomorrow, next week. A year from now it would still be terrible.
'What did you think of the rabbi?' she asked Mike.
'He didn't know her,' he replied instantly.
'That's what I thought. He really pinpointed the wedding planner. May be an angle there,' April mused.
Mike said suddenly. He loved her.
she murmured, meeting his eye with just about her first smile of the day.
Mike was a handsome, sexy man, and even though he'd criticized her earlier, he still loved her. The thought gave her a warm feeling in the middle of a mess. Bias, Bronx, and the Homicide Task Force were all taking a piece of this case. Mike was Homicide. She was the monkey in the middle. Hollis was already trying to steal their thunder. She'd have to watch him. And her boss, Lieutenant Iriarte, would be hoping for the worst. She had to find a way to let him in so he wouldn't punish her later. But Mike was back on the subject of love.
'I really do,
I love you more and more. I don't know what I'd do if someone shot you on our wedding day.'
'No one's going to shoot me, wedding day or any other time,' April said, uneasy about making a promise no one could keep.
Skinny Dragon believed people owned each other. The dragon believed that because she'd given birth to April, she owned her daughter for life. But people didn't own each other. Tilings happened, they fell in love with the wrong people, got hurt, got sick, died. Shooting wasn't the only bad thing that happened.
he said curtly, as if reading her mind.
Well, she prayed also, just to different gods. His sudden Spanish made the point that in the Bronx he was home. And at home there were certain things you just didn't do in English. Praying and loving were two. April knew how it was. At her home the thing you didn't do was feel anything but guilt. Guilt was the operative feeling. You had to make money and save face, that was it.
translated into Spanish as
and
translated into English as
As far as April was concerned all of it made trouble.
'Next time, don't go to autopsies of brides in the middle of the night. Makes you morbid.' She ended the conversation. He was tough, but it had gotten to him, no question about it.
Independence Avenue was only six blocks long, from 239th to 247th streets. It ran parallel to the Henry Hudson Parkway and the Hudson River, located halfway between the HH Parkway and the Palisades. Lining the parkway like soldiers in a parade were miles of luxury apartment buildings. Behind them was the old Riverdale, practically untouched. A real suburb only a few minutes from Manhattan, this area had narrow, hilly roads and gracious brick Tudor and stucco Mediterranean-style houses, overarched by the branches of venerable trees. Around them, landscaped yards with walks and arbors were studded with flowering shrubs and brilliantly hued spring flowers. The houses on the Hudson had the bonus of a majestic view of the mighty river and the green palisades of New Jersey.
'Wow.' April whistled as they came to the tiny dead-end road of Alderbrook, a lane so narrow it didn't look wide enough for a moving van to get in or out. Tucked into a cul de sac th«t dated from early in the last century were six old houses. Parked cars and TV vans blocked the road and lined the roads around it. Mike had to backtrack and leave his unmarked vehicle in the circle of a giant apartment complex two blocks away. They plowed through a bunch of reporters who tried to get them to say something.
The Schoenfelds' house was at the end, in the curve of the U. It was a sturdy structure, built for a family just the size of theirs. It was pale gray-painted stucco with an orange-tiled roof and a covered veranda in the front. More reporters jammed the front lawn. Mike shook his head at them.
'You take the girl's family/' he murmured to April.
'Tovah,' April corrected softly.
she repeated to herself as she rang the bell.
Less than a minute later Mr. Schoenfeld opened the door. He was a tall, heavyset man, at least six-two. He didn't appear to be in good shape, but he looked young for a man with a daughter of marriageable age. He had curly light brown hair on a big head, a Roman nose, a strong chin thickly packed into a roll underneath, angry blue eyes.
'This is not a good time. We're sitting shivah,' he said curtly.
'We're sorry to intrude,' Mike told him.
