'I thought about it, that's all,' Anthony said vaguely.
Mike glanced at April again. Her face was the Great Wall of China. Impenetrable.
'When you went to St. Patrick's, what were you looking for?' She spoke for the first time.
'I try to be thorough. It's my responsibility to see that things go smoothly.' Anthony brushed the hair out of his eyes.
'You thought something could go wrong?'
'I told you, there was the other girl. And the cardinal. It worried me.'
The phone in April's purse started to burble. She located it, checked caller ID. It was Ching. She turned the phone off, then tossed it back into the mess.
'Tovah Schoenfeld was not Irish. She was an Orthodox Jew,' Mike pointed out.
'I heard something about that. It just made me think, that's all. People get ideas from these things. Politics, it makes sense, doesn't it?'
Not really. 'What did you hope to find?' Mike asked.
'I was concerned about people walking in and out throughout the ceremony. I wanted to see how that would be.'
'You didn't know it would be private?'
'No. And maybe he didn't either. That's why he shot her outside.'
Click. Ah, it might have been someone who had been inside but went outside when the cathedral was cleared.
'Are you certain it was a he?'
'They've asked me that. I don't know. I didn't really see much. It was so sudden. I just saw the flash of gray, the raincoat. I never even saw the barrel of a gun. It might have been a revolver. There was just a little sound. More like a cough than a pop. She just...' Anthony shook his head as if it were his fault. 'I just didn't see it coming.'
'I know you've gone through this with the officers before, but we want to see what we can do to jog your memory. Just for a few seconds. Try to tell us what you saw, what you might not even know you saw. It's okay if you just give us impressions.'
His color leached out as he searched his memory. 'It's like a black hole in my mind—' He stopped. 'All I can think of is I was struggling to keep the umbrella over her head, their heads. Then blood spurting out on her dress. So much blood. It covered her in a second. She drowned in it.' He reached for his own neck.
April's heart thudded.
'It was so . .. horrible.
I was trying to hold the umbrella over them. The wind changed; it turned inside out. I let it go and I saw .. . her eye was gone.' His shoulders shook. 'All I know for sure was that the man's raincoat had a hood.'
'Were you aware that Wendy Lotte was the party planner for both weddings?' April asked.
'Yes. After the first girl was killed, it was in the newspapers.'
'Were the Hays concerned?'
'About their daughter, yes. About Wendy, no. They trusted her.'
'How about you? Did you trust her?'
'No.'
'Was that why you went to St. Patrick's?'
'No, I didn't trust her because she has light fingers,' Anthony said.
'You mean she steals.' A confirmation of what they knew. April glanced at Mike. His eyes flickered.
'I'm not accusing. It's just possible,' Anthony said, neutral.
'How about the florist? Anything unusual about him?'
'I don't know anything about him. He never came to the house.'
April began to revive with the tea. 'Did you drive Prudence everywhere?' 'Pretty much.'
'Great. Let's go back through the week. Everything she did, who she saw, that kind of thing.'
Anthony nodded and poured more tea. It was going to take a while.
Forty-two
T
he dog was barking, and Kim was upset. Wendy wasn't answering her phone, and he had no one to talk to except his wife. Clio wouldn't let him near the phone. She stood in front of him, pushing the broom against him so he couldn't get to the phone without hurting her.
'You so bad person,' she screamed.
This made Kim feel terrible, but he knew he wasn't a bad person. He did so many things for people. 'Honey, I bought you a diamond ring,' he reminded her, pushing a little at the broom.
'Only little one,' she screamed, shoving back. 'Who you calling, huh? After all I do for you? Who you calling? I hope that woman's business fall into the ground. I hope you lose your job.'
'Don't say that. Tang's a great woman.' This made Kim mad.
'I married you for nothing. I should throw you away today.'
He bit his tongue because he didn't want to scream back. Whenever he fought back, she hit him.
'You don't give me money. I should divorce you. You can go right back to those ships.'
Right now it didn't sound so bad to him. He'd had some beer so he wasn't really listening to her. He was thinking of his poor sister beaten so bad by her husband. His not listening made her madder still.
'Why are you crying? I didn't hurt you.' She poked him in the shoulder with the broom handle, almost knocking him over.
He shook his head. He wasn't crying.
'Yes, you're crying. Stop crying. You're not a child.' She stamped her foot, mad enough to hit him some more.
People said Clio Alma was a beautiful woman. She had a round face with smooth skin, full lips, and not a bad figure for someone so old. But she was a cold woman, hard and angry all the time. She pushed him back against the wall, screaming at him.
'Why you so bad person? Why don't Tang give you more money? Huh, why not? Why you like her?' Clio was so mad her English broke up.
Kim was scared of her. Everyone said she was a nice woman, but he knew she was really a witch and not right in her head. He had bruises. His head hurt. He didn't just like Tang. He loved Tang. She was good to him. He didn't love Clio, it was true. She was mean to him. And even though he'd told her before they married that he could never give her a child, she was still mad that he wouldn't sleep in her bed. Three years and she wouldn't give up.
She wanted money. She wanted a child. She wanted to know where he was every minute of the day Jealous of everybody. Who could live like that? He was only thirty and could not sleep even on the same floor with her. He had to be downstairs, near the door so he could get out whenever he had to. He felt choked to death, also contrite and sorry that she thought so much was wrong with him. He wanted to tell her he didn't like Tang that way, either. No girl.
Clio spat at him. 'You didn't come home last night.'
'Yes, I did,' he whispered. But she always knew. He wiped her spit off his face with the back of his hand.
'Where were you?'
He was not going to tell her he was with his friend Bill, an old man who gave him money. She didn't like him having friends. She didn't like him getting money that she didn't know about. If he told her he had money, she always took it from him.
'Tell me,' she demanded.
He put his hps together. He wouldn't say anything. Whatever he said made her madder.
'It's your fault he did it. You were supposed to come home and take him out. His mess is your fault.' Now she was complaining about the dog.
He looked sorry. He was busy. He'd forgotten about the dog.
'Stop that; you're disgusdng.'
