“Reading.”
“So it was a ghost, was it, with the radio on?”
“I can do both.”
“Your father’s picked a fine time. Not that I blame him. That phone would drive anyone out of the house.”
But her eyes were shiny with excitement and Nick could tell she was enjoying it all, playing nurse and secretary, busy and important. So his mother hadn’t told her.
After lunch he sneaked back into the study and tried the cabin again. He was listening to the rings, willing his father to come to the phone, when his mother walked in, surprising him.
“Nick,” she said vaguely. “I thought I heard someone. What are you doing?” She was dressed, her skin pink from the bath, but her eyes were dull and tired. She moved across the room slowly, still underwater.
“I’m calling the cabin.”
She looked at him, her face softening. “He’s not there, honey.”
Nick hung up the phone and waited, but his mother didn’t say anything. It scared him to see her withdrawn, drifting somewhere else. They needed to be awake now.
“Where is he?” he said, as if the question itself, finally asked, would break the spell.
“He went away,” she said. “You know that.”
“But where?”
“Not to the cabin,” she said to herself, her voice unexpectedly wry.
“Where?”
“Did he say anything to you? When you saw him?”
Nick shook his head.
“No, he wouldn’t. He’d leave that for me to explain.” She took a cigarette out of the box on the desk and lit it. Nick waited. “Im not sure I can, Nick,” she said. “Not yet. I’m not sure I understand it myself.” Then she looked up. “But it’s nothing to do with you. You know that, don’t you?”
“I know. He wanted to stop the hearing, that’s all. But now-”
“Is that what he told you?”
Nick shook his head. “I just know.” He stared at her, waiting again.
She leaned her hand on the desk, unable to take the weight of his eyes. “Not now, Nick, okay? I need some time.”
“So you can think what to say?”
She looked at him, a half-smile. “That’s right. So I can think what to say.”
There was a knock, then Nora flung the door open, her eyes wide with drama. “There you are. We’ve got the police now.” His mother met her eyes, then glanced to the phone, expecting it to jump. “No. Here,” Nora said, cocking her head toward the stairs.
Nick saw his mother’s face cloud over, then retreat again. She closed her eyes for a second, waiting for this to go away too, then opened them and looked at her wristwatch, as if she were late for an appointment. “Oh,” she said and left the room in a daze. He and Nora glanced at each other, a question mark, then, unable to answer it, they followed her down the stairs.
Nick had expected uniforms, but the two policemen were in suits, holding their hats in their hands.
“We understand your husband’s not here,” one of them was saying.
“Yes, I’m sorry. Can I help?”
“Could you tell me when you’re expecting him?”
“I’m not sure, really. He didn’t say.”
“Any idea where we might be able to reach him?”
“Have you tried his office?” his mother said lightly, not meeting Nick’s look.
“We did that, Mrs Kotlar.”
“Oh. Well, that’s odd. Is something wrong?”
“No. We just wanted to talk to him. You’ve heard about Miss Cochrane?”
His mother nodded, then raised her chin. “My husband didn’t know Miss Cochrane,” she said plainly.
The policemen looked at each other, embarrassed. “Well, we have to talk to everybody. You know. In cases like this. Get some idea what may have been on her mind.”
“That’s one thing we’ve never known.”
In the awkward pause that followed, Nick looked at his mother, surprised at her tone.
“Yes, well, we don’t want to bother you. Just have your husband give us a call when he gets in, would you?” The policeman handed her a card.
His mother took it. “Do you want to talk to his lawyer, Mr Benjamin?”
“No, just have your husband give us a call.”
She jumped when the phone rang, involuntarily glancing at her watch again. “That’s all right, Nora,” she said quickly. “I’ll get it. Excuse me,” she said to the policemen, picking up the phone on the second ring. “Hello. Yes?” Nick couldn’t see her face, but her body leaned into the phone as if she were trying to make physical contact, and Nick knew it was his father. A prearranged contact. Now he understood her distraction. A chance to talk, ruined now by the need to pretend, her voice unnaturally brisk. “Yes, that’s right. Yes.”
She was listening. “No, I’m afraid I can’t.” Would his father know the police were there? Nick wanted to push them out of the room, grab the phone, and tell his father to come back. “I’m sorry, but he’s not here just now. He’s out.” Her voice was odd again, so far from intimacy that Nick knew it must be a message, her own kind of warning. “Yes. Yes, I know.” Now a faint crack, or did only Nick hear it? “He’s fine,” she said, almost softly, and Nick’s heart skipped. His father was asking about him. A pause as the caller talked. “You’ll have to try later,” she said, formal again, her voice rising slightly at the end. “Oh. I see.” Then, finally, her real voice. “Me too.”
She kept her back to them for a minute when she hung up, composing herself, Nick thought, and when she turned he saw that it was only partly successful. She looked the way she had after the bath, slightly drugged and confused. She tried a small smile.
“It seems everyone wants to talk to my husband,” she said apologetically.
“We don’t want to bother you,” the policeman said again, getting ready to go. “What time did you say your husband left?”
“What time?” she echoed weakly. Nick looked up in alarm. She was trying to think what to say again and the call had drained her.
“About eight o’clock,” Nick said suddenly. “He made me cereal first.”
The policeman turned to him, not catching Nora’s surprised expression.
“Eight o’clock? Is that right, Mrs Kotlar?”
“Nick-”
“Mom was still asleep. He didn’t want to wake her.” Nick thought of the shirt, floating down the drains. Now he had lied to the police too.
“Did he say where he was going?”
Nick shrugged. “A meeting, I guess. He took his briefcase.” That was stupid. They’d find it upstairs. “The little one,” he added, digging deeper.
“I see. Eight o’clock. He get a taxi out front?”
Nick saw the trap. They’d already asked the reporters.
“A taxi?” he said, pretending to be puzzled. “No, he went out the back. He always does that when he doesn’t want to talk. To the guys out front. You know.”
The policeman smiled. “No, but I can imagine. Must be like living in a fishbowl here sometimes.” This as a kind of apology to Nick’s mother. “Well, we don’t want to bother you,” he said again, as if he really meant it. “Oh, Mrs Kotlar, one last thing? You didn’t go to the United Charities ball last night?”
“No.”
“You and your husband were in all evening, then?”
He saw his mother waver again.
“We played Scrabble,” Nick said.
“Oh yeah?” the policeman said, friendly.
“I won,” Nick said, wondering if it was another trap. Who would believe that? “My dad lets me win.”
