of you kiss when you say good-bye.”
“You spy on us?” Katie pretended to be outraged.
“Of course.” Jo snorted. “How else am I supposed to occupy myself? It’s not like anything else interesting ever happens around here.” She paused. “You do love him, don’t you?”
Katie nodded. “And I love the kids, too.”
“I’m so glad.” Jo clasped her hands together, prayer-style.
Katie paused. “Did you know his wife?”
“Yes,” Jo said.
Katie stared down the road. “What was she like? I mean, Alex’s talked about her and I can sort of picture in my mind what she was like—”
Jo didn’t let her finish. “Based on what I’ve seen, she was a lot like you. And I mean that in a good way. She loved Alex and she loved the kids. They were the most important things in her life. That’s really all you have to know about her.”
“Do you think she would have liked me?”
“Yes,” Jo said. “I’m sure she would have loved you.”
30
August, and Boston was sweltering.
Kevin vaguely remembered seeing the ambulance outside the Feldmans’ home, but he hadn’t thought much about it because the Feldmans were bad neighbors and he didn’t care about them. Only now did he realize that Gladys Feldman had died and cars were parked along both sides of the street. Kevin had been suspended for two weeks and he didn’t like cars parked in front of his house, but people were in town for the funeral and he lacked the energy to ask any of them to move.
He’d showered infrequently since he’d been suspended, and he sat on the porch, drinking straight from the bottle, watching people walk in and out of the Feldmans’ house. He knew the funeral was later in the afternoon and people were at the Feldmans’ house because they would be going to the funeral as a group. People clustered like flocks of geese whenever there was a funeral.
He hadn’t talked to Bill or Coffey or Ramirez or Todd or Amber or even his parents. There were no pizza boxes on the living room floor and no leftover Chinese in the refrigerator because he hadn’t been hungry. Vodka was enough and he drank until the Feldmans’ house was a blur. Across the street, he saw a woman walk out of their house to smoke a cigarette. She was wearing a black dress and Kevin wondered if she knew the Feldmans yelled at neighborhood kids.
He watched the woman because he didn’t want to watch the home and garden channel on the television. Erin used to watch that channel but she ran away to Philadelphia and called herself Erica and then she disappeared and he’d been suspended from his job but before that he’d been a good detective.
The woman in black finished her cigarette and dropped it in the grass and stepped on it. She scanned the street and noticed him sitting on the porch. She hesitated before crossing the street toward him. He didn’t know her; had never seen her before.
He didn’t know what she wanted but he put the bottle down and climbed down the porch steps. She stopped on the sidewalk out front.
“Are you Kevin Tierney?” the woman asked.
“Yes,” he said, and his voice sounded strange because he hadn’t spoken in days.
“I’m Karen Feldman,” she said. “My parents live across the street. Larry and Gladys Feldman?” She paused but Kevin said nothing and she went on. “I was just wondering if Erin was planning to attend the funeral.”
He stared at her.
“Erin?” he finally said.
“Yes. My mom and dad used to love it when she came by to visit. She used to make them pies and sometimes she helped them clean up, especially once my mom started getting sick. Lung cancer. It was awful.” She shook her head. “Is Erin around? I’ve been hoping to meet her. The funeral starts at two.”
“No, she’s not. She’s helping a sick friend in Manchester,” he said.
“Oh… well, okay then. That’s too bad. I’m sorry to have bothered you.”
His mind began to clear and he noticed that she was about to leave. “I’m sorry for your loss, by the way. I told Erin and she’s upset that she can’t be here. Did you get the flowers?”
“Oh, probably. I haven’t checked. The funeral home is full of them.”
“No big deal. I just wish Erin could have been here.”
“Me, too. I’ve always wanted to meet her. My mom told me that she reminded her of Katie.”
“Katie?”
“My younger sister. She passed away six years ago.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Me, too. We all miss her — my mom did especially. That’s why she got along so well with Erin. They even looked alike. Same age and everything.” If Karen noticed Kevin’s blank expression, she gave no sign. “My mom used to show Erin the scrapbook she’d put together about Katie… She was always so patient with my mom. She’s a sweet woman. You’re a lucky man.”
Kevin forced himself to smile. “Yes, I know.”
He’d been a good detective but in truth sometimes the answers came down to luck. New evidence surfacing, an unknown witness stepping forward, a street camera catching a license plate. In this case the lead came from a woman in black named Karen Feldman, who crossed the street on a morning he’d been drinking and told him about her dead sister.
Even though his head still ached, he poured the vodka down the drain and thought about Erin and the Feldmans. Erin knew them and visited them, even though she’d never mentioned going to their house. He’d called her and dropped by unexpectedly and she’d always been home, but somehow, he’d never found out. She’d never told him and when he’d complained that they were bad neighbors, she’d never said a word.
Erin had a secret.
His mind was clearer than it had been in a long time and he got in the shower and washed and put on a black suit. He made a ham-and-turkey sandwich with Dijon mustard and ate it, then made another and ate it as well. The street was filled with cars and he watched people walking in and out of the house. Karen came outside and smoked another cigarette. While he waited, he tucked a small pad of paper and a pen in his pocket.
In the afternoon, people started filing toward their cars. He heard the engines start up and one by one they began to pull away. It was past one o’clock and they were going to the service. It took fifteen minutes for everyone to leave and he saw Larry Feldman being helped to the car by Karen. Karen got in the driver’s seat and drove off, and finally there were no more cars on the street or in the driveway.
He waited ten more minutes, making sure everyone had left before finally walking out his front door. He crossed his lawn and paused at the street and headed for the Feldmans’ house. He didn’t hurry and didn’t try to hide. He’d noticed that a lot of the neighbors had gone to the funeral and those who hadn’t would simply remember a mourner wearing a black suit. He went to the front door and it was locked, but there’d been a lot of people in the house so he walked around the side and headed to the back. There, he found another door and it was unlocked and he stepped into the house.
It was quiet. He paused, listening for the sound of voices or footsteps but heard nothing. There were plastic cups on the countertop and platters of food on the table. He walked through the house. He had time, but he didn’t know how much time, and he decided to start in the living room. He opened cabinet doors and closed them, leaving everything the way it had been before. He searched in the kitchen and the bedroom and finally went to the study. There were books on the shelves and a recliner and a television. In the corner, he spotted a small file cabinet.
He went to the file cabinet and opened it. Quickly, he scanned the tabs. He found a file labeled KATIE and pulled it out, opened it, and examined what was inside. There was a newspaper article — it turns out that she’d
