chapter seventeen
Sitting quietly on the couch, sunlight streaming in from the large window overlooking Fifth Avenue, Lola and Nathaniel Stratton-Ross looked less like children than they did tiny adults. But they
He and Irma had worked together a couple of times in the past five years. Most recently when his only witness to a double homicide was the six-year-old son of one of the victims. He remembered Nicholas Warren as he’d found him that night, in his
They’d found him crouched in the bedroom closet, where he’d clearly had a front-row seat as his father and his new stepmother were shot to death while they slept in their bed. He told Ford that night that he’d come to his father’s room to wake him after a bad dream but hid in the closet when he heard something on the stairs. He’d not closed the door, he said, but he’d covered his eyes, so he hadn’t seen anything. Ford
It took Irma to bring Nicholas to a place where he was able to reveal the truth about that night. After two hours behind closed doors with Irma, Nicholas revealed that he’d let his mother into the house that night, as he’d promised her he would. And that she’d killed his father and his father’s new wife. “So that I could live with just Mommy again.” Nicholas’s mom was doing two consecutive life sentences and Nicholas was living with his aunt and uncle in a Brooklyn Heights townhouse. Ford hoped the kid was getting some good therapy and didn’t wind up on the FBI’s most wanted list sometime in the future.
Irma had a way about her and everyone responded to it, not just children. She was a careful person, careful with her words, her tones. She had a way of focusing all her attention on you when you talked, a way of turning her warm green eyes on you with such understanding, compassion, respect, that you just couldn’t help but pour out your soul into her hands. Ford knew this truth about her well, having confessed more to her over the years than he had to his own wife.
She was pretty, not beautiful, with a kind face, her skin smooth and pink like a peach. She was small but not what he’d call thin, with a motherly fullness about her breasts and hips. She was always well dressed but was not exactly what he’d call stylish. It was as if she’d been carefully constructed to be pleasing without being threatening. As if she wanted people never to notice her so much that they forgot about themselves.
He called her from the car and by the time he pulled up in front of her Central Park West office, she’d cleared her afternoon for him. She owed him a favor big time. He’d managed to get her eighteen-year-old off the hook on a DUI that was going to cost him his license and possibly some jail time, and into a special AA program instead. Shrinks’ kids were always the most fucked up, he’d noticed.
There were some small fireworks upon their arrival at the Waldorf suite when Irma insisted that she speak to the children alone, without Eleanor and without the attorney present. She did agree to a video camera, so that they could all watch on a closed-circuit monitor from another room. It took a while before a uniform showed up with the equipment.
As the interview began, Piselli searched the children’s room in the suite, while Detective Malone was back at the crime scene, working their bedrooms. Ford felt confident that something was going to turn up, one way or another. Either that or he was going to lose his job. Eleanor Ross was pissed and she wasn’t going to be quiet about it. He could feel her eyes boring into his temple as Irma introduced herself to Lola and Nathaniel, as they watched on the small black-and-white monitor.
The twins had different energies. While Lola’s face was cool and expressionless, Nathaniel’s was open and guileless. Lola sat upright, legs crossed like a little lady, leaning elegantly on the armrest. Nathaniel slumped, pumping his legs back and forth, fidgeting in his suit.
“Do you know why we’re all here today?” Irma asked the children, her voice light but firm.
There was silence for a moment during which Nathaniel looked at Lola. Irma waited, not pushing them along.
“Someone killed our daddy,” said Lola softly. Nathaniel nodded.
“I’m sorry, Lola,” Irma said, and Ford could hear the sympathetic half smile on her face, though she was mostly off camera, just a triangle of her shoulder visible on the screen. “Yes, that’s right. You’re both very brave to talk to me today even though you’re feeling sad. Is that how you’re feeling?”
“Our daddy’s with the angels,” said Nathaniel with a vigorous nod. Again silence, and Ford could imagine Irma nodding, a look of quiet understanding on her face.
Then, “Do you remember the night your father died?”
Nathaniel seemed about to say something when Lola spoke up, casting a look at her brother. “We were sleeping,” she said with finality.
“Okay,” said Irma. “Tell me what you remember about that night before you went to sleep.”
Again Nathaniel looked to Lola. “We went to a restaurant with Mommy, Daddy, and Grandma,” said Lola.
“That sounds nice. Where did you go?”
“Twenty-one. I had a hamburger and a Pepsi.”
“And Nathaniel, what about you? What did you have?”
Ford rolled his eyes and tried not to be impatient. He didn’t want a rundown of every item on the menu at 21. He reminded himself that his impatience was precisely why he’d called in Irma to handle this interview. He tried not to sigh as Irma and the children talked more about the dinner, about the story Grandma read to them before bed, and other inane details that were intended to relax the children, get them remembering and talking. Ford started to tune out, listening to the rhythm of Irma’s soft voice, the lighter, higher pitches of the children’s voices responding.
“Let’s try a little game,” said Irma, her voice bright. “Let’s see how many little things you can remember about that night.”
“Like what?” said Lola suspiciously. Something about her, the way she talked, even her facial expressions, made her seem so much older than her twin. She had a gleam of intelligence and a composure that Nathaniel lacked but made up for in a kind of lovable sweetness.
“I don’t know…” said Irma, her voice coaxing. “Just anything that comes to mind. Like, what stuffed animals did you sleep with that night?”
Nathaniel’s face lit up. “I had Pat the Bunny,” he said with a smile, then looked around as if to see if he could find it for Irma.
“I don’t sleep with stuffed animals,” said Lola imperiously, casting a disapproving look at her brother. Nathaniel looked at her with a sad shyness that made Ford’s heart twinge a little. They were silent for a moment, looking at each other, Lola frowning, Nathaniel with a little worried wrinkle in his brow. There was a dynamic at play between the two of them, something unspoken, a meta-communication. Ford noticed that Irma remained quiet, waiting to see what would develop. Even on the monitor, Ford could see Nathaniel’s eyes start to glisten.
“I want my bunny,” he said suddenly, his little face threatening to crumble into tears.
“You’re such a baby,” said Lola, disgusted.
“It’s okay, Nathaniel. We’ll get your bunny for you,” said Irma, turning and looking into the camera lens.
“It’s not here,” snapped Lola. “It’s in his room at home and we can’t go there.”
“That’s okay, Nathaniel,” said Irma again, her voice light and happy. Nathaniel looked at her and smiled at whatever he saw in her expression. He sniffled a little, but the threat of a tantrum seemed to pass. “We’re still playing the game,” Irma reminded him, “and you’re doing so well. What else can you remember?”
Lola was sulking now. He’d seen the look before-a frightened and sad child who used anger as a shield. Ford was reminded that, in spite of her composure, she was just a little girl who’d endured a shattering trauma.
“Ummm…” said Nathaniel, an exaggerated look of concentration on his face.
“I know,” said Irma enthusiastically, as if the thought had just occurred, “what were you wearing?”
“Oh! I was wearing my SpongeBob SquarePants pajamas,” Nathaniel said happily. “I wear those every night. Want to see?”
“That’s wonderful! I can’t wait to see them as soon as we’ve finished talking,” said Irma. “What about you,
