least. On the phone he’s tried to persuade her to stay on here to recuperate, but his suggestion was, at best, halfhearted. He knows she’ll never be able to fully relax as long as she wakes every morning to the sights and smells of the same air her sister breathed before she died, to say nothing of what she herself has gone through. She has given all the necessary depositions. She might be recalled for a trial, but the county attorney doubts it will be necessary. She dismisses the fact that she has a little time left on her lease.
No. It’s best for her to be on her way. It’s also best for him. He admits he went through a period of temptation that tested his own fidelity, or innocence in a way. He passed it once, but admits that he doesn’t fully trust himself to keep passing. No. Best that she doesn’t stay.
The car is a black Mercedes limo. How opulent, he thinks as he approaches, then mentally reprimands himself. She does have a broken foot and the limo has far more leg room.
Within her diplomatic community, she has also become somewhat of a celebrity. Weis approaches and extends a hand. Wisdom takes it and can’t help noticing that Weis wears a suit conspicuously like the one he wore at their first meeting a few months ago; a dark well-tailored charcoal-gray with a creamy white shirt and a matching dark tie. His shoes are polished black and shine like new glass. Maybe the man only has one set of clothes he thinks and smiles at the absurdity of the idea. Weis just seems to accept the smile as an example of traditional American friendliness.
“The driver and I will be over there,” Weis says pointing to a spot some fifty feet away.
The air is cool, but the sun pours enough heat through a clear sky, so neither Weis nor his driver need coats.
As Wisdom nears the car he sees that the rear limo door is slightly ajar. He pulls it fully open. She’s leaning back on one end of the seat with one leg propped across its length. A small cast encases her foot. She’s dressed much like when they first met, a dark suit jacket with matching pants and a simple white blouse buttoned to the neck. He notices and compliments her on a cameo pin that rests on her jacket lapel.
“Oh. This is new. I bought it at a shop in Sag Harbor yesterday. One good thing to remind me of this trip, excluding you and your colleagues, of course.”
Wisdom notices she emphasizes
“Please step in, if you don’t mind. There’s room to sit on your end of the seat.”
“Thank you.” He moves in and sits while avoiding the crutches on the floor.
“How’s the foot?”
“Getting better. I shouldn’t have too much problem after a few more weeks.”
“You must be happy to be going back home.”
“Well, I’m happy that all this is over and we know what happened to Heidi. I’m sorry this mess cost the life of Mr. Posner’s wife and basically destroyed his life and that of Dr. Stern.”
“You were very brave when it came to Stern.”
“Not really. Maybe at first, but then I realized he was no more than a frightened young man. Once that sunk in, I no longer felt in danger. Will he go to prison?”
Wisdom tries to avoid any opinion, however obvious the answer might be. It’s the way he was trained.
“That depends on all of his psychiatric exams, but I’d say that one way or another he’ll be incarcerated for some time.”
“He didn’t really want to kill anyone, you know. It was all what the English call ‘bluster.’”
“That may be true. Someday, maybe a jury will decide.” As he speaks he realizes she’s only thinking about Sara Posner, and not her sister.
“If there’s ever a trial, I’d like to come back and speak in his defense.”
“But he kidnapped you. Then threatened to rape and kill you.”
“But he didn’t. That’s the important thing. Don’t you think?”
Wisdom doesn’t answer. He has no answer. The question is too moral in these circumstances and certainly too bizarre. All he can do is shrug his shoulders. Stern is a man who kidnapped and threatened a woman, most probably killed her sister, and then killed an innocent woman bystander and who now gains sympathy from the kidnap victim. No. He has no answer that makes any sense.
“Will you tell your parents?”
“No. It will only cause confusion and more grief. For them she died some time ago. It’s best to leave it that way.”
That’s when he tells her about his conversation with the rabbi in Brooklyn and Heidi’s volunteer work. He can’t let that bit of insight stay hidden. Brigid shakes her head in wonderment, yet says nothing at first.
“Maybe she was trying to somehow redeem herself,” adds Wisdom, who’s still not sure whether raising the issue is worth it.
“Perhaps you’re right, but there could be other reasons as well. For my family and me it’s still too little and too late as you say here. Still, thank you for telling me. Maybe some part of Heidi was better than we ever thought. I hope so.”
For a moment Wisdom thinks she might cry, but Brigid is tough to the end. Maybe in private, he thinks, but not in front of another person, especially a man. There doesn’t seem much more to say. She beckons him to come closer, then leans forward, kisses him on the cheek, and makes it seems like the most natural thing in the world. Her mouth lingers for a fraction long enough for him to inhale some scent. Then she pulls back.
“Go home and take care of your wife and children.”
He has only the one son, but doesn’t correct her. He smiles at the thought that with woman’s intuition maybe she knows more than he does.
“Is something funny?”
“No. I’m just happy you don’t blame me for putting you in possible danger.”
“You did no such thing.”
But he did screw up and no amount of sugarcoating can hide it. He knows he’ll just have to live with it all and move on. He starts to step back into the street, but holds onto the top of the open door with one hand.
“Goodbye then. Safe flight.”
“Goodbye to you, Peter. Oh, I forgot something.”
She turns around to reach behind her and with a small effort pulls an object closer before she hands it to him.
“It seems foolish to just throw it out. Your people were very nice and gave it back to me. After all, it did cost well over a hundred dollars. Perhaps you can give it to someone to use. I’ve even had it cleaned.”
Her arm swings forward and passes him the top of a metal hanger that supports a clear plastic dry cleaning bag. The pink-and-white pattern is plainly visible. He takes the bag and in the transfer process feels a fleeting touch of her fingers. He steps all the way out of the car, turns and waves to Weis who has seen his movement and is already walking toward the car with the uniformed driver in tow. They shake hands again. He waves at the rear of the black car as it moves out of the lot, and notes with mixed emotions that Brigid doesn’t lookback.
At the automatic glass door entrance to headquarters he realizes that he’s still holding a metal hanger with a clean, almost new pink-and-white dress. He stares at the dress for a moment and wonders how such a seemingly insignificant garment could have in its own way propagated the death of two people and ruined the lives of two others. He looks around, a combination of indecision and embarrassment, and then drops the garment in the metal wastebasket to the right of the automatic doors. It will sit undisturbed among the used coffee cups, food wrappers, and other assorted garbage that visitors and cops both leave there until the next day’s pickup.
He nods to the desk officer, walks through the side door to his cubicle, and punches in his home number. Maybe they could all go out for pizza tonight.
CHAPTER 31
Posner enters the house for what he imagines will be the last time. It’s his first trip back without the police since Sara died. He unlocks and pushes open the front door and half expects a weight to impede its progress. Yet the door has no memory and glides open smoothly, as if Heidi’s body had never blocked its movement. He steps into the hall and for a moment stands where Sara died in his arms. He cannot stop the tears that come and doesn’t try. The impossibility of the two separate deaths within almost the same space overwhelms him. He hesitates in the doorway as he regains some control, while he burns with anger first at Stern and then at himself.
