Milo said, “Ma’am, I’m sorry—”
Dorothy Koster didn’t need a reply. “Susie?” She gasped and swayed and her head began lolling from side to side.
Milo said, “Ma’am—”
Dorothy’s eyes rolled back in her head. Then her knees gave way.
We both shot forward but I got there first and caught her around the waist. Small-boned woman, limp as week-old salad. “Ms. Koster?”
Out cold.
Turning cold.
I got her inside, propped her in a tweedy recliner, checked her pulse and her pupils.
Milo said, “She’s breathing.”
“Steadily,” I said. “Probably a vasovagal faint.”
“Jesus.”
“Water will help.”
Four of his long strides took him across a diminutive living room overly furnished with more tweed pieces and white-painted rococo tables. He stepped into a minimal kitchen, filled a glass from the tap, and studied the bag of groceries. Folded neatly on the counter, its contents arranged precisely. Fresh produce, cans of soup, bread.
“Here we go.” He handed me the glass. I patted Dorothy Koster’s cheek lightly, uttered her name a couple of times, wet my fingertip with water and ran it over her lips.
Nothing happened for a few seconds, then she purred, eyes fluttering. Opening. Pupils constricting as they gazed up at a ceiling light, then dilating as she lowered her attention to me.
“Huh?”
“You fainted, Ms. Koster.”
She continued to study me, puzzled.
“How about some water?” I held the glass to her lips but she rejected the offer, sharply turning her head to the side.
I said, “Take your time.”
She whirled back to me. Stared up, tight-eyed and tight-lipped.
“Uh,” she said. Her arms straightened as her hands slapped flat against my chest. She shoved. Not much force to it but I retreated and let her sit by herself.
She continued to stare at me, then her eyes rotated to Milo. Her groceries. Back to Milo. Crumpling like crepe, she sat back.
“Susie.”
We said nothing.
Dorothy Koster looked at me. “Sorry…did I hurt you?”
“Not at all.”
“Really sorry…I’ll take that water.”
* * *
—
Two glasses and a wad of tissues later, she was ready to talk. Like most people in her situation, she craved details. As he always does at the beginning, Milo avoided specifics and parceled out the basics. Managing to make them sound like much more.
Some people see through that and press. Dorothy Koster seemed satisfied.
“Again, so sorry for your loss, ma’am.”
“My poor baby girl.” Hands covered her face. “Oh, God, I can’t believe this is happening.”
More time; more tissues. She balled them in one hand. Grimaced. “When you came to the door, I knew it.”
Milo said, “Why’s that, ma’am?”
“Because I lead a boring life, Lieutenant. Boring is safe, I like boring, everything goes along just fine.” Deep breath. “So it had to be something to do with Susie. She’s always been…she’s a wonderful girl, the biggest heart, smart—a lot smarter than she realized…but…”
She shook her head.
I said, “She wasn’t into boring.”
“Not by a mile. So I knew, I just knew. If there’s going to be a…a…a shakeup, it’s going to come from Susie…at a wedding? Of someone she didn’t know? That’s crazy.”
Milo said, “We’re still trying to make sense of it.”
“You have no idea who did it?”
“Not yet, ma’am. It took a while just to identify Susie. She was using a driver’s license listing her as Suzanne DaCosta.”
“That’s a new one.” Dorothy Koster smiled. “How exotic. She was always reaching. For what I don’t know. Restless. The problem is she didn’t want to do the things that might’ve actually…forget that, I am not talking bad about my precious precious baby girl.”
We let that settle for a while. Milo looked at me.
I said, “The more we know about Susie, the better chance there is of finding out who did it.”
Dorothy Koster said, “What kind of things do you think you should know about her?”
“The kind of person she was, who she hung out with.”
“She was a good person. Big heart. Who she hung out with? I have no idea. Even when she lived here I had no idea. And that was a long time ago.”
I said, “How long?”
“She left after she graduated high school. So…twelve years. She didn’t cut me off. I’d get postcards. I’m here, Mom. Everything’s going great.”
“Postcards from where?”
“Everywhere—up north—San Francisco, Oakland. Even wine country—Napa, Sonoma. Nevada was a big one—Reno, Las Vegas, Tahoe. Once Nashville. Memphis. Then she went out of the country. Mexico, Costa Rica, Panama. She was a dancer. She always supported herself. She danced in shows.”
Higher pitch on the last word. Not quite believing her daughter’s explanations. Her eyes got steely as she folded her arms across her chest.
Back away from this topic.
I said, “What was she like growing up?”
“Gorgeous,” said Dorothy Koster. “Beautiful child right from the start, everyone noticed, everyone said she was stunning. People asked if I was going to put her in pageants. As if I would. Putting a child through that. I know about that kind of thing because my mother did it to me and I hated it. That was down south. Louisville.” Sigh. “I ran away, too. At the same age—eighteen. I guess history has to repeat itself.”
“Does Susie have siblings?”
“No, it was just we two.” Her arms tightened across her narrow frame, reaching around to her back. “I could use more water. Must’ve dehydrated myself, too much coffee at work. I get it free, sometimes I overdo.”
Milo filled another glass. She said, “Thanks,” took one sip, put it down. Her arms began the journey of folding again. Midway there, she changed her mind and threw them up.
“In answer to your next question, she doesn’t have a dad.”
We said nothing.
“I mean obviously she has one. But she never knew who he was. I knew but I told her I didn’t. I don’t feel bad about lying, trust me, he was a bad person. I didn’t want her going on one of those look-for-your-roots things, you know? She wouldn’t have liked what she found. And don’t you ask me for a name, either. He doesn’t know and I’m sure he couldn’t care less.”
I said, “Understood.”
She frowned. “He would not care.”
We waited.
“Here’s the thing,” she finally said, “it was a onetime deal, stupidest mistake I’ve ever made except for it produced Susie.” Her laughter was frightful. “Now there’s not even that. So it was just stupid. Like I’ve lived my life for nothing.”
More crying before she looked up, eerily smooth-faced. “Do you think God’s punishing me?”
I said, “I’m sure not.”
“Then why did it happen?”
“I wish we could answer that.”
“I wish you could, too,” she said. “But you can’t, no one but God can…I mean I don’t think a punishment that big would fit a one-night stand. That would be some kind of God, right? All the rest of the time, I led a good life. Got married legally when Susie was two, he was a nice one, worked at the sausage plant in Vernon. Died ten months later. Work accident, you don’t want to know. I got his pension, it wasn’t much but I got to buy this place. Susie was too young to realize. After that, I said enough, don’t rely on men or anyone. I didn’t want to date. I’m not a spirited person, anyway, don’t have a taste for going out. So it was just we two.”
One hand gripped the other. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
I said, “Susie was a beautiful child.”
“Beautiful and smart. Smarter than she realized,” said Dorothy Koster. “Smart enough to figure out her own way of reading. Because the regular way, that phonics thing, wouldn’t work for her, the teachers thought she was dumb. She was eight, they kept holding her back, you’d think someone would try to help. They didn’t. So she went and did it her own way. Memorizing words. How’s that for smart? I mean you have to think and remember all those words? They—the school system called her LD.”