Arielle pulled out her phone and called the assistant I’d been talking to earlier. The woman apparently put her through to Chaim. “Grandpapa? Where are you? Do you know where Mom is? Do you know what’s happening at the foundation? . . . No, me and Kira, we were the only two from our book group to show up, the rest of the group, their parents were like we had AIDS or something, and Aunt Sophy took Nia downstate to campaign . . . Yes . . . I don’t know, I’ll find out . . . Okay.”
Still holding the phone to her face, she told me, “My mom’s okay, just she’s meeting with our lawyers and not answering phone calls. He says we should go to Schiller Street, if you want to come, Kira, if it’s okay with your mom.”
“Schiller Street?” Kira said.
“Where I live, I mean. You can come home with me and clean up, and when things calm down, Gabe, he’s our houseman, he can give you a lift home.”
Kira shook her head. “I gotta get back to my place. My mom will be leaving for work and I have to stay with Lucy.”
“We’ll go up to my office,” I announced. “It’s just ten minutes from here. There’s a shower and cold drinks and everything, and then Petra can take Kira home, while I drop off Arielle.”
We were far enough from the confusion on Van Buren to find a cab quickly. I bundled my three into it over the driver’s protests—he didn’t want blood in his cab, he wanted to see money up front.
“Don’t whine,” I said. “It’s unattractive and takes away from your tip.”
Out of revenge, he drove as recklessly as possible, accelerating and braking so abruptly that I began to feel seasick. When we got to my office, I counted out the exact amount on the meter.
“Besides whining, it’s a mistake to drive like an idiot. It won’t help you make a living.”
He took off with a great squealing of rubber. The two girls giggled at the exchange and the atmosphere lightened for a brief time.
My leasemate, the famed sculptor Tessa Reynolds, was at her drafting table. As soon as she understood what happened to the girls, she helped me scrub the worst of the paint and egg from them. Between us, we dug up enough old T-shirts and shorts to get everyone into clean clothes.
I looked at Tessa’s wall clock and clucked my tongue with worry—I was going to be late for meeting Leydon, and I didn’t know how well she’d handle it, especially since I still wasn’t sure where I was supposed to find her. I thought about just putting Arielle into a cab by herself, but I didn’t think she should be on her own after this afternoon’s trauma. And besides, I wanted a private word with her.
I took my trio outside and flagged a cab for Petra and Kira. “Peetie, when you’ve seen Kira safe into her apartment, why don’t you go up to your uncle Sal? He’ll be happy to give you a drink or whatever you need. I have to drop off Arielle, then hustle down to the University of Chicago—the woman I’m meeting won’t hold up too well on her own much longer.”
Petra hugged me. “Vic, I know you get tired of flying to my rescue, but I’m so grateful to you.”
“You got yourself out of trouble today, little cousin. And that was terrifying, attacked by a mob like that. Good heads-up thinking.”
She made a face. “I wasn’t thinking, just hopping like a bunny. Anyway, thanks for being our guardian angel.”
I kissed her cheek, patted her shoulder, and gently pulled myself away. Guardian angel—not a role I fancied. The Divinity School Library on the Chicago campus. Angels carved into the beams soared above the readers there, and it was in that room that Leydon Ashford and I used to meet for study sessions that ran until the librarian shooed us into the hallway so he could lock the doors.
The Divinity School Library was far from the prying eyes of men. Well, not of men, but certainly of our competitive, angst-ridden fellow law students.
I pushed Arielle into my car and maneuvered across town to Schiller Street as fast as I could, but my efforts to question her didn’t go well. I was tired, she was scared, and half my mind was on Leydon, anyway.
“You had met Miles Wuchnik, hadn’t you?” I said, glancing at her.
“Is that why you’re driving me home? So you can worm information against my grandfather out of me?”
“I’m on your family’s side, Arielle, but Sunday afternoon, you couldn’t hide your dismay at hearing his name. Nia tried to cover for you: she said she’d never met him. But one of you talked to him, didn’t you?”
She crossed her arms in front of her chest and stared stonily ahead.
“Why was it a joke when Nia said he was a genie?” I asked.
“Let me out!” she yelled. “I’m taking a cab.”
“I let you leave on your own on Saturday night, but that won’t happen again. You’re too young and too vulnerable to be running around town on your own right now. You stay with me until Gabe opens the door to your house for you.”
That was the end of the conversation. I tried every approach I could think of, and finally had to admit defeat. I double-parked in front of her house, walked through the gate with her, and watched while Gabe let her inside before I put on the afterburners on Lake Shore Drive. The only blessing about being late was that I easily found a parking place on University Avenue, close to the Divinity School.
12.
MURDER IN THE CATHEDRAL