Yes?
He was growing impatient. I opened my mouth but did not speak. Yes? he said again. Abruptly, I told him that Christopher had been seen in Cape Tenaro with another woman. Perhaps my voice caught, or I sounded ashamed. He asked me why I did not tell him earlier, and I said that I hadn’t wanted to tell him in front of Christopher’s father, He has illusions about his son that should be preserved, illusions that I no longer have, and the police chief was silent for a moment and then said, I see.
But do not worry, he continued, we know about this woman, it was a casual friendship, he left her behind in Cape Tenaro, where she remained. There is no husband, no brother or father, and the woman herself has a perfect alibi, another man.
I was silent. The police were more competent than they pretended, which made the case more and not less hopeless—there were fewer unexplored avenues or possible solutions—but what had unnerved me was the sudden disclosure of information about the woman, another lover of Christopher’s, until that moment entirely abstract but now on the precipice of becoming concrete. I only had to ask and I would know more about her, perhaps even her name, already I knew that she was unmarried, without a father or brother, that she lived in Cape Tenaro and was promiscuous, at least by certain standards.
A crime of passion is something you read about in books. And although your husband—the police chief paused—seems to have involved himself with the local population, I do not think this is anything other than what it appears.
There were others, I said.
There was a long pause.
Yes, he said at last. But I can only repeat: I do not think this is anything other than what it appears.
I hung up shortly after. A red light pulsed as soon as I put the receiver down. I picked up the receiver again, there was a message from Yvan, I would need to call him back. I dialed his number, he answered at once.
What is happening? I’ve left three messages for you.
I’m sorry.
Is everything okay?
Yes. Isabella and Mark are here, there has been a lot to do.
Of course.
I think we’ll be coming back soon.
What about the investigation?
They don’t expect to find the killer.
How so?
They have no leads. No suspects, no real evidence—the police chief more or less told us that the investigation was stalled, he told us that we should not get our hopes up.
Yvan did not say anything and I continued, In some ways it would be easier, if there was no known killer, if Christopher had been a victim of circumstance only. If we could say instead, it’s the fault of the situation.
I paused, but Yvan was silent.
Are you still there? I asked uneasily.
Yes, he said. I’m still here.
Okay.
Go on.
There’s nothing more to say.
What will you do?
That’s not up to me, I don’t think.
You’re his widow, Yvan said. You’re his wife.
I was silent.
You haven’t told them, have you?
How could I?
Will you? Is it even important anymore?
I don’t know.
Legally you are his wife.
Legally, according to one set of laws, but according to another—
What other?
I mean our own internal laws, we try to do what is right.
And according to those laws—
I let Isabella and Mark decide. Although I do so without letting them suspect that I am anything other than Christopher’s wife, his widow.
Because they would be hurt.
Because I—because we—can allow them that much, surely. They have certain illusions that I think they should be permitted to preserve—I used that phrase again—so many having been stripped from them, for example the illusion that as a parent, you do not have to bury your child.
Is this about Christopher?
I don’t understand.
I mean is this for Christopher’s sake, not Isabella and Mark’s, is all this for Christopher? He paused. Christopher is dead, the bonds of the promise you made to him no longer hold.
I was silent. Outside, a group of men sat in one of the tavernas, facing toward the sea. It must have been later than I thought, the sun was beginning to dip down toward the water and the men were drinking, perhaps they had been drinking for a while. They were far away, too far to make out their features—anyway it was unlikely that I would recognize them, I had seen no more than a handful of people in the village, I was still a stranger here. But I could hear the sound of the laughter, they were obviously having a good time.
Are you there?