“I heard a rumor.”
She loved rumors. She turned her head back and looked at me. Her green eyes twinkled with life for a moment.
“They’re going to show White Nights at the cinema club here. Mikhail Baryshnikov and Gregory Hines dancing ballet and tap. Defectors and spies in Moscow and Saint Petersburg.”
“Bubbala, don’t call it Saint Petersburg. It’s Leningrad. It will always be Leningrad to me.”
If she was up and around by next week, I’d make them rent the movie. Or rent it myself.
Lada fell asleep again, thanks to the nurse’s pill. She was snoring peacefully as I left her room to go out to the clinic’s courtyard and check my burner—clinic rules demanded that cell phones be turned off inside. Ben had called twice and left a message.
“Hey. I just wanted to hear your voice and tell you that thinking about you makes me happy. Call me.”
Ben. Oh God. If only I could listen to that lovely message and feel happy along with him. The situation was so much worse now than before he left for the airport. Even if I came clean about sleepwalking, I couldn’t tell him with more than 50, maybe 60 percent confidence that I was innocent of murder. The phone buzzed in my hand. Ben again. My heart stopped. What to do? I couldn’t let him worry. I swallowed hard and picked up.
“Hello?”
“Nora. I’m so glad I reached you. I was getting nervous.”
“I’m sorry. There was a medical drama with my Aunt Lada, but it’s okay now.”
“What happened?”
“A ministroke.”
“Damn. You must be upset. Is there any way I can help? I can drive back tonight.”
“No, no. You’re generous to offer. But she’s out of the woods. And mostly okay.” I started to choke up, realizing how it might have turned out differently. “Ben?”
“I’m here.”
I wanted things to be simple. Just for a minute. To pretend we were two normal people beginning a real relationship. To think of him knowing the woman who was so dear to me, and have her know him.
“I’m hoping she won’t die anytime soon, because I want you to meet her.”
“Of course. And I plan on asking her to fill me in on what you were like as a little girl.”
“You’ll get an earful.”
“There are still so many things I don’t know about you. For instance, what’s your favorite color?”
I smiled. “Jade green.”
“Food?”
“Rice pudding.”
“Where do you stand on GMOs and Monsanto?”
I loved that he was trying to cheer me up.
“I . . . well . . .”
“Just kidding.”
“How did you get to be such a mensch?” I asked.
“The love of a good woman.”
I could still hear the pain losing his wife caused him.
“Of course.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“No, it’s all right. Judy was something special. I understand. You were a lucky man.”
“I’ve been lucky twice.”
I could hear Ben really meant it. But what do they say luck is? “When opportunity meets readiness.” I feared that he was an opportunity I might miss.
“I miss you,” Ben said.
“I miss you, too.” If I didn’t switch gears, I might start crying. “Were you late for Sam?”
“Almost an hour. But he was deep into his new iPhone and didn’t mind.”
“Please don’t worry about me. Enjoy your time with him . . . Oh. I almost forgot. You left your knife here.”
“I know. Take care of it for me.”
“I will.”
“I’ll see you for dinner on Friday.”
If I wasn’t in jail by then.
“Nora?”
“Right. Friday.”
“I’m hoping to see you sooner than that. In my dreams. And don’t bother dressing.”
If only we could meet there. “Night,” I said.
It began raining. I returned to Lada’s room to check on her one last time before driving home, but it didn’t feel right to leave her alone. I decided to take a chance and sleep in the chair by her hospital bed. If I were going to sleepwalk, getting caught by a nurse in a clinic would be a best-case scenario. But when I woke in the morning, there were no signs that I’d gone “gallivanting,” a verb Lada often used to describe my post-midnight club crawls in college. Sometimes I’d visit her for breakfast if I stayed out all night dancing with friends. She was always up by 5:00 a.m., delighted to make blinis and hear of my adventures.
It took drinking vats of weak coffee at the nurse’s station to reach my functional caffeine level. Then I spent the next few hours holding Lada’s hand through another battery of tests. Her doctor came by and gave a cautiously optimistic report but ordered more tests for the afternoon. The gloomy day passed in a medical bubble. It was actually a relief to be focusing on Lada instead of the murders. I managed to leave messages at the auction houses, but I had to stand outside in the rain to do it. The sun broke through after Lada’s pal Mort visited. She finally smiled and seemed more like herself. My spirits brightened as well.
By midnight I was headed home, hurrying down the cedar path in the brisk night air toward the parking lot. Above me a cluster of feathery gray clouds surrounded a giant yellow moon. They made it look like the eye of a wolf. I pulled my collar up, wrapped my coat around me more tightly and jogged the rest of the way to the car.
After I crossed the Harbor Bridge, a dark road stretched ahead. Not a single car in sight. No headlights behind, either. Sgt. Crawley’s car wasn’t parked on the shoulder where he’d waited before, but that didn’t mean the police weren’t watching. This deserted stretch of Crooked Beach Road offered plenty of secret spots for a stakeout—thick, dark woods on either side. The police could be lurking in there for the night.
As I arrived at the Coop, the clouds moved over the moon. Cloaked in shadow, the long, low building and a small garden shed squatted between two walls of towering hemlock shrubs. The dark forest loomed at the edge of the field behind. I’d forgotten to turn on the outside light when I rushed off to the clinic and had to squint for my house key on the crowded chain. I finally remembered to use the light on my phone.
A strong odor of cigarettes and burned rope greeted me at the doorstep. I stiffened, whipped around and scanned the driveway and bushes with my phone light.
No sign of anyone. Silence. I slowly returned to face the door and sniffed again. I aimed the light beam at my feet and could see two cigarette butts mashed into the sisal mat. I concluded the police must’ve returned for more questions. But then I remembered I hadn’t seen Roche or Crawley smoking. I bent down, picked up one of the butts and held it closer to the phone. I recognized the eagle wing insignia on the paper instantly and went completely still.
American Spirits.
Something rustled the thick hemlocks at the side of the house. I flinched and accidentally dropped the phone. It bounced off the concrete step and landed in the gravel as a bright beam of light shot straight into my eyes.
“Hey, Nora. I’ve been waiting out here so long, I had to relieve myself back there.”