He exhaled loudly. “Uh, I’m sorry, Lizzie.” He seemed genuinely chastened. “That’s not—I am so lucky to have your help. I know that. I’m just starting to lose it in here a bit.”
“That’s understandable,” I said. And Zach was being attacked, literally. Surely it was taking its toll.
“I should have told you about the warrant. Actually, I should have paid the damn ticket in the first place. The whole issue could have been avoided.”
“Adam said you didn’t remember what the warrant was for?”
“I do now,” he said. “I’ve had plenty of time to think in here. It was for loitering, I’m pretty sure.”
“Loitering?”
“Ridiculous, right? Do you remember that new mayor in Philly when we were there?”
“Um, maybe, I don’t know.” I did not.
“Well, he was going after everybody for everything. Like every jaywalker. I remember the one officer making a point that they were doing me a favor by not charging me with a misdemeanor, which supposedly they could have. So, I got the ticket for standing too long on a corner. I objected to it on the moral principle that the mayor was trying to create a police state. Hubris of law school youth, I guess. That’s why I didn’t pay it. Obviously, I should have.”
I would have preferred an explanation that was slightly less belligerent, but at least it sounded truthful.
“Yeah, that might have been better, but it’s okay. We’ll get it resolved.”
“Were you able to reach Case’s camp?” Zach asked.
“Yes, it’s all set. Ashe’s parents will head to the camp this weekend, then bring both of the boys to their house and tell Case there. The camp will make sure Case doesn’t hear anything before then. And Ashe’s parents will let me know if Case wants to talk to you, and we’ll arrange it.”
“Oh, good.” Zach sounded relieved. “I was so afraid that he’d accidentally—”
“That’s not going to happen,” I said. “His camp seems really on top of things. And his friend’s parents were very upset about Amanda, obviously, but they were focused completely on Case by the time I hung up.”
“Thank you, Lizzie, really,” Zach said. “Ashe, huh …”
“We should get some other facts straight, in case they somehow come up at the writ hearing. Also, there’s a good chance I’ll be arguing it without you there. They’re scheduled on short notice. You do have a right to be there, but having you brought up could slow things down. Are you okay waiving your appearance?”
“Sure, yeah, of course. Whatever you think is best,” Zach said, the edge completely gone from his voice.
I glanced down at my list, hoping to start with the easiest things first.
“Did you send flowers to Amanda from Blooms on the Slope?”
“Flowers?” Zach asked. “Sorry, no. Why?”
“I’m sure it’s nothing. She just had a card from some flowers,” I said, hoping now to breeze past the question of who sent them. “What are the names of some of Amanda’s friends? I should go talk to them.”
“Maude was the woman who had the party that night. I know they were friends,” he said. “And her other close friend in the neighborhood is a woman named Sarah. She worked with Amanda at the foundation.”
“Foundation?” I asked.
“Oh, yeah, we just started a scholarship foundation,” he said. “Or I started a scholarship foundation. Amanda ran it, because that’s what the wives of successful entrepreneurs do,” he said flatly. He was mocking himself, at least I hoped. “Amanda didn’t complain because she never complained. But I don’t think she enjoyed running the foundation. With her upbringing, she was glad to help needy kids. But she was overwhelmed by the responsibility. She was always worried she was going to mess something up and somebody was going to come after her.”
“Come after her?”
“Not literally,” he said. “If there was something like that, I would tell you, believe me.”
“I found her journals at your—”
“Journals?”
“She kept a bunch under your bed. They go back years.”
“Oh yeah, right,” he said. “I knew that.”
But did he? I wasn’t so sure. If he was learning about the journals for the first time, though, he wasn’t nervous about them. At all. And wasn’t that a little weird? Who wanted a running account of their petty marital discords, especially through the eyes of their partner? I wouldn’t want Sam keeping journals, and I hadn’t been accused of murdering him.
“I took a quick look at a couple of them,” I said. “I think maybe Amanda’s childhood was worse than just being poor.”
“I’m not surprised,” Zach said. He also did not sound particularly intrigued. “When I met Amanda, she was a seventeen-year-old high-school dropout working and living at a motel, so—” He was silent then, abruptly. As though he’d wished he hadn’t admitted quite that much. “Anyway, she didn’t talk about her past except to say that ‘money was tight.’ She didn’t seem to want to get into it, and I never pushed. We all have family crap, right? I know her mom died when she was young. Whatever else happened, she came through it all right, because she was a great mom and a good wife. A really positive person. We liked to be forward-looking, you know? Our life started when we met.”
“Were you guys trying to have another baby?”
“Another baby?” Zach scoffed. “Are you asking if we were having sex?”
“No, no, I—”
“Because the answer is not very often. I worked long hours,” Zach said. “Not that sex with Amanda was bad. It was great, actually, when we had it.”
My cheeks flushed, but I was annoyed, too. Why was Zach talking to me about his sex life? It was weird and awkward, verging on inappropriate. But then, I reminded myself, who was “appropriate” in Rikers? “I found an ovulation test strip in your home office. That’s why I asked.”
“An ovulation test strip in my office? What were you doing in my office?”
“Um, the job you asked me to do?”
“Right, right, sorry,” he said. “Well, after Case, Amanda couldn’t have any more children. That’s what she told me. So I don’t know anything about an ovulation test.”
“Are you sure?”
“Why would she lie?” he asked.
We were both quiet for a moment, the implication not lost on either of us. Had Amanda lied about her infertility? Had she been trying to get pregnant without Zach knowing? Or secretly trying to avoid it?
“I think maybe there was someone in your house when I was there,” I went on, hoping to change the subject from sex.
“What do you mean?”
“Someone ran out the back door. I didn’t see who.”
“Do you think—what if they had something to do with what happened to Amanda?”
“I called the police for that reason. But it’s unclear how exhaustive their investigation will be, so I also called in an independent investigator. She wants to run the house for prints and get a blood spatter expert. It won’t be cheap, but it seems like there are definitely some prints in Amanda’s blood on the stairs. If they’re not yours—”
“They’re not,” Zach said. “I didn’t kill her, Lizzie.”
“But you did try to help her, right? So your prints should be there somewhere.”
“This is it, isn’t it?” Zach asked, sounding defeated.
“This is what?”
“This is how innocent people get railroaded. What if we get an expert to test the prints and they don’t find anyone else’s? Couldn’t that be used against me?”
He wasn’t entirely wrong. “I think it’s worth that risk,” I said, and now there was no putting it off anymore, though the last thing I wanted was to talk about sex again. “Also, was there a partner exchange going on at the party you were at the night Amanda died?”
“Partner exchange?” Zach asked like he had absolutely no idea what I was talking about.
“Yes, people having sex wit
h other people’s spouses?”
“Are you saying you think Amanda had sex with somebody else that night?” Zach sounded angry, very angry. “That she cheated on me?”
“No, no, no.” I was taken aback by the force of his reaction. “I don’t have any reason to think that Amanda did anything with anyone that night. I’m asking what you know, that’s all.”
There was another long, uncomfortable silence.
“I’d be surprised if Amanda had sex with somebody other than me. But then you keep telling me stuff about my wife I didn’t know.” He sounded more hurt now than angry, maybe a little embarrassed, too. “Look, we didn’t really talk, Amanda and I. We weren’t close in that way.” He hesitated. “You know, it wasn’t like with you and me.”
“Me?” I immediately regretted inquiring. The last thing I wanted was for Zach to elaborate. But the comment had just caught me so off-guard.
“Yeah, you and I had actual things in common. Our backgrounds, our work ethic. We wanted the same things out of life, not to mention that we’re both lawyers and intellectual equals,” he said quietly. I felt my cheeks flush again. But was I really that surprised? Deep down, hadn’t I known back then that Zach had feelings for me? “It would have been different with you. That’s all I mean. With Amanda I wasn’t even looking for some kind of partnership. And neither was she. We had a pleasant arrangement that worked for both of us. That’s it.”
Awkward silence. What could I possibly say next? All I could think was no, we did not want the same things. Because we didn’t. Did we? Returning to the facts seemed best.
“Okay, so Sarah and Maude. Anyone else I should talk to?” I asked. “The DA doesn’t go around interviewing every possible person. They get the information they need for their case and that’s it.”
“Those are the only people she mentioned,” Zach went on. “Listen, I know what this looks like. A distant marriage, a sex party, a dead wife. You don’t have to be a genius to put the pieces together. Except I didn’t do it, Lizzie. I did not kill Amanda. I swear. You know that, right?”
“I do,” I said.
But how could I possibly? Millie was right: given the right circumstances, anyone was capable of anything.
At the office, I spent three hours drafting a damn good habeas corpus writ for Zach’s bail appeal. I left it with the managing clerk’s office for filing first thing in the morning, along with instructions to request an expedited hearing and for them to send someone to Philadelphia to clear Zach’s old warrant.
I brought Amanda’s journals home with me, and started reading the third one as my black car home sped south down the FDR toward the Brooklyn Bridge.
January 5, 2006
Christopher and I went to see Marley & Me at the theater on Route 1. But I had a hard time even concentrating on the movie. I’ve thought about seeing a doctor. The pain won’t go away. And it was a lot worse this time. Because I wouldn’t hold still, he said. But doctors have to report things to the police …. I went down to the St. Colomb Falls Methodist Church instead. To see Pastor David. I’m pretty sure a minister needs to keep anything you tell them a secret. But when I saw his stooped shoulders and his kind eyes and wrinkled face, I knew there was no way I was saying a word to him either.
I tried asking Carolyn about the pain—without telling her why I was asking. But she was way too interested. And once Carolyn gets herself in the middle of something, there’s no getting her out. I love Carolyn for that. But I’m afraid she’ll make a bigger mess of things.
It was past 11:00 p.m. when I finally got home, haunted by Amanda’s cornered teenage voice in my head. I was glad the apartment was dark and quiet. After reading about what I could only guess was maybe Amanda’s rape by a boy named Christopher, the last thing I felt like doing was talking to Sam about rehab or anything else. I would. I would. Just not right now.
I could hear Sam lightly snoring back in the bedroom as I tiptoed out to our small living room to keep reading. How much more was there about this Christopher? When had Amanda stopped seeing him? It was a long shot that he had anything to do with Amanda’s death all these years later, of course. A very long shot. But also not impossible.
Everything in the living room was exactly as it had been when I’d stopped by earlier that afternoon. Sam’s computer was there, open as I’d left it, his notebooks stacked up. Enid’s. I felt a wave of fresh irritation as the bar flashed back to me.
I lifted Sam’s worn messenger bag to take a seat at his computer, hoping to see on the screen some evidence of work that afternoon. As I put the bag down on the floor, something sparkling in the gaping outside pocket caught my eye. A gift? I felt a little girlish flutter—had that been what Sam was out doing? Shopping for me?
I reached in the pocket to fish it out.
For a very long time, I just stared down at it in the palm of my hand. There was only the one. Not a gift for me, that’s for sure.
I blinked hard when my eyes began to burn. But when I opened them, it was still there. Long and thin and shimmering silver. A woman’s earring. Coiled like a snake in the palm of my hand.
Amanda
FOUR DAYS BEFORE THE PARTY
It was barely dawn, the light dim and gray, when Amanda came downstairs and flipped on the light over the huge island in their enormous kitchen. And to think that when they’d first arrived in Park Slope, Zach had considered purchasing two such brownstones and connecting them. Even the real estate agent, who’d stood to profit significantly from such an endeavor, had discouraged him.
“This isn’t Manhattan,” she’d said simply, as though that settled the matter.
Zach had been genuinely disappointed that the neighborhood culture meant not being able to go quite as far over the top as he was inclined, but he was unwilling to consider living elsewhere. “It’s the ideal community,” he’d kept saying.
Like every place they’d ever lived, their now very modern brownstone felt to Amanda like it belonged to someone else. As grateful as she was to live someplace so nice—and she was grateful to Zach for that—their homes always left her feeling like an impostor.
Oh, this drifting of Amanda’s mind was not good. Things worked so much better for her when her mind was contained to the page. That’s what her journals were for.
Amanda moved to make herself a cup of coffee—activities were also good. She’d just filled the carafe with water when the home phone rang. She turned to look at the cordless sitting over there in the center of the island. Her work phone, her cell phone, and now her home phone? She stepped closer: “Unknown Caller.” No, she thought. Please don’t. Not so early.
“Hello?” Amanda answered, her voice quiet and trembling. Silence. And then that rough, rattling breath. “Hello?” Sharper now, more forceful. But she didn’t want to make him angry. That wouldn’t help anything. When she spoke again it was a whisper. “Please stop calling me.”
But there was only more silence on the other end. And more of his awful breathing.
And then a click.
“Hello?” Amanda asked again, louder this time.
But the line was dead. She pressed the phone to her chest and closed her eyes. They never should have come to New York City. It was too close to St. Colomb Falls. Not that Amanda had been given a choice in the matter. Where Zach needed to go, they went. It had always been that way. And aside from the effect on Case—which she continued to worry about—Amanda hadn’t considered this move any differently. Until she’d stepped off the plane at Kennedy Airport and saw that sign: “Welcome to New York.”
The wind had been pounded right out of her. It wasn’t until an hour later, when she’d glimpsed the Empire State Building from the back of the chauffeur-driven SUV—sparkling red, white, and blue against the glittering Manhattan skyline—that she’d finally been able to get her hands to stop shaking. This was New York City, she’d been reminding herself ever since. It was a world away from St. Colomb Falls.
Amanda caught sight of something then, som
eone, out of the corner of her eye. She startled back, bumping her hip into the counter and letting out a little yelp.
“It’s just me!” Carolyn called, waving her hands around. “Sorry, I let myself in.”
“Don’t do that!” Amanda shouted, then tried to steady her breath.
“Jeez, you are jacked up,” Carolyn gasped. “What did His Highness do now?”
It was a joke, of sorts. Carolyn didn’t like Zach any more than Sarah did. Actually, she liked him much less.
“I’m jacked up because you just scared the hell out of me. What are you even doing in Brooklyn?” Amanda asked. “It’s not Monday, is it?”
Since they’d moved to Park Slope, she and Carolyn had been running together every Monday morning in Prospect Park. Had Amanda lost track of the days? With Case gone, and the bad dreams and lack of decent sleep, time did feel especially slippery.
“Nope, it’s Sunday. But let me guess, Zach is at work?” Carolyn asked. Amanda rolled her eyes in response, though that was exactly where Zach was. “Anyway, can’t I come see my best friend? You sounded weird the last time we talked. I thought I should check in.” Carolyn tapped at her temple and then pointed at Amanda. “Then again you are also weird on the phone. Only way to be sure was to see you with my own eyes.”
Carolyn worked in advertising, as a creative executive at McCann Erickson. Zach had once said it was the most prestigious advertising agency in the whole world. And he wasn’t one for false praise. Carolyn had done well for herself, which wasn’t a surprise.
“I am not weird on the phone,” Amanda said mildly. “And I’m fine. It’s just an adjustment not having Case here.”
Carolyn stopped at the kitchen island and tossed her headphones down, then put her hands on her hips. “I knew that camp was a bad idea.”
Carolyn had been strongly (and loudly) against Case going to that particular sleepaway camp. She wasn’t opposed to the idea of camp in general, but she thought sending a kid to camp on the opposite coast at the age of ten was ridiculous. She also didn’t buy it as compensation to Case for the cross-country move. She thought that was something Zach should have made up for, as if that was how anything worked. Really, she couldn’t understand why Amanda hadn’t stayed behind in California with Case until he had finished the school year. But Zach needed his family at his side. With new businesses, new cities, people cared about a person’s context. It was Amanda’s job to give Zach that context, to complete his picture as a family man. And Amanda didn’t mind. In fact, she liked it. She was good at it.
A Good Marriage Page 13