In Another Country, and Besides

by Maxwell Jacobs

  “Then a few weeks back, he started to become crazy again. Showing up at my parents’, constant calls, letters, telegrams. He’s a complete psychopath. In the end, I just wanted to leave and I found myself here.”

  “I’m so sorry for all you’ve been through,” I said after a small silence. “It all sounds just horrible.”

  “It was horrible, Harry. Especially the last weeks. Seeing Roberto again. It was, well. Perhaps you can imagine.”

  “How is he with Liv? Did you let him see her?” I glanced back into the living room.

  “Yes. But supervised with my parents. He’s better for sure. They definitely reconnected. He now puts more time and focus on her. I just hope it’s for the right reasons, and not just to win me back.”

  “I guess only time will tell,” I said, sighing. “So that whole story about you leaving him and having an affair with Alexander…was any of that true?”

  “Yes, that was when I first tried to separate from Roberto. But during my time with Alexander, Roberto threatened to kill him if I didn’t come home. And I could see he was serious. So I went back to Roberto for some months, but when things got bad again I started to panic.”

  “I can imagine,” I said.

  “I really tried, Harry, I really did,” she said, her face a mask of anguish. “I tried so hard to reconnect with him and make it work. Even after all he had put us through for the sake of our family. He told me he had changed and that everything would be better again. But it wasn’t. The abuse came again, only some days after.”

  “Unbelievable.” I couldn’t think of anything else to say. “So how did you do it?”

  “Do what?”

  “Fake your own death?”

  “Do you really want to know.”

  “Yes.”

  Now for the first time she dropped the manner she just had and became almost bright and chillingly cheerful.

  “We were on holiday in Sicily,” she said. “And one evening I went for a swim and never came back.”

  “What, that’s it?”

  “That’s it. That simple. Of course, they thought I had drowned. So I made my way back to Bologna where I had left money and clothes in a locker at the train station. One day I will tell Liv, but she is too young now to understand.”

  “It’s just so incredible, Cleo,” I said.

  “Maria,” she said smiling.

  “Maria, sorry.”

  The telephone rang.

  “Excuse me a moment.” I got up and went inside and picked up the receiver but it was dead on the line, so I hung up the phone and went back out to the terrace. Liv was completely absorbed in her drawings and didn’t even notice me walking by.

  “Everything okay, Harry?”

  “Yes, everything’s fine,” I said.

  “Anyway, what were we talking about?” she asked.

  “I think you were talking about Roberto. Did you tell him you didn’t love him anymore?”

  “Yes, but he doesn’t listen, or doesn’t want to listen. I think the only way I will get it through to him is to ask for a divorce. But I know he will not make it easy.”

  “I understand.”

  “But really, it was too much these last weeks. I felt very unbalanced.”

  “I can empathize. And how is Liv?”

  “She’s fine so far, she reacts on me I guess. If I’m unbalanced then so is she.”

  “Poor thing.”

  She was nervous again, as I had never seen her before. She kept looking away from me and looking ahead in a blank stare at the wall.

  “So what was the turning point?” I asked.

  “How do you mean?”

  “In a sense of, at what point did you decide to leave Venice?”

  “I guess, some months after we met, I had a visit from the inspector investigating Massimo’s murder. Remember the inspector, Harry?”

  “Yes,” I said darkly, remembering all too well.

  “He came to see me in Rome and told me they had caught the killer,” she said. I reached for the cigarettes.

  “Okay.”

  “But it gets worse,” she continued.

  “How so?”

  “They told me it was Alexander.”

  “Alexander? Your Alexander? The one from Paris? Are you serious?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh my God. Do you believe it?”

  “I don’t know what to believe,” she said. “It all seems too surreal. Like a movie, or a bad play.”

  “They said they found Alexander’s skin under Massimo’s finger nails, or something like that. I don’t know how they can know it from skin. I mean, it could be anyone’s.” Her face scrunched up in disgust.

  “They have new technology these days, I guess.”

  “Well, apparently some days after he did this he then drove up to Lago di Como with a local girl and murdered her in a hotel room.”

  I stayed silent.

  “It’s just horrible, Harry. Although the inspector does seem doubtful it was Alexander. I don’t know. They are still investigating.”

  “Does the inspector know about Roberto? I mean, could it be him?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t want to think about it. It was all too much and I just had to leave.”

  “I understand.”

  “He was even very suspicious of me.”

  “Who?”

  “The inspector. He was suggesting I was somehow involved. It’s all such a mess,” she said, smoking heavily now.

  “Let’s have another drink,” I said suddenly. I went in and took the whole bottle and brought it outside. I poured a little in my glass, then a glass for Maria, then filled my glass again.

  “In the end, I just had to get away, away from Roberto and away from everything. And I’d thought of you so many times these past months, and I ended up here. I hope you don’t mind. I really could use a friend right now.”

  “I don’t mind at all.”

  She smiled weakly back.

  “Did you book a hotel?”

  “I was hoping we could stay with you for some days until I figure things out. I’m too scared to stay alone. Do you mind? I don’t want to impose.”

  “Of course you can stay, if you don’t mind the boxes.”

  “Thanks, Harry, you are so very sweet.”

  “You can both stay in my room and I’ll take the sofa.”

  “Will your girlfriend mind?” she asked, her eyes worried for a moment.

  “I don’t have a girlfriend.” I could see relief in her expression.

  “I really can’t thank you enough.”

  I was now looking at her from across the small outside table under the gaslight hanging from the wall. She was smoking another cigarette and flicking the ashes onto the floor. She saw me notice it. “I don’t want to ruin your new terrace. Do you have an ashtray?” She turned away and looked at Liv through the window and we stayed silent. She left like a child to me in that moment. I felt her pain and all she had been through. She didn’t deserve any of that. No woman does. I looked at her with admiration, and all the anger I had felt toward her washed away. She was in need of help, and I was in a position to help.

  She smiled back and then leaned forward and broke the silence.

  “So tell me a little about you, Harry. We’ve only spoken about me.”

  “What’s to say really?” I breathed in deeply and leaned back.

  “Well, how’s the writing going for a start?”

  “Very well actually. After Com-, I mean Venice, I had some form of clarity and I was able to start writing again, and only very recently I finished my second novel and a few short stories that I hope to be published soon.”

  “Really, how wonderful. What’s the novel about?”

  “I have a manuscript somewhere here that you can read. I’m just in the final stages of editing before it gets published.”

  “What’s it called?”

  “The Blue Room.”

  “Nice title.”

  “Thanks. I
t’s a good book. You are lucky as a writer if you can write truly what you hear and think. And I think I did just that.”

  “You seem to be doing well for yourself,” she said.

  “Yes, over the last couple of months, things are starting to come together. I just wish I could sleep. I suffer from insomnia.”

  “How terrible.”

  “I’m on medication, it helps, but sometimes I have problems catching up with reality.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I leaned over and drank my glass down and poured out another for Maria. I put my hand on her arm.

  “Listen, let me go out pick up something for dinner and some other supplies. You two just make yourself at home and I’ll be back soon and we can continue our talk.”

  “Of course,” she said.

  I stood up and felt shaky on my feet and as I did so she also stood up and came close. She put her arms around me and whispered, “I knew I was right to come here.” I pulled back, smiled, and left.

  Downstairs I came out through the first-floor door onto the side street. I walked alone. It was cold and bright in the evening sky, and I gradually digested all Maria had said.

  Up the street was a little square with trees and grass where there were taxis parked. A taxi came up the street and I waved toward him before he stopped.

  A bicycle cop saw me waving and came over before I could get in the taxi and asked to see some identity papers. I took out my Swiss blue paper, and he gave it a long hard stare and then let me go. I got inside the taxi and told the driver where to go.

  The driver started up the street and I settled back and wondered if I was in fact safe to be around. I had been on my own since Como, and there was some safety in that.

  Ahead was a mounted policeman in a gray and blue shirt directing traffic. He raised his baton. The car slowed down. I tightened up and clenched my fists and started to sweat.

  CHAPTER XIII

  TWO WEEKS WENT BY and Maria and Liv were still here. I was not bothered by any troubles and I rather enjoyed having them here. I still had plenty of work to do on the manuscript but we often went to the park together in the afternoons. Liv was fun and beautiful and caring and enjoyed it when I played the goofball. The language barrier didn’t stop us from having fun either. The three of us connected and it felt great. Maria told me more about Roberto and I tried to reserve judgment as much as I could. At nights I would sit and read to Liv in English before she fell asleep. I think she liked the new, strange sounds of the language. Then Maria and I would sit out on the terrace, talking and drinking and smoking. I was happy she was there and I told her as much.

  I had thought that Maria being around would bring me into great stress and anxiety, but it really didn’t. The opposite in fact happened and I didn’t feel touched by it at all. I even started to think that perhaps Alexander or Roberto really killed Massimo and Viola. Life felt simpler that way.

  One morning I was walking down the stairs to buy cigarettes, I noticed a strange looking man talking to the concierge. He looked up and grinned. He was carrying a briefcase. I met him on the way down and he introduced himself as Romano. He was Italian.

  “Hello there,” he said in a firm manor.

  “Herr Hoffman, this gentleman is looking for a woman and child who he believes is staying somewhere close by.” She looked at me with wide eyes.

  “Appunto! I am looking for this girl,” he pulled out a picture of Maria.

  “Have you seen this woman?” he had a big mustache and looked very military in his black suit. The concierge was just behind him.

  “I haven’t sorry,” I looked at Frau Fischer hoping she wouldn’t say anything.

  “Why are you looking for her?” I asked. “Is she in some sort of trouble? Mr..?”

  “It’s Romano,” he snatched back the picture. “She disappeared some weeks ago and her family is worried. They believe she is here in Zurich,” he turned back to the concierge.

  “Are you absolutely sure, Frau Fischer? Please look again at the picture,” I was stood behind him and she looked at me over his shoulder and I shook my head slowly with wide eyes.

  “I haven’t seen this woman, Mr. Romano,” she said.

  “Very well then, if you see anything, please contact me on this number,” he handed her a card and started for the door.

  “Mr. Romano,” I called out and he turned back. “Why do you think she could be around here?”

  “What business is it of yours?” He looked on with inquisitive eyes.

  “None, I guess, I was just curious.”

  He turned away and continued to the next building. I could feel that he sensed the tension.

  “Herr Hoffman, what is all this about?” Frau Fischer asked with tension in her voice.

  “Can I see his card?”

  She handed it over. It read.

  GIOVANNI ROMANO

  INVESTIGATORE PRIVATO

  VIA PIEMONTE, 140

  ROMA

  06 884 3240

  “The picture is the lady who is staying with you, no?”

  “Yes, but you must not tell this man.”

  “I don’t want any trouble here, Herr Harry.”

  “There will be no trouble, Frau Fischer, I promise, but please do not call this man. I will handle it.”

  “But what is she doing here?”

  “Really, you have nothing to worry about.”

  I tipped her two francs and looked at the card again. A postman was coming along the sidewalk. He turned into the open door and handed a packet of post to Frau Fischer, she looked at me in a motherly disappointment and then turned her attention to the postman. I walked out to a nearby café and had an espresso and cigarette and contemplated if I should tell Maria.

  By midmorning the air still had a cool freshness to it, and it felt pleasant to sit outside on the terrace of the café. It was past ten now. I finished the papers and was about to go back to the apartment when I saw Maria and Liv walking toward me. They came over and sat down. A cool breeze started to blow, and I could feel that the cold air was coming from the mountains. The waiter came out and asked if we would like to order something. My nerves felt shot to hell so I ordered a beer.

  “Are you okay, Harry? You seem a little pale.”

  “I’m just low energy. Everything is fine,” the waiter came with the beer and I paused to take a sip.

  “Are you sure? Do you not want us here anymore?”

  “Don’t be silly; I love the fact that you guys are here. I’m having a great time with you and Liv,” on hearing her name, Liv looked up and smiled.

  “Come on, Liv, let’s cheer up Uncle Harry.”

  “Uncle Harry,” I said and smiled.

  “Listen, I should tell you something, before we go.”

  “What is it?”

  “There was a private investigator here this morning asking around for you.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yes, he even had a picture.”

  “What did you say?”

  “That I hadn’t seen you, so did Frau Fischer.”

  “Who’s Frau Fischer?”

  “The concierge.”

  “Would she say anything?”

  “I don’t believe so.”

  “He seemed to suggest that your family had hired him,” I passed her his card.

  “It’s not my parents, this is Roberto,” I could feel her body tense and stiffen.

  “I figured as much.”

  “Can we leave and go for a walk? If he’s around, I don’t want him to see us,” she asked.

  “Of course.”

  I finished my beer and paid the bill and we walked to the playground across by the cemetery so Liv could play on the swings. We sat down on a bench and had a cigarette. From where we sat we could see the church in the middle of the cemetery. Maria seeming distracted, made some remark about it being a very good something or another, I wasn’t really listening. It did however seem like a nice church.

  We decided t
o walk up and go inside. Liv was on my shoulders and as we entered I put her down and she kept close to Maria. It was calm and dim and dark and the pillars reached from the floor to the high ceiling. There were people praying and the scent of incense came between the tall glass windows.

  “Come on, Harry,” she whispered, taking my hand. She brought us three to a chair and we all knelt down. Liv was enchanted by the place but kept silent.

  “Maria, I don’t really feel comfortable here,” I whispered back.

  “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “Just try to be calm and still. We will feel better, trust me.”

  I sat for a moment and felt like I shouldn’t be there and that if God was present, I was to him an enemy of the worse kind.

  “Maria, I can’t be here!” I said, raising my voice this time. A man turned around.

  “Please, Harry, just try. For me.”

  I turned to Liv and she smiled and put her hands together like her mother.

  “But I’ve sinned too much!” I swallowed hard.

  “Then ask for forgiveness.”

  Something in Maria’s words touched me—her faith, or her belief in salvation perhaps. I knelt down beside them both and prayed.

  I prayed for everyone I knew. I thought of Maria and Liv and prayed that they would find their way and be happy. I prayed that the private investigator would leave town, and Roberto would leave Maria alone and just disappear. I prayed for my own daughter and wished her well and told her that not a single day goes by that I don’t think of her. I prayed for Marie-Anne to be able to find some peace and rest wherever she was and then I prayed for myself, for my sins, for Viola, for forgiveness.

  While praying, I found that I was getting tired, and all the time I was kneeling with my forehead on the wood in front of me, thinking of myself praying, I was ashamed and regretted being such a bad Catholic and the guilt of being a bad Catholic and the fear of an eternal punishment that would surly await me, then I realized there was nothing I could do about it, at least for a while—well, maybe never. But it was a good religion and I only wished I felt more religious. Maybe I would next time, I thought, feeling the need to leave.