by Phil Swann
Anthony continued speaking, but Kathryn didn't hear a word. She went away, reliving a rainy afternoon twelve years past as if it were yesterday.
"An abortion. You killed our baby!" David yelled.
Henry and Kathryn jerked as David entered Henry's study. He was carrying a piece of paper. Kathryn was shaking. Henry's eyes filled with tears.
"Why? Why?” David screamed, throwing the thin sheet of paper at Kathryn.
"Davey, please, calm—”
"You killed our baby." David grabbed Kathryn by the arm. “How could you?"
Henry jumped from his chair and hurried around the desk to restrain the out-of-control young man.
"You bitch. You killed our…"
"It wasn't your baby," Kathryn screamed, falling to her knees. “It wasn't your baby. It wasn't your baby," she repeated, her voice trailing off in pain.
David's face went flush. He let go of Kathryn's arm and fell against the doorframe.
Henry kneeled next to Kathryn.
"Anthony," David whispered to no one.
Kathryn cowered on the floor and nodded her head.
David took in a long breath and looked up at the ceiling. "How long?"
Kathryn didn't answer.
David found his hand on the bookshelf. He heaved a row of books to the floor. "How long?"
"A couple of months," Kathryn mumbled.
David looked at Henry, his eyes wide and insane. "You knew. Jesus Christ, you knew and you didn't…" David stopped mid-sentence and looked back at Kathryn and then back to Henry. He looked around the floor and found the paper he had hurled. It was the hospital's report and discharge. It was paid and signed by Henry Shoewalter.
"You son of a bitch," David whispered.
"Henry was just helping me," Kathryn wailed.
Henry hung his head. "I'm sorry, Davey. I love you both so—”
"It's my fucking life!" David howled like a wounded animal.
"I know, oh, I'm so sorry, Davey—”
"Sorry?" David shouted, hitting the wall with his fist. "Go to hell, old man…all of you can just go to hell. I don't fucking need any of you."
"He was devastated," Kathryn whispered, as if she were in a trance. "It nearly killed him, literally. Henry and I searched for three days. We never heard about the accident. We just found him in the hospital. He'd refused to tell anybody his name. That was the last time I saw him. Everyone he'd ever loved had left him, and I was just one more. He even thought Henry had abandoned him, which may have hurt him even—” her voice trailed off. "I never should have told Henry. I never should have gotten him involved. I just needed help, and money. I was so stupid back then."
Both were silent for a moment, Kathryn locked in a memory, Anthony setting up for his next move.
"Kathryn, I have a confession."
Kathryn looked up.
"It's the reason I didn't sleep well last night myself. It was because of Henry Shoewalter and David Webber. They've been on my mind as well."
"Why? You weren't that close to Henry and never cared much for David."
"That's not true. I had nothing against Webber. I was just…well, jealous, I guess. He had a part of you I could never touch…still can't."
"Anthony—”
"No, let me finish. We're into this, so we might as well stop avoiding it. And it's time I came clean, anyway—confessed to my sins, as it were. Kathryn, it's no secret to either of us that our marriage is less than blissful. We both know it and have just come to accept it. But I can't just accept anymore. I want my wife, my beautiful wife. When I mentioned David Webber's name yesterday and saw the look on your face—”
"Anthony—”
"Please, Kathryn. I did something."
"What?"
Anthony paused for effect. "You know Uncle Nick has contacts everywhere, including with the Los Angeles police department. I asked him to see if he could get me information about the murder, specifically about David's involvement."
"Why?"
"Because I'm pathetic and desperate. Kathryn, that time twelve years ago still haunts me too. You see, I used to believe that your getting pregnant was my good fortune. You and David split up. I won. I got the girl. I now see how wrong I was. Had you not gotten pregnant, I believe things would have turned out differently. Maybe I'm being foolish, or maybe just wishful thinking, but I honestly think I would have won you anyway. I believe you would have left David on your own accord instead of what happened. I believe you would have fallen as much in love with me as I was with you—as much as I am still in love with you, Kathryn. But I never got that chance, which is why I've gone through our marriage feeling like a consolation prize."
Kathryn was stunned. She didn't know how to respond, especially since much of what he was saying was true. For even though it had taken over two and a half years from that horrible afternoon at Henry's before she'd accepted Anthony's persistent proposal of marriage, she remembered thinking even then Anthony was a consolation prize. And, at times, perhaps her punishment.
"I had my uncle look into Henry's murder because I thought if I could show you what they had on David—what kind of man he turned out to be—then you'd realize you had made the right choice. I'm not proud of it, but that's what I did, and I'm sorry." Anthony hung his head.
Kathryn didn't know if she wanted to hear this or not. But she had to ask.
"What did you find out, Anthony?"
"No, Kathryn, I can't—”
"Anthony, what did you find out? I have to know. Did David kill Henry?”
Anthony closed his eyes and spoke through a deep sigh. “The police have no other suspects. The police believe that Henry contacted David because of something the old man was working on. It must have had something to do with the Mozart project Henry contacted you about a few months ago. If you recall, David was a whiz when it came to Wolfgang. It only makes sense that Henry would go to him for help. Anyway, the police think for some reason a fight ensued, and David lost control."
"No, that's not possible. Henry was like a father to David, he'd never—”
"I'm sorry, dear. But the truth is you haven't seen David in a very long time. You don't know what he's like now. Uncle Nick learned that David has become a pretty hard drinker. He was even arrested earlier the night Henry was killed for a barroom brawl. He was probably still drunk when he saw Henry. Anyway, the police suspect a crime of passion."
"I can't believe it. David loved Henry…" Kathryn's breath stopped and she brought her trembling hands to her mouth. "It had to do with me. Oh God."
"No, it was so many years ago. David couldn't still be holding that anger."
"Yes, Anthony, he could. Henry must have told him I assisted in the Mozart research and that sent David back twelve years. Oh God."
Anthony grabbed his wife's shaking hands. "Sweetheart, you don't know any of this. We don't know if Henry told David about his project. And we also don't know with certainty that David is responsible for Henry's death."
"But you said the police weren't looking for anybody else," Kathryn said, barely able to get out the words.
"That doesn't mean David is responsible. Henry's murder might not be connected to David at all. Maybe it has to do with his Mozart project."
"What…why, why would you say that?" Kathryn stammered, eager to accept any other explanation.
"Well, I don't know. I'm just throwing out other possibilities. But we don't know what Henry was working on."
"No, we don't." Kathryn's posture abruptly changed. “Anthony, I do remember something."
"What?"
Kathryn squinted, trying to make the memory focus. "Henry said something when we first talked. When he asked me to do the research. He said something like…he was working on something that was going to be very big news."
"He did? He said, ‘very big news?’"
"Yes, he did. I'm sure of it. He said this project could be the biggest music story of the century. Those were his words. But I just thought it was Henry's us
ual hyperbole. But what if it wasn't? What if it was something very important? Important enough to get killed over?"
Anthony's eyes widened. Inside, however, he felt calm confidence. This is way too easy. "You mean, maybe it wasn't David," he said, his voice bursting with hope. "Maybe his murder had something to do with his Mozart research?"
"Right," Kathryn responded. “And…and what if the police don't know anything about Henry's work? I must find out what he was working on. They need to look at other suspects other than David. Is David in jail now?"
"No. They didn't have enough to hold him. Now they can't find him. They think he’s fled to Washington, DC."
"Why Washington?"
"Nobody knows, but you know what? It might have something to do with whatever Henry was working on." Anthony let his words sink in for a second. "Or, maybe he's just running."
Kathryn stared out the window.
"I'm sorry, Kathryn, please forgive me. I wish I'd never opened this wound up for you." Yes, just way too damn easy.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The self-serve food court/gift shop located in the basement of the Museum of American History was bustling with tourists. Dani and David sat outside in the patio area located on the west end of the building. As David inhaled a heaping Chinese chicken salad and second basket of bread, Dani, still stunned at David's pronouncement he was a murder suspect, picked at a Caesar and rambled on with trivial facts about the museum.
"…so until nineteen-eighty, this museum was known as the National Museum of History and Technology. There are sixteen Smithsonian buildings in total, nine located right here on the Mall. Feeling better?"
"Uh-huh," David said, without looking up.
Would this guy be the date from hell or what? Dani thought to herself.
Dissecting men had become one of Dani's favorite pastimes—and she knew she was good at it too. Excluding the doomed relationship with gay Jerry, which she could easily rationalize as being blinded by his delicious ability to spot a sale, she usually had most males figured out pretty quickly—they were so transparent. It wasn't that she had a low opinion of men, quite the opposite. She suspected she liked men better than women. There was something comforting about their overtness. But the guy across the table was…she couldn't even think of the word. Everything was a contradiction. He wasn't bad looking, but carried himself as if he could care less if anyone thought so or not. Obviously very bright, but certainly not the cleverest conversationalist she'd ever met. And though at times he exhibited moments of crudeness, bordering on being rude, she had a sense he was a decent person—at least she hoped so.
David leaned back from the table and took out a cigarette.
"There’s no smoking here. Also, I'm allergic."
David removed the unlit cigarette from his lips.
"Thanks, sorry." Why am I even sitting with this drone? Dani said to herself, wrestling with ways to make a graceful exit.
"Can we talk about Henry now?" David asked.
"Yeah, I guess." Dani replied, adding total lack of finesse to the list.
"Where'd you go to school?"
"Oklahoma, why?"
David's face showed his disappointment. "Henry was a professor at Juilliard. I thought you and he might—”
"David, I told you I've never heard the name Henry Shoewalter before. I think I would remember if he'd been one of my professors."
David conceded with a nod.
"Hey, Paul went to Juilliard, though."
David looked at her confused.
"You just met him, the conductor of the orchestra. Maybe it was his number—”
"No, it was yours," David cut in. "I called it and got your voice mail."
"Well, I bet Paul knows him…I mean, knew him." Frig! She wanted to crawl in a hole, but David didn't react.
"I doubt it. I hear Henry's been retired for a while."
"You hear? I thought you and he were…"
"It's a long story and not important."
"Oh, I see," Dani said, not seeing at all.
Both were silent for a moment. But David's next question told Dani her own face must have been shouting volumes. "So why don't you ask me?"
"Ask you what?" Dani lied, knowing exactly what he meant.
"What it is you want to know. Did I kill Henry?"
Dani opened her mouth, but no words came out.
"No, I didn't," David said. "Or don't you believe me, either?"
"Uh, yeah…of course I do. I mean, why shouldn't I?"
David didn’t answer.
"Do you think I'd be sitting here if I thought you were a—”
"A murderer?"
"Yes, a murderer," Dani said, swallowing hard. "Pardon me for saying so, David," she realized she should shut up as the words were coming out of her mouth, "but you seem a little…paranoid."
"Dani, I'm very fucking para—”
"Please don't use that word," Dani winced, still with a smile.
David reacted with a surprised half-laugh. "No smoking, no swearing—what, you some kind of Jesus freak or something?"
Dani's smile completely disappeared, and again there was silence.
As before, David spoke without segue. "You married?"
"No, you?"
"What do you think?"
You're right, you weirdo. What a stupid question, Dani thought, but instead said, "I presume not." Okay, two can play this game. "So how was Henry killed?"
"He was shot in the head."
"Oh, gee." Her brief attempt at callousness was short lived.
"Yeah, my sentiments exactly—oh gee," David replied.
Enough was enough, and Dani had had more than enough. She dabbed her mouth with a paper napkin and stood from the table.
"Where're you going?"
"I'm sorry, I need to take off."
"But we haven't figured out why Henry…"
"I know, but I really don't think I can be of any help."
"I pissed you off, didn't I?"
"No, of course not," Dani said, lowering her head.
"Yeah, I did."
"David," Dani said, forcing a smile, "I don't know you well enough for you to piss me off. And quite frankly, you don't know me well enough to be rude."
"Rude? What the hell are you talking—”
"David," Dani interrupted, "I understand you've suffered a terrible loss, but I get the feeling that doesn't have a lot to do with your shitty personality.”
"Wow, a vulgarity."
Dani smiled and shook her head as she cleaned off her side of the table.
"You got a problem with my personality?"
Dani sighed and looked David in the eye. "Not that it matters, since you and I will probably never see each other again, but since you asked, yes, I have a huge problem with your personality. But it's probably my problem, so you shouldn't concern yourself.”
"Okay, what's your problem?"
Dani put her tongue in her cheek, thought for a moment, and then decided what the hell, he deserves it. "I believe you're one of those types of people who think of themselves as an honest, get-to-the-point, no BS type of person. I don't like those types of people. You know why? Because in reality, I find those types of people to be rude, obnoxious, self-centered assholes. Like I said, it's my problem. Good luck, and again, I'm sorry about your friend." Dani turned, tossed her plastic salad bowl and cup in the trash can, and started through the food court toward the elevators.
David stared at Dani's empty chair and then got up and followed. "Dani…Dr. Parsons…hey wait up. I'm sorry."
Dani didn't turn around and didn't stop her stride.
David continued his pursuit, dodging tourists. "Hey, I'm sorry…please—”
"What? There's nothing to be sorry about," she said not stopping. "We just have personalities that don't click—no biggie."
"But I need your help."
"I can't help you."
"Why, because I'm a jerk? Come on, Dani. Dani, would you please stop?"
Dani did stop, but not until she'd reached the elevators. "What?"
David leaned over and put his hands on his knees to catch his breath. "I’ve got to stop smoking."
Dani crossed her arms and waited.
"Look, I know I'm a…it's just habit…you don't deserve it."
Dani said nothing.
"I'm sorry…really…I…usually do have better manners."
"David,” Dani said, getting into the elevator with David close behind. “I was just trying to help you. The way you looked out there in the mall, you looked like you needed it. That’s why I came back. How could you be such a jerk to someone trying to help you? That's not very nice."
"Yeah, I know, I'm…bad at nice. I'm sorry." The elevator doors closed. "Look, Dani, you don't know me and have absolutely no reason to help me…or believe me…or anything. But please, just a few more minutes. And…thank you for coming back."
Dani didn't reply. The doors opened onto the first floor, and Dani got out and walked around the corner to an alcove just inside the museum's entrance to another pair of elevators marked MUSEUM STAFF ONLY.
"I'm taking the employees’ elevator down to the parking garage. There's a security check, so you're probably not allowed down there."
David closed his eyes and exhaled. "Dani, one of the most important people in my life was killed three nights ago. If that's not bad enough, my best friend is missing too. The police think it's all connected and I'm responsible. My life, for what it's worth, is coming apart, and I don't know what to do. You’re right, I do need help, and you're the only lead I have."
"David, are you wanted by the police?"
"No, I'm not. They suspect me, but that's all, I swear."
Dani looked in David's eyes. Two thoughts ran through her mind at once. This is too weird, and, why am I such a sucker for needy men? “David, I don't know what I can do."
"Me either. But Henry had your number. And it looks like he got it the night he was killed, maybe hours before. It was important to him, Dani. Why?"
Dani studied David for a moment and then let out her own surrendering breath. "Okay, David, just a few more minutes. What do you suggest?"
He wasted no time. "Somehow, there's a connection between you and Henry, even if you don't know what it is.”