by Jeanne Winer
“Not at the moment.” She sniffed loudly. “It’s Jeremiah’s birthday.”
“I know. When is your husband coming back?”
“I’m not sure. I wouldn’t go with him. Sometime around eight, maybe earlier.”
Lee checked her watch. It was a quarter past four. She stood up and began to pace.
“I need to ask you some questions about your son.”
“I can’t help you. I promised.”
“Leonard doesn’t have to know.”
“Not Leonard,” Mary said, beginning to cry. “Jeremiah.”
“Jeremiah?” Lee was confused. “What did you promise Jeremiah?”
“It’s all my fault. What kind of mother lets her son leave home at sixteen? I’m a monster.” Mary was crying so hard now, it was difficult to understand her. “If I could drive up there tomorrow and take his place in prison, I would.”
Lee was losing patience.
“Well you can’t, Mary. But you could help him by answering my questions. I need to know what your son was like when he lived with you. He seems pretty passive to me. Depressed. Not the kind of person who could have done what he’s charged with. Did Leonard preach excessively against homosexuality?” Lee hesitated. “Did he abuse him?”
“No!” Mary cried. “No one abused him. I’d have known and prevented it.”
“I’m glad to hear that. So what led up to his being thrown out of your house?”
“I-I can’t tell you. I promised.”
“Please, Mary, you have to. Your son’s not going to make it in prison. He’ll die there. Please help him by talking to me.”
“I need to hang up,” she said, sounding desperate. “Leonard could come home early. He always says one thing and then does another. Testing me. Always testing me.”
Lee squeezed the phone in her hand, but her voice remained calm and reasonable.
“Mary, you’re my last hope. I’ve run out of ideas. What did you promise not to say?”
“It doesn’t matter anymore. It won’t help. I think I heard something. I have to go. I’m sorry.” And then she hung up.
“Goddamn it!” Lee shouted, and then made her third phone call. To Carla.
“Hello?”
“Where are you?” Lee asked. She’d stopped pacing and was staring out the window. The carolers had obviously moved on.
“Lee, in case you hadn’t noticed, it’s Christmas. I’m celebrating.”
“Can you meet me in fifteen minutes?”
“For what?”
“We need to drive down to Colorado Springs. Mary is by herself. I just got off the phone with her. We need to go down there and persuade her to talk to us.”
“Are you crazy? Unlike you, I’m a Christian. Christians don’t work on Christmas. I’ve got people to see, parties to go to …”
“Okay, listen, remember when you asked if we were screwed?”
“Yeah?”
“Well, we are. The case keeps getting worse. I don’t know if Mary can help or not, but she’s all we have left.”
“You sound pretty desperate.”
“I am.” Lee rarely groveled, but it always worked with Carla.
“I’ll go on one condition.”
“What?” As if she had a choice.
“When we get back to Boulder, you have to go to the Boulderado and have a drink with me. It’s only fair.”
Lee thought fast.
“I think it’s closed on Christmas.”
“It’s not. I checked. If you won’t have a drink with me later, then I’m not going to spoil the most wonderful day of the year running off to the Springs with you. Find a Jewish investigator. And if Henry attacks us, I’m going to charge you an extra ten thousand dollars. So, do we have a deal?”
“Yes, we have a deal.” Lee checked her watch. “I’ll meet you at the Basemar shopping center in fifteen minutes.”
“That’s not enough time.”
“Twenty,” Lee said and hung up.
Twenty-two minutes later, her trusty investigator drove up beside Lee’s old 4Runner. Lee rolled down her window and motioned for Carla to do the same.
“You’re the best,” Lee said, and meant it.
Carla actually blushed.
“I’ll drive,” Lee told her. “It’s the least I can do. I don’t think there’ll be much traffic.”
Carla exited her Honda carrying two small flashlights. She was wearing sensible boots, thick leather gloves, and her wool cape.
“You came prepared.”
“You bet,” Carla said, hopping into the passenger seat. “If I owned a stun gun, I’d have brought that too. Hey, maybe we should buy one for the future.”
“There is only now,” Lee intoned, parroting what Paul used to say in all seriousness.
“Well, that’s true.”
Lee turned right on Baseline road, heading for the freeway. The forecast was for snow later in the evening.
“Listen,” Lee said, “this could be a huge waste of time. If Leonard’s back, she’ll never talk to us.”
“Which is why we’re going to have a drink afterwards.”
Lee forced herself to smile. She hated bars, hated the inevitable come-ons when two women were drinking alone together. Tethered goats waiting for the lions and jackals to sniff them out, gauge their defenselessness, and then swoop in for the kill. In Lee’s experience, they came in droves and weren’t easily dissuaded. It took extreme rudeness or just walking out, which was what she usually ended up doing. But if Mary was alone, Lee needed her investigator to witness her statements. So she was stuck. And on Christmas of all days.
The traffic on I-25 south was almost non-existent. Fruitcakes took a long time to eat, Lee figured. And, because they were so dense, you couldn’t just get up and leave right away. Coffee helped. And time. Hence the empty highway.
It was barely six-thirty when Lee’s Toyota approached Jamboree Drive.
“We should park a few streets away,” Carla said, shifting into investigator mode.
“Good idea.”
They circled the neighborhood until they found an inconspicuous spot on a busy street, and then jumped out with their flashlights. It was dark and just beginning to snow.
“Merry Christmas, ho, ho, ho,” Carla muttered as they squeezed through the metal gate on Jamboree Drive and headed down the long driveway to the house. There were no outside lights on. Until they got much closer, they wouldn’t know if Leonard, or Henry, was there.
“I don’t think I ever told you this,” Carla whispered, “but after my first divorce, I considered becoming a dental hygienist. My heart was broken and I wasn’t thinking clearly. At the last moment, I decided it would be too boring. Somehow, I convinced the public defender to interview me as a rookie investigator. I didn’t look at all like the other applicants, which I guess they liked. In any event, I talked and talked until they gave me the job. I thought it would be more exciting than cleaning people’s teeth. But I didn’t expect it to be like this.” She tripped over a branch and cursed.
“You picked the right profession. We’re almost there.”
“It’s really snowing out. I wish I’d brought a hat.”
“Take mine,” Lee said, handing her a black wool beret.
“Thanks. I think it looks better on you. Because you’re taller.”
There were no cars in front of the house, no porch lights, but there was at least one light on downstairs. Lee marched up to the front door and knocked loudly. After a couple of minutes, they heard footsteps approaching the door.
“Who’s there?” Mary called. “Leonard, did you forget your keys?”
“It’s me, Lee Isaacs, and my investigator, Carla Romano. Can we please come in?”
“No. Go away.”
“I need to speak with you. I drove all the way down from Boulder because I’m desperate. I’m going to lose Jeremiah’s case without your help. Would you please open the door?”
“There’s no way I can help you.”
; “We’re freezing out here. It’s snowing pretty hard. Could you at least let us in to get warm? Carla’s feet are numb.”
“Why is it always my feet?” Carla whispered.
“My feet are numb too,” Lee added.
“Well, you certainly don’t give up easily,” Mary said and finally unlocked the door. There was a lovely waft of warm air coming from the downstairs apartment as well as the mouthwatering smell of freshly baked cookies. “You can’t stay here long. Leonard could come home at any moment.”
“Where’s Henry?” Carla asked. She was trying to peer inside.
“Henry? He’s with Leonard.”
“Were you making chocolate chip cookies?” Lee asked, shutting the door behind them.
“Yes, I make them every Christmas.” A couple of tears slid down her face. “They’re-they’re Jeremiah’s favorite.” A few seconds later, the tears began in earnest.
“You obviously love your son,” Carla said, putting her arm around Mary’s shoulder. After a moment, they were hugging. “Please talk to us, Mary. I know you want to help him.”
“He’ll never forgive me,” Mary cried. “And I certainly wouldn’t blame him.” Suddenly, she straightened up and stared at them. “But I do want to help. I don’t care if Leonard approves or not.”
“Good for you,” Lee said. “How about if we—”
Carla shook her head and Lee immediately shut up.
“Are you afraid of him?” Carla asked gently.
“Not physically. But I’m tired of his bullying. I’ve been thinking of leaving him for a while, but I-I guess I’m just not ready.”
“It takes a lot to leave somebody,” Carla said. “I know.”
Mary was starting to look worried again.
“You’d better go. I don’t want him to see you here.”
“When can we talk?” Carla asked.
“After his arraignment. I’ll talk to you then.”
“Great,” Lee said. “The arraignment is—”
“I know when it is,” Mary interrupted her. “I was at the preliminary hearing.”
“You were?” Carla asked. “We didn’t see you.”
“I know. I sat in back and, well, I was wearing a disguise. My friend Brenda has breast cancer. I told Leonard I was going to spend the day with her. Instead, I borrowed her wig and drove up to Boulder. I left as soon as the judge announced the next court date. Leonard would kill me if he knew.”
Both Lee and Carla were stunned.
“Oh yes,” Mary said, smiling at their expressions. “And one of these days, I’m going to walk out for good. One of these days.”
Then they all heard a car drive up to the house. Less than a minute later, they heard the sound of the van door opening and a dog barking happily as he jumped to the ground.
“Oh my God, that’s Leonard,” Mary whispered. She looked terrified.
“Oh well,” Lee said. “It’s too late now.”
“No, wait! There’s another way out downstairs. When you get outside, there’s an overgrown path that leads to the park.”
“How overgrown?” Carla asked.
“Come on,” Lee said, grabbing Carla’s arm. “Let’s go.” She turned to Mary. “I hope you won’t change your mind.”
“I won’t.”
They found the back door and opened it. Outside, it was pitch dark and snowing even harder. Lee gently closed the door behind them. In seconds, they were covered with snow. They turned on their flashlights, searching for something resembling a path. Lee stood very still for a moment, getting her bearings. Finally, she pointed to the right.
“I think that’s the direction we want to go.”
“You think? I should have become a dental hygienist. They never work on weekends or major holidays.”
“Too late. Follow me. The park is only a quarter of a mile away. Maybe a little longer.”
“Oh great.”
“Hey, we should be celebrating. Our client’s mother is going to talk to us. This could be a turning point.”
“Maybe, but I can’t wait until we’re sitting in a warm bar.”
“Soon.”
“Oomph,” Carla uttered, falling sideways.
Lee turned in a circle.
“Where are you?”
“In a snow bank,” Carla cried.
“Shhh.”
“Shhh? I’m suffocating!”
“You couldn’t talk if you were suffocating. Stick out your arm and I’ll pull you out.”
After a moment, she saw Carla’s cape and then her arm. She’d obviously fallen off the path into a hole filled with snow. Lee stuck the flashlight into her mouth, wrapped her left arm around a small tree, and then grabbed Carla’s hand. In a second, she’d pulled her out. Carla was covered with snow and sputtering. It took everything Lee had not to laugh. This was one of the best Christmases she’d had in years. In the distance, two coyotes had begun to yip.
“I won’t even ask what that sound is,” Carla said, wiping her face.
“Come on.” Lee took her arm. “In two hours, we’ll be sitting in a dry cozy bar surrounded by droves of good-looking single men. We’ll be laughing about all of this, when one of them will sit down beside you and ask why it’s taken him so long to find you.”
“Ah,” Carla sighed happily. “And then what?”
About fifteen minutes later, they climbed into Lee’s Toyota. It was snowing heavily and the temperature had plummeted. On the way back to Boulder, the highway was busier and the driving chaotic. The earthlings, having digested their fruitcakes but still high on eggnog, were now heading home.
They were halfway there when Carla cleared her throat.
“I have a confession to make.”
“I hate confessions,” Lee said, trying not to become mesmerized by the snow darts hitting her windshield.
“Well, too bad. I lied to you. When you called earlier, I was sitting at home in my pajamas. I had no plans whatsoever for the evening.”
“Why? You have plenty of friends. And doesn’t your mother live in Boulder? I think you told me that.”
Carla slumped forward, her face in her hands.
“Ever since I was little, I’ve spent every Christmas with my mother, even when I was married. About three years ago, she was diagnosed with dementia. Last month, she stopped remembering who I was. I didn’t want to spend the holiday with someone who didn’t know I was her daughter. It’s just too depressing.”
“I’m so sorry, Carla. I had no idea. That must be awful.”
“So you did me a favor by calling. You don’t owe me a drink. If you want to go home, it’s okay.”
Lee considered the idea but of course rejected it.
“One drink won’t kill me.”
“Really?” She sat up straight again. “Great. Thanks, Lee. It was kind of fun today, wasn’t it?”
“Yes,” Lee said, “it was.”
Although it was almost ten-thirty when Lee returned from the Boulderado, she decided to call her father anyway. She and Carla had spent a pleasant hour drinking wine and imagining various unlikely miracles occurring in Jeremy’s case: that another juvenile skinhead would suddenly confess, that all three co-defendants would refuse to testify against their teenage brother, and so on.
When a couple of grinning jackals approached them, Carla looked at Lee, who shook her head.
“We’re nuns, brides of Christ,” Carla told them, “toasting the birth of our Savior.”
The men looked skeptical but eventually left. Better to be safe than sorry.
Her father picked up on the first ring, which meant he hadn’t been watching television.
“Hey, Dad,” Lee said, settling against the pillows on her couch. She’d slipped into an old plaid bathrobe that used to belong to Paul. It was pretty ratty and one of these days, she’d drop it off at the Salvation Army. Maybe after the holidays. Or not.
“Hey, kiddo.”
“Merry Christmas.”
“Thank God it’s over,” her f
ather grumbled.
Only another Jew would say that, she thought happily.
“Not so merry?” she asked.
“They don’t play bridge on Christmas.”
“Bummer.” Charlie had finished eating and was waiting to be invited onto her lap. She patted her legs and he immediately hopped up. “So what did you do instead?”
“What we always did when you were little: Chinese food and a movie.”
“What movie?” she asked, figuring a war story, or maybe an intelligent comedy. Which was pointless because she never guessed right.
“A new one called Shame, about a male sex addict in New York City. It was kind of heavy. Sad but good.”
Lee shook her head. Her father’s tastes in movies, art, and literature were always edgier and heavier than hers. Then again he didn’t spend his days staring at pictures of dead bodies. Lee liked thoughtful movies but stayed away from the more disturbing ones. She had enough wretched images in her head to last a lifetime.
“What made you go see something like that?”
“Sweetheart, I’m eighty-four. I’ve lived a pretty sheltered life. But before I go, I want to see as much as I can.”
“Okay, so what did you think?”
He was silent for a moment while he lit a cigarette.
“Well, it’s funny. Part of me was envious and part of me felt really sorry for the guy.”
“Huh,” she said, like Bobby. Although she’d asked him before, she decided to try again. “Did you ever want another serious relationship after Mama died?”
“Nope. Once was enough.”
She glanced at one of Paul’s beautiful frozen landscapes.
“Am I going to end up just like you?”
“Would that be so bad?” He chuckled a little.
“Well, I don’t particularly like card games.”
“Neither did I when I was your age. Later, when your arthritis gets worse, you’ll change your tune.”
“Now there’s a gloomy thought.” Charlie was beginning to stir, which meant he wanted her to scratch his head again. “How come you rarely focus on happy, positive things?”
“I’m old. Why should I?”
Because it would make me feel better, she thought. Which hardly qualified as a reason.
“So listen, Dad,” she said, changing the subject, “I won’t be getting out there in January unless I end up settling this murder case. Are you okay with waiting until the summer?” This time, she knew the answer. Her father was even more independent than she was. Whoever said no man was an island had never met Aaron Isaacs.