Jackie put out her arm, as if to hold her back, the same gesture a driver might make when making a sudden stop. "I was at Penn ten years ago. Even if they had found my name change, they probably wouldn't have tracked me there."
"We did file a lien against you, for child support," the general counsel offered, a little abashedly. Tess remembered that stray lien against Susan King that Dorie had picked up, the one she had dismissed as so many unpaid parking tickets. "We're entitled by law to collect support retroactively, given your present circumstances. But we're going to waive that in this case."
"Big of you," Tess muttered. "Awfully big of you."
She had expected Jackie to be even angrier than she was, but Jackie was as dazed as a sleepwalker. She opened her purse, staring into it as if all life's answers might be resting beside her lipstick, checkbook, and Mont Blanc pen, then snapped it shut resolutely.
"Do you have a photo of her?" she asked Edelman.
"What?"
"Do you carry a photo of her, in your wallet?"
"An old one. She wouldn't let me buy this year's school picture. She said it made her look fat." He pulled it out and flipped past photos of two freckled, red-haired boys to a girl with tawny hair, brown eyes, and a dark olive complexion. Jackie stared at it a long time, then handed the wallet back to Edelman.
"I'd like to see her," she said.
"You just did."
"I'd like to see her in person. You don't have to tell her who I am, just yet. But I have to see her before I can decide what I'm going to do."
"We're the only parents she's ever known," Edelman said. He sounded as if he might cry. "She's so happy with us. Our sons worship her. We wouldn't be a family without Sam."
"I believe you," Jackie said. "Now when can I see her?"
Chapter 24
They finally agreed on Wednesday, after school. Jackie and Tess would have tea with Molly Edelman, all very civilized, make polite chit-chat while Jackie observed her daughter. But Wednesday was also the day of the crab feast at her mother's, and Tess also had to make a fruit salad. Not just any fruit salad, either, but Gramma's favorite, with a particular poppy seed dressing and all sorts of conditions and regulations involving the fruit. (No kiwi, green grapes not red, extra strawberries, all melon must be balled.) She was assembling it in the small kitchen in her office, when Tull knocked.
"Hi," he said.
"Hi," she said, holding up her hands. "I'd shake, but I'm juicy."
Tull reached into the cookie jar and tossed Esskay a bone. The dog gulped it down gratefully, then returned to the kitchen to keep her vigil near the fruit salad. Esskay liked melon, balled or not.
"The baby—" Tull began.
"Laylah."
"Yeah, Laylah. She's been moved to a group home. The sister-in-law took her for a few days, then decided she couldn't handle it."
"I can't decide if that's good or bad."
"I did some checking on the place where they put her. It's pretty nice. Out in the country, lots of land. Woman usually takes in HIV-positive babies and special needs cases, but she had a vacancy just now."
"Great. I mean, not great, but okay, I guess." Although Tess wondered if Laylah, who had no "special" needs, would get as much attention as the others. Being an eight-month-old orphan wasn't considered all that special, not alongside children with disabilities and the AIDS virus.
Tull continued to stand there, looking strange and uncomfortable.
"About Luther Beale," he said.
"What about him?" She had gone back to her fruit salad.
"Just be careful, okay? The double homicide—it turns out he doesn't have an alibi. Home alone, listening to the radio."
"But you said it was probably drugs. You said you were going to question him just to fuck with his head."
"Yeah, well, Lavon and Keisha weren't involved in drugs, as far as we can tell. Sure, she was ripping off social services, claiming the baby's father wasn't around. But Lavon was doing painting work on a cash-only basis. Real reliable, according to his boss. No sign that either of them used drugs, much less sold 'em."
"So what are you saying?"
Tull met her eyes. There was no oneupmanship in his gaze, no sense of triumph or I-told-you-so, just concern, direct and simple. "I'm saying someone killed Destiny Teeter and made, it look like a trick gone bad. Someone bashed in Treasure Teeter's head and tried to make it look like he burned himself up. And someone killed Lavon and Keisha in a way that made us suspect a drug hit. I'm saying I want you to keep carrying your gun, and I want you to be careful."
"Even if Beale did any of these things—and I don't think he did—why would he hurt me?"
"Because this killer is crazy, and getting crazier. Because this killer is beginning to strike out at anyone even tangentially related to Donnie Moore. We're keeping watch on the prosecutor from the case, the judge, the Nelsons down in D.C. But you're on your own, Tess. I can't protect you from your own client."
"And Sal?" Tess asked. "You're watching Sal?"
"Sal's the easiest one to protect. He's staying at Penfield for the summer session. They even got him a bodyguard for when he wants to leave the premises."
Tess bet Sal just loved that. A bodyguard. Just another reminder that he wasn't anywhere near as tough as he thought he was.
Tull turned to leave.
"Martin—" Funny how strange his first name felt in her mouth.
"Yeah?"
"Tell me something about yourself, something personal. Anything. Something about your marriage, or why it ended."
He deliberated for a moment. "We had a cat."
"The marriage ended because you had a cat?"
"Give me a second. You asked for a story, then you charge right in, interrupting me. We had a cat. He was named Stanley, because he had this weird meow, it sounded like he was yelling ‘Stella.' I kid you not. I loved that cat. The night my wife left me, she took Stan. She also took everything else—our bed, the air conditioning units, the major appliances. I mean, she took the fucking stove, okay? But she left the litter box. I think she was trying to tell me something."
"And that was?"
"I'm still trying to figure it out. You got any ideas?"
"My guess is that she was a greedy head case who wasn't anywhere near good enough for you."
Tull smiled, walked back to the desk, and grabbed another biscuit for Esskay, then gave Tess a comradely thump just above the elbow. "Be careful," he said. "Please be careful."
Less than four hours later, Tess and Jackie sat in a gazebo behind a gingerbread Victorian in Mount Washington, a neighborhood full of gracious old homes. Molly Edelman was serving them iced tea, homemade cheese straws, and ham sandwiches with the crusts cut off. Her hands shook as she poured the tea. No one was eating.
"Just think," Jackie murmured, almost to herself. "When I came to Fresh Fields, I was practically in her backyard. I might have seen her here. She might have been over at Starbucks. Or walking through the little business district, looking at the clothes and jewelry at Something Else."
The boys came home first, as their grade school was at the foot of the hill. There were two of them, red-headed boys, almost close enough in size to be twins.
"Sandwiches. Excellent," the older one said, grabbing a handful.
"Remember your manners, Henry," Molly said. "Henry, Eli, say hello to my guests, Miss Weir and Miss Monaghan."
"'lo," Henry said around bites. Eli looked up shyly from luminous green eyes, too bashful to speak.
"Can we practice, even though you're having guests?" Henry asked.
"Sure," Molly said. "Just keep control of it. I don't want a lacrosse ball coming at us."
The two boys disappeared into the house, returned with lacrosse sticks scaled to their height, and began throwing the ball against a netted backdrop, passing it to one another. As they played, a Volvo station wagon stopped in the alley and a long-legged girl climbed out. They dropped their sticks and ran to her, falling to the ground
and grabbing her by the ankles.
"Thanks, Ms. Reston. See you at school tomorrow, Hannah." The girl looked down, an amused giantess. "Get off me, you spazzes."
She wore the short blue skirt of a local private school—Bryn Mawr, Tess thought, or Roland Park County. Her body was hard and slender, the tea-colored legs crisscrossed with scratches. The honey-colored hair was pulled back into a plait, but small, tight curls had popped out along the forehead and at the nape of the neck. The face was a lighter version of Jackie's—the broad forehead, the expressive mouth, the deep-set eyes.
"Sammy, Sammy," the boys yelled, still holding on to her ankles. "Will you work on our drills with us?"
"I'm tired of practicing," she said, but she was smiling. "Let me get something to eat and I'll be right out."
"Mom's got cheese straws and little sandwiches in the gazebo. She let us have some."
"Cool." Samantha King bounded up the steps of the gazebo, stuffed a cheese straw in her mouth, then gave Molly Edelman a kiss on the cheek, leaving a few crumbs behind. Molly didn't seem to notice. "I finished my science notebook today and turned in my final paper for English. I'm cruising."
Again, Molly made the introductions, but her voice was more strained this time. Sam reached out and shook their hands with a heartiness so familiar that Tess could almost imagine their overlapping DNA meeting at the fingertips. After all, she was related to her, too. There was as much Weinstein as there was King in this striking young girl.
"So what's Mom trying to save this time? A house, a whale, some Guatemalan kid? If she's not careful, she's going to give it all away and we'll have to get athletic scholarships to college, in which case my brothers are really in trouble."
"I'm a fund-raising consultant," Jackie said, her eyes drinking in the girl before her, taking in every detail. "We're going over strategy."
Sam was busy loading up a napkin with sandwiches and cheese straws. I know that appetite, Tess said. I just never knew which side it came from.
"I'm going to play with the pests, then walk over to Darla's house, okay? She wants to try on her new bathing suit for me, ask if I think it makes her look fat."
"Okay," Molly said, her voice croaking a little. And the girl ran away, long legs carrying across the lawn in a few quick strides.
"She's beautiful," Jackie said.
"She looks like you," Tess said. "I'm surprised she didn't notice."
"Girls that age, they're a little self-centered," Molly offered apologetically. "I don't think they can see anyone's face but their own."
Jackie stood. "Okay, that's enough."
Molly looked up fearfully. "Enough?"
"I've seen what I needed to see. I won't take her from you. She's a good girl, and she's happy. You've given her a life I never could have. Thank you."
Tears fell down Molly's cheeks, but she tried to control herself so the children wouldn't realize anything was amiss. "We could work something out, you know. I'm sure she'd love to know you, to have you be a part of her life. We'd have to talk to a psychologist, of course, but it could work. I know it could."
"I don't think I can do it halfway," Jackie said. "I know I'm being selfish in a way, but I can't settle for just a piece of her. I gave her up thirteen years ago. I have to live with that."
"We could tell her you're alive, at least, that you're not dead as she always assumed."
Jackie shook her head. "Maybe later, when she's a little older. But I'd like to help out, if I could. I could help with her college, or even the private school tuition."
Molly wiped her eyes. "Oh, Sam was kidding about my causes. David makes plenty of money, we're not hurting."
Well, someone is, Tess thought, looking at Jackie's face. Someone is definitely hurting right now.
For the first time, Jackie let Tess take the wheel of her beloved Lexus. She crawled into the passenger seat and stared ahead, her face unreadable.
"For what it's worth, I think you did the right thing," Tess offered, cautiously. "It's hell for a single woman to bring up a kid."
"I've got money," Jackie said in a dull, flat voice. "Money makes it easier. I could raise her if I wanted to. But what do I have to give her? My life is sterile. I don't have any real friends, any life. All I do is make money."
"I wouldn't say that," Tess said nervously. "You're…self-contained, self-sufficient, but not sterile."
"I am what I am, Tess. I adapted and I survived. The question is, what did I give up along the way? I gave up my daughter. I gave up myself."
Tess thought of the Just-So Stories in Sal's Kipling Compendium, each one the story of someone who had changed in order to survive. The camel had to have a hump, the leopard had to develop spots, the elephant needed a nose, if only to remind him of the perils of satiable curiosity. For several miles, neither woman spoke.
"Are you going to be okay?" Tess asked as they headed east toward Butchers Hill. "I mean, there's this thing at my mom's tonight that's absolutely mandatory, but if you need me, I'll go late, or leave early."
"No, your job is done," Jackie said. "I asked you to find my daughter and you did. How much do I owe you?"
"The retainer more than covers it. You don't even owe me mileage. We always used your car."
At the curb outside Tess's office, Jackie suddenly pressed a hand to her forehead.
"Do you have an aspirin in your office? I don't think I can make the drive back to Columbia feeling like this."
Tess dashed inside and returned with a generic ibuprofen, a glass of water, and a panting Esskay, who also wanted to pay her respects. Jackie drank the water gratefully, patted the dog, then slid over the driver's seat, handing Tess her backpack along with the empty glass.
"Thank you," she said formally, offering her hand. "I actually came to like you over the past two weeks."
"Hey, me too. How does the song go? You may have been a headache, but you never were a bore. Besides, we're connected, aren't we? We're family, if you think about it."
"You and Sam are connected. There's really nothing between us."
"Oh," said Tess, feeling rebuffed. She thought they had shared quite a bit. Then Jackie smiled.
"What's so funny?"
"Oh, I was just thinking about our adventures together. Meeting Mr. Mole, going to that lesbian bar, that stupid story you made me tell about Fresh Lake Trout. Did you ever find that kid, by the way?"
"Yeah." Insular Jackie had to be the one person in Baltimore who didn't know she had found Sal Hawkings. "It didn't quite turn out the way I expected, but I found him."
"And that white trash Willa Mott, the rabbit holes she sent us down. You think there ever was a Mr. and Mrs. Johnson, who planned to name their baby Caitlin?"
"I guess we'll never know."
"I guess not," Jackie said, waved, then drove out of Tess's life.
Tess and Esskay walked into the office. Tess sat down at her computer and looked at her once unblemished desk calendar. It wasn't so unsullied now. Names, leads, and doodles covered its surface, spilling over into days she hadn't even lived yet. There were rings from Coke cans, rogan josh drippings, greasy smears, and, of course, traces of chocolate. It was messy. Life was messy. She would have to remember to tell Jackie that. Life was messy.
Then she remembered she would never see Jackie again.
Chapter 25
Tess hated all seafood. Crab hated her back. One bite, the tinest sliver of its flesh in a casserole or a dip, and she'd go into anaphylactic shock, her trachea swelling until she couldn't breathe. On the plus side, her allergy had made for an unforgettable eighth birthday party for Noam Fischer. Whenever she ran into him, usually browsing the history table at the Smith College book sale, he still spoke of it with great cheer, as if it were a high point of his childhood. "You turned blue! You almost died!"
So one might think that, given the twenty-nine years she had been hanging around, her own parents would be able to remember this salient fact. But as the crab feast got under way at the Monaghans' h
ouse, it quickly became apparent that Judith had forgotten to plan an alternative main course. Unless Tess found something in the pantry, she was going to dine on cole slaw, corn on the cob, and her own fruit salad, which she didn't even particularly like.
"Don't you have any peanut butter?" she asked her mother, pushing jars and cans around. Judith never threw anything out, so her well-organized shelves were filled with the exotic but not-quite-edible foods people send as gifts. Chutney, fruit cakes, jellies in strange flavors. "I could at least make myself a sandwich."
"I could run up to Arby's, get her a roast beef," her father said helpfully. He still had on his summer work clothes, a short-sleeved white shirt and clip-on blue tie, a shade lighter than his eyes. He also had his summer sunburn, one shade lighter than his hair.
Tess thought if someone was going to escape on her account, it should be her. "Or maybe I could just go get takeout from Mr. G's, or the Chinese place over on Ingleside, the one with the dancing cow. That's it, I'll get some dumplings, maybe an order of spare ribs."
"No!" Judith screamed, in a voice so shrill and hysterical that it stopped them both in their tracks as they edged toward the kitchen door. But no one looked more surprised than Judith at the strangled sound that had come out of her.
"I mean—don't leave me. I need you both here. If you get me through this, Pat, I'll go down to the ocean with your family in August, stay in that horrid little condo of theirs, and never say a word."
Tess exchanged a look with her father. This was a serious concession indeed. Judith insisted on staying in a separate hotel when the Monaghans staged their August reunion and usually came up with a reason to leave two days into the week-long vacation.
"Okay, hon," he said. "I won't leave, and neither will Tess. She'll just have to dig up something around here she can eat." He opened his arms and Judith allowed herself to be embraced. As they snuggled, Tess was reminded of the chemistry that had sizzled between her parents all these years, the one constant in their marriage. They had thrown in their lot with one another less than two weeks after Donald Weinstein had introduced his kid sister to this up-and-coming Monaghan kid in the West Side Democratic Club. Both families had predicted, hoped, prayed, that the union would founder. But here it was, thirty-plus years later, and there was still a glimmer of whatever had passed between them at that first meeting. Tess would have found her parents' relationship inspiring if she didn't happen to believe it had warped her for life. Hadn't she sent her last boyfriend packing for the simple crime of being too nice, too easy-going?
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