“Listen to me, woman. You will tell the story to Mutuum and his wife exactly as I have recited it to you, or you will never see your own husband or children again. You and this one will be gone before the next rooster crows.”
CHAPTER 65
Eleven West
“See why I gotta ask you about your whole day now, Mrs. Berman?” Detective George Wojciechowski said.
Nicole’s mother nodded, her brow knit. “Why didn’t I think of that? In all the confusion I had it in my mind that this had to have happened in the morning, when Teo was there, because I understood she had found me and called 911. What was she doing back there in the afternoon?”
“Did she forget something, Mom? Come back for something?”
“Please don’t suggest things, ma’am,” Wojciechowski said. “Let me walk her through this.”
“Sorry,” Nicole said.
“Now, Virginia, you say you were back from your walk—”
“And the bakery.”
“Right, in plenty of time to let the housekeeper in.”
“Yes. I greeted her as I always do and she responded as she always does.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Well, I’ve always been sensitive to the people few seem to notice. I think it comes from Ben’s and my travels around the world.”
“It’s from long before that,” Nicole’s father said. “You were that way when I met you.”
Wojciechowski held up a hand and glanced at Ben. “Let me,” he said.
“Of course.”
“And you put this Petrova woman in that category why?”
“New, lonely, shy, not comfortable with English. And let’s face it, she’s on the lower end of the socioeconomic scale, but she makes her living in a rather high-end neighborhood.”
Wojciechowski sniffed. “And that makes her, what, lower class?”
“To many, yes. Certainly not to me. I was raised modestly, so I can identify. We were not poor, but we were a one-car family, no exotic vacations, you know.”
“I sure do,” the detective said. “We didn’t do Disney and stuff like that either. Fact, I’m kinda like your housekeeper, on the lower end of the pay scale, makin’ my living working largely with seniors a lot better off than me.”
“Oh, I imagine you’re fairly compensated with such an important position,” Nicole’s mother said.
“I make more than I ever dreamed, but my salary would be petty cash to you folks.”
“Having means was a culture shock to me,” she said. “We’re very blessed.”
“Seems like you got used to it,” Wojciechowski said. “And I only told you about me so you’d know I know where you’re comin’ from about Petrova. So how does that figure in to how you greet her?”
“Well, she’s kinda dour, if you know what I mean. Don’t know that I’ve ever seen her smile. So I always try to be cheery with her. I act like her showing up is the highlight of my day—which it sort of is. I can’t deny it’s nice to have someone clean for me, but it still makes me a little uncomfortable. I mean, I’m perfectly capable. Ben reminds me that since we can afford it and it gives her work, I shouldn’t worry about it.”
“And you shouldn’t tidy up before she gets there,” Ben said, smiling.
“So what would you have said to her when she got there yesterday morning?” Wojciechowski said.
Nicole’s mother looked up, as if trying to recall. “Something about what a beautiful day it was. Said I’d been out enjoying the sunshine, something like that. She wouldn’t look me in the eye. Just nodded, hung up her coat, and changed out of her boots into her work shoes.”
“Tell me about her shoes.”
Nicole’s mom cocked her head, and Nicole could tell she was puzzling out why he wanted to know. “Nothing special. Kind of a scuffed white, sensible, thick soles, sturdy. Looked like they’d be real comfortable, especially in her line of work.”
“Tie shoes?”
“Pardon?”
“Laces or Velcro or …?”
“Yes, tie.”
“And does she tie them when she puts them on and untie them to take them off, or does she just kick them off and force them on?”
Her mother hesitated. “Such a strange question.”
“I got a reason for askin’.”
“They’re untied when she puts them on, and she ties them.”
“Got it.”
“Forgive me, Detective, but what does that tell you?”
Wojciechowski ran a hand through his hair. “Good question, and I’ll tell you, but first, where does she do this, put her shoes on, I mean? She sit somewhere?”
“No, actually. I’ve got a little love seat just inside the door and always offer her a seat. But after she hangs her coat, she stands with her back to the wall—right next to that seat—takes her boots off, and puts her shoes on.”
“Standing?”
“Yes.”
“Ma’am, you’ve given me the idea that Ms. Petrova’s a stocky gal. Thick and sturdy, like her shoes. Am I overstatin’ it?”
“No, that’s her.”
“Kinda surprises me that a woman like that wouldn’t sit to change shoes. But lemme ask you, and this is gonna sound weird, but does she lift her foot or does she reach all the way down to put her shoe on and tie it?”
“Can’t say I’ve studied her that closely.”
“Think about it.”
“I’m getting a little sleepy, sir. Can’t understand it, but I am.”
“I won’t keep you much longer, promise. Close your eyes and remind yourself of her changing into her shoes yesterday morning.”
“If I close my eyes I’m afraid I’ll doze off.”
“No, you won’t. We’re almost through.”
Nicole’s mother closed her eyes, then quickly opened them again. “Teo presses her backside against the wall and bends from the waist to the floor.”
“She doesn’t lift one foot then the other?”
“No.”
“Does she put on one shoe and then straighten up and then do the other or—”
“She does them both at the same time. Then she stands up straight.”
“You see what I’m goin’ for here, Virginia?”
“Not really.”
“Look at me. I got a gut, right? It’s okay, I can take it. Puttin’ on my shoes is one a my least favorite things. We gotta wear these big ol’ tie things, and I sit down when I put them on. It’s hard for me to bend down there and do even one shoe, so I gotta straighten up and get my breath before I do the other. I wouldn’t even dream of tryin’ that standing up against the wall. You see how much harder that would be, bending all the way down from the waist?”
“Yes, I suppose.”
“What I’m sayin’ is, Teodora Petrova seems to be a very flexible woman for her age and size. In fact, for anyone’s age and size.”
“She’s a hard worker, sir. Bending, crouching, reaching. That has to help.”
“I’m not concerned about why she’s so flexible, just that she is. You’re kinda petite and active—”
“For my age.”
“Exactly, no offense. But you’d be no match for Teodora, would you?”
CHAPTER 66
Shinar
Terah stopped to talk with the dungeon warden in his small chamber on their way out and told Ikuppi to get the midwife into the chariot outside the rear of the palace. He was more concerned about Ikuppi than about Yadidatum when he finally joined them. The man’s eyes were full and his lips forced together. “Have someone deliver a chariot to my home,” Terah told him. “It need have only one horse, and I will return it when I come back to court in a few weeks.”
Without a look or a word, Ikuppi headed to the paddock, spoke to the liveryman, and returned.
“Well?” Terah said.
Ikuppi faced him, silent.
“Did you arrange it?”
Ikuppi nodded and reboarded the chariot. The midwife sat where she had on the
way, against the back wall.
“I must sit as well,” Terah said, exhausted. Balancing on one leg and supporting himself with one arm would be too much for the trip back. He sat next to Yadidatum and leaned to keep weight off his bitten backside. He lay the crutch across his thighs and it reached the midwife. She glared at him.
“Today fortune has visited you,” he said.
“How can you say that? That baby is dead already, isn’t he?”
“He may be.”
“That is an evil for which you will have to answer to the gods.”
“My conscience is clear,” Terah said. “This was their plan.”
The midwife buried her face in her hands and shook her head. “And you call this fortune?”
“For you, yes! I have the authority to reduce your son’s sentence. He will be freed one year from today, whole.”
She peered at him. “You swear?”
“I do not swear to you, ma’am. You swear to me. For if there is one breakdown in today’s design, losing a hand will be the least of your son’s problems. I will have him executed.”
She closed her eyes as the chariot began to roll. “I have no choice but to comply,” she said. “But I will never forgive you.”
“Forgive me? I spared your son!”
“What of Mutuum’s son?”
“What you tell him and his wife will become the truth of that tragedy. You would do well to embrace it.”
“I cannot do it, sir! Don’t make me!”
“Don’t be foolish! Ikuppi will vouch for the story, as will my injuries.”
Outside the city, Ikuppi yanked the horses to a stop along a desolate stretch and turned to face Terah. “Have you forgotten that Mutuum has already seen you and knows how you were injured?”
“He has not seen my broken nose.”
“And you think that will convince him?”
“You and the midwife must convince him. Your job and her son’s life hang in the balance—not to mention her own.”
“Cover yourself, Terah,” Ikuppi said. “A chariot is coming.”
It flew past, a king’s guard driving two horses. “I told you I needed only one horse,” Terah said.
“He will ride one of the horses back to the palace. Did you expect him to walk?”
“You take a sarcastic tone with me?”
“I will take whatever tone I wish. You have forced me beyond my own conscience. You can do no worse to me.”
“I could have you imprisoned! Put to death!”
“I would be no worse off. I am already imprisoned by guilt.”
“Let’s just get on with this,” Terah said. “I have told you both, after today I will demand no more than your silence. Breach that and you and your families will pay.”
When finally Ikuppi pulled onto the road leading to the servants’ quarters, Terah said, “Remember, real tears.”
“Ours will be real,” Ikuppi said. “What about your own?”
“I will weep tears of relief,” Terah said.
“You had better pray the gods have mercy on you,” the midwife said.
As the settlement came into view, Terah said, “Start lamenting now!”
Yadidatum began wailing, Ikuppi bawled, and Terah shouted, “Oh, woe is me! Woe is me!”
Mutuum and his wife, pale and frail, stood at the entrance to the dwellings. “What has happened?” he shouted. “Where’s the baby?”
“What has taken so long?” his wife pleaded. “Where’s my child?”
“Oh, woe!” Terah cried. “Woe!”
“The baby has been lost,” the midwife said.
“What? What do you mean, lost?”
“Devoured, Mutuum!” Ikuppi said, tears streaming. “The same pack of dogs that attacked the master!”
Mutuum’s wife collapsed, and he fell to his knees. “Where? How?”
“Near the house!” Terah said. “We were waiting for Belessunu to awaken when they ambushed us and made the horses rear.”
“The child was thrown from my arms,” Yadidatum said. “I am so sorry! I blame myself!”
“It’s not your fault!” Ikuppi said. “The master leapt out to fight the dogs and was injured even more. There was nothing we could do. One of the horses broke free and kicked at the dogs, but oh, what they had already done to the baby!”
By now a crowd had formed and the tale had spread. It seemed the entire servant village keened as one. Terah struggled to his feet, and Ikuppi helped him out of the chariot. He raised his hand and spoke softly, oozing regret and resolve. “I pray the gods will give you peace, and I pledge generosity from my own storehouse. I will ask Ikuppi to make available to Mutuum and his wife any supplies or foodstuffs they require for the next year. Just know that we all grieve with you and mourn your loss.”
Their neighbors encircled the grieving parents and embraced them. Yadidatum trudged from the chariot to her own home. “There is nothing more I can do here, Ikuppi,” Terah said. “Take me home.”
On the way he said, “After you leave me, take a week’s worth of supplies and food to Mutuum and his wife. Then load your chariot and the one delivered to me with as much as you can fit.”
“To take to them as well?”
“No, I will show you where to take it. And then nothing more will be required of you.”
“I have nothing more to give anyway, Terah.”
A cloud of dust ahead became the king’s guard riding the extra horse bareback toward the palace. He and Ikuppi merely nodded to each other as he galloped past.
As the chariot rolled slowly toward Terah’s place, Ikuppi turned and said, “I wish I had never told you of the king’s scheme.”
“You would have let him murder my son?”
“Terah! You have not only let him murder a son, you offered him up to the king as a token of worship.”
“I did what I had to do.”
“And I did what you forced me to,” Ikuppi said, “to my eternal torment. You have stolen my soul.”
CHAPTER 67
Eleven West
Nicole also wanted to know why the new housekeeper had returned to her parents’ apartment late the previous afternoon. Obviously that raised questions Teodora would have to answer, but what if she had not been there to discover Nicole’s mother on the floor?
Her mother’s eyes appeared heavy. “Mom’s had enough,” Nicole said to Detective Wojciechowski.
“Okay, couple more questions and I’m gone. Virginia, do you remember letting Ms. Petrova in a second time yesterday?”
“I don’t.”
“What’s the last thing you remember between when she was there in the morning and when you came to in the ambulance?”
“Let me think. She was cleaning Ben’s den and the guest rooms, and I don’t like to hover, so I was watching TV in the living room. I like the true crime shows.”
“You remember her leaving?”
Nicole’s mother seemed to be struggling. “I don’t.”
“How about lunch? Remember that?”
“Hmm. I like something light, something I can microwave. Then I usually read after lunch and take a nap before Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy! My guilty pleasures. But I must have some sort of amnesia, because I can’t remember anything after Teo started on the back rooms.”
“Any trouble with her? A falling out? Tension?”
“No,” Nicole’s mother said. “But she wouldn’t have been there all day, would she?”
“That’s what I need to know,” Wojciechowski said. “CCTV will tell us a lot. But let’s say she left and came back. She ever done that before, and why would she?”
Mom just lay shaking her head.
“What do you make of it?” Nicole’s dad asked the detective.
“I got a theory, but I’m gonna have to see if it makes sense medically.”
“What’re you thinking?” Dad said.
“Well, thing is, I don’t see a motive, but I’m wonderin’ if Ms. Petrova mighta done this in the morning a
nd came back to check on the victim later.”
“Teo?” Nicole’s mother said. “No! Whatever for?”
“Nobody seems to have a motive, ma’am. You’re a tough case ’cause you’re one a those saints everybody loves. This woman certainly had the opportunity, and she’s big and strong and agile enough …”
Nicole’s mother turned her head away and took two deep breaths, closing her eyes. “No,” she said groggily, “I can’t—I can’t make that make sense.”
“I have to say, I can’t either,” Nicole said. “If she did do this, when she came back to check, why would she call 911? If she meant to kill Mom, why wouldn’t she finish the job?”
Her mother raised a hand. “Don’t even suggest such a thing!”
Wojciechowski shrugged. “If I knew, I’d be out of a job. I’ll let your mother get some shut-eye, but I got to ask her about what my matron heard her say in the night last night.”
“Don’t remember much,” her mother slurred, “much from … from the night.”
“Officer Martinez says you told your daughter about a gray metal box with a picture in it.”
Her mom lay still, breathing deeply.
“Ma’am?”
“C’mon, Detective,” Nicole’s dad began, but Wojciechowski stopped him with a look.
“You referred to it as a secret …”
“She’s asleep,” Nicole said.
“Not according to the monitors,” Wojciechowski said. “No change in breathin’ or pulse.”
“You’re a doctor now?”
“I’m just trying to clear you and your father.”
That roused her mother. “Whatever … I said about that … nothing to do … with this.”
“You said your husband didn’t know you had seen it.”
Nicole’s mother just shook her head.
“You need to know, we’ve taken that box into evidence.”
Mom’s pulse and respiration increased, but she remained still, eyes closed.
“You’ve opened the box?” Nicole said.
Wojciechowski tucked away his notepad and picked up his coats. “It’s locked, but our guys say they can easily break into it. Which we will do if your father wouldn’t rather just open it for us.”
“Gladly,” her dad said. “Nothing to hide.”
“Well, apparently you did.”
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