Lady Vanishes

by Carol Lea Benjamin

  When the class was over, he carefully put the chairs back, settling Willy in front of a toddler’s puzzle, whispering something to Cora, then Dora, watching as Charlotte returned to where she’d been sitting, her pad, colored pencils, and sharpener where she’d left them.

  I got up and followed him out into the empty lobby.

  “Dashiell’s game went well,” he said, disappointed that the ball playing had been a bust. “Not everything works out, but I always try. Dad says that in some places people are just warehoused, fed and clothed, but not stimulated at all.”

  I didn’t respond. Something else had gotten my attention. It was Dashiell, vacuuming Samuel’s pants, then moving his attention to the shoes, leaving little wet marks where his nose and lips were pressed to the leather, reading the news.

  “I guess someone forgot to scoop,” I said.

  “What?”

  I pointed to his shoes.

  “Dog poop. You must have stepped in some.” I looked up, and so did he.

  “They say it’s good luck,” he said, smiling his crushed little smile.

  “Not in your case it isn’t.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, we’re going for a little cab ride, you and me. And Dashiell.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “We’re going to Brooklyn, Samuel, let Dashiell get the smell he discovered on your pants firsthand.”

  He stepped back and looked around to see if anyone else was there. I reached for his arm and pulled him back to where he was.

  “Listen carefully,” I told him. “We’re leaving here now. We’re going to your apartment to get Lady, bring her back where she belongs.”

  “I don’t know what you’re—”

  He tried to pull off looking indignant, but I wasn’t impressed.

  “And on the way,” I said, “you’re going to tell me why you killed your uncle Harry and tried to kill my friend Venus.”

  CHAPTER 33

  Did It Work? I Asked

  Are you crazy? I didn’t kill anyone. I didn’t hurt Venus. David did. I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  “That’s fine. You don’t have to.”

  I pulled out my cell phone.

  “Who are you calling?”

  His shirt was soaked with sweat, a lot more than he’d worked up in class.

  “The Sixth Precinct,” I said. Dead calm. “Of course, I know you. We have a relationship. I know that whatever you did, you had your reasons. Or maybe something happened and things got out of hand, you couldn’t help yourself. I can understand that, Samuel. I care about what you feel. But the cops”—I shrugged my shoulders—“hey, they have different pressures than I do. They just want to find someone to hang this on. They just want to close the case, be done with it. Why? Why doesn’t factor into it. Why gets you no sympathy there. Why only counts right here, Samuel, so make up your mind who you want to talk to. And don’t take too long, because if the answer is no, you don’t want to talk to me, then I have this call to make. And afterward I’m going to walk across the lobby and knock on Daddy’s door, have a few words with him, see what he thinks about all this.”

  “No—don’t do that. Please don’t do that. He’ll believe you. He’ll think I did it, all of it, everything. And more. Whenever there’s a fuckup, he always thinks it’s me.”

  Harry’s death, a fuckup?

  “You’ve got to help me, Rachel. You like me, don’t you?”

  I waited, eyes hard, enough adrenaline pumping to pick him up like the sack of garbage I thought he was and toss him out into oncoming traffic, the asshole.

  “I have her,” he whispered. “Lady. But I didn’t touch Harry or Venus. I swear to you.”

  He waited.

  I let him.

  “Can’t you say you found her at the shelter? She could have gotten out, got picked up. It’s possible. He’d believe you. Couldn’t you say that?”

  “Only if you tell me the truth.”

  “I am. This is the truth.”

  “Excellent. In that case, let’s go get Lady.”

  Slipping the phone back into my pocket, I indicated the front door with a tilt of my head and followed Samuel out.

  “You’ll see, I took good care of her. I never hurt her. I only wanted—”

  “Let’s move,” I told him. “I don’t want to hit rush hour, and we have to drop Dashiell off first. We’ll never get a cab with a dog this big. Did you take Lady to Brooklyn in a cab, Samuel, the night you walked out with her?”

  He wasn’t looking at me. He was looking at his shoes, maybe at the spot where Dashiell had pressed his nose, the moisture in his breath condensing, leaving a dull spot when it dried.

  “I didn’t have enough money with me. I took the subway. Nobody said anything. Anyway, she’s a therapy dog, so she’s allowed.”

  “Going to and from a gig, Samuel. Not being stolen. When you steal a dog, you’re supposed to use a car. Or at the very least, a taxi.”

  We headed over to Washington Street, toward the sound of construction, then kept going east, toward Hudson Street.

  He could have slipped out after his daytime class, taken the bike, killed Harry, come back for his evening singsong, Mr. Innocence, Mr. Helpful. I wondered if he’d cried when he heard the news.

  And wasn’t he the one who’d found Venus? Found Venus. Right.

  Blaming David. Or had that been Nathan’s idea? Was it his brother he’d been protecting all along?

  “Okay,” I said, “I’m ready for the sad story of your life.”

  He took out a handkerchief that looked as if it had been out too many times already and wiped his dripping face. It was hotter than Hades. Maybe he ought to get used to it, I thought, because as far as I could tell, that was where he was headed.

  “Lady,” I prompted. “Start with Lady.”

  “I told you, she’s fine.”

  Petulant. Not looking at me.

  “Why did you take her, Samuel?”

  “It wasn’t fair.”

  Four years old.

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Everything she did, every stupid little thing, everyone k’velled about it. Dad and Harry and Venus, even Molly, they kept saying she was the best thing that had ever happened at Harbor View. She was the best, a life saver. Not a word about me, about everything I did there, day after bloody day for coolie wages. I thought that if she weren’t there, maybe Dad would see—”

  And then he began to cry, great oceans of water running from his eyes and monsoons of mucus leaking from his nose. He drooled a little, too. It wasn’t a pretty sight, a grown man bawling like that in the street because he was jealous of a little dog.

  I put my arm around his shoulders, feeling how wet and hairy he was underneath his shirt. I could think of about seven thousand things I’d rather be touching. But none of them would pay the rent. Or get Lady back to Harbor View.

  “I took good care of her. I meant to bring her back. After. After Dad appreciated me for once.”

  “Did it work?” I asked. Like a courtroom lawyer, I knew the answer before he responded.

  “What do you think?”

  Sullen now.

  “I think it didn’t, Samuel. I think your father and Harry and Venus were too wrapped up in what was helping the kids to think about your feelings. But everyone needs a little appreciation. It’s only human.”

  “Do you really think so?” he asked.

  Jesus.

  “I do,” I told him.

  “That’s all I did,” he said, his voice nearly inaudible. Then he looked at me for the first time since we’d left Harbor View. “I’m ashamed of what I did. I truly am. But I didn’t hurt her. I took good care of her. And I meant to return her. I really did. I only wanted—”

  “Of course you did. Anyone would.”

  “But I never hurt Uncle Harry. Why would I?”

  “Wasn’t he the one paying you those coolie wages?”

  I watched his face.r />
  “Wasn’t that a pretty big slap in the face, working so hard for so little money? It’s not like the old bastard didn’t have it. He was loaded. What was he planning on doing, taking it with him?”

  “No, no, it wasn’t like that. I didn’t do that. He’s always been—”

  “What, Samuel? What’s he always been? Arrogant? Cheap? Unappreciative? It was always about his sister, never about you. What, he felt guilty he was normal and she wasn’t, he had a life and she didn’t? It made him hard, didn’t it? Hard-hearted toward you, not loving, supportive, appreciative. Uncle Harry, my ass. Why, the man should have been treating you like family. Instead, he treated you like a servant. How many years were you supposed to take it? Forever? Who wouldn’t have wanted to kill the cheap son of a bitch?”

  “Is that what people will think, just because I took the dog?”

  When we got to the corner, I yanked on his arm. “Hurry up. We can make the light.”

  We stayed on the north side of Tenth Street. He didn’t see the precinct until we were almost on top of it.

  “You said—”

  “I lied,” I told him.

  The door opened, and a uniform came out. Samuel waited until he’d walked up the block, toward Bleecker Street, so much equipment hanging off his pants it was a wonder they didn’t fall down.

  “But they’ll think I killed Harry. They’ll think—”

  “They’ll think you stole a bike from one of the Chinese delivery men taking a nap in the Westbeth courtyard and rode it full tilt into Uncle Harry. Were you trying to kill him, Sammy, or just trying to get his attention?”

  Samuel’s mouth hung open. Any moment now, and he’d start drooling again.

  “What was the fight about that afternoon, you and Harry screaming at each other? Did you ask for a raise, more compensation for your little classes? Is that what it was? Well, you showed him, didn’t you? Pretty soon, everyone will know what you’re made of, what a big man you are. No one’s going to ignore you now, will they?”

  But he didn’t answer me. He just stood there, blinking, as if the sun was more than his eyes could bear.

  “And that wasn’t enough for you, was it? You had to try to kill Venus, too, clobber her with a bookend, make a hole in her head. Well, she’s awake now, Samuel. And she’s talking. The charade is over.”

  “But—”

  “Give me your keys,” I said, holding out my hand.

  “What?”

  “Your keys. What do you want me to do, leave Lady at your house without food and water and someone to walk her while you rot in jail?”

  “I thought you were going to help me,” he said, his face as wet and crushed as a used tissue. It was about as appealing, too.

  “I thought you liked me,” he whined.

  “Keys,” I said.

  He mustered an ounce of backbone. I could see it coming, right between the panic and the rage.

  “I don’t have to listen to you. Who the hell are you to tell me what to do?”

  “You might want to think that over.”

  “Why? Why should I?”

  “Watch him,” I said.

  Not getting it, he turned around. There was no one behind him, just the closed door to the precinct.

  When he turned back toward me, he still didn’t get it. I pointed to my dog. He was facing Samuel, looking alert.

  Okay, not alert. Menacing.

  “Keys,” I repeated.

  Samuel looked like a balloon with a leak. He reached into his pocket and handed me his keys.

  We went inside. After explaining my visit to the desk sergeant, I waited while he called upstairs. In no time at all, two detectives came down, thick-necked guys with Try me, asshole expressions.

  I walked off to the side with one of them—Matthew Agoudian, young guy with a big nose, dark eyes, good listening skills—told him what I knew, then stood there until they’d walked Samuel to the stairs, listening to him protesting his innocence, first to one detective, then the other. Bet they never heard that before.

  Back outside, I ran across the street, got some cash from where it was cleverly secreted in my top desk drawer under my checkbook, then headed toward Bleecker Street to catch a cab.

  CHAPTER 34

  Venus Took My Hand

  A Hispanic woman who looked as if she ate gravel for breakfast was sitting outside the door to Venus’s room. She stood when I approached, her arm across the closed door. I showed her my ID.

  “Lourdes Rivera,” she said. “I heard a lot of good stuff about you from Frank.”

  “From Frank? Really?”

  “I know what you’re saying,” she told me. “He never told you to your face how good a job you did, am I right? But he tells everyone else, any chance he gets, ‘I had this girl Rachel working for me, walked in off the street, took to it like a golden retriever to water, college grad, too, but okay, you know what I mean? I’d be happy if you was half as good an operative as she was.’ He’s a piece of work, that Frank.”

  She was short and thick, big shoulders, muscular legs, a gold tooth right in front, shined at you when she smiled, and a shoulder holster with a gun, her jacket open so you could see it, stop any thoughts of messing around before they got started.

  “Go on in, Rachel. She’ll be happy to see you.”

  “Thanks. Glad you’re here.”

  “Hey, no problem.”

  I opened the door, and Venus grinned when she saw me. Then she winced.

  “I feel sooo protected,” she said.

  “Would have been nice before you got a hole in your head.”

  I stood in the doorway, both dogs behind me.

  “I’m going to be okay, Rachel. I’m on the mend.”

  “I know. I stopped at the nurses’ station. The head nurse told me. She wasn’t going to, but I told her we were sisters.”

  “We are.”

  “Don’t go all soft and mushy on me, girl. Keep your edge. You’re going to need it.”

  She nodded, then frowned. “That still hurts.”

  “Nodding?”

  “Moving. Blinking. Smiling. Talking. But I am getting better.”

  “I have a surprise for you. Might speed up the recovery process.”

  I stepped aside and patted my left thigh. The dogs got up from their sit-stays and lunged forward.

  “Whoa,” I said, as if they were horses.

  Venus squealed, and her hands shot up to her mouth.

  “Lady,” she whispered, her eyes filling with tears.

  I touched the bed, and both dogs landed on it, one on either side of Venus.

  “Don’t you even want to know how I got two dogs up to your room?”

  “No. I want to know where you found her.”

  A nurse who looked like Olive Oyl walked in with some pills—one red, two yellow, party time—in the tiniest cup I’d ever seen.

  “Don’t tire her out,” she told me, bobbing her funny-looking head on her long, skinny neck. Then, “Oh, a matching dog. Is he her father?” she asked, pointing to Dashiell.

  I told her yes, watching Venus’s smile light up the room. She filled Venus’s plastic glass with water and waited until she had swallowed all the pills, closing the door on her way out.

  Venus had one hand on Dashiell’s head, the other around Lady, her face buried in the dog’s dreadlocks, impossible to see where one ended, the other began. Except for the bandage.

  “Where was she?”

  “Samuel had her.”

  “Samuel?”

  I nodded.

  “He was the one who ‘found’ you, Venus, after you were hit.”

  She reached up and touched the bandage.

  “Are you saying he killed Harry?”

  “It seems so. I dropped him off at the precinct. The detectives are questioning him now.”

  She pulled Lady a little closer.

  “Why?”

  “Why is the hardest part of the work I do, Venus, because you and I wouldn’t take the ro
ad Samuel took, even if we had identical reasons. Someone convinces himself that killing another human being is okay, how can we expect to understand the why?”

  “I’d still like to know. Even if I won’t understand. The man killed my husband, tried to kill me. I have a right to know what he was thinking, what he was after.”

  “Yes, you do. He says he took Lady because she was getting all the attention, all the appreciation.”

  “Oh, good grief.”

  “He said he was working really hard and that he was devoted to the kids and Harbor View, as devoted as anyone, but no one noticed, no one gave him the atta-boys he needed. He thought if Lady weren’t around, maybe he’d be noticed. Maybe Eli would notice him. He said he planned to bring her back. Maybe he thought he’d do that, be a big hero. I don’t know. And he claims he took good care of her, which apparently he did. She’s fine. But whether or not he would have returned her to Harbor View”—I shrugged—“we’ll never know for sure.”

  “And Harry?”

  “He called him Uncle Harry. I guess he expected more from him, maybe an unreasonable amount more, affection, praise, money, respect, all the things he craves and doesn’t feel he gets.”

  “So he killed him?”

  I nodded.

  “I told you we can’t understand this. It’s crazy, doing what he did. Someone else would have gotten a job elsewhere, found a niche of his own. But Samuel has spent his life beating his head against the wall, trying to get love out of a stone.”

  “I sure wouldn’t want Eli for a daddy. All his energy goes into Harbor View. None of it goes into his own kids. Never did, as far as I can tell. Even with the residents, he’s thoughtful, intelligent, willing to experiment with new things, but there’s no connection.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He’s a suit. He’s formal. He’s cold. He never touches anyone.” She bent her face to Lady again. When she picked it up, there were more tears. “Lots of people have inadequate parents, Rachel. They don’t all go out and murder.”

  “If he focused his childish needs and expectations on Harry—”

  “Because he couldn’t get what he needed from Eli—”