by Leslie Glass
Later, she saw stunned little bundles on the news— children with missing hands or legs wrapped in rags. Maybe land mines. Maybe civil war. Wendy didn't know what it was. Little faces bobbed over the shoulders of grown-ups who were walking in a long line away from the popping-corn sound of bullets. Some of the bundles were on the ground, not moving, wrapped up tightly so that nothing showed. It scared her. She thought she was next.
When it was dark, she took the spear gun and underwater light from the rack of scuba gear in the mudroom. Outside, the sky was a light show with a three-quarter moon so bright she didn't need the flashlight to make her way down to the saltwater pond. She walked across the wet grass of the broad lawn that sloped down to the water, then through the trees following the path through the sea grass down to the dock, trying to be brave without her brothers. She hated being left behind.
The ocean crept in here at high dde, rising to meet the dock at the farthest end, more than a mile from the cut that made it a suitable breeding ground for clams and mussels and scallops. That night was so quiet and windless that the water barely lapped at the wedge of rocky sand on the shoreline where the biggest clams dug in deep; the crabs scuttled along, pincers ready to grab at anything that crossed their path; and the razor clams were as sharp and lethal as their name.
From here, the mainland lights joined together as a soft glow against black land. The few pale white halos that could be seen around the pond marked the nearest summer houses, far down unconnected dirt roads. The Lotte farm was a lonely spot.
When Wendy finally turned on the light and shone it on the inky water, right away she saw the dark shape of the dog shark that came in with the tide at night. It circled in the shallows near the dock, possibly looking for lobster bait, or a place to spawn. She dumped the rabbit into the water. It hit with a splash and sank quickly into the black, then bobbed up in the shallows. The shark swam in, close to the shore, almost close enough for her to reach out and touch with the tip of her spear gun. It circled and circled but would not strike the dead rabbit. Wendy was scared.
If the tide didn't draw the rabbit out to deeper water by morning, everyone would know what she had done. She crept back to her room, certain she'd be caught and punished. She was sorry, really. When she heard the
chop chop chop
of a bird in the sky, she thought the helicopter was war coming to her from far away. Her punishment. A strobe flashed into her room, lighting it brighter than ten flashes of lightning on a nor'easter night.
"Mummy!" She wanted to hide in the attic. Instead, she ran down the hall calling for her mother.
"Ssshh, it's just the Coast Guard. There must have been a boating accident. Go to bed, sweetheart, everything's all right."
But Wendy didn't want to go to bed. She could see someone in there. Daddy was back; her brothers were back. They'd know it wasn't a boating accident. The strobe lit the room again, and she realized the man with her mother was not her daddy. After that night, she knew the divorce that ruined everything was all her fault.
Twenty-four
What happened to it? I don't understand." Prudence had lost her good spirits. She was getting weepy. Her wedding gown was too tight. It wouldn't zip up, an impossible situation. She stamped her foot. "What are we going to do?" she demanded. "I want to talk to Tang."
"Oh, no, that's not necessary." Wendy was eager to prevent her from making a scene. "Don't worry so much, dear. We can get this fixed."
Wendy sounded cheery, but she was seething inside. This should have taken five minutes, should have been a nothing visit. Instead, Prudence was flipping out. Wendy didn't need this. She glanced at her watch, then looked up in time to see Tang herself sweep down the stairs to the second-floor showroom from her private office on the floor above. Her ice blue spring suit was a stunner.
"Prudence, I heard you were here," she said with a smile.
Her assistant, Tessa, a tall, blond girl wearing a sober suit, followed Tang, carrying an alligator briefcase and matching purse. Tessa was briefing her boss in a fully audible whisper.
"You have four minutes right now. Remember, you have to leave the leadership luncheon in an hour. You have to be at CBS for your taping at two. I booked makeup for one-thirty. Ben doesn't have a lot of time for you today; he's doing Hillary.... Don't worry about leaving the dais. They know you can't stay for dessert. After your taping, your husband will pick you up at the studio. His plane leaves at eight. You only have dme for a quick drink, but he insists—"
"That's enough." Tang raised her hand, and Tessa shut her mouth. Wendy knew Tang needed constant reminders about her schedule and clearly enjoyed the running monologue. She raged at her own Lori for taking such an inconvenient vacation.
"Tang, how are you?" Wendy said, rising quickly to her feet.
Tang tapped at her diamond watch. She didn't have time to comment for Wendy.
"How does your mother like her jacket?" she asked Prudence, all smiles for
her.
Prudence, however, could barely respond. She was that close to tears. "I don't know. I think it's all right. But Tang, this gown is a complete mess. My underwear shouldn't show. I expected better than this from you."
Tang frowned. "Let me see. Oh, my goodness, you're right. Have you been partying a little too much, Prudence?" she teased.
"Two minutes. The car is waiting," Tessa reminded.
Wendy glared at her. Tang made the silence signal with the back of her hand, then pushed the fitter out of the way so she could poke at the back seam of
Pru's gown, with its long zipper and two hundred tiny buttons that wouldn't close.
"Oh, this is not a problem. Kim can fix this in a second." She turned to Kim, her honey voice turning to acid. "Fix it in a second, Kim."
He nodded. "No problem."
"It's a problem for Miss Hay Don't disappoint her," Tang said coldly. Then the honey voice again. "You'll have it tomorrow. Say hello to your mother for me." Tang turned to the open elevator and got in,
p
followed by Tessa, already talking again.
Wendy smiled until the elevator doors closed and Prudence disappeared into a dressing room. Then she let loose.
"What's wrong with you? I wanted that dress done today!" she fumed, so furious at Kim she could barely control the tremor in her voice. "The gown was way too tight. The bustier showed. You upset Prudence and Tang."
"Don't yell at me, Wendy." Kim couldn't take it when people were upset with him.
"You did it on purpose," she ranted. "Why?"
"She got fatter," he protested.
"She did not get fatter. You fucked up her dress. Are you crazy? Don't you understand we can't afford having anyone suspicious now?"
Suspicious? He looked as her sideways. "Why you mad at me, Wendy? I don't understand. No one's suspicious."
"Don't give me that shit. The cops are all over me. You understand perfectly what's at stake. What do you think you're doing messing with that dress?"
"Clio so mad with me I'm scared she'll kill me in my sleep," he said. He was holding the heavy dress and long train in a plasdc bag. It dipped to the carpet when Wendy took him by his two shoulders and shook him hard.
"You messed up Tovah's dress. You shouldn't have fucking been there. Don't you understand!" she hissed at him. "Now Prudence's. What are you thinking! Do you want us all in trouble?"
"Don't be mad with me, Wendy." Kim's teeth clacked with her shaking.
Wendy stopped shaking and dug her fingernails into his upper arms. "Yes, I'm mad at you."
"You're hurting me," he said.
She let him go. "What's Clio's problem?"
"Clio hates Tang. She don't pay me. I do extra work. She don't pay me."
"Oh, please. You make extra work on purpose. You want a tip, isn't that it?"
"Clio hate those rich girls." He swiped at his nose. "She hates them. She's not happy with me," he added sadly.
"Well, hello. Surprise, what did she expect?"
"The police ask questions, doesn't mean they know what they're doing. Remember poor Andrea? God knows that was bad enough. ..." Wendy let him go, her heart racing at the threat of Kim messing up those dresses just so he could do more work and get a tip. "What did you tell them?" she demanded.
"Oh, police?" Kim lifted his shoulders with the meek smile that was his trademark. "I don't understand English," he said softly. "Hardly a word."
"What did Clio tell them?" Wendy demanded.
"Clio crazy," he said. "She told me she'll kill me in my sleep."
Wendy blew air out of her mouth to stop herself from laughing at Clio's dilemma. She'd married a gay seamstress, hoping he'd become a heterosexual waiter. It wasn't going to happen.
"Look, keep me out of your troubles, Kim. Just keep my name out of it. And get that dress finished tomorrow the latest, you hear me? Make it perfect."
"Wendy, I gave Tang the plant you suggested. She's not mad with me, is she?"
"How should I know?"
Prudence came out of the dressing room, wearing her street clothes.
"There you are." Wendy smiled.
At three-thirty, after Prudence and Lucinda left the shop, Louis collapsed at his conference table, surrounded by the sketches for Pru's wedding. He was creating Hawaii again with real blooming passionflower vines, and a water wall studded with birds-of-paradise. A hundred and fifty Hawaiian Sunset cattleyas would bloom in real seashell centerpieces on the tables, and even the band members would be dressed in leis and tropical shirts.
"What's the matter with you?" Wendy demanded as soon as they were alone. Everybody was in a funk today.
"Why bother asking? I thought you hated me." Louis's stormy gray eyes raked her over.
"What are you talking about?" Wendy tossed her head at the ridiculous idea.
"You stormed out on Monday, shrieking that you hate me, don't you remember?"
Wendy laughed. "Getting paranoid again, are we? Forgetting to take our medicine?"
"Oh, very funny." Louis made an irritated face and patted his hair uneasily.
"We're in this together, so don't freak on me. Prudence is having her prewedding jitters."
"Not exactly my problem. You're the Hay manager," Louis said.
"Uh-uh-uh. It's all our problem. Kim made her dress too dght. Her bustier showed. Lucinda is freaking out because of what happened to Tovah. We can't afford anyone acting out now."
"Well, I don't like her, either," Louis said sullenly.
"Who?"
"Spoiled, silly Prudence."
"Oh, for God's sake! Prudence is a lovely girl... . What's that face supposed to mean?"
"The police were here again."
Wendy's stomach heaved. "Which one?"
"The one with the mustache," he said, rolling his eyes.
"They all have mustaches," she said, impadently.
"This one was in cowboy boots, quite attractive but a terrible dresser."
"Oh, the Spanish one. What did he want?"
"He had his Chinese sidekick with him," Louis added.
"Oh, Jesus." Wendy didn't like this. She needed a little drink to give her a lift, wished Lori were around to take over.
"They wanted to know who went up to the Bronx with me and how long we were there and what time I left. Same things they asked before. I told them what they asked."
"They haven't a clue," Wendy said angrily. "Everyone is freaking out."
"And now Jama is out there somewhere. He hasn't turned up since Sunday. My nerves are shot. I could just jump out of my skin."
"Well, tell the police about him. Let them deal with it," Wendy told him.
"I did." Louis groaned. "I told them where he lives. I hope they get him fast, so I can calm down and do St. Pat's. Now I'm down one helper. I should have six people working for me."
Pat pat
to the pompadour.
Wendy snorted. It was Louis's own fault that he didn't hire regular people to work for him instead of his pretty boys, all those runaways from civil war in those oh-so-faraway countries. The drama of the misplaced and traumatized every single day—that was Louis's thing. Who could even think of having people like that in their lives? Who needed it? Louis was a one-man social work agency. He had no fear.
And every boy Louis "helped" with work was a beautiful, troubled specimen. Only six months ago one of them had stolen fifty thousand dollars worth of art glass. Louis didn't know which boy was the thief, so he'd fired them both. Now he had Jama, an African near mute who'd never seen a town, much less a city, before he'd arrived in New York. Tito was an Argentinean whose family were among the disappeared. And Jorge, the Argentinean hair colorist, was another one. Who even knew his story? Louis could read her mind.
"Jorge wants to make a permanent spot for himself in the shop. Is the place big enough for two of us? Is it? I don't know. Tito is threatening to quit because there's too much work." Louis was frantic. "I don't know how I bear it."
Wendy changed the subject back to Pru's wedding. "How are the Sunset cats doing?"
He didn't answer. The orchids had a color palette of rust, lavender, white, and purple and were supposed to bloom in large seashells. But they were fragile and had a bloom dme of exactly two and a half days. Only a lot of luck would make them absolutely perfect for the wedding luncheon on Saturday.
"How are your fifteen minutes of fame going? You selling your story to the National Enquirer?" Louis asked instead.
"Not yet. They haven't come up with enough to get me." Wendy smiled. Fifty thousand dollars to tell about the secret rituals of matchmaking among Orthodox Jews in America? Please. It was tempting, but not anywhere near enough. She wanted a quarter of a million for her story, an escalating story for sure. Wendy's hands were trembling. She needed a drink.
"Be nice to Prudence, will you? She's having a hard time," was her parting remark.
Twenty-five
A
fter a second night sleeping apart, April and Mike worked separately on Wednesday morning. Mike and a detective from Homicide interviewed Louis's helper Tito for many hours. Tito stuck to the same story as Louis. Either they were both telling the truth or both of them were lying. April drove up to Riverdale to the Five-oh to talk with one of the detectives who'd visited Kim and his wife out in Queens on Sunday night.
"Kim is a real cutie, and his wife gives him a solid alibi," he said confidently. Detective Calvin Hill was maybe twelve and a half years old and newly promoted to the bureau. He held a copy of his DD-5, but April shook her head.
"I want to hear it from you. What do you mean, cutie?" she said.
He flapped his wrist. "The wife, Clio, definitely wears the pants in the family. Much older than he. Kim doesn't speak English. I think he speaks Philippine. Wife wouldn't let him talk. She says she drove him and the dress out to Riverdale in their car on Sunday afternoon."
April frowned. "He brought the wedding gown to his home? When and how did he get it there?"
Calvin shook his head. He hadn't asked that quesdon.
"Why did he deliver the dress so late?" she asked.
"Kim's wife said the gown needed last-minute alterations. She says Mrs. Schoenfeld asked him to deliver the gown and help Tovah get dressed."
"Where did he do these alterations?"
Calvin shook his head again. He hadn't been interested in the movements of the dress, only the fitter.
April had the case file on the desk in front of her. It was already stuffed with hundreds of statements and interviews, but there were gaps everywhere. And the information they had didn't add up. The story of the gown didn't play to April at all.
"So Kim's wife drove him to Riverdale. Where did she park the car?" she said, back on Calvin's report.
"Down the block. There was no room in front of the synagogue. And Clio said she didn't want to get stuck in the lot because so many cars were moving in
."
"Which way?" April asked.
"Excuse me?"
"Which way down the block?" she said impatiently.
"She didn't know," he said.
April blinked.
"I asked her, but she didn't know the area. She said she moved the car down the block, waited an hour for him to come out."
"I want to know where the car was parked. What time was that?" She moved on to the next question.
"Two P.M.," he said.
April scratched her head some more. "Two P.M.
they arrived? Two P.M. they parked? I need a more precise time frame here."
"I think they arrived at two P.M."
April was silent.
He thought
was not good enough.
Cavin consulted his notes. "She waited for him for an hour. He came out and the two of them drove home to Queens."
"That put the time at... ?"
"She said they left just after three. The shooting occurred twenty-five minutes later." " "What make of car? Did you take a look at the car?" April snapped.
Calvin shook his head.
"Find out what make of car. Where the two drove from. I want to know what time that couple arrived and where the car was parked. Every single thing about that car. And the gown. I want to know where it was. Who handled it, what time ..." April couldn't contain her annoyance at the incomplete interview.
"Right here you had two people, husband and wife, who had the opportunity to get close to Tovah and the means to get away. I want to know everything about them." Her voice was hard. "Today."
Calvin gave her a stunned look. "Yes, ma'am."
A little while later she got a call from Lieutenant Iriarte on her cell phone.
"What do you have on Wendy Lotte?" he said.
Across the room April could see Hollis talking on the phone.
"You got something." She knew her boss, could hear excitement in his voice.
"Oh, yeah. We got a lot. She's a sport shooter, almost went to the Olympics. And she has a sheet."
"No kidding!"
"She was arrested for shoplifting three times in college, then shot her fiance up on Martha's Vineyard. All these incidents occurred in Massachusetts. The family is prominent there. She was not charged in the shooting, got suspended sentences on the thefts. In the shooting incident, the young man was treated and released. They broke up. That was seventeen years ago. Funny thing, she's been clean as a whistle since."