“Sarah came that evening, right before dark. She sat down on my couch and told me that Fraydle didn’t love me. She said that Fraydle wanted to move to New York, that she wanted to be with Ari Hirsch. Sarah said that Fraydle told her she was tired of me and was glad of the excuse not to be with me anymore.
“I didn’t know what to say. I just sat there, in shock. And then Sarah came over to me, and kissed me. She kissed me, and she took off her clothes and . . . and . . .”
“And you slept with her,” I said.
He nodded. “She looks so much like Fraydle,” he whispered. “I closed my eyes and it was like being with Fraydle.” He paused. “Look, I know it was terrible. I know it was unforgivable, but you have to understand, Fraydle had left me and I needed her so much.”
I couldn’t give him the absolution he craved. “Did you see Sarah again?”
“No, I mean, I saw her but we didn’t—we weren’t together again.”
“What happened?”
“After she left, I just went to sleep. I woke up the next day to someone banging on my door. It was Fraydle. She came into the room and she was smiling. She looked so happy! But then she saw Sarah’s sweater. Sarah had left her sweater on the chair. Fraydle stopped talking and picked up the sweater. She looked confused and asked me what it was doing there. I lied to her. I told her that it was hers, that she’d left it there, but she shook her head. And then she looked at the bed.”
“The bed?” I asked.
“I woke up to answer the door. The bed wasn’t made. She saw . . . the blood.”
“Sarah was a virgin.”
He nodded.
“What did Fraydle do?”
“She picked up the sweater and she walked out the door. She slammed it so hard, plaster fell from the ceiling.”
“Did you follow her?” I asked.
“No.” He shook his head. “I didn’t know what to say to her. I was so ashamed.”
“What did you do?”
“Nothing for a while. I just sat there. Then, I went to the travel agent and I bought the plane tickets. I wanted to prove to Fraydle that I loved only her and wanted only her. I was sure I could convince her that I’d only been with her sister because I missed her, because I wanted to be with her. I was sure if I bought the tickets, she would understand how much I loved her and she would come with me. Come to Israel and marry me.”
“Did you see Sarah again?”
“She came the next day. I went to find Fraydle in the morning. That was when you saw me outside your house. Fraydle was angry, furious at me. She said she wouldn’t go with me and to leave her alone. I came back here. I just lay on the bed, trying to figure out what to do. And then Sarah showed up. She knocked on the door, and I told her to go away. She pushed her way inside. She came up to me and tried to kiss me, but I pushed her away. I just snapped. All the pressure building inside me just exploded.” He looked ashamed. “I said terrible things. I told her to go away, that she disgusted me. I told her that she was a whore.”
“What did she do? What did she say?”
“Nothing. She just started to cry, and ran away. That’s the last time I saw her.”
“Did you ever see Fraydle again?”
“No. But I think she must have wanted to come with me. I think she was going to come, and that’s why she was killed.” His voice rose sharply. Ruby turned around at the sound.
“It’s okay, honey,” I reassured her. “Mommy is just having a talk. Everything is fine.”
She turned back to her game and I looked at Yossi. “Yossi, what do you think happened to Fraydle? Who do you think killed her?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he just buried his head in his hands.
“I want you to come with me to Fraydle’s house,” I said.
He shook his head, not bothering to lift it up.
“I want you to come with me to confront Sarah and her family. I know that your relationship with Sarah is why Fraydle died.”
Yossi raised his head and then, to my surprise, agreed to come with me. I didn’t trust him enough to put him in my car and, besides, I really didn’t want my kids along for this ride anymore. Dragging them on an investigation was one thing. Putting them in danger was something else entirely. I told Yossi that I’d meet him at the Finkelsteins’ home in an hour and bundled the kids back down the block and into the car, which, thankfully, had not yet been towed. I drove as fast as I could down Melrose Avenue, dialing Peter’s number. Of course he wasn’t answering. His assistant, however, picked up her phone. She told me that Peter was on his way back to the set from a meeting off the lot. When I informed her that it was an emergency, she promised to tell him that I was coming and to call the security booth so that they would let me in.
The kids and I tore through the studio lot in the direction of Sound Stage #6 where they were shooting the interiors of Peter’s show. I parked in a spot clearly marked No Parking and once again unloaded my children. We walked brazenly through the Authorized Entry Only door and onto the cavernous sound stage. On the far end was a perfect replica of a 1970s-style kitchen. Ruby looked over at the stage and then let loose with a piercing shriek that brought the bustling crowd to a standstill. A remarkably lifelike corpse lay in a pool of blood on the baby-blue, vinyl-tiled floor, a hatchet lodged comfortably in its forehead.
I clamped my hand over her eyes and crushed her face to my stomach. “It’s just fake, Ruby. Pretend. It’s just a picture.” I tried to sound jovial and reassuring, but that was made a bit difficult by the fact that fifty or sixty people had stopped dead in their tracks and were staring at me as I stood there holding a screaming toddler and pushing a stroller containing a now-wailing infant.
“Um, excuse me,” I said to the room at large. “I’m looking for Peter Wyeth.”
“Juliet! How wonderful to see you.” I turned in the direction of the voice and found myself staring into the perfectly made-up face of the ever-lovely Marvelous Mindy Maxx.
“Peter’s not here, Juliet,” she said. “He’s on his way back from a meeting with the special effects guys in Burbank. He’s on the road, but he should be here any minute. Can I help you with something?”
I was ambivalent for a moment, but a glance at my watch decided me. “Listen, Mindy, sorry to do this. Sorry, everybody,” I called out. I turned back to my husband’s producing partner. “I really need to be somewhere. It’s an emergency. Is Angelika around? Can I leave the kids with her?”
Mindy paused for a second, obviously mulling over my request. The various sound, film, and props folks whom I’d disturbed turned back to their work.
“Why don’t you leave the kids with me? I can watch them until Peter gets here,” she said.
“No, that’s okay. I’ll wait.” I looked around for an out-of-the-way place to deposit the children and myself.
“Really, Juliet. I don’t mind.”
“Really, Mindy. It’s fine. I’ll wait.” I knew I sounded hostile, but I was too distracted by what I had to do to cover up my feelings. The truth was, I felt hostile toward this impeccably dressed woman who was spending way more time with my husband than I was.
Mindy shrugged her shoulders and turned away. She walked a few steps and then turned back. “We need to talk,” she said.
I felt my stomach tie itself in a knot. Was this true confessions time? Was she about to tell me that she and Peter were desperately in love? Mindy took my arm and led me a few steps toward an empty corner of the sound stage. I rolled the stroller along.
“Listen, Mindy, I can’t do this now. I have my kids with me. We can’t have this conversation in front of my children.”
“I think we can.”
“Well, you’re not their mother. I am.”
“I know that, for goodness’ sake. Look, Juliet, I’m not an idiot. I know what you think is going on.”
“Oh, you do, do you?”
“Yes, I do. And it isn’t. Nothing is going on. We work together, that’s it.”
“W
ell, pardon me for thinking that you guys are just a little more intimate than that. I’ve worked with plenty of people and never been so, how shall I put it? Close.”
“But you’ve never produced a TV series. It’s a totally different level of stress and time commitment. Peter and I are forced to spend fifteen hours a day together.”
“Neither of you seems to be objecting.”
“Because we like each other. Because we’re friends. Don’t you know how much Peter would rather be with you?”
“Look, Mindy, I don’t know what you’re after here. But I don’t have time for this. I have something really important I need to do. And I can’t do it with my kids. I need to find Peter and get the hell out of here.”
“I said you should leave them with me.”
“No.”
“Juliet. I’m gay.”
I stared at her. “What?”
“I’m gay. I’m a lesbian. You see that woman?” She pointed toward a tall athletic woman with close-cropped blond hair bent over one of the cameras. “That’s my girlfriend. I’m not having an affair with your husband. I’m having an affair with her.”
My mouth dropped open. I didn’t know what to say. “God. I am an idiot, aren’t I? I am so sorry, Mindy. I don’t even know how to begin to say how sorry I am.”
“You’re not an idiot. You’re a new mother married to an incredibly sexy man who hasn’t been able to spend much time at home lately. You’re normal. You were just wrong.”
“That’s for sure. Why didn’t my lunatic husband tell me this?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he figured it was my business. Or maybe it just never occurred to him that you would be jealous. Maybe he loves you so much he can’t even imagine that you’d ever think he’d cheat on you.”
Suddenly I remembered where I needed to be.
“Mindy, can you really watch the kids for me? Just until Peter gets back.”
“Sure. I’d love to,” she said and smiled.
“Terrific.” I turned to Ruby and crouched down next to her. “Hey, kiddo, are you all right?”
“Yup,” she announced. “I was just surprised by the dead guy. It’s okay. It’s just a show. Like a comic book.”
“Right. It’s not real. Listen, Ruby, Mama needs to go somewhere real quick. You’re going to stay here with Mindy. It’ll be so fun!”
Ruby looked unconvinced.
Mindy leaned over and said, “How’d you like to go to the makeup room and have your face painted?”
Ruby nodded.
“Okay, honey. That’s a great idea. Daddy will be here in a few minutes.” I handed Mindy Isaac’s diaper bag. “Thanks, Mindy. This is terrific of you. Just tell Peter I’ll be home as soon as I can. And I’m sorry. Really.”
She waved me away with a smile and walked away with the stroller. I watched them for a second, and then tore off the sound stage and leaped into my car. As I careened down Melrose Avenue, I dug in my purse for Detective Black’s card. I found it and dialed the number. Voice mail. Of course. I left a message and my cell-phone number as I pulled up in front of the Finkelsteins’ house.
Yossi had arrived before me and was waiting on the corner. He stood nervously, his hands shoved into his pockets. I parked my car in a commercial loading zone and together we walked toward the house. The two little boys were in their seemingly permanent position on the porch and Nettie sat on the steps, watching them. She was wearing a dark dress and a pair of fabric slippers. Her face was blotchy and pale but she smiled wanly when she saw me. The smile dried up when she saw Yossi. I marched up the steps. At my approach, the boys ran inside.
“Nettie, this is Yossi, Fraydle’s boyfriend,” I said.
Nettie paled and muttered something in Yiddish.
Yossi, who’d followed me, shook his head vehemently and replied in the same language.
“You speak Yiddish?” I asked him.
“My grandmother taught me,” he said.
“What did Nettie say to you?”
“She says maybe I killed Fraydle. But I told her that is not true. I told her I loved Fraydle. I wanted to marry Fraydle. I would never have killed her.”
Nettie turned to me. “What do you want? Why did you bring him here?”
“Nettie, we’re going to talk to Fraydle’s parents. We’re going to get to the bottom of this.”
She shook her head.
“Nettie. Please,” I said softly. She looked at me silently for a few moments, and then shrugged her shoulders. “She is dead. What else matters?”
“Finding out who killed her matters.”
“That might be true. But it might also be a terrible thing to find out.”
“Maybe. But don’t you think we owe it to Fraydle to find out who did this to her?”
Nettie shrugged her shoulders again and stood up with a soft groan.
“Come,” she said, leading the way into the house.
Twenty-six
FRAYDLE’S parents’ home was full of people. The men were in the living room, standing around in small groups, most of them holding plates heaped with food. A tall candle burned on the hall table. Through the open door to the kitchen I could see the women in their accustomed place. The soft buzz of conversation stopped entirely as Yossi and I walked inside. As we entered the room I noticed a large, dark cloth covering what I assumed was a mirror over the mantel. Jewish law requires that during the seven-day period of mourning all mirrors in the house must be covered. The furniture had been moved out of the living room. Fraydle’s father and the older boys sat on low chairs pushed up against the walls. Their vests and shirts were torn to signify their mourning.
As I walked in the room, Fraydle’s father lifted a hand and waved me over. I walked over to him and stood quietly, waiting for him to speak. He wept openly, as did Fraydle’s brothers.
“Thank you for coming,” he said.
“I am so terribly sorry for your loss, Rabbi Finkelstein.”
“My sister tells me that I have misjudged you, Mrs. Applebaum. She says that you have tried very hard to find out what happened to my daughter.” A fresh stream of tears streaked down his reddened cheeks.
I didn’t know what to say. “I just wanted to help, Rabbi. I didn’t know your daughter very well, but she was a lovely girl.”
At that moment, Sima came in from the kitchen. She was also weeping. She held Sarah firmly by the hand. The girl had an expression of complete panic on her face and she sank into a low chair. I followed her gaze to Yossi, who stood, head bowed, behind me.
“Rabbi, there is something I’d like to talk to you and your wife about. In private.”
The rabbi looked, for a moment, as though he was going to say no. Then, with a wave of his hand, he motioned to the crowd of men and said something in Yiddish. Within two minutes the house was empty of everyone except Fraydle’s family, Yossi, and me.
As the men left the house, followed by their wives, mothers, and daughters, I watched Sarah’s face grow paler and paler. The only sound that came from her was the rasping of her breath.
“Rabbi Finkelstein, Mrs. Finkelstein, this is Yossi Zinger. He was a friend of Fraydle’s. And of Sarah’s,” I said.
The rabbi looked confused. “What are you talking about? A friend?” He turned to Yossi. “Who are you? How do you know my daughters?”
Yossi stepped forward and said, in a far firmer voice than I imagined he would be able to muster, “I was Fraydle’s boyfriend, Rabbi. I wanted to marry her.”
“Boyfriend? Boyfriend?” Sima interrupted. “What do you mean? My daughter was engaged to marry Ari Hirsch. She had no boyfriend.” Sima looked at Sarah’s stricken face. “Sarahleh, what is this man talking about? Do you know him? Did Fraydle know him? What is happening here?”
Sarah jumped to her feet and in a quavering voice began to talk. “It’s not my fault. Fraydle went with him. She went to his house. She told me she was with him. She was proud of it!”
“What are you saying?” her father roared. He t
urned to me. “Is this true?”
I nodded.
“And did he kill her? Did you kill my daughter?” His shout made the walls of the house shake.
“No! I did not kill her,” Yossi said. “I loved her. I wanted to marry her.”
“But she didn’t want you!” Sarah wailed. “She said she was going to marry Ari. That Abba and Ema wanted her to. That’s why I went to you! Because she didn’t want you anymore, so I could have you!”
Sarah’s parents fell silent. Her brothers looked as if they were melting into the chairs on which they sat.
“Papa. It wasn’t on purpose. She said she was going to marry Ari. So that meant I could have Yossi.”
“But then she changed her mind,” I interjected softly.
Sarah nodded. “It wasn’t my fault. I wasn’t going to tell her that Yossi was mine until she was married. But then she changed her mind. She decided not to marry Ari; she decided she loved Yossi. So she went back to Yossi. And when she was there she saw my sweater and found out about us. She was so angry. She didn’t understand that it wasn’t my fault. I only did it because she decided to marry Ari Hirsch. I went to Yossi because she didn’t want him anymore. It was my turn. She was supposed to marry Ari Hirsch and that meant I could have Yossi.”
“Sarah,” I said, “What happened?”
“It wasn’t on purpose,” the girl repeated. “She found out about Yossi and me. And then he didn’t want me anymore. I was so angry. I just slapped her, not hard or anything. But she slipped. She just slipped and fell down the stairs. It was so loud. Such a loud crash. I ran down after her, but it was . . .” Sarah paused and waved her hands in the air, as if she were pushing something away. “It was so messy. Her head was wet and bloody. Her neck was all crooked.”
“Did you put her in the freezer?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I had to put her away. It was so messy.” Sarah’s voice was affectless and flat. “She fit in there just right. Once I had her in I just plugged the freezer in. So she wouldn’t get spoiled.”
At that her parents, who had been staring silently, erupted in loud, anguished sobs. Nettie stood against the wall, her hand clamped over her mouth, her eyes wide with horror. Yossi crumpled onto the floor, kneeling with his head bowed and his eyes streaming.
The Big Nap Page 18