It was soon done. Terrill looked down at her.
Lee said, “You like to fuck me?”
Terrill grinned. Goddamn, to think when he met her that she would talk like this. He felt, incorrectly, a pride in this transition. Henry Higgins to little Eliza.
“Sure,” he said.
Lee said, “Is something funny?”
“No. No.”
“Don’t laugh at me.”
“I’m not.”
“Don’t patronize me,” she said. “I don’t like that.”
“Okay,” he said.
He rolled off her and lay on his back.
After a few moments, he heard her say, “What do we do now?”
“I can’t stay the night here,” he said.
“I don’t mean that. I mean, what do we do tomorrow?”
It occurred to him then that when she said “we,” she didn’t mean all of them. That she didn’t mean Maggie and Ray and Jan, all the rest. He pretended he hadn’t caught her meaning and said, “I don’t know. We’ll have a discussion.”
“You and I?”
“No. I meant all of us. Look, it’s late and I’m tired. Do we have to talk about it now?”
“We need to talk,” she said. “About a lot of things.”
Shit. Terrill said, “Why don’t we go to sleep?”
“I don’t want to sleep.”
“You need to sleep, babe.”
“You want to leave, go back to her, then do it. But if you do, I don’t want you telling her about this.”
“There are no secrets here, Lee. We’re a family.”
“I don’t want you telling her about this. I don’t want any black stares. I don’t want people talking about me. Do you understand that?”
“No one’s talking about you, babe.”
In the darkness, silence. Terrill looked over to see her staring right at him. She held her stare but did not smile. He could stare back at her, outstare her, stare her down … but goddammit, he was tired. She had the advantage of taking all those fucking pills. Christ. He needed to weed her off that shit before she locked herself in the toilet and started banging her head on the wall or something. There was no talking sense to her when she was zonked out.
He said, “No one’s talking about you, honey. We love you. You’re one of us now. We need you and we love you. Okay?”
She held her stare for a few more moments. Then she turned and looked back up at the ceiling.
“Go back to her,” Lee said. “We’ll talk about it later.”
THIRTY
There were parents with children, some of them unsteady because they were on skates for the first time. The Steinberg Skating Rink in Forest Park. It was dark now, but the rink was lighted up. It was crowded, people feeling the spirit of the season, and it was cold enough to keep the ice frozen, but not so cold you didn’t want to be outside. The rink was near the edge of Forest Park, near Kingshighway, and you could see Barnes-Jewish Hospital looming in the distance.
Hastings walked to the fence separating the rink from the spectators. He watched until he picked out a young woman in her early twenties wearing a red-and-white scarf and a black turtleneck sweater. She was holding a little girl’s hand. The little girl wore glasses and she was talking to the young woman, the young woman nodding her head and responding. A young boy, older than the girl, was skating by them, calling out “whoa, whoa” while he pretended to stumble, but was actually showing off, showing them how much in control he was. The nephew, Hastings thought. And the little girl was the niece. Hastings held up his hand and waved to the young woman. She paused, hesitating, then waved back. Then she came over.
They stood on opposite sides of the fence.
The girl said, “Are you the detective?”
“Yes. George Hastings.”
“I’m Lynn,” she said. “But I guess you knew that.”
“You said you’d be here with your niece and nephew.”
“Yes.” Lynn Akre looked down at the little girl with the glasses. “Sadie, this is Mr. Hastings. He’s a policeman.”
The little girl looked up at Hastings. He was in plainclothes, so she didn’t process it right away. Hastings estimated that she was the age Amy was when he married Amy’s mother.
“Hi,” the little girl said.
“Hi,” Hastings said.
Lynn Akre said, “I know this may sound paranoid, especially with all these people around, but I don’t want to leave her alone while we talk.”
“It’s not paranoid.”
“But I don’t want her to hear what we talk about either.”
Hastings said, “We’ll talk quietly.”
Lynn Akre smiled.
* * *
They sat at a circular table, the little girl drinking hot chocolate while the grown-ups sipped coffee. The noise of people having fun on the rink, anticipating the beginning of the Christmas weekend, time off work and with family, in the distance, traffic passing back and forth on Kingshighway.
Lynn Akre sat close to Hastings, both of them keeping their voices low as adults do when they want to hide things from children. Though Hastings was aware that Lynn Akre was probably young enough to be his daughter as well.
She said, “I feel bad, being out like this.”
“Why?”
“I mean, out having fun. I should be home, waiting to see what’s happened to Cordelia. But I promised the kids that I would bring them here before Christmas. We had it planned before, you know—”
“I understand.”
“She’s still gone, isn’t she?”
“Yes.”
“Didn’t her dad pay the ransom?”
“He did. But it looks like they haven’t kept their end of the bargain.”
“Does that mean—”
“We don’t know. We don’t know yet.”
The young woman put her hand over her mouth. But then it passed and she was looking at him again. “Tell me what I can do,” she said.
It occurred to Hastings that the she may have been the most mature person he had dealt with so far in this investigation. Certainly she was brave.
“I know you’ve already talked with Agent Kubiak,” Hastings said. “But there’s some things I’d like to go over with you.”
“Okay.”
“How long have you known Cordelia?”
“About two years.”
“Is she a close friend?”
“Well, not real close. We room together and we get along. But we don’t hang out together much socially. She bought the condo in the loft district and she wanted a roommate. She was a friend of a friend, Christie Kriko, and Christie told me she wanted a roommate. So we hooked up.”
“You didn’t know her before then?”
“No. God knows she doesn’t need the money. I think she just wanted to have someone living there with her. It’s got three bedrooms and two bathrooms. Sometimes, we’d go two, three days without even seeing each other.”
“When did you see her last?”
“I saw her before she went to the party with Tom.”
“The night she was abducted?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me about that.”
Lynn Akre shrugged. “She came home around five or five thirty and she was wearing jeans, casual clothing. And she changed for this party. I saw her in the kitchen when she came out of her room. She was wearing a dress. A nice dress. And I asked her where she was going, and she said she was going to a Christmas party with Tom.”
“You’d met Tom before that?”
“Yes.”
“Did you like him?”
“No, not really.”
“Why not?”
“Well, I didn’t think he was scary or anything. But he seemed like one of those guys that’s only nice to people he thinks are important. When she first introduced me to him, it was all he could do to make eye contact.” She looked at Hastings now. “Do you think he had something to do with it?”
“With her
being kidnapped?”
“Yes.”
Hastings said, “No.” He didn’t either. He said, “You’d met him before that night?”
“Yeah. I think a couple of months before.”
“Did Cordelia ever tell you what she thought of him?”
“Oh, not really. But it was obvious she wasn’t in love with him. Listen, I want you to know that she wasn’t like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like him. You know, a snob. Yeah, she had all that money. But you wouldn’t have known it if you didn’t know it. When I first moved in with her, I was sort of defensive. I mean, I come from Belleville, you know?”
Hastings nodded.
Lynn Akre said, “But after a while, I realized that she didn’t really care. I don’t think the money meant much to her. Or if it did, she didn’t show it.”
“Yet,” Hastings said, “you two didn’t become close.”
“No. I mean, it shouldn’t make a difference, but it does. It’s a different class structure. The money, I mean. It makes a difference. Last March? She went to Switzerland for spring break. Switzerland. She asked me if I wanted to come and I said no. And then she said that she would pay my way. I still said no. I mean, I couldn’t do that. It’d be like I was the nanny, you know. And I don’t want to feel that way. You know what I mean?”
Getting to, Hastings thought. “Sure,” he said.
“And that’s the funny thing,” she said. “I felt like I was snubbing her then. But I had to.”
“I understand,” Hastings said. It made him think of something. “Her mother,” he said.
“Her mother or stepmother?”
“Her mother. Adele.”
“Yes?”
“Was she close to her?”
“Oh, I don’t think so. Adele seemed out of it.”
“Out of it, you mean—?”
“Just out of it. Like she had taken too much prescription medication or something. You know, like one of those people you meet at a dog park or something. A nice lady, but, you know, socially inept and unable to deal with things. I’m sorry; that sounds terrible.”
“I understand.”
“I’m not like that.”
“I know.”
“I mean, in a way, both of her parents were like that. Socially retarded. But it was like her father could come out of it, sort of, and her mother couldn’t. You know?”
“Was she closer to her stepmother?”
“Lexy?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, God no. She thinks Lexy’s vile. Can’t stand her.”
“So she wouldn’t have confided in Lexy?”
“Never.” Lynn Akre said, “I remember one time, Lexy and Mr. Penmark were over before they went to some society event and Cordy put on this strapless dress and Lexy said, ‘Ooh, strut it.’ You know, trying to sound young and with it. And Cordy gave her this look like … well, Cordy just thought she was gross.”
Hastings found himself smiling.
The Akre girl noticed this. She said, “She’s a good girl, you know. In spite of everything.”
“I see that.”
“Cordy, I mean.”
“I know.”
Lynn Akre turned to her niece. “You doing okay, sweetie?”
The little girl nodded, still shy in the presence of the policeman.
It made Hastings uncomfortable, the sweetness and innocence of that exchange. He liked being around this young woman and her cute little niece. He was aware that their presence was refreshing after his time with the Penmarks. But it wasn’t his place to judge them and he knew that he would be doing a disservice to everyone, himself included, if he started thinking that the rich got what they deserved. But that wasn’t the reason he was uncomfortable now and he knew it.
He leaned closer to Lynn Akre and said, “I’m sorry, but I have to ask you this.”
“Ask me what?”
“Cordelia. Did she—have other lovers?”
“You mean, other than Tom Myers?”
“Yes.”
“Why must you ask me that?”
Detective Skye Washington, a friend of Hastings in the sex crimes unit, had once investigated a complaint of an alleged rape. A white girl of nineteen reported that a black guy had raped her at a party. Skye took the girl’s statement at the hospital and thought there had been some holes in her story, certain parts vividly remembered, other parts suspiciously vague. Then the evidence from the rape kit showed that the girl had had intercourse with three other men as well. In the same hour that she claimed she’d been raped by one. All four of the boys admitted that they had been with her, but all of them said it had been consensual. It was a mess, but the girl herself later acknowledged that she had consented to be with the first three, but “I never said it was okay for Jesse to do it.” She never said yes to Jesse, but she never said no either. The district attorney declined to file charges.
It caused something of a stir for the girl’s family. Mainly, because the girl’s dad owned a construction business and had a lot of money and he was not about to accept that his daughter was much wilder than he’d ever imagined. He hired a high-dollar lawyer who filed a lawsuit, which was dismissed after a judge ruled that the police officers had done nothing improper. Skye Washington would later tell Hastings, “You could have shown video to that girl’s daddy and he still wouldn’t have believed it.”
Cordelia Penmark came from a wealthier family than that girl’s. And it would have been easy for her to hide a wild, unhealthy lifestyle from them.
Hastings said to Lynn Akre, “I need to know if she did. I need to see if she was kidnapped by someone who knew her.”
Lynn Akre said, “You mean by someone she might have slept with?”
“Not necessarily slept with, but was associated with.”
“I understand,” she said. “No.”
“No?”
“No, she wasn’t promiscuous. She wasn’t wild. She didn’t take drugs and I don’t think was associated with people who did. If there was a hidden pathology in her, I never saw it. If she associated with lowlifes, I never saw them.”
“You never saw them,” Hastings said. “But do you think she did?”
“No, I don’t. I would be very surprised if she had.”
“And you’re not protecting her now?”
“You mean, am I lying for her?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I wouldn’t very well be protecting her by lying, would I?” She was smiling at him now and again Hastings noted that she was mature beyond her years.
He said, “No, I guess you wouldn’t. Did you tell anyone where she went that night?”
“You mean before I told Agent Kubiak?”
“Yes.”
“No. I didn’t tell anyone.”
“Did she ever say anything about someone maybe stalking her?”
“No.”
“No one following her or watching her?”
“No. She never said anything to me.”
The little girl with the glasses was starting to get restless. She was a good kid, but her chocolate was getting cold.
Hastings said, “I need to ask you a favor.”
Lynn Akre said, “What?”
“I want to retrace where Cordelia went that night. Starting at her condo. Can you take me there?”
“Yeah,” she said. “Let me get the kids back to their parents, and I can meet you there. You know where it is?”
“I know.”
“I’ll get her brother. Can you stay with her a minute?”
“Sure.”
Shortly, she was out on the rink, skating across the ice smoothly and gracefully, moving toward her nephew to rein him in.
Hastings turned to look at the little girl with the glasses. She was looking at him, comfortable with him in the way Amy had been when she was that age, the child recognizing the natural parent in him. Her hands were in her pockets. She said, “Are you married?”
Hastings smiled. It w
as little girls who thought in terms of marriage and men and women. They were curious about such things in ways boys were not. Perhaps she was too young to discern the age difference between him and her aunt. Amy had been inquisitive too and early on had hoped that Hastings would marry her mother.
Hastings said, “No. But I have a little girl of my own. She’s older than you.”
“How much older?”
“She’s twelve.”
“That’s old,” she said. Then she was looking back at the people on the rink, her interest in him dwindling.
A half hour later they were in Cordelia Penmark’s condominium. It was a two-story job with a lot of glass and modern appeal. There was a gas fireplace and an entertainment center and matching furnishings. The windows were huge and Hastings could see traffic going up and down Washington Avenue. Nice and high-cost, but Hastings knew he would not like to live in a place like this. Not much privacy; though you could look out the window, people outside could look in at you. But maybe that was the point.
Lynn said, “Would you like something to drink?”
They were standing in the kitchen area, a large island counter with a finished wood top. On top was a coffee cup that had been left there that morning.
Hastings said, “No, thank you. You were here when she left for the party?”
“Yes.”
“Did Tom Myers come up here to pick her up?”
“Yes.”
“You saw him?”
“Yeah. For a minute. I was in here making something to eat. He came in and went and stood over there.”
“You didn’t talk to him?”
“He didn’t talk to me. I told you how he was.” She stopped. “I’m sorry; I guess I should be more respectful.”
“Don’t worry about it. Did they have a drink or anything before they left?”
“No. She came out of her room and they left.”
Hastings gestured to what effectively was a glass wall. It was too big to be called a window. He said, “I don’t see any sort of curtain or way to cover that. Is there one?”
Goodbye Sister Disco Page 17