“I’m here to help you,” he began, “to make sure you’re happy and you have all the things you need and want.”
“I want my mommy,” Justine said immediately.
“Well that’s what I’m here to talk about first,” he said quietly. “You’re a big girl so you already know that people have to go away forever and ever sometimes. You know where they go?”
Justine shook her head because she wasn’t sure what Doctor Goodfellow meant.
“They go to Heaven to live with God. You know about that, don’t you?” She nodded. “Usually they don’t go until they’re very old. Like your daddy’s mommy and daddy and your mommy’s daddy, remember?”
Justine nodded. Her little heart began to beat faster for reasons she didn’t understand. Her body was reacting to thoughts and ideas that were threatening to be spoken and were yet unheard.
“Well, sometimes, accidents happen and people have to go to Heaven before they’re old. You know about that too, right?”
She shook her head. She didn’t want to hear this; this was not heading for something nice.
“They do, Justine. They get hurt badly. Oh, maybe in car accidents or plane accidents. Once, a man I knew was walking on the street in a big city,” Doctor Goodfellow said. He smiled, leading Justine to think he was going to tell her a nice story. “When way up high in a building he was passing, a woman accidentally pushed a flower pot over the ledge of her window. It fell and fell and hit my friend right on top of his head, and you know what…”
Justine shook her head, her mouth slightly open.
“My friend had to go right to Heaven. He didn’t even have time to say goodbye to anyone.”
That wasn’t a very happy story, she thought.
“And the same thing happened to your mommy. It wasn’t a flower pot falling out of a window that hit her. Something else hit her and she went right to Heaven,” Doctor Goodfellow said, lifting his arm slowly and then pointing the tips of his fingers at the ceiling.
“I want my mommy,” Justine said softly.
“Of course you do. Every little girl should have a mommy. And a daddy. But you don’t have a daddy anymore, either, do you? You remember…he left you and your mommy, right?”
Justine didn’t nod, but she remembered.
“I want you to come with me next door where I have a television set and a sofa for you to sit on. I’m going to show you a little movie. Would you like that?”
Justine wasn’t sure. She bit down on her lower lip.
“You will like it,” Doctor Goodfellow promised. “Come on,” he said, standing up and holding out his hand. Justine hesitated. “Oh, I forgot,” Doctor Goodfellow said, smiling. He dug into his jacket pocket. “I have something delicious for you to eat while you’re watching the movie on television. Here,” he said, offering Justine a big, round red lollipop. “Red’s your favorite flavor, right?”
She nodded and slowly took the lollie.
“Here,” Doctor Goodfellow said. “Let me unwrap it for you.” He did so and gave it back to her. “You can eat it now,” he said. She put it into her mouth and began to suck. He extended his hand again, and this time she reached out and took it. Then she got up to walk with him out of the room.
The hallway was dark. There was just a little light coming through a window way down in front of them. Doctor Goodfellow led her to a door nearby and they entered what looked like a waiting room in the doctor’s office. There was a leather sofa, a leather chair, a table, and against the wall, a television set. Under it was a video deck.
“You can sit right there in the center of the sofa, Justine,” Doctor Goodfellow said. “Go on.” He released her hand and she climbed on the sofa, sat down, and looked up as he fiddled with the video deck. The television set went on and then Doctor Goodfellow sat down beside her.
Suddenly, Doctor Goodfellow was on television, too.
“Hello, Justine,” he said and waited as if he expected her to reply. He smiled. Justine looked at Doctor Goodfellow beside her and saw he was smiling the same way he was smiling on television. “I’m glad you’re here to see my movie,” he began on television. “This is a movie about a little girl like you whose mommy had to go right to Heaven, just like your mommy had to go. And just like you she was very sad and very frightened at first.
“Her name is Gabrielle,” Doctor Goodfellow said and then turned to reveal a little girl sitting in the very office Justine was now seated in. Gabrielle was about her age, too, only she had light blonde hair. She looked small and afraid, just as Doctor Goodfellow had said.
“This is Gabrielle’s story, which will be your story, too. Ready. Here it is.”
The screen cut to a residential street in a city. First, there was only the traffic and strangers walking up and down. Then, the camera sought out Gabrielle and a woman walking quickly up the sidewalk. Doctor Goodfellow, the narrator now, began.
“Gabrielle lived with her mommy in a big city. They lived in an apartment, though, not a house.”
Gabrielle and the pretty woman alongside her turned into an apartment courtyard and headed for the front door.
“Because Gabrielle’s daddy had left them, Gabrielle’s mommy had to see to all Gabrielle’s needs, and that was very hard for Gabrielle’s mommy. She had to work, take care of the house, and look after Gabrielle.”
The camera panned the apartment building and then tightened on a window about six floors up. As it closed, Gabrielle’s face became clearer in the window. She was looking out wistfully.
“Gabrielle couldn’t do many of the things other children her age could do because her mommy was too tired to take her. Her friends had daddies to take them to the park or to movies, or just to watch them play. Their mommies could take them, too, because their mommies weren’t working, working, working.”
The camera tilted down to the front of the apartment where Doctor Goodfellow stood smiling.
“Little girls,” he said, “should grow up in homes that have both mommies and daddies. One day, poor Gabrielle lost even her mommy.”
A view of a busy city street appeared.
“Her mommy,” Doctor Goodfellow said, “was hurrying home because she was afraid Gabrielle would arrive from school before she would get there and then be all alone. She hurried and hurried and didn’t watch where she was going and she walked right out on the street while cars were rushing by.
“One of those cars hit Gabrielle’s mommy and sent her right to Heaven.”
The camera tilted up toward the sky. Then Doctor Goodfellow appeared full face.
“And poor Gabrielle was all alone.”
The screen went blank and then suddenly there was Grandma bringing in a tray, just the way she had brought a tray to Justine in the morning. She was smiling and happy.
“But Gabrielle wasn’t alone,” Doctor Goodfellow narrated over the picture of Grandma. “For she had Grandma and Grandma was there to look after her until her new mommy and daddy arrived.”
A car was seen driving up. After it stopped, a handsome couple emerged. The man was tall and dark with a gleaming smile and the woman was very pretty with pretty blonde hair that lay softly over her shoulders. They were seen entering a room and then the camera panned to pick up Gabrielle, all dressed up, her hair as nicely brushed and styled as Justine’s now was. The handsome couple went directly to her and in moments, it seemed, the pretty woman was holding her and kissing her.
“Little girls need mommies and daddies who love each other and will make a warm and happy home for them,” Doctor Goodfellow said as the couple left, Gabrielle between them, holding hands.
Then followed a montage of happy scenes: Gabrielle with her new parents entering Disney World; Gabrielle with her new parents having a picnic in some pretty park; Gabrielle laughing with her new parents who played paddle ball with her on the lawn of their beautiful home; and finally, Gabrielle at the table ready to blow out the candles of her birthday cake. She did and the voices of her new parents were heard singing
, “Happy birthday to you, Happy birthday to you, Happy birthday, dear Gabrielle, Happy birthday to you.”
The movie ended with Gabrielle hugging her new mommy and then turning to be scooped up into her new daddy’s arms.
“Wasn’t that a nice movie?” Doctor Goodfellow asked. Justine nodded. She watched him get up and turn off the television set.
“I bet you’d like to have a nice new mommy and daddy, too, wouldn’t you?”
Justine shook her head.
“I want to go home,” she said.
Doctor Goodfellow’s smile wilted. He dug his hand into his pocket and brought out a tape recorder.
“Come here,” he urged and held out his hand. “Come on,” he said more firmly. Justine took his hand and he led her to the window. He opened it and they looked out over the lawn toward the street. “Call your daddy,” he ordered. “Go ahead. Say, Daddy, where are you? Say it,” he commanded and brought the tape recorder closer. She started to cry, but he shook her hand. “Say it. Daddy, where are you?”
“Daddy, where are you?” she said.
“Good. Now say, when are you coming for me? Go ahead. When are you coming for me, Daddy?”
“When are you coming for me, Daddy?”
Doctor Goodfellow smiled.
“Good girl,” he said, “but look. No daddy. Your old daddy is not coming ever. But don’t worry. You will go home, but to a new and nicer home, a home where the mommy and daddy don’t argue and fight and hate each other to bits, a home where you can be happy forever and grow into a good mommy yourself.”
She watched him go to his desk to push a button on the side. A moment later, Grandma appeared. She and Doctor Goodfellow exchanged looks and then Grandma smiled.
“How’s my little girl?” she cried and hugged Justine.
“I want my mommy,” Justine said.
“Guess what’s waiting for you in your room,” Grandma responded.
“Mommy?”
“No, silly pumpkin. Come see,” Grandma said, holding out her hand. “Come on,” she urged.
Justine took Grandma’s hand and followed her out to the corridor. At the door of Justine’s room, Grandma paused and smiled down at her.
“Bet you can’t guess what’s in there,” she teased. “Can you?”
Justine shook her head.
“That’s all right. You don’t have to guess.” Grandma opened the door and Justine gazed in.
There, sitting in the middle of the floor, his little tail going back and forth, was the cutest little black and white puppy she had ever seen.
“Whose puppy is that?” Justine asked in a whisper.
“Why, he’s yours, dear. To take with you to your new home. Your new mommy and daddy sent him.”
Justine gazed at the puppy again. He stood up and began to wiggle his way toward her.
“You have to give him a name, too. He has no name,” Grandma said. “What will you call him?”
Justine shrugged and knelt down to take the puppy into her arms. He started licking her, reaching her neck and cheeks. She giggled.
“I’ll leave you here to play with him,” Grandma said, “and to think about what his name should be. Okay?”
Justine nodded.
“Wasn’t it nice of your new mommy and daddy to give you the puppy?” Grandma asked at the door.
Justine stared at her a moment. She thought about the handsome man and the pretty woman in the television movie, and she thought about Gabrielle’s laughter when Gabrielle was with them.
Then she nodded and Grandma smiled and left her to ponder what she would call her most wonderful gift.
6
“May I use your telephone?” Scott asked Henry Dyce after he finished telling the private detective about Philip Dante.
Dyce stretched his long arms to reach down behind the sofa and came up with the phone. He crumbled a piece of newspaper and wiped off the base.
“Some tuna fish must’ve leaked out my sandwich while I was talkin’,” Dyce said. He stood up to make a place for Scott. “Make yourself at home. I’m getting dressed.”
“Thanks.” Scott brushed off the sofa and sat down. His first call was to Miller’s Mercedes.
“Hi, Mrs. Grossman, it’s Scott. Mr. Miller free?” he asked quickly, imagining the look on the fifty-eight-year-old dour secretary’s face. Mrs. Grossman was one of those employees who had been with a firm so long she believed she was part owner. Even Mr. Miller treated her like a partner. More importantly, he didn’t resent her correcting and rebuking him from time to time.
“I’ll see,” she replied curtly. After a long moment, Stanley Miller picked up the phone.
“Hello, Scott. Where are you?”
“I’m taking care of some important business, Mr. Miller.”
“You’re not in jail?”
“No, Mr. Miller. I’m out on bail.”
“How’s Meg?”
“Her condition is unchanged. I’m on my way up to the hospital now.”
“I see. Well, Scott, it looks like you’ve gotten yourself deeper and deeper into this mess.”
“I know it looks bad, Mr. Miller, but I wanted to call to assure you of my complete innocence.” His boss made no comment. “Once the facts are brought out at my trial…”
“Yes, we’ve been discussing that, Scott,” Mr. Miller said. “In fact, Scott, I’d advise you to rethink your entire picture and especially your relationship with us.”
“Mr. Miller. Things are going to get back to normal. I promise.”
“I don’t think that’s an option any longer, Scott. I’m sorry, son. I really am. I know you need money, so I’m sending you a month’s severance pay.”
“But Mr. Miller, if I lose my job…it’s another thing they’ll hold against me. Please, don’t do this now,” Scott pleaded.
There was a long moment of silence.
“All right, we’ll wait to make anything official. Let’s just say you’re on a leave of absence for the time being.”
“Thank you,” Scott said. He wiped off the sweat that had broken out on his brow.
“I’ll pray for you, Scott. I really will. And, of course, we’re all praying for poor Meg and Justine,” Mr. Miller said.
Scott’s throat felt as if someone with an iron grip was squeezing it closed. He managed a thank-you and a goodbye and hung up.
Dyce, wearing a reasonably nice pair of slacks and a pressed shirt, stood in the bedroom doorway, watching him.
“Lost your job?” he asked. Scott nodded. “You’re worse than a man with the plague now. Nobody’s gonna wanna be near you or know you. I seen it a thousand times.”
“Thanks for the encouragement.”
“Just tellin’ it like it is. No sense avoidin’ reality,” Dyce said as he tucked in his shirt.
“You sound like Miss Iceberg.”
“Who?”
“My attorney. Which reminds me. She asked me to call her whenever I went up to the hospital.” He took out her card and began to dial the number. “She wants to record my loving-husband visits.”
“Lawyers and doctors, they know the angles,” Dyce said. He strapped on a model 10, Smith and Wesson .38.
“Yes, Miss Elliot, please,” Scott said into the receiver. He eyed Dyce, impressed with how quickly he metamorphosed into an impressive-looking detective once the gun and the nice clothing were hung on that big frame. “Tell her Scott Lester is calling,” he said. “No, that’s all right. You don’t have to interrupt. Will you just tell her it’s three-thirty and I’m heading up to the hospital to see how my wife is doing. Thank you.”
“Okay,” Dyce said when Scott hung up the phone. “You got a third ear?”
“Huh?”
“Answering service or machine?”
“Answering service.”
“Give me the number,” Dyce said. He flipped out a small note pad to write down the number Scott gave to him. “Okay, check in periodically. I’ll call in if I come up with anything substantial.”
> “Where are you going to start?” Scott asked intrigued.
“Friend of mine works for a big insurance company in town and can poke around everybody’s backyard with his computer. I got a couple of friends in the police department, too. Hell, Mr. Lester, that’s what you’re paying for…my friends.” Dyce laughed and the two of them left the apartment.
Scott was shocked to see that the automobile Dyce got into actually started. It was a beat-to-hell late sixties Chevy Impala with a coat hanger for a radio antenna. The imitation faded brown leather upholstery was cracked and torn and the left rear window had what looked like a bullet hole in it.
“That wreck passes smog inspection?” Scott asked when Dyce rolled down his window.
“Smog inspection?” Dyce smiled. “Another friend in the right place,” he said and drove off.
I’m placing my life and maybe my daughter’s life in that man’s hands, Scott realized. Every decision, every turn he made seemed to take him deeper and deeper into the muck. Maybe he should just lay down and surrender, let the system and whoever decided to punish him have their way, he thought. Right now he was losing his wife, his daughter, and his job. What more could they do to him? he wondered. Yet as he started off to see Meg, he was confident that somehow they would find additional torments.
One waited for him at the hospital. Meg was still in intensive care after the operation. Members of her immediate family were permitted a ten-minute visit every hour. There was a separate waiting room for ICU visitors, but when he stepped through the doorway, he froze, feeling he had just blundered in front of a firing squad.
They all looked up with various degrees of enmity and loathing, Sharma’s scowl even more hateful and vicious than Meg’s sister Abby’s. In fact, maybe because he wanted it so much, he thought he detected a vague note of pity in Abby’s eyes.
“Hi, Abby,” he said, choosing to ignore the others. “Anything new?”
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