A Darker Shade of Blood

by Lawrence J Epstein

  Kaiser nodded. He looked confident. We walked down the hall and went down a stairway back to the spot where the workers were gathered.

  Kaiser pointed out Caruso.

  I stepped up to him. “Mr. Caruso, I want to ask you a question.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Mr. Kaiser here says you drove him to work on Wednesday, the seventeenth because he didn’t have a car. It’s important. It’s a legal matter so it’s crucial you remember. Is it true what he says?”

  Caruso thought for a minute.

  “Nope. He’s lying if he said that. I don’t want to get into trouble. I drove him on the sixteenth. I know because it was my daughter’s birthday and after I dropped him off after work I went for a pink cake.”

  Kaiser was smiling.

  We never bothered to talk to the supervisor but went home.

  Ari went to the gym to work out.

  Betsy and I were alone.

  She sat next to me.

  “You’re good at this, Danny. I mean for someone who wasn’t a cop.”

  “Thanks.”

  She suddenly leaned forward and kissed me on the lips.

  I was shocked. If I pushed her back and rejected her it might affect our working partnership. But I couldn’t proceed both because of Hannah’s return and any relationship would also change the nature of the partnership.

  I let her kiss me for a minute. She moved her body closer.

  I sat immobile. Now she wasn’t sure what to do.

  And then the blessed phone rang.

  I was very eager to jump up and get it.

  “Hello?”

  “Is this Danny Ryle?”

  “Who’s this?”

  “This is Mrs. Arnold.”

  It took me a few seconds. Then it came. Arnold. The mother of Amy, the kidnapped girl.

  “Hi, Mrs. Arnold. How’s Amy?”

  “She’s fine and happy. For now.”

  “What do you mean ‘for now’?”

  “My husband is back in town, Mr. Ryle. He’s demanding to see Amy. I’m so scared. I have no one to turn to. You’ve got to save my little girl, Mr. Ryle. You did it once. You have to do it again.”

  “We’ll be right over,” I said.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Thanksgiving was on November 25th, five days away. I was therefore surprised as we drove that the snow was coming down as hard as it was. I didn’t recall too many times that it snowed this early in the season. The trees weren’t drooping with the weight of the snow yet, but the brightness of the white flakes made me stare. I remembered being in a graveyard once during a snowstorm and feeling the power of death. It was as though the snow would cover me, overwhelm me, not allow me to move freely, not allow me to breathe.

  I felt like that as I drove to see Mrs. Arnold. It was as though the snow was blanketing the world with evil.

  The house was small, on a side street.

  We knocked at the door. Mrs. Arnold peeked out the curtain of the window to the right of the door. She saw us, and opened up.

  “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Arnold. Is everyone all right?”

  She nodded. “So far. Come and sit down.”

  We sat and she got us coffee.

  “He apologized. He said he never should have taken Amy. That he loved us. He said he realized I could never forgive him, but he just wanted to see Amy once in a while. He was her father, he said, and a little girl needs a father.”

  “Did he threaten to take her if you didn’t let him see her?”

  “I don’t think so. I don’t remember. I was just stunned and shocked to hear his voice.”

  “Have you called the police?”

  “Mr. Ryle, I was afraid if I did that it would just anger him. And then he might do something very bad.”

  “All right. What would you like us to do?”

  “What I’d really like you to do is make him disappear. Any is very scared of him, but she’s afraid to tell him that. She doesn’t want to see him.”

  “I don’t think we can make him disappear, Mrs. Arnold.”

  She nodded, sadly.

  “What can you do, Mr. Ryle?”

  “We can talk to him.”

  Mrs. Arnold pointed to Ari.

  “He looks as though he could tell my husband to stay away.”

  “At this point, your husband hasn’t done anything illegal since he came back. We can’t threaten him.”

  Betsy spoke up. “Can I talk with Amy?”

  Mrs. Arnold nodded, and Betsy went upstairs.

  “Where is your husband staying?”

  “He’s at a motel.” She gave me the name and address as well as the phone number.

  “It’s not fair that we have to live like this, Mr. Ryle. No one should have to.”

  “No, they shouldn’t, Mrs. Arnold.”

  Betsy came downstairs, and we walked outside.

  The snow had increased in intensity.

  I wondered if we should wait a day, but when we discussed it all three of us decided we should see Arnold as soon as possible.

  I drove to the motel, found the room, and got out of the car. Snow was pouring down on us. It wasn’t some warm winter scene where people huddled around a fire and talked about the beauty of the falling flakes. It was nasty weather.

  I knocked on the door.

  Arnold opened it.

  He looked angry.

  “I haven’t done anything wrong. Get out.”

  “I’ll make a deal,” I said. “You let us talk to you and I’ll walk out without a threat or a problem for you.”

  “A couple of minutes,” he said.

  We shook the snow off of us and walked inside. It was surprisingly warm in the room.

  “She’s my daughter,” he started. “You can’t keep a father from his daughter. It’s not right.”

  “You’re going to make your daughter hate you,” I said.

  “What are you talking about? My daughter loves me.”

  “You’ll scare her. She will be frightened when she sees you. You’ll become a symbol of all that is dangerous and horrible.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Mr. Arnold. We’re here to give you some friendly advice. Don’t call your wife and daughter. Don’t go see them. Go away. Permanently. Send them presents and letters. Maybe, eventually, your daughter will have questions for you. Maybe she’ll want to see you. For now, though, she needs time away to recover.”

  “Are you threatening me? I have my rights. I can call the cops on you if you threaten me.”

  “Nobody is threatening you, Mr. Arnold. We’re just trying to help everyone in your family.”

  “I’m not going anywhere. In fact I’m going over to see them tomorrow. I’m going to take my daughter someplace, maybe the Mall. She likes that. Maybe I’ll even take her on a vacation somewhere. Just the two of us. Don’t think you can stop me. My wife once tried to stop me. She won’t try again. You all jumped me once before. I’m ready this time. I know how to take care of myself. Now get out of here. Right now.”

  I got up and walked to the door.

  Betsy followed me.

  Ari went over to Arnold and punched him in the stomach. The second punch was harder than the first.

  “Ari!” I screamed.

  “Wait outside!” he yelled.

  I started to walk over to him, but Betsy pulled me back.

  “Let Ari reason with him. Come one. Let’s go to the car and listen to the radio.”

  We sat there for about fifteen minutes.

  “This isn’t right,” I said. “Or at least it isn’t legal.”

  “You were never a little girl, Danny. You have no idea.”

  Ari came out and got in the back seat.

  “Mr. Arnold and I had a conversation,” he said. “Mr. Arnold has agreed to return to Atlanta tomorrow. He’s agreed not to talk with his wife and daughter. He understands the consequences if he tries to do that. Please drive me back to Mrs. Arnold. I’m going to s
leep on the couch and stay there as long as necessary. Betsy, please check to make sure that Mr. Arnold is on a flight tomorrow. And tell me if he isn’t.”

  “If he calls the cops, you’ve got a lot of trouble. Including being deported back to Israel.”

  “That’s all right. I love my country. But for now I’m going to make sure that the little girl is safe.”

  And so we drove back to see Mrs. Arnold.

  She hugged Ari.

  Betsy and I left.

  The snow had stopped. The whole Earth seemed to glisten. The forecast was for a warm day so that the snow would melt quickly.

  I stopped on the way to get some food. I called Ari when we got home. Then I went to sleep.

  I dreamed a little dream that made me relax.

  It was a strange feeling.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  I slept late. My body didn’t want to move out of bed. I felt an intense calm. The light was sliding into the room from the corners of the shade. Finally, I got up. As promised, the snow was beginning to melt.

  I could smell the pancakes as I walked downstairs. Betsy was humming as she cooked.

  “You needed the sleep, Danny. But good news. Arnold was on a flight this morning. I checked to make sure that he hadn’t cancelled it. I called Ari and he’s taking a taxi home. You got a lot better sleep than he did. He said he almost fell off the couch twice.”

  I smiled and ate the pancakes.

  Betsy sat down. “No luck so far on other people Marilyn Park might have blackmailed. But I’m continuing to look.”

  “You’re good at this, Betsy. You’ll find the guy.”

  “What if there isn’t anyone? Or there is and we track him down only he has a great alibi? Then we have no one except Lucey.”

  “I can’t hide the truth. If he did it, he has to face up to it.”

  Ari came back. He looked tired. His eye looked swollen. I guess the fight hadn’t been one-sided.

  “Danny,” he said, “Can we go back and see Rabbi London?”

  “Sure. If he’s okay. I’ll call him.”

  The Rabbi said he could see us in the late afternoon.

  Ari said, “Why don’t you spend some time with Hannah?”

  “I could use your help here tracking down information about Marilyn Park’s blackmail activities.”

  “You’re better at that than I am. I’d only get in the way,” I said.

  Betsy was not happy. She wanted me to want to be with her.

  I called Hannah. She wanted to go to some bookstores, and I agreed. There was a used book place on Lake Avenue in St. James, across the street from the railroad station. It was crowded, with books stuffed everywhere. When we wanted to spend a long while searching and not knowing what we’d find, we went there. Hannah loved to discover titles she didn’t know. Unfortunately the place was only opened a few hours, and Hannah said it wasn’t open now. We could always go to the Mall which had a couple of very good chain bookstores, but these had the familiar best-sellers. Hannah was after the unfamiliar, the old, and those books in need of being rescued.

  We decided to go to The Good Times on East Main Street in Port Jefferson. It was a two story building with owners who knew more about books than anyone else. Hannah used to talk to them about favorite bookstores. She said she most loved City Lights, the San Francisco bookstore owned by the Beatnik poet Lawrence Ferlinghetti. She said she loved to sit in a comfortable chair sampling a variety of books until she found the ones she wanted to buy.

  I stopped on the way to get a hot chocolate and doughnut. Gypsy Davy was still in his space. He looked small and depressed in his wheelchair.

  “It’s getting colder, Dave.”

  “I’m a tough old fighter.”

  I gave him the egg sandwich and the hot coffee. I often asked him if he wanted anything else, but he was set on having the egg and a hot cup of coffee. Then I gave him a few dollars. I considered asking him if he wanted me to call a VA hospital, but he guarded his privacy fiercely and I didn’t want to insult him.

  “Where you going?” he asked.

  “See my friend, Hannah.”

  “Good to have friends, Danny. Hold on to them.”

  Hannah, of course, was more than a friend. I didn’t know where she and I were headed. She managed to sneak in hints even when we talked about bookstores. She confided to me that she had a honeymoon plan involving a bookstore. She had told me several times that she wanted to go to Shakespeare and Company in Paris. The store had moved from its original location. Sylvia Beach, the store’s founder, had died twenty years ago, a fact Hannah mourned. Hannah had studied the history of the store and its owner. She told me tales of Hemingway lifting his pants legs to show his war wounds, of writers using the bookstore as their personal post office, and a thousand other stories.

  We met in front of The Good Times and went inside. The top floor and cards and inexpensive paperbacks, many of them dog-eared. The basement was crammed with many more books. Hannah felt as though she had ascended to Heaven.

  We looked through the shelves for an hour and then found a restaurant where we could eat.

  The food was hot and good.

  “Danny, you’re getting older. You’re within sight of thirty.”

  “I feel within sight of fifty.”

  “I mean it. You have to think about your life.”

  I wasn’t quite sure what she was after. Was she planning to pull out a ring and say it would look good on her? Was she going to say good-bye because I needed to get on with my life? As always, Hannah’s mind worked in its own way, and not always in coordination with everyone else’s on Earth.

  “I do think about my life, Hannah. I think a lot.”

  “Good. So where are we going as a couple?”

  “I don’t know.” I was thrown by the question.

  “You’re the man. You’re supposed to take control.”

  “We’re living in a new age, Hannah. Everyone’s equal.”

  “I’m not ready for a new age exactly. I want you to tell me what we’re going to do.”

  “I have no idea.”

  “You have to. I already have no idea myself. I was counting on you to have an idea.”

  “Maybe we should keep going out and see where it leads.”

  “I need a future. A husband. A nice house. Eventually two children. A boy and a girl. Oh, and a dog. A nice dog. A little one that doesn’t bite. It’s not asking much. It’s how my parents live. It’s the American dream.”

  “It’s a nice dream, Hannah. Only my life is more confused. I don’t know what I’m going to do. I can’t promise to settle down with you.”

  “My father could get you a job.”

  “He owns a paint business, Hannah. I’m not interested in selling paint.”

  “Paint is important. Where would the world be without paint?”

  “I’m sure paint is important. Only it isn’t important to me.”

  Hannah got up and walked out of the restaurant. Now I knew why she had come home and my place in her dream.

  I was surprised at how sad I felt. Maybe I was missing a crucial truth about life. Maybe my problem-solving ways as a fixer would lead to nowhere. Maybe I should settle down into a comfortable Long Island life. It was be safer, calmer. I felt confused. I couldn’t exactly seek advice from my father. I couldn’t seek advice from anyone.

  I had to walk my own path and see where it led.

  I checked my watch and headed home.

  I wasn’t exactly sure why Ari wanted to see Rabbi London, but I wanted to be with Ari. Maybe the Rabbi could help me as well.

  I got home.

  As soon as I arrived, Betsy ran toward me screaming: “Have you seen the news?”

  I shook my head. “No. I’ve been book hunting with Hannah. What happened?”

  “Katie Lucey just confessed to the murder of Marilyn Park. She’s under arrest.”

  “But she didn’t do it. Her husband can clear her. He can say that he found the body, that he
was there with Marilyn’s corpse when his wife came home. He...oh.”

  “What, Danny?”

  “He can’t say any of that. His lawyer won’t let him. If the Congressman-elect says he was with the body in his home he’s making himself not just a suspect but the prime suspect. His lawyer would say the truth will come out but not from him. And I...”

  The phone rang.

  I ran to get it.

  It was Ken Lucey’s mother.

  “Have you heard, Mr. Ryle?”

  “Yes. Just now.”

  “She’s a monster. A liar. I don’t understand it, Mr. Ryle. You just have to find the real killer. I want you to come over here right now.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  I called Rabbi London, made another appointment, and Ari, Betsy, and I rushed to the Lucey home.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Gertrude Lucey was sitting in the corner talking with Donald Edwards, the lawyer the family had hired to defend Katie Lucey on the charge of murder. Edwards had assured her he could have the charge lowered to manslaughter because Katie hadn’t planned to engage in the killing.

  Mrs. Lucey called me over and introduced me to Donald Edwards. He wasn’t the lawyer I had recommended. He was very expensive.

  “Mr. Ryle, I have asked Mr. Edwards to tell me what to expect. I would like you to listen in and offer any observations you might have.”

  Edwards was tall with thinning white hair. His face looked as though he was convinced he would always be brighter than those around him. And maybe he was right, but it was a dangerous attitude because you could miss some detail.

  “We start with a bail hearing,” he said. “That is, we would normally start with a bail hearing. Mrs. Lucey seems convinced she will get bail. The family can afford it, and she knows that. The family can put up property, and, of course, we can always go to a bail agent.”

  “How much do they charge?” Mrs. Lucey asked.

  “Ten per cent of the bail. That cannot be refunded.”

  “And will she get bail?”

  “I don’t know. It’s a capital crime. She confessed. On the other hand, she’s very well-known. She has no experience in running. She has family in the community. The judge is a lenient sort. My guess is a hundred thousand dollars.”