Dying for Mercy with Bonus Material (16 page)

I
t was Janie’s last evening before going off to Hershey with the Cohens. Though her daughter would be away for just two nights, Eliza couldn’t help but be anxious. Janie, on the other hand, seemed only excited.

Mrs. Garcia had packed a small suitcase for Janie, which Eliza checked.

“What about Zippy?” asked Eliza, holding up the bedraggled-looking stuffed monkey. “Do you want to take him with you?”

Janie cocked her head as she considered it. “No, I think it’s all right if I leave Zippy here. I might be getting too big to take Zippy with me.”

“All right,” said Eliza, touched by her daughter’s attempt to be grown-up, but not really certain that leaving behind her nightly bed companion was a good idea. Maybe Eliza would ask Mrs. Garcia to wrap him up when Janie was at school tomorrow and give him to Susan Cohen to keep in the trunk of her car in case Janie ended up wanting him.

After Janie had taken a bath and brushed her teeth, Eliza settled in bed next to her daughter. Janie handed her
The Poor Man of Assisi.

“We just read this last night,” said Eliza. “You want to read it again?”

Janie nodded.

As Eliza opened the book, it occurred to her that in the not-too-distant future Janie wouldn’t want to be read to at night. Her baby couldn’t be a baby forever.

Together they took turns reading the text and talking about the pictures that illustrated the life of St. Francis. At the end of the book, the Canticle of the Sun was printed.

“What’s a canticle?” Janie asked.

“It’s a song,” said Eliza. “Should I read the words to you?”

Janie nodded as she pulled the covers closer.

Eliza began.

When she finished reading, Eliza looked over at Janie. The child was asleep. Eliza got up carefully and turned off the light. She went to her own bedroom and began to undress. As she did, she thought about the length of the canticle she had just read. It was so much longer than the one on the program at Innis’s funeral.

She thought no more about it as her mind turned to Innis and Zack Underwood and the spot on West Lake Road where the car had been abandoned. All of it was connected in some way, she was sure. And maybe the death of the Wheelocks’ maid was no coincidence. But as she lay in bed and waited for sleep to come, Eliza tried to direct her mind to something much more pleasant.

Mack was coming tomorrow.

I
didn’t have lunch today, or dinner either,” said the blond woman after finishing her second cocktail. She swayed toward Russell. “This is really affecting me.”

“How about we get out of here and I take you somewhere to get something to eat,” suggested Russell.

“All right,” said the woman. She slid off the barstool and grabbed onto Russell’s arm until she balanced herself.

“I want you to know that I usually don’t go off with a man I’ve just met at a bar, Samuel, but you’re so clean-cut and polite. I just get the feeling that you’re safe.”

When they came out of the bar, they stood on the sidewalk together. She looked up at him. “I like tall men,” she said.

Russell took her arm and began guiding her west.

“Where are we going anyway?” she asked after they walked a few blocks.

“There’s a little place I know in Riverside Park. It’s got the greatest view of the Hudson River. They also make a good burger.”

“I didn’t know there was a place like that this far north,” said the woman, her speech slightly slurred.

“Good,” said Russell. “I’ll be showing you something new.” He took off his jacket and draped it around her shoulders. The coat looked enormous on her. “It’s gotten cold, but we’re almost there,” he said.

They entered the park and followed the path that sloped downward toward the river. A man walking a dog passed them, then a jogger. The woman strained to get a view of what was up ahead.

“I don’t see anything,” she said.

“Just a little bit farther,” he said.

“I don’t like this,” said the young woman, pulling away from him. “I want to go back.”

“Come on,” urged Russell, holding on to her tightly. “We’re almost there. You’ll see.”

“Let go of me!” cried the woman, reaching out and clawing at his face.

Just then another dog walker came into view, and Russell decided to let the woman go.

O
ne of the things that never ceased to amaze Clay was that Tuxedo Park residents didn’t bother locking their doors or taking the keys out of the ignitions of their cars. He didn’t understand that sort of trust and confidence. In his world it was always necessary to be on guard.

The conversation with Eliza Blake had made him nervous.

It was essential to keep track of what she and her friends were doing, what they knew.

He let himself into the carriage house. Searching the rooms with a flashlight, Clay determined the place he would put the listening device.

E
ach laminated page of the turquoise-leather photo album taken from Underwood’s office had to be carefully studied. Interiors and exteriors, close-ups and long-distance shots, photo after photo cataloged the myriad details that made Pentimento unique—a showcase, a master-work.

Not everything that was photographed, however, would be a key to the mystery. If that were the case, the puzzle would have too many pieces and could never be solved. But surely some of the pictures in the album illustrated clues to Innis Wheelock’s puzzle—and his plan to reveal what shouldn’t be revealed.

The proud new owner of the photo album turned to the pictures taken at the greenhouse, and there it was! Clue Number One: a crystal-clear shot of the flowerpot, the numbers appearing dark and distinct against the terra-cotta.

What was Clue Number Two?

There were so many pages, so many architectural details, so many possibilities at Pentimento, but none of them leaped off the page as a clue. How could you find the next clue if you had no idea what you were looking for?

So many needles hidden in a turquoise haystack!

One thing was comforting, though: The album wasn’t in Zack Underwood’s office any longer. It was safe and sound in its new home, and no one was going to find it. Nobody else would be studying its contents and trying to figure things out.

Along with the final page came a chest-pounding realization: This album wasn’t the only record of the clues to the Pentimento puzzle!

Below the last photo in the album, the photographer identified herself.

Aurelia Patterson had proudly taken the pictures at Pentimento, and she advertised the fact on a yellow Post-it note addressed to her boss, explaining that she would be willing to print out other copies if needed.

Did she know what she had?

There was a good chance she didn’t realize—at least not yet.

But given time, she could begin to, just as Zack Underwood had.

I
n the moments after the alarm clock sounded, Eliza moved from grogginess to full awareness and excited anticipation as she remembered what was going to happen today. As much as she had some anxiety about Janie’s weekend away, Eliza was relieved that Mack and she would finally have some time alone together. She felt strongly that it wasn’t right for Mack to stay overnight when Janie was home. It would give the child the wrong signals. Eliza and Mack had already split up once, over an indiscretion of Mack’s. Janie had been confused when she was told that Mack wasn’t going to be coming around anymore. As glad as she seemed to be that Mack was part of their lives again, she was still a little girl, unsophisticated and emotionally vulnerable. Until Eliza was certain that she and Mack were making a permanent commitment to each other, he wouldn’t be staying over at the house in Ho-Ho-Kus.

Eliza’s assignment last month to interview Carla Bruni, the glamorous wife of French president Nicolas Sarkozy, had provided an opportunity for Mack and Eliza. Mack came to Paris to meet her. It had all been very romantic. Holding hands as they walked along the Seine, dining amid the flickering, sparkling lights at the Eiffel Tower, two incredible nights at a luxurious hotel off the Place Vendôme.

This weekend would be different but, she hoped, wonderful in its own way. She and Mack would have some of the time and privacy they desperately craved. They’d be all alone in the carriage house in Tuxedo Park.

Eliza went into the bathroom and turned on the water in the shower, testing the temperature before she got into the stall. She shampooed her hair and let a deep conditioning lotion remain on her head as she shaved her legs. While she was rinsing out the conditioner, she thought about what was coming up at work. She had to get in there and get the narration done on the latest developments in the Innis Wheelock story.

She was sure that B.J. had done a rough cut, recording the narration himself and then editing the video over his own voice. There was a better-than-even chance that everything wouldn’t sync up when Eliza recorded her version. Variations in pacing from one narrator to another could affect the length of the narration, even by just a few seconds. And those few seconds could throw everything off. B.J. was one of the most skilled and fastest editors in the building, but it wasn’t fair for her to come in late and make him rush to re-edit if it could be avoided.

She selected the blue cashmere sweater that Mack had given her and took a straight black skirt from the closet. Pulling the towel off her head, she dressed and ran a comb through her hair. Styling and makeup would be done when she got to the Broadcast Center.

She turned off the lamp in the bedroom and walked out into the hallway. It was dimly lit by the light that filtered up from downstairs. Eliza knew that Mrs. Garcia was already in the kitchen and that she would have coffee brewing.

Tiptoeing into Janie’s room, Eliza leaned over and kissed her child on the forehead. Gently she took the stuffed monkey from beneath Janie’s arm. After tucking the comforter around her daughter, Eliza forced herself to leave the room.