Kino (29 page)

When the phone finally rang, Mina couldn't place the tentative male voice that spoke through the distant crackle. For one brief moment she allowed herself to think that it was Sam.

“Frau Koblitz? If you have a minute, I would like to talk to you.”

It was Dr. Hanno. Mina's chest filled with righteous anger. How did that treacherous thief find the nerve to call her?

“Wilhelmina?” he said.

“You? You lied to me. You broke into my hotel room. You stole my movie. I hope you're in prison. Are you in prison?”

“I had to pay a fine. Listen, Frau Koblitz, I did not enjoy doing what I did, and I am calling to apologize to you.” It took him a long time to get the last sentence out, as if he were struggling with the words. Mina got even angrier.

“Well, I hope they fined you silly. I hope they drive you into bankruptcy. You stole my movie. What the hell were you thinking?”

“What I did, I had to do.” Now there was something different stirring in Dr. Hanno's voice. He was getting annoyed. “You didn't like the movie, didn't understand its genius nor its importance. You were going to let the studio take it away. I did it for K–”

Mina cut him off. “Are you not paying attention? The studio took the film anyway. It's back in their vault, along with
Twenty-Twelve
and any other scrap of his they could find, and there isn't a thing that you or I could do about that. So, robbing me was pointless. You didn't have to lie to me. It didn't make a difference. I thought you liked me. Why did you lie to me?”

If she was honest with herself, Mina had to admit that she strangely respected Dr. Hanno for stealing the movie. Yes, he'd been busted, but she had delivered
Twenty-Twelve
directly into the hands of the enemy. At least he'd tried.

“I didn't mean to upset you–”

“Dr. Hanno, my husband is gone, along with everything else. My life's a mess.” Even as she said the words, Mina wondered why it didn't feel that way. She was on the patio by the pool, munching on a grilled cheese sandwich Chester had made.

“Please. You must believe me. I am calling to say I'm sorry. I am sorry for what I did. It's just–I'd like you to understand why I had to try to save the movie. I knew what would happen, I saw it coming, and I tried to stop it. Do you understand that? I am sorry about your husband.”

Mina blinked a tear away. Either Dr. Hanno was quite an actor, or he really meant it. Then she remembered that she had been certain he was innocent the morning after the robbery.

“Well, I appreciate it, Dr. Hanno, but I should go now.”

“Of course, of course.” He sounded relieved to be able to get off the phone, too. Except: “There's one more thing.”

“What's that?”

“This man Schnark. Can you tell me more about him?”

Ah
, Mina thought, her anger welling back. This call wasn't about the apology at all.

“Why?”

“There's something–I don't know how to put this. Do you remember how he introduced himself to you?”

“He said he was inspector of a special branch of the federal government, something about cultural crimes.”

“There is no such thing.”

“Well, he said it was a secret branch.”

“Frau Koblitz, trust me: there is no such thing. When was the last time you talked to him?”

“Not since the morning my father arrived in L.A. He never answered his phone. I had
Twenty-Twelve
and didn't know what to do about it. He simply disappeared.”

“Do you have his phone number? Could you please give it to me?”

“It's useless,” Mina said. “He doesn't pick up. I've tried.”

“Please?”

Fine
. What did she care? Mina was going to be late for her visit at the hospital. She gave Dr. Hanno the number.

“If you get in touch with him,” she said, “will you let me know?”

“Of course. And Frau Koblitz? I hope to see you again one day. Goodbye now.”

“
Auf Wiedersehen
, Dr. Hanno.”

Chapter 18

And then one day, after Mina had been in California for almost three months and President Bush had just told the insurgents to bring it on, two things happened.

First, a certified letter arrived after breakfast. It was addressed to her, at Penny's address, with her full name on the envelope: Wilhelmina Koblitz, c/o Penelope Koblitz. Inside, there were forms emblazoned with official seals. Supreme Court of the State of New York. Dissolution. Settlement. Financial Affidavit. Mina had to leaf through the pages three times before she figured out that these were divorce papers.

She went back into the living room, where she'd been eating cereal and watching
The Third Man.
The form was already counter-signed on the line with Sam's name. Location and date indicated Zanzibar, Tanzania, two weeks earlier.

Mina felt dizzy, and she wasn't sure which word she understood less: divorce or Tanzania. She inspected Sam's signature closely. Something about it seemed wrong to her. Zanzibar? What the hell was Sam doing in Africa?

She called Sam's parents, and this time, they answered. Sam's mother curtly told her to sign the papers and send them back. Yes, Sam was in Tanzania. He had transferred the lease to the apartment to them, and Mina had two weeks to get her stuff before they tossed it.

“Didn't Sam have anything to say to me?” Mina asked. She always thought that Sam might have loved her more than she'd loved him, but he'd also been her best friend.

“I'm sorry,” Sam's mother said. She sounded like she meant it. “I guess you kids weren't ready for this.”

“But–” Mina said.

Sam's mother cut her off. “Good luck, Mina. If Sam wanted to talk to you, he'd talk to you.”

“Goodbye,” Mina said and sat for a long time and stared at the papers. What did it mean if she signed her name on this line? That she had never loved Sam? That it had all been a mistake? And why on earth did he sneak out like that, without even talking to her? Didn't she deserve that much? Zanzibar!

Then, for a moment, she allowed herself to think that it was all for the best. She'd been let off easy. Maybe Sam's mother had been right. If they'd stayed married, the same exact thing might have happened in slow motion, Mina drifting away and throwing herself into whatever adventure offered itself while Sam's love eroded over the years until, eventually, she'd be left with the same forms to sign. How different would Kino and Penny's lives have been if they hadn't stayed together? Their marriage had outlasted terrible times but it certainly didn't bring them happiness. There weren't any guarantees, ever. Maybe Sam hadn't been too sure about Mina either, wondering all along if he was doing the right thing. Now he was traveling. He was in Africa and Mina was in California.

Yes, she nodded to herself, maybe it was for the better, even though she already missed him. Sam used to be the only one who'd understand her. That's what she was signing away–but no, she corrected herself, no, she'd given that up already. It was her fault, Mina realized, it had been her fault all along. She'd gone to Berlin, she'd toyed with Dr. Hanno in the sauna, she'd kissed the sailor on the pier. She had no one to blame but herself, and she would miss Sam terribly. When she finally felt the tears come, Mina signed quickly, folded the papers along their creases, and stuffed them in the prepared envelope, addressed to the Supreme Court of the State of New York. There, all done, with the stroke of a pen: she was an ex-wife. She wouldn't cry for long. She found a blue pill in Oma Penny's cabinet that would help with that.

Later that same day, during Mina's shift at the hospital, Penny opened her eyes, blinked, coughed, and slowly focused on Mina. “Where's Chester?” she said.

“Oma,” Mina said. “You're awake.”

Penny spat, half of it landing on a catheter and dripping down in a gooey streak. “Of course I am awake,” she said. “Where is Chester? Why am I in a hospital? Get me Chester.”

“He's back at the house,” Mina said. “We'll get you back there as soon as we can and take care of you, okay?” She wiped the spittle from her grandmother's mouth, thrilled to see the old bat awake, already up to her shenanigans again.

The doctors were stunned at Penny's recovery. They were cautiously optimistic about her condition. Chester was ecstatic. Penny would need time in the hospital to recover, and before long, she got used to seeing Mina every day. It seemed, Mina thought, as if Penny even looked forward to her visits. Mina took more photos, too, and Penny enjoyed the attention. She had once been a movie star, after all. Sometimes they watched TV, but when there was nothing on that Oma Penny liked, Mina would ask questions about her life. She learned that Penny couldn't stand Kino's friend Steffen, and that it was true that she had thrown a marble ashtray at Orson Welles. “The fat bastard had it coming.” Penny shrugged.

Mina also learned that Kino had left a note before he splattered his brains all over the screen at the El Ray theater.

“A note?”

“Yes, princess, a suicide note. It's common practice among the suicidal. You don't know about that?”

“What did it say?”

“It was a lousy note, really. Pathetic.”

Along with excitement, Mina felt a pang of sorrow; Sam hadn't left her with anything but divorce papers. He'd gone to Africa and left her behind without so much as a farewell.

“Do you still have it?”

Penny shrugged. “Threw it out a long time ago. But I still remember what it said.” She made a grimace. The thought of it seemed to disgust her.

“Okay,” Mina said. “Would you please tell me?”

“
This is the Constitution of Mulberry Island: Anything is Still Possible
. It was written on a kind of parchment, probably a prop or something, with quill and ink.”

“That's it?”

“That's it.
Signed, Kino
. I ask you: what kind of thing is that to write on a suicide note? He was a dumbfuck and a romantic to the last. Down to his bitter grave! Did you know that on the night he offed himself, he wore a pirate outfit and that ridiculous wooden peg leg?”

Chapter 19

Finally, Mina was wearing the exactly right clothes. Short denim skirt, hat, sandals, a tank top. She felt good and looked good, which somehow mattered, even when pushing Penny's wheelchair through the lobby of her Santa Monica nursing home. Mina carried Kino's old Leica over her shoulder; Penny was rifling through a stack of black-and-white prints, all of her, from an earlier photo shoot.

“That one's not bad,” Mina said.

“
Ach
,” Penny said. “Like a corpse!”

At first, Mina barely recognized the man standing in her way, holding a bouquet of roses, and when he didn't move, she whacked him in the leg with Penny's chair. She'd learned quickly that pushing a wheelchair gave her the right of way in all instances, and she expected people to move. But this man here, he just stood there, obstinate, with his roses. Then she realized it was Inspector Schnark, minus the red leather coat, just in badly cut jeans and a tucked-in polo shirt. The look on his face had been contrite, but now he was wincing in pain. Penny's wheelchair was heavy, and Mina had hit him in the shin head-on.

He collected himself quickly. “Frau Koblitz,” he said, addressing Penny, kneeling to her level, and offering her the flowers.

“What,” Mina interrupted him. “No tulips?” She took the flowers from Schnark's hand and passed them on to a passing teenage girl who was sullenly following her parents through the lobby. “Ooh,” the girl lit up, “thank you!”

“I need to talk to you both,” Schnark said, ever so slightly slurring his words.

“Have you been drinking?” Mina asked.

“I have something for you. Please?”

Mina snapped. “Where the hell were you? I had
Twenty-Twelve
in the car and you didn't pick up your damn phone.”

“I can explain–”

“I had the movie!”

Penny reached for Mina's hand. “I know this man,” she said. She spit over the side of wheelchair, aiming at a potted plant. “He came to my house, years and years ago, asking questions. I didn't like you then. Go away.
Hörst Du nicht? Verpiss Dich
!”

“He told me he was an inspector for a spy agency that doesn't exist,” Mina said.

“He said he wanted to interview me for a book,” Penny said, “but it was all lies. He's an imposter. Let's go, girl. Go.” Penny reached for her wheels herself and aimed her chair at Schnark again. This time, he got out of the way, but stumbled and almost fell. Mina used the opening to push Penny past him and through the nursing home's sliding exit doors. A path lined with benches led past a fountain toward the beach promenade. Detlef hadn't called or come to visit his mother, but at least he was paying for a classy nursing home.

“Wait up, please!” Schnark was having trouble keeping up with them. He was fumbling with the top of a silver flask and stopped for a furtive swig. Mina had been right–he'd been drinking. Over her shoulder, she said, “Maybe it's time for the truth, Schnark.”