The Girl Is Trouble (13 page)

“Why not? God will. I’m sure he already has. Suicide is a sin, after all.”

“You can’t know what was in your mother’s mind. I’m sure there were circumstances beyond her control. You don’t know.”

“I do know. I know that she was a selfish bitch who didn’t think of anyone but herself.”

Before I could register what was happening, Aunt Miriam slapped me. Tears flooded my eyes and I clasped my injured cheek. I had wanted a reaction out of her, but this was completely unexpected. For both of us.

“I’m sorry, Iris.” Aunt Miriam threw her arms around me and held me so close it was a struggle to breathe. “I just couldn’t bear to hear you talk about your mother like that.”

My tears kept flowing. It wasn’t just Aunt Miriam’s slap that brought them on. I had stated for the first time that I doubted my mother’s motives. As horrible as all the thoughts I’d had about her over the past day had been, actually saying something like that out loud seemed ten times worse. That wasn’t who she was. It couldn’t have been. Mama was one of the most loving people in the world. She would’ve done anything for me, I was certain of it.

Aunt Miriam pulled away. Her makeup ran in a steady stream down her face. “She was a good woman.” She brushed away my tears.

“Then why did she do it?” I whispered.

“Things aren’t always what they seem.”

“Then tell me how they really were.”

She pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed at her eyes. “I wish I could. All I can tell you is that the woman I knew loved you and your father with all of her heart. She would’ve done anything for either one of you.” I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. How could Mama be both that and a woman considered so contemptible that the police didn’t bother to investigate her death? “She was smart, she was kind, she was brave.”

“How?” I asked.

“How wasn’t she?” asked Miriam. “She came to America and started over. She spent all those years without your father, raising you. She never let anything stand in her way.”

She wasn’t going to tell me any more—that was clear. Whatever she knew was hers alone. “What happened to her money?” I asked.

“What?”

I hadn’t thought much about that one strange piece of the puzzle until then. We’d been comfortable in the years before Mama’s death, but the life we lived wasn’t just because of a naval officer’s salary. Mama had money—an inheritance—that helped provide for the Upper East Side address, the private school, the allowance for treats. When she died and we moved, at first I thought it was simply Pop’s way of putting the past behind us so we could move on, but it became clear that we were just scraping by, depending on Mrs. M.’s kindness for those months when AA Investigations could barely pay its phone bill.

“Mama’s money,” I said now. “What happened to all of it? That’s why we moved, right? Why you and Uncle Adam offered to pay for Chapin? The money was all gone.”

“I … I’m not sure what happened to it. She must’ve made some … unwise decisions.” She ran her hand through my hair and tucked a lock behind my ear. “Are you going to be all right, Iris?”

“I don’t know,” I told Aunt Miriam. “I just feel so lost.”

“I know you may not want to hear this, but at moments like this, I feel like the best thing I can do is turn to God for strength.”

I didn’t open the rest of my gifts.

CHAPTER

11

THE NIGHT MOVED SLOWLY.
I built a fire and we moved our chairs close to the fireplace for warmth. As the ice storm continued, the lights flickered on and off as the power lines grew weighted down. I found myself wishing I was still with Benny in the air-raid shelter. As cold as it had been there, it seemed even colder here, where secrets ripped the warmth from the air and left Aunt Miriam and me grasping for pleasantries to fill the silence.

It was obvious she was going to be stuck there that night, and I only hoped that Mrs. M. would be able to miraculously make it home and break up our little party.

Aunt Miriam called Uncle Adam and let him know that there was no chance she would be able to get a cab in this weather. While she was on the phone, I spun the radio dial trying to find anything other than static to listen to. I could hear Miriam’s low voice as she talked to my uncle. What she said was indistinct until:

“It was my decision and I’m not going to waver from it. We’re family. That’s what family does.”

So Adam didn’t like that she had come to see us. He probably hadn’t been thrilled that she brought us presents, either. I abandoned my search for a clear radio station just as Miriam ended the call.

“Your uncle Adam says hello,” she said cheerfully. I smiled, not sure how to respond. “You know, Iris, we would love to have you come stay with us. Anytime. I know your uncle would love to see you.”

It didn’t sound that way to me. “It’s hard with school and everything.”

“You could come over a weekend. In fact, this weekend would be wonderful. That way we could celebrate Hanukah together.”

The idea of staying with them just like I had last year at this time didn’t sit well with me. I tried to think of a way to explain that to Aunt Miriam, but I was worried that if I did, everything else I was thinking would come out in a rush of words.

“You don’t have to answer now,” she said. “Just think about it. How about I make us some dinner?” I gave her the tour of the pantry and icebox and then told her I had homework to do and disappeared into the parlor.

Ten minutes later, Pop’s phone rang.

I went into the office and in a muffled tone answered the AA Investigations line.

“Iris?”

“Yes?”

“It’s Pearl.” My momentary confusion at hearing her voice on the office line disappeared. “Thank goodness you’re okay. I was so worried when you didn’t show up at lunch. And then with the storm and the early dismissal, I didn’t know what to think.”

“Why are you calling Pop’s office line?”

“I tried the house line, but I got a busy signal.” Miriam had been talking to Adam, no doubt, when she’d called. “So you’re okay?”

“Fine,” I said, though my voice was anything but. “There was early dismissal?”

“They canceled afternoon classes and let us out at one-thirty because of the storm. Where did you go?”

I should’ve told her everything, but with Miriam within ear’s reach I had a perfect excuse not to. “I can’t really talk right now. My aunt’s here.”

“Oh. Gotcha. You missed a scene this afternoon, let me tell you. There was another note in one of the federation members’ lockers and Paul got jumped on the way home.”

“Is he okay?”

“Bruised and bloodied, but he’s going to be fine. He lost a tooth, though. Dad’s on fire about how much that’s going to cost to fix.”

“So what happened?”

“These two random boys followed him home, asked him if he was a Jew, then just started hitting him while telling him the war was all his fault. They were by Kamiskey’s butcher shop and I guess Mr. Kamiskey himself came out and chased them away.”

“Does anyone know who the boys were?”

“Not a clue. Denise was with Paul and she said she’d never seen them before. They’re pretty sure they don’t go to P.S. 110.”

“They didn’t hurt Denise, did they?”

“Not a chance.” She lowered her voice. “She insisted on coming home with Paul. She’s in the parlor with him now, waiting on him hand and foot. Oh, nausea!”

“So do you think these two boys have anything to do with the notes?”

“Iris?” I snapped to attention. Aunt Miriam was standing at the office door, a bewildered look on her face. “What are you doing?”

Boy, howdy—I knew how it looked: me, in Pop’s office, on his phone, asking the kinds of questions detectives usually asked. “Just talking to a friend.”

“Dinner’s ready. You can talk to your
friend
later.”

To the phone I said, “I’ve got to go, Pearl. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” I put the receiver down before she uttered her own farewell. Aunt Miriam had gone into the dining room, where she was lighting a single candle.

“I couldn’t find a menorah, but your landlady has lots of candles. Come join me.” I stood beside her, and in a low, rich voice she began to recite the three blessings. The flame danced to her words, threatening, as her timbre rose, to go out completely before once again growing fat and strong. I closed my eyes and thought about the year before, when it was Uncle Adam reciting these words. Mama, Aunt Miriam, and I had been there with him, and though Pearl Harbor was very much on their minds, mine was wondering if this brief return to religious tradition meant that I might be getting presents for the next eight nights.

I did, though with what followed, I couldn’t remember what I’d been given if my life depended on it.

Mama had chanted “Hanerot Halalu” that night, her voice turning the words into less of a thank-you for past miracles, and more of a plea for a new miracle: Let Pop’s injuries be more benign than we’d been led to believe. Let our entry into the war be brief, the death toll small. Let us find comfort in our families.

Instead, Mama had died. Pop came home without a leg. The war dragged on and Pop exiled us from Adam and Miriam.

I opened up my eyes. Aunt Miriam began to sing “Maoz Tzur,” a Hebrew song praising God for helping us to defeat our enemies when our strength failed us.

I didn’t bother to join in. A better plea would’ve been for God to show us who our enemies were to begin with.

*   *   *

WE WENT TO BED SHORTLY
after dinner. Miriam slept in my room and I stayed on the parlor sofa, just in case Pop came home in the middle of the night. An hour after we turned in, when I was just beginning to accept that I wasn’t going to be able to sleep, I heard the familiar rattle of a key in the lock. I clicked on the lamp as Mrs. Mrozenski came inside.

“Iris. You are safe. I’m so glad.”

I left the sofa and helped her pull off her drenched coat. “Were you stuck at the church?”

She sat on the bench by the front door. “Ten hours I was there. I should get a pass for a month of Sundays. Where is your father?”

I took her discarded boots and put them in the closet. “He’s uptown. At Betty’s.”

“Betty’s?”

I shrugged. Did she have any idea what was going on between them? If she didn’t, I wasn’t sure I wanted to be the one to tell her. “That’s what he said when he called. Any idea why he would be there?”

“No. But at least he’s somewhere warm and safe.” Her eyes fell on the coffee table, where Miriam’s teacup and mine still sat. “You have company?”

“My aunt’s here. She’s sleeping in my room.”

“It’s good to have visit from family.”

I wasn’t sure if she was asking a question, so I nodded.

“You look sad,” she said.

“Just tired. I was dozing off right before you came home.”

“You can have my bed. I sleep down here.”

“No, I’m fine. I want to be able to hear Pop when he comes home.”

“All right then. Good night.” She hesitated, then planted a kiss on top of my head. “Happy dreams, Iris.”

I don’t know how, but I eventually fell into a fitful sleep. Pop arrived in the early morning hours. He tried to be quiet as he came into the house, but every footfall was a gunshot to my ears.

“Pop?”

He froze at the sound of my voice. I turned on the lamp, as I had when Mrs. Mrozenski arrived, and he straightened up at the sight of me. “Why aren’t you in your bed, Iris?”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“Me neither,” he said. “I was worried about you, all alone in the house. Did the lights go out?”

“No. The phones never stopped working, either.”

“Then things are better here than on the west side.” He plopped onto the sofa beside me and released the harness that held his leg to his stump. He could do it one-handed now, where before it had been a two-handed task. “Did Mrs. Mrozenski make it home?”

“A few hours ago.”

“Good. You’d better head up to bed. I don’t think you can depend on school being canceled today.” He turned on the radio and found, as I had earlier, that everything was static.

I hesitated just long enough for him to look up at me questioningly. “I can’t sleep in my room. Aunt Miriam is in there.”

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t reveal the shock I would’ve expected.

I nodded toward the bag of unwrapped presents still sitting by her chair. “She came by to bring me Hanukah presents but got trapped by the weather. Uncle Adam didn’t seem very happy about it,” I said.

“I’m sure he wasn’t.” Pop retrieved the clamshell jeweler’s box and opened it. “These look expensive.”

“I told her I didn’t have any use for them.”

He snapped the box closed. “Come now—women always have use for pretty things.” It was funny how Pop wielded that word. Sometimes I was a woman to him, sometimes a little girl. “Your mother had a pair like this,” he said. “I wonder what happened to them?” He opened the box again. “I’ll bet Miriam knows.”

Maybe that and so much more,
I wanted to say. “So why were you at Betty’s?”

He continued looking at the pearls. “Happenstance. I was working a case when the ice started. I knew she lived nearby, so I called her and she was kind enough to give me a place to weather the storm.”

“What case were you working on?” I asked.

“Mickey Pryor. His wife has decided she wants photographs to document his infidelity. Bad for Mickey, good for our coffers.”

For the first time since I’d found the photographs, things were starting to feel normal. Pop was talking to me, even if he wasn’t talking about the things I wanted to talk about. Maybe it would be okay. Maybe I could do as he asked and forget about what I’d seen and things could go back to normal. Would that be so terrible?

“Did you get what you needed?” I asked.

“Nope. The storm threw a hitch in my plans and most likely his, too. I’ll try again in a few days.” He closed the earring box and tossed it my way. I caught it handily and put it back on the table.

“I could help you,” I said.

He looked at me head-on. “I think you need to take a break from the business, Iris.”