The Last Witness (10 page)

“What do you mean?”

“Cobras eat other snakes.”

Ten minutes later they were approaching the GW Bridge, as everyone called it. During the day it was packed, but now traffic was light.

“Can you take the upper level?” Miriam said to the driver. “You get a much better view of the lights up there. I like to look at the city.”

“I can take the upper level,” he said.

He slowed down, the car and its license plate got scanned, and then he stopped to pay the toll. Miriam was glad he was taking the top level because it was higher there and she could see better. This was the way her daughter always went. Miriam would look out the window and see the lights of Manhattan. It was a beautiful clear night with more lights than she had ever seen before. When they were halfway across – right at the border between New Jersey and New York State – the driver pulled over to the side.

“What are you doing?” she said.

“I’m afraid we have a problem with the tire.”

“Oh dear.”

This wasn’t turning out very well, Miriam thought to herself. First her daughter’s car was vandalized. Now this.

The driver got out to inspect the rear tire on the passenger side. Then another car pulled up and stopped right behind them. A moment later, Miriam’s door opened and a different man appeared.

“Are you Mrs. Abraham?” he said. “Miriam Abraham?”

“Yes.”

“Can you come with me please?”

Miriam didn’t know what was going on. Except for those snakes on his arms, the driver looked neat, but this man was anything but. Younger and bigger than the driver, he had straggly unkempt hair, and though it was hard to tell in the night, dark skin.

“Where are we going?” she said from inside the car.

He opened the door and helped her out.

“Where are we going?” she said again.

“Nice view, isn’t it?” he said, pointing off in the distance to the lights of Manhattan.

“Yes it’s very pretty but …”

“This will just take a minute. I want to show you something.”

The driver was standing beside the car, looking one way, and then the other. Back and forth. Back and forth. He dropped some chewing gum into his mouth and pulled out his mini. A touch of the screen and a list of names appeared. He ran his fingertip over the last one and it was gone. Then a line of cars approached and he watched them go by. One by one. When they passed, he nodded to the man with Miriam, who took her by the hand and led her across the sidewalk that ran parallel to the roadway on the bridge’s upper level. Before Miriam knew what was happening, he picked her up and was carrying her in his arms. She was a small woman and not very heavy.

“What are you doing?” she said. “Put me down!”

He carried her to the end of the roadway, to the far edge of the bridge, and sat her on the railing. He just sat her there, plopping her down as if she were a bag of groceries. Right on the edge overlooking the water. She was scared and started grappling with him. Kicking with her feet. Flailing away with her arms.

“What are you doing? What are you doing?” she cried.

“I want to show you the view but you have to be careful. It’s dangerous, you know. You could fall from here.”

She relaxed for just a moment and that was his cue. He gave her a push and she tumbled over the side. It was a long way down. He heard a gasp. It wasn’t a scream. There wasn’t time for a scream. A few seconds later and her body was floating in the deathly cold waters of the Hudson River.

14

“Dad? It’s me. Ralph.”

“Who?”

“Ralph. How are you? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.”

“I wanted to see how you’re doing.”

There was something in Ralph’s voice. Jack could tell.

“I’m doing fine,” Jack said.

“How was that debate you went to?”

“Debate? It wasn’t a debate at all. It was a panel discussion. I’ll get the program and tell you about it. Hold on.”

“No it’s all right. Hello? Hello? Are you there?”

A moment later and Jack was back. “Here it is. Let me get my glasses on. You want their names?”

“What names?”

“The names of the people on the panel.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Hillel Schwartz from the Jewish Law Students Association. He was on it.”

“Dad.”

“Christopher Lawrence from the … let’s see … the World Community for Christian Meditation and Fellowship.”

“Dad.”

“Now this guy … Khalid Khan … the Islamic Chaplain at NYU. He didn’t believe anything unless it came direct from the prophet Mohammad. And David Tipwell from the
NYU Hotline
. He’s the kid who came to see me. The one who wrote that article and didn’t believe anything. He still doesn’t believe any of it. He thinks I’m senile.”

“You’re the last person in the world I would call senile.”

“There were supposed to be some professors but none of them showed up. I guess they had better things to do. And there weren’t many people there either. People just aren’t interested. They don’t care.”

“I’m not surprised. Listen, I have something to tell you. It’s about Christine.”

Jack perked up.

“Nobody seems to know where she is.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know she teaches in that little town outside of Kitchener? Well, after one of her classes she left. No one has seen her.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Just that. No one knows where she is and that’s why I’m calling. Has she been in touch with you?”

“Christine?”

“Yes.”

“With me? No. Wait. Yes she called the day of the party they threw for me. First thing that morning. I remember now. She woke me up.”

“She called you?”

“She sent me an email too. One of those 3D things.”

“Do you remember what she said?”

“Only that she was sorry she couldn’t come.”

“Anything else?”

“Let me see. I’m trying to remember. What do you mean no one has seen her?”

“I’m sure she’s all right. But no one has heard from her and her mother is worried crazy. It was Bill who called and told me. That 3DE she sent you …”

“What?”

“That message she sent you. Have you still got it?”

“I think so. Why?”

“Listen to me. Don’t delete it. Somebody may want to talk to you about it.”

“I don’t know how to delete it.”

“Good.”

“Who wants to talk to me about it? Hello? Ralph?”

“I’m here. Don’t delete it. Okay?”

“I won’t touch it.”

“I’m sure everything is fine. We all know Christine is a responsible kid.”

15

It began with a phone call from reception. A police officer was in the lobby and he wanted to see Jack. He came up to the sixth floor with a nurse, who rapped on Jack’s door. Jack was waiting for them.

“Mr. Fisher, I’m Lieutenant Jack Hodgson of the NYPD.”

The man was enormous. When Jack was younger, he stood five-nine, but now he was closer to five-seven and his weight had settled in at a hundred and forty pounds. But this man before him was at least two of him and maybe three. His hulking shoulders filled the width of the doorway. A massive torso and an obvious bulge in the gut. But then it was hard to tell where one part of his body ended and another part began.

“NYPD?” said Jack looking up.

“New York Police Department,” the giant said.

He wasn’t just tall – a full head over the suddenly diminutive Jack – but big. Everywhere. More than big even. It was his frame.

“My name is Jack too,” Jack said.

“We have something in common then. Can I come in? I want to ask you a few questions. It won’t take long.”

He was wearing a suit, which like the body inside was huge. Jack told the man and the nurse to come in. The nurse immediately checked his blood pressure. She made some small talk, then gathered up her equipment and left. Now the two men were alone. The police officer remained on his feet, Jack sitting on the edge of his bed. It was then that Jack noticed his shoes.

“Something wrong?” Hodgson said, seeing how the old man was staring at his feet.

“What size are those?” Jack asked.

“What size are what?”

“Your shoes.”

“Fifteen.”

“Fifteen?”

“That’s right.”

“I didn’t know they made shoes that big.”

“They do but you can’t buy them just anywhere. It’s like that with all my clothes.”

Jack looked up at him from the bed. “It must be difficult when you’re that big. With clothes I mean.”

“It can be but my wife has all my measurements and she knows where to go. I’m not much for shopping.”

“That makes two of us.”

Hodgson the police officer smiled and it was a warm, friendly smile. He showed his badge.

“That’s all right,” Jack said. “I believed you when you said you were a cop. They wouldn’t let you in here unless you identified yourself.”

“We went through that in the lobby. They told me you were a hundred years old. I must say you’re not what I expected.”

“What did you expect?”

“Someone who might not speak too clearly and who might not be too sure about himself. But you don’t strike me like that. You look pretty sharp to me.”

“My hearing isn’t that great.”

“I understand they had a birthday party for you.”

“That’s right. It was nice. Lots of family and friends.”

“That’s something. To be a hundred years old. You must have good genes.”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“You wouldn’t know what?”

“About my genes.”

“How old was your father?”

“You mean when he died?”

“Yes.”

“Young.”

“Compared to you young could be eighty-five or ninety.”

“He was more like thirty.”

“Thirty? What was it? Cancer?”

“No. He was just in the wrong place.”

“Sorry to hear that. Look, you have a granddaughter named Christine Fisher?”

“She’s my great-granddaughter.”

“Your great-granddaughter then. She lives in Canada and her family hasn’t heard from her for a few days. I understand the two of you are pretty close.”

Jack nodded.

“Your son Ralph told me Christine called you on the morning of your hundredth birthday. Is that right?”

“She did. She phoned.”

“He also told me she sent you a 3DE.”

“Yes. One of those things.”

“Would you mind if I had a look? It might be helpful.”

“Has something happened to her?”

“We don’t know but when a family puts in a missing person report we have to investigate. We’re assisting the Canadian authorities on this one. They’d do the same if someone was missing here and it was believed there was some connection up there.”

“Some connection?”

“The 3DE. She sent you a message. If you’ve still got it I’d like to see it.”

“I’ve got it. I don’t know how to delete them.”

Jack got up from his bed, went over to the box and opened the lid. He started going through the folder for incoming messages, but there was only one. The one from Christine.

“Good morning, Jack. Well what can I say? You’re the first member of the Fisher family to reach one hundred and I’m so proud of you but I feel guilty for not being there but this week has been just impossible. It’s not so much my students but those bureaucrats at the school board. You know what I mean. We’ve been there before, you and me, and you always say to keep fighting so that’s what I’m doing. Fighting them tooth and nail. I told them about you … it’s not the first time … and they just don’t care. Some of them don’t even think it’s true. Can you believe that? And this is a school yet. Indifference remember? That’s how people are. But I just can’t accept it. I never will. Anyway I’m seeing my department head this morning and I’m going to give him a piece of my mind. Whatever piece is left. To tell you the truth I’m not doing too well with this condition of mine. I’m so dizzy every morning. Twenty-five and I feel like an old woman. It’s really starting to wear me out and if not for you I’d probably feel sorry for myself but one thing you always taught me, Jack, is never to do that. When I look at you, well, that’s why you’re
my inspiration but then you always have been. Because of you my life is one big mission and that’s why I feel terrible about not being there today. I’m so sorry about that. I really wanted to make it. Still I can wish you a happy hundredth, can’t I? Say hello to everyone for me. You have a great day!”

Hodgson had a notebook with him and it was the old-fashioned kind, but he wasn’t writing anything in it.

“Your granddaughter thinks a lot of you,” he said.

“She’s my great-granddaughter. Her father is my grandson.”

“Oh I see. That’s right. But then you are a hundred, aren’t you?”

“That’s what everyone keeps telling me.”

Hodgson laughed.

“She’s not finished,” Jack said. “There’s more.”

“By the way, you’re going to get another message from me and you’ll be amazed at what I found. I can’t wait to tell you about it. Meanwhile, I have some unfinished business to attend to but I know you’ll get along fine without me. You always have. Always remember that I love you dearly, Jack. Your little Christine.”

Hodgson was busy jabbing his pen – that was old-fashioned, too – onto the pages of his notebook, but he still wasn’t writing anything. Jack was looking at the notebook.

“I didn’t think police used those things anymore,” Jack said.

“Not many of us do. Almost everyone I know has their own personal mini. A PM. It’s portable. You can put it in your pocket or it works on battery and it’s small. Tiny little thing.”

“So why do you use that?” Jack said.

“Why? Because it works if the power goes out. It doesn’t need a battery. And if you drop it you’ll know about it. It’s not tiny. Besides, I like pens. I’m a pen-and-ink kind of guy.”

Jack said he was, too.

“So tell me,” Hodgson said. “Do you have any idea what this unfinished business is she’s talking about?”

“No.”

“She said she’s going to send you another message. Did she?”

“I haven’t received anything.”

“What about this business with the bureaucrats on the school board? Know anything about that? What does she do for a living?”