Willow Pond (13 page)

“It was fine after we got an interpreter. They were so exhausted they fell asleep before it was over. I’m going to finish it on Monday.”

“Phillip and I took several airplane rides last year. I love flying. Have you done it yet?”

“No.”

“Oh, you must. The feeling of freedom is exhilarating. When I find the time, I’m going to take lessons and get my pilot’s license. Phillip didn’t want me to, but now that we’re separated I’m going to do what I want to do.”

On Tenth Street they discovered a dozen evangelists singing praises to God.

“Hallelujah, brother! Hallelujah, sister! Praise the Lord,” one woman called, then stretched out her hand. “A contribution for Jesus?”

Laura reached into her purse and produced a dollar bill. Even after Laura gave her the money, the woman continued to stare at her and Erich.

“I feel like a fool,” Laura said. “I hate that everyone knows what I look like.”

As they crossed the street, hand in hand, a woman walking two poodles bumped into them. The woman was only interested in Laura, so Erich got no help freeing himself from one of the leashes, which had wrapped around his ankles.

“Laura Austin, you poor thing. I pray for that beautiful little boy of yours every night.”

“How kind of you,” she said, wishing she could escape the woman’s attention. Her intention was well meant, but the woman was a complete stranger and Laura craved privacy. Phillip was the famous one.

Not all the streets in Manhattan were sunny. Further ahead they found a man selling apples. She took one and handed him a five dollar bill. Erich took another and gave him a dollar. The man thanked them with tears in his eyes. At the next corner two emaciated children in tattered clothes stood staring at passersby. Laura and Erich handed their apples to the children, and Laura folded several bills into the older child’s hand. The two looked up at them with blank expressions.

Laura looked at Erich. “Something has to be done. I’ve always wanted to take in a couple of foster children, but my selfish husband wouldn’t hear of it. Now I’d like to find a way to do it myself.”

“I’ll tell you this much. If this keeps up, Hoover can kiss the White House goodbye in a couple of years.”

“I think you may be right about that.”

“Things are going to get a lot worse before they get better.”

They eventually arrived at Erich’s parked car, then continued uptown in the green Buick. As they approached East 32
^nd
Street, the sounds of construction made conversation difficult. At the corner, Erich stopped for a light and they craned their necks to get a better look at the city’s latest skyscraper, the Empire State Building. The building rose incredibly high, looming over what had been farmland a hundred years before.

“Never seen anything like it,” Erich said. “They say it will be a hundred and two stories high when it’s finished.”

“Look how high it is already. It’s amazing to see how much progress they’ve made since I was here in March. If you think about it, it’s just a pile of glass and steel. I hated it when the Flatiron Building when up, but at least it has some character.”

The light turned green and off they went. Laura looked back at the monstrous buildings and wondered if construction would keep advancing toward Fifth Avenue till these new buildings replaced even the quirky intimacy of her beloved Village.

Seafood restaurants dotted City Island Avenue. Looking at them all filled Laura with nostalgia. “This reminds me of the little town in Maine just north of Bar Harbor where we spent our summers. We had a cottage on a lake.”

“You and Austin?”

“No. Me, my parents and my sister.” She thought of her parents and the summers the family had spent in Maine. They’d gone boating and swimming, and bought lobsters in Blue Hill from an old man named Seth whose eyes were about as blue as Erich’s. She and Elaine never ate lobster because they didn’t like the way they smelled. Phillip had been trying to get her to eat it for years with no luck.

“Has Austin ever been there?”

“Are you kidding? It’s too rustic for him. No servants, you know. My sister and her husband still go every year for a couple of weeks.” She looked away. “I’d planned to take Todd this summer.”

He stopped for a light. “I don’t think I’ve heard you mention your family before.”

“My parents were killed when I was nine. Another car went through a stop sign and hit them head on.”

He glanced quickly at her, then focused on the road ahead. “How sad they never got to see you grow up. I’m sure they would have been proud.”

“Having Todd helped me understand what they felt for me and my sister. They would have been devastated by what’s happened, so in a way I’m glad they aren’t around.” She inhaled deeply then let her breath out. “My sister and I were lucky Virginia took us in and gave us a home.”

“She raised you?”

“Yes, and I’m sure it was difficult at first. She had no children of her own and wasn’t used to having two young girls around.”

“I guess she’s been good to you.”

They stopped at a diner and ate clam rolls, French fries and vanilla ice cream and laughed about how it could be called ‘homemade’ at a diner. After lunch they walked to Simpson’s boatyard on Beach Street and Erich asked her to wait while he went inside to speak to the owner.

She stretched her legs out in the sun, watching a couple of ducks cross the road. When Erich and a balding middle-aged man emerged from a rusted out trailer, Erich pointed to a twenty-five foot cabin cruiser bobbing in the water, all white save for a thin line of azure blue around the hull.

“When can we take it out?” she heard him say.

“Half an hour.”

They wandered the streets for a while, then turned the corner onto a tiny private beach.

“What do you think of this?”

She looked at him, his blue eyes searching hers, and she smiled, feeling more peaceful and tranquil than she had in ages. “It’s wonderful.”

“A few years ago I was looking for a place to fish and stumbled onto it by accident.”

They held hands, walking along the water’s edge until it was time to board the cabin cruiser.

Once they were in open water, Erich dropped anchor while Laura spread a blanket on deck. He lay on his side beside her, looking down at her, and it felt wonderful when he kissed her. She shivered when he pulled the top of her bathing suit down and caressed her breasts, but she felt warm and secure. He was a different kind of lover than Phillip. Her pleasure seemed as important to him as his own.

When the heat and the sun and their desire for each other became unbearable, they went below deck and showered, kissing passionately while water cascaded down their bodies. They took turns drying each other off, though she tried to hide her body with the towel at first. He took it from her.

“Don’t. You’re so lovely.”

They collapsed onto the cabin bed and made love with a kind of intensity Laura didn’t think existed. Afterwards they lay naked in each other’s arms, and she traced the outline of his face with her fingertips, noticing the yellow remnants of a bruise under one eye. He picked individual strands of her hair and held them up to the light.

“I love your hair. It’s like holding sunshine.”

Something raced through her chest. “Oh, boy,” she said. She was sure he felt her body stiffen, because he began gently stroking the tense muscles. She took another deep breath. “What am I doing here? Nobody’s ever made me feel the way you do. I wish I could be sure I’m making the right decision.”

“Shh. Stop worrying for once, Laura. I want to make you happy.” He stroked her hair and she closed her eyes. “Just be happy.”

She lay quietly, wishing the day would never end, waiting for the apprehension and worry to return, and finally drifting to sleep. When the sun filled the cabin with a rosy glow, she nudged Erich awake. Dusk was upon them, so he pulled in the anchor and they headed back to shore.

Chapter Twenty-Five

“Are you still planning to go ahead with that crazy scheme?” Daniel asked a few days later.

Erich ran his hands over the stubble on his cheeks and smiled, thinking of Laura. She complained his beard scratched and wanted him to shave, but she’d have to put up with it for a while. Unfortunately, he had no intention of telling her the reason why he was growing a beard.

“I’m meeting Bill McCoy in Montauk tomorrow night. If anyone can give me information, he’s the one.”

“Why the hell are you willing to risk your life for this?” Daniel asked. “If they find out you aren’t who you say you are, your life won’t be worth a dime.”

While he’d been in the hospital recuperating from his injuries, Erich had decided to do something to find Todd. Something more substantial than reporting on the latest developments.

Since his initial interview with Laura and Phillip, he’d wondered if bootleggers might be responsible for the kidnapping. He hadn’t said a word to Laura about his suspicions. He hadn’t wanted to get her hopes up before he’d even begun to investigate. His first and only idea was to infiltrate the gang of bootleggers operating on the East End of Long Island. It took him weeks to come up with an idea and figure out the details. He knew it would be dangerous.

“The last guy they got suspicious of got three bullets in the head.” Peter slammed the door behind him. “Dan, get him to stop. Tell him you’ll fire him if he goes ahead with it.”

“No. I told him I’d help him out this time, and I will.” Dan turned to Erich. “But just this one time. If your work suffers one iota because of this, you’re out on your rear. Understand?”

“Such gentle, caring friends. If I don’t come in on Monday you’ll know I’m a lousy actor.”

“You’re a fucking jackass,” Peter snapped. “I asked around like you wanted. My brother-in-law and a neighbor are interested. They’ll take a few bottles off your hands, but I won’t have all the cash until next week.”

“As long as you’re sure they’ll come through.”

Daniel stood up. “Listen, Muller, be careful. Those guys don’t fool around. If you even begin to suspect they don’t believe you, get away from them.”

***

The drive to Montauk took four hours. It was ten o’clock when Erich pulled his rental truck into the parking lot and entered the main office of the Malibu Motel.

“Just one night?” The woman curled her lip. “Most people stay longer than that.”

“I’m here on business.” He looked out the window. “It is beautiful out here, though. I’ll be back.”

She handed him a key. “Don’t wait to make reservations. At this time of year we get booked up fast. You got lucky tonight.”

He left the motel and walked toward the beach, which was dotted by boats. The bootleggers called the Long Island coastline ‘Rum Row’, and William McCoy, the man he was meeting, was the most notorious and successful rumrunner of all. Instead of selling watered-down liquor, he sold quality stuff at fair prices. Erich hoped he’d be straight with him, too. He watched the schooner ease to shore. The man he assumed was McCoy stood on deck, leaning against the mast with one hand.

“You must be the new guy,” McCoy said. “Where did you say you were from?”

“Connecticut. Guilford, Connecticut, along the coast.” He hoped he sounded convincing.

McCoy jumped off the boat. “Never heard of it.”

“No? Well, you will. Lots of people up there want booze and don’t want anyone to tell them they can’t have it.”

McCoy laughed. “Amen to that. I didn’t catch your name.”

“Kohl. Hans Kohl.”

McCoy pointed to two small boxes. “The goods are over there. Gotta unload them by yourself. My guys don’t like to waste time on the small stuff.”

Erich picked up both boxes. “If business goes the way I expect it to, I’ll need more the next time.”

“You small time bootleggers are no match for guys like Schultz. You’ll be lucky if he doesn’t take you for a one-way ride.”

“I heard some guys plan to lay low for a while because the cops are too damn noisy for their own good.”

McCoy looked him up and down. “Whoever you heard that from was telling you a story.”

Erich laughed. “Yeah, right.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Virginia had grown weary of all the revelry at Bacchanal. She slipped out and headed toward the couch in her office so she could take a nap. About an hour later someone opened the door to deposit the mail onto her desk. She woke up when the door opened but didn’t open her eyes in time to see the visitor. She was glad whoever it was hadn’t spoken, because he wouldn’t have liked her response. It could have been Harry, and she really didn’t want to see him. He’d already voiced his concern about her bad mood and the fact that she never wanted to join in on the fun anymore. He was right, and she knew it was bad for business, but she was too angry with Rudy to care about Bacchanal.

Unable to sleep, she sat at her desk, pushed the mail aside and stared at the front page of the New York Daily News. After a few moments she took a good look at the headline,
Police Find Few Clues in Double Homicide
. The photo of the victims was front and center, and Virginia stared in shock. The black and white faces of Kevin Butler and his daughter stared back at her. She turned to page three and started to read the article, gasping when she learned the murders had taken place on the same day she’d been to the Butler apartment.

The only conclusion she could think of was that Rudy had been hiding somewhere and heard everything they’d said. After she’d left he’d shot them to death. But then why hadn’t Kevin given her some kind of sign to let her know something was wrong? Maybe Rudy hadn’t been there. Maybe he had just seen her leave the building and guessed why she was there, then shot them.

Had Todd suffered the same fate as the Butlers? No. She couldn’t let herself think that way. She had to find Rudy, but it wasn’t going to be easy. She needed all the help she could get. For the rest of the evening she made a list of all the friends Rudy had told her about, then studied the list, hoping one of the names could give her a clue as to where he might be.