The Night, The Day (18 page)

chapter 32

B
obby Marcus strutted into Dan
Gifford’s office and dropped two manila files on the desk, each with a photo clipped to the cover.

“These the guys?” Gifford asked. It was hard for him to connect the pictures to the dead Colombians in the garage the night before.

“That’s them.”

Gifford lifted the first file, opened it and examined the contents. The rap sheet was long, and the guy was a recent parolee for what appeared to have been a plea bargain down to manslaughter. “Nice record. Good thing the taxpayers can sleep at night knowing we keep our hardened criminals behind bars.”

He tossed the file on his desk.

“Take a look at the other one,” Marcus said.

“Why? I’m sure it’s more of the same.”

Marcus eyed his boss. “Something wrong?”

“Of course something’s wrong. I killed two men last night.”

“Whoa, wait just a minute there! First of all, they tried to take you out. Second, what makes you think
you
killed them?”

“I guess we’ll never know, considering there won’t be any ballistics.”

“You want ballistics? Order it.”

Gifford stared into space. He knew a ballistics test could mean trouble for Marcus. “Let’s forget about it.”

“Look, Dan, you don’t owe me because I saved your ass. That was part of the job.”

“I know. I owe you because you’re a friend.”

Marcus smiled. “Gee, does that mean you wanna go out dancing tonight?”

“All right, cut the shit.”

“Whatever you say. You’re the boss.”

Gifford got up from his chair and walked toward the window.

“Where’d you go after the shoot?” Marcus asked in a tone that pretty much indicated he knew the answer.

“A bar.” Gifford was looking out at the view.

“Did you drink?”

“No.”

“But it’s not over.”

Gifford thought for a moment. “It’s never over.”

Marcus was way over his head in this discussion. While being on the job for so many years had given him more than enough exposure to alcoholism, he still couldn’t claim to understand it. “You still go to those meetings?” he asked.

Gifford turned away from the window and looked askance at Marcus. It took him a moment to realize that it was Bobby Marcus, and not some nosy, intrusive acquaintance, who was asking. The man cared about him and deserved an honest response. “No, I haven’t,” he said, his expression softening.

“Maybe you should.”

Gifford turned back toward the window. “Maybe.”

“What about the shrink? Does he know about the shoot?”

“No. I cut that off for a while.”

Marcus gave Gifford a concerned look. “Because of the Schwartz thing?”

“Precisely.”

“Look, Dan, since I’m already prying beyond the limit, I’ll come out and say what I gotta say. First, I know that killing someone isn’t completely novel to you. It isn’t for me either. But that doesn’t matter, because regardless of how many times you do it, it never gets easy. And it also doesn’t make that much difference if the dead guy’s a dirtbag who didn’t deserve to live in the first place.”

“What’s your point?”

“My first point is that you don’t look so good. My other point is that I’m headed to the department shrink this afternoon, partly because they’re making me, and partly because I think it’s a good idea.”

“The DA’s office doesn’t require psychological debriefing after a shooting.”

“Bullshit. The reason there’s no policy is because it never happens. How many ADA’s you know that have been involved in shootings?”

“None,” Gifford granted.

“You know what I think?”

“I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”

Marcus smiled. “I think that maybe you should forget all about that Schwartz stuff, which isn’t any of our business to begin with, and give that shrink of yours a call.”

Gifford knew his friend was right. He sat down on his chair, looked Marcus in the eye and responded, “Maybe I should.”

chapter 33

E
lizabeth Rosen’s hair flew back
as she soared toward the sky. “Higher, Daddy, higher!” she demanded, her hands wrapped tightly around the swing’s chains. She reached her peak, then floated backward into her father’s hands for another push, this one even stronger than she’d hoped. She laughed as the chains loosened, then became taut again.

“Marty!” Esther roared, worried for her niece’s safety.

Martin reacted with a smile.

“Just do me a favor, slow it down a bit with her.”

“Sure, Sis, whatever you say.” He lightened up on his next few pushes. “My arms were getting tired anyway.”

“Higher, Daddy, higher!”

“Sorry, princess, I’ve been overruled.”

“What’s overruled, Daddy?”

“It’s when your aunt Esther tells me what to do.”

Elizabeth’s cousins came running over. The eldest, Michali, was holding a soccer ball. “Can we have a drink, Ima?” Devorah, the younger one, asked.

So far, the outing had been a dismal failure. Neither Esther nor Martin knew quite what to do to get all three children to play together. They couldn’t blame the kids. They were practically strangers. Michali was 7 years old, Devorah 6, and sadly, all they knew of their cousin and uncle was a single visit two years earlier, and stories their mother had shared with them. The same was true for Elizabeth.

The discomfort was apparent.

“Of course,” Esther answered. She reached into her bag and took out a juice box, stuck in the straw and handed it to Michali. “Why don’t you offer this one to your cousin?” she whispered.

“But Ima, I’m thirsty!”

“Don’t worry, honey, I have plenty of juice boxes. It’s a mitzvah to offer other people first. Remember the story of Abraham and the three strangers?”

“Yes, Ima, I remember,” the girl responded, rolling her eyes.

Martin was still swinging Elizabeth, pretending not to overhear. Michali walked around the side of the swing, her younger sister dutifully following. “Would you like something to drink, Elizabeth?” Michali asked.

“Yes,” Elizabeth answered shyly.

Martin slowed the swing so Michali could hand the juice box to Elizabeth.

“Thank you,” Elizabeth said, looking at both girls.

“You’re welcome,” the sisters responded in unison, then ran back to their mother.

“Elizabeth,” Esther called out, “I have cookies too.”

Elizabeth turned to her father, who nodded his approval. She slowly came off the swing and inched over to her cousins and aunt. This time, Esther had Devorah hand her cousin a cookie.

“Thank you,” Elizabeth said.

“Tell me, Elizabeth,” Esther said, “do you play soccer?”

“Yes, my daddy showed me how.”

“I play in a league,” Michali jumped in.

“And so do you, Devorah,” Esther said, trying to goad the younger sister to participate. “Why don’t the three of you go play together?”

The two sisters looked at each other, then at their cousin. “Okay,” Michali said, taking the lead as if she knew it was her job.

The girls ran off with the ball, leaving Esther and Martin sitting on a bench.

“Good job,” Martin said.

“They just needed a push.”

“Elizabeth has really been looking forward to this for a long time.”

“So have the girls. But you know how it is, the reality is always different than the fantasy.”

“I’ll say.”

“Speaking of reality and fantasy, how are yours?”

“Things are good.”

She elbowed him in the side. “Come on, Marty, tell me about her!”

“What makes you think there’s a her?”

“You said there was.”

“That was more than a week ago.”

“Don’t tell me you’re becoming a love ‘em and leave ‘em type!”

“Not quite.”

“Then what’s going on?”

He didn’t want to discuss the topic, especially considering recent developments. Yet he knew he couldn’t get away without telling her something. “What’s going on is that I met someone nice, I’ve seen her a few times, and that’s about it.”

“
That’s about it?
You don’t expect to get away with that, little brother. When was the last time you saw someone more than once? A few times!
For you, that’s going steady.”

“Going steady?”

She elbowed him again. “Don’t make fun of my terminology. So I’m a little behind the times.”

“I just don’t get what’s so important about my social life.”

She looked at him soberly and took his hand. “Look, Marty, for the past two years you’ve been in a daze. I don’t mean to minimize Katherine and Ethan’s deaths, and God knows I can’t imagine what it’s like to have something like that happen. But two years is an awfully long time for someone your age not to meet someone. At times, I’ve thought that you would never again get involved with anyone. I guess I’m just excited for you and I care about you.”

“I know you care.” He squeezed her hand.

“And if you don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to.”

He nodded.

She smiled, then simultaneously, as if in sync, they turned to watch the children playing. “Looks like they’re getting along nicely,” Esther said.

He thought about that for a moment, how easy it would be for the kids to relate to one another at this point in their lives and how difficult it would become for them in the future. They would lead lives as distinctive as his and Esther’s, perhaps more so because Elizabeth had never had any exposure to the religion. And in the end, her cousins wouldn’t even regard her as Jewish. He wondered why he was bothering in the first place, what kind of pain this might one day bring his daughter. And then he reminded himself of the other side of the equation: life is long, full of surprises, and one never knows what it will bring. Hearing Elizabeth’s laughter, watching her rollick with Esther’s children from afar, reassured him that somehow she would find her way, just as he would find his. Only now, he was on a detour unsure where he might end up. He had always been a person of little faith, but now he was wondering more and more if there might be something beyond himself and this moment. Just what that something was, however, he wouldn’t speculate.

“It’s nice to see,” he said.

“We should do this more often.”

“I’d like to.” He turned to her. “The reason I’m being cryptic about this other thing is simply because I don’t understand it. You know how important it is for me to understand things. After all, I’m in the business.”

She nodded. “Maybe you’re trying too hard.”

“You’re probably right. But I can’t help myself, it’s my nature.”

“I wonder what you tell your patients when they say that.”

He smiled. “Point well taken.”

“Why don’t you try relaxing, let it happen and see where it takes you.”

“It’s just that it’s going so fast. I find myself absorbed with this woman, and I hardly even know her. I’m… lost in her.” He was surprised at his honesty. He hadn’t been this forthcoming with Reddy.

“Isn’t that the best part of it though? The trick isn’t to avoid getting infatuated, it’s to sustain the infatuation even after you know the person like the back of your hand.”

“This from a woman who met her husband through a matchmaker!”

“Ah, but that’s exactly the point. You see, I met many men through the matchmaker – all suitable on paper, at least as far as Mamma and Papa were concerned – but I married the one I was infatuated with. Did I know him when I married him? Of course not! And when I did get to know him and, as in all marriages, discovered things about him that annoyed me, what kept me going was that infatuation. If you have that, so intensely and so soon, I think it’s a good thing.”

“Interesting. Surprising though, coming from you.”

“You disappoint me, little brother. You should know better than to pigeonhole me like that.”

He considered her point. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted. So, you want to tell me more about this lady? I’ll bet she’s gorgeous.”

“I think so.”

“And smart, probably very smart.”

“That too.”

“Yet there’s more, something else that’s bothering you.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“With you, Marty, nothing’s obvious.”

He bent over and seemed lost in thought for a moment. She rubbed his shoulder.

“So, what is it?” she asked.

“Nothing, I suppose. I’m probably scared, that’s all.”

“That’s okay, it’s a good sign.”

“I suppose you could look at it that way.”

“You
should
look at it that way.” She got up from the bench and held out her hand. “Now, let’s go play with the kids.”

He pulled himself up and fell in stride beside her. As they walked, he wondered why she let the conversation end so easily. Was it that she knew he was throwing her a line of bull? Of course, it had to have been. She had always been able to read him as no one else could. Well enough to know when not to push. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye as they approached the children, and a smile came to his face.

chapter 34

C
heryl Manning gazed into Martin
Rosen’s eyes, imagining the suspicions he might be having. Her heart was laden with the fear of losing him once he learned the truth.

They had been sitting in the restaurant for over an hour and things seemed fine on the surface. She wanted to be with him again. He was able to get to her in a way that no man ever had. And she was eager to invite him back to her place again to see if whatever had hit him the other night would recur, and perhaps learn what it was.

“So, what’s next on the agenda?” he asked.

“I don’t know.” Coy. “What did you have in mind?”

“Gee,” he responded, “beats me. That’s why I asked you.”

“My apartment?” she asked.

“Exactly what I was hoping you’d say.” He signaled the waiter for a check.

They sat together on the couch in her living room, holding hands, gazing at each other, engaging in the prerequisite rituals to the inevitable. Much of their thoughts remained unspoken.

“I have a confession,” she said.

His eyes opened widely.

“You sure you want to hear it?”

“I want to hear anything you have to say.”

She squeezed his hand tighter. “It’s just that… well, I know we’ve being seeing each other for such a short time, but… I want to tell you that you make me feel special.”

He smiled. “You make
me
feel special.” He hesitated. “You make me feel alive again.”

“I’ve never said that to a man before. I suppose I never met the right person.”

Her last statement sounded a bit cliché to him, and he figured there had to be more to it. A woman of her intelligence and beauty must have had lovers before, and if not, there would be a better reason than the one she had just offered. His reservations gnawed at him even more.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

“No, nothing. I just… think too much, that’s all.”

“I’ve noticed that.”

“You have?”

“Like the other night, as you were leaving, the way you drifted off, it felt strange to me.”

“It was really nothing,” he said, wondering why she was bringing it up again. “I just get spacey now and then.”

“I’ll try and get used to it. If that’s the only strange thing about you, I think we can work it out.” She moved closer to him.

“You know what they say about us shrinks?”

“That you’re all voyeurs?” she said, kissing his neck.

“That wasn’t exactly what I was referring to, but it’ll do.”

He lifted her head to his, brought their lips together, and was once again struck by the same staggering intensity of their first kiss. All he wanted was to have her, then and there, for as long as they could stand it. And whatever doubts that still lingered in his mind he cast aside, as he was powerless in the wake of his need to surrender.

“Tell me about Elizabeth,” she said, sitting up in bed, stroking his hair.

“Now?” he mumbled, his face in the pillow. He turned to her. “Aren’t you exhausted?”

“Yes. But if I go to sleep, you’ll leave.”

He sat up and kissed her gently on the cheek.

“I hate it when you go,” she said.

“So do I.”

“So, tell me about her!”

Martin considered his response. “Well, for starters, she’s the most beautiful creation in the universe. She’s smart, precocious, fun, bratty, spoiled and delicious.”

Cheryl smiled, though inside she felt some jealousy.
Is he describing his daughter, his ex-wife, or both
? “I’d like to meet her,” she said, not fully believing that the words had actually slipped from her tongue.

Martin’s face turned serious. “You think that’s a good idea just yet?”

“It doesn’t have to be tomorrow,” she responded, her tone guarded. “I meant eventually.”

“Why don’t we talk more about it next time we see each other?” he suggested, sounding more like a therapist than a lover.

“Okay,” she said, appearing eager to let the topic drop.

He looked at the clock on the night table, then back at her. He didn’t have to say it; they both knew it was time for him to go.