Death Of A Dream Maker (37 page)

The manager's eyes never left the front of Casey's
yellow dress. “If you ever want a discount on a room...” he
began.

“Thanks, but I have a home,” Casey told him quickly.
“I prefer to bunk there.” She took Auntie Lil by the elbow and
steered her firmly out of the motel. “Too bad that guy wasn't over
sixty,” she muttered.

“Put the pedal to the metal,” Auntie Lil instructed
firmly. “We have twenty minutes to make our meeting with Seth
Rosenbloom and I intend to be on time.”

 The Swan Dive hummed with the noise of a merry
early-evening crowd. Auntie Lil led the way to an empty booth by
the windows and they all packed in to wait for Seth.

“I feel like like an idiot,” T.S. said. “People
walking past are doing double takes. We look like a bunch of very
lost tourists.”

Auntie Lil waved cheerfully at one such passerby.
“Perhaps if you and Herbert held hands, you'd feel more
comfortable,” she suggested.

Herbert's bubbling laughter filled the air, but T.S.
wasn't so sure she was kidding. He dropped the subject.

They were waiting for Seth Rosenbloom and he was
already thirty minutes late. The delay had given them ample
opportunity to exchange information. They were ready to move ahead
with what they knew.

“He is coming, isn't he?” Auntie Lil asked for the
fifth time.

“He said he was,” T.S. answered yet again. “Casey,
why are you ogling the bartender? Surely even
you
must know
that it's hopeless.”

“I was not ogling,” Casey informed him with attempted
dignity.

“Lillian?” Herbert asked. “Are you all right?”

Auntie Lil was staring toward the doorway, her
expression combining disbelief with lingering regret.

“What is it?” T.S. asked.

Seth Rosenbloom was striding across the room toward
their table. He wore a suit and tie. His normally impeccable hair
had been rumpled by the wind and it tumbled over his forehead. He
looked very tired around his eyes.

“Well, here I am,” he announced, placing his
briefcase on the table. “What else do we have to discuss? I thought
we covered pretty much everything last night. I should never have
told you all those things about my family. I don't know what got
into me. Too much to drink, I guess.”

Auntie Lil was still staring at him. “You look just
like him,” she said, her voice full of wonderment.

Seth noticed her for the first time. “You have to be
Miss Hubbert. Uncle Max talked a lot about you last time we met.
You must have been on his mind.” As if knowing that Auntie Lil
would want to look at him, Seth slid into the booth across from her
and smiled.

Casey introduced herself, explaining her role in
Max's life over the months before he died. Seth nodded politely but
did not comment. He looked around the table and noticed Herbert
sitting in the corner. They shared a small, secret smile.

“When did you last talk to Max?” Auntie Lil asked.
“You said he mentioned me?”

“Yes, he did. He was in the mood to reminisce. It was
a few weeks before he died. We had dinner together to celebrate my
getting a job. It's not so easy for a lawyer these days. He was
very proud of me.” Seth ran a hand through his hair. “He was in a
funny mood. Different. Defeated in some way. He looked so lonely
and he looked so old. He had never looked old to me before.” The
young man sighed. “I think that he had finally realized just what a
mess the family was in.”

“It's worse than you think,” T.S. said quietly. “It's
much worse than you think.” As T.S. told him about Jake's
involvement in Max’s death, Seth listened without expression. It
was impossible to tell how he felt.

“It was a mistake,” Seth said after they had
finished. “It must have been a mistake. I don't think that even
Jake could have killed Uncle Max intentionally.”

“Not even to take over the company?” Auntie Lil
asked. “Do you know your brother well enough to be sure?”

Seth shrugged. “Do I know my brother? No, not really.
Jake and Davy came from another world so far as I was concerned.
But I do know Jake well enough to guess that what he meant to do
all along was to kill Davy. They hated each other.” Tears welled up
in his eyes. He waited a moment before he went on. “God, Davy was
impossible. Always borrowing money, getting in trouble, and
charming his way out of it again. But he loved all of us and he had
his ways of letting us know it. He was never like Jake, plotting
for more power, more attention, more whatever. I miss my brother.
And now I feel like I've lost both of my brothers. Forever.” He
wiped his eyes.

“Do you want to find out who killed Davy?” Auntie Lil
asked quietly. “If it was Jake, and I'm not convinced that it was,
I don't think he could have done it alone.”

“Why do you say that?” Seth asked.

“As soon as that bomb went off, I think Davy would
have known that it was meant for him,” Auntie Lil explained. “He
would have suspected your brother of setting him up if what you say
about their relationship is true. I don't think he would have
agreed to meet Jake alone after what happened to Max. Someone else
must have been involved, someone that Davy trusted more than
Jake.”

“You mean someone else in the family,” Seth said
flatly.

“Maybe,” Auntie Lil said. She paused. “Maybe not. We
need your help to find out.”

“How can I help?” Seth asked. “I've spent the last
seven years of my life running away from my family as fast as I
could.”

“I want you to come with me to visit your father,”
Auntie Lil explained. “I think he knows something that he's not
telling me.”

“My father won't let me in the door of the house,”
Seth said.

“That's not true,” Auntie Lil told him. “I visited
him. He asked to see you. I promised I would try to convince you to
come. He said to tell you that all the things he used to get angry
about don't matter to him anymore. All that matters to him is that
he gets to see his son. He misses you very much.” Auntie Lil paused
and took a deep breath. “Seth, your father is dying.”

“My mother won't let him see me,” he said
quietly.

“She won't be there if we go tonight,” Casey broke
in. “She plays cards every Thursday night at some house two blocks
away.”

Seth nodded. “With the Friedmans. That's my mother
for you. Routine counts.”

“Seth,” Auntie Lil said, “I loved your uncle very
much. I can never begin to tell you what Max meant to me. I think
he would want me to find out what happened. But I can't do it
without your help. Your father has said all that he is going to say
to me. But I think he would talk more freely to you.”

“How sick is he?” Seth asked.

“He wasn't on the respirator when I was there,”
Auntie Lil told him. “But he seemed so tired.” She paused. “I'm
sorry, but the truth is that he seemed ready to go.”

Seth stared at the scarred wooden tabletop. His eyes
followed the carved lines of its surface, as if seeking a clear
path in the pattern. He sighed. “What exactly do you want me to
do?” he asked.

Auntie Lil told him.

Once Casey realized that only Auntie Lil would be
accompanying Seth to see his father, she opted for an evening at
home instead. “I need to fumigate this dress,” she explained. “I've
worn it three days in a row. And I also need to take about
thirty-five more Tylenols.”

The lack of Casey's car would not hurt them. Grady
and his limousine could easily accommodate four in the backseat.
The evening rush hour was over and the car sped smoothly along the
Long Island Expressway. They were silent until they passed the
Garden City exit.

“Poor Uncle Max,” Seth said, breaking the silence.
“He would be so ashamed if he knew. He always gave us anything we
wanted. Boarding schools, college tuition, hot cars. You name it.
Davy went through six Porsches by the time he was twenty-five. Yet
all those things didn't matter to Uncle Max. I don't think money
meant very much to him. He drove his old Audi for years.”

Auntie Lil nodded. “It's true. Money never mattered
to Max. It was the idea, the dream, that was important.” She fell
silent, watching the distant lights of the nearby towns as they
sped by. Underneath, in her subconscious, something that Seth had
said percolated. By the time they reached the exit for Abe and
Abby's home, it burst into her consciousness with sudden
clarity.

“The car!” Auntie Lil cried as they swung onto the
exit ramp.

“What car?” T.S. asked drowsily. The smooth ride had
lulled him to sleep.

“The Audi,” Auntie Lil said.

“What about it?” Herbert asked.

“His wife was driving it the day that Max died,”
Auntie Lil explained.

“So what?” T.S. asked. “Her own car was in the
shop.”

“But when we were searching her house, she drove up
in her own car,” Auntie Lil said. “It was a red sports car. I don't
know what kind.”

“Simple. Her car had been repaired by then,” T.S.
said.

“I understand that,” Auntie Lil conceded. “But where
was Max's car?”

“In the garage,” T.S. said.

“No,” Herbert told him. “The garage was empty. I
checked.”

Auntie Lil shook her head, mystified. “Where is Max's
car? And why is it missing?”

The expensive suburb was silent in the heart of the
evening. Every now and then, they passed a window that flickered
with reflected television light. Parents were home from work,
dinners served. Some families, at least, were at peace.

Grady pulled to the curb a quarter of a block from
the Rosenbloom house. Even at that distance, the strangely shaped
shadows of the figurines dotting the lawn were visible.

“I can't believe that the neighbors haven't made them
take those things down,” Seth said. “It used to be a beautiful
lawn, with shrubs and flowers and fruit trees. It started to die
one year. No one could figure out why. And my mother started
putting up those stupid ceramic gnomes. Every time one of us left
the house for college, she would buy another.” He shook his
head.

After that, they waited in weary silence, watching
for Abby to leave.

“There she goes,” Grady said from his vantage point
in the driver's seat. “She's getting in her car and pulling out of
the driveway.”

“Trust Mom not to walk two blocks,” Seth observed.
“She might get mugged.”

Instinctively, all five of them ducked down in the
back seat as Abby drove past.

“The coast is clear,” Grady announced. He had yet to
complain about the long hours, but he wasn't about to sit around
waiting all night.

Auntie Lil and Seth hurried to the front door.
Herbert and T.S. stayed behind in the limousine. If Abby came home
early, Auntie Lil had assured them, they were not to worry. She and
Seth could handle Abby. But if Jake or Sabrina or some unknown
person appeared, they were to enter the house immediately and warn
them.

As Abe had promised, the door was unlocked. The house
was quiet. Seth shook his head at the plastic runner that covered
the rug, then led Auntie Lil silently upstairs.

There was a light on in one of the spare bedrooms.
Auntie Lil stopped to peek inside. Rebecca Rosenbloom lay sleeping
on top of the covers, an open book propped upside down on her
chest. She was dressed in a rose bathrobe. Her breathing was even,
the hooded eye closed to the light. She looked deceptively peaceful
in slumber.

Seth returned to see what was detaining Auntie Lil.
“She's a piece of work,” he whispered when he saw his aunt Rebecca.
“I'm worried that she's here. I hope Dad hasn't gotten worse.”

Abe Rosenbloom lay in bed, pale and still. His eyes
were closed but his hands fluttered slowly in time to the muted
sounds of a classical symphony. A small radio was propped on the
bedside table. His breathing sounded more labored than Auntie Lil
remembered, but at least the respirator still stood against the
wall, silent and unused.

“Dad?” Seth said softly.

Abe opened his eyes instantly. His eyes filled with
tears. He nodded his head and Seth crept closer.

“It's Seth. Miss Hubbert said that you wanted to see
me.” He stood by his father's bed, looking down uncertainly,
startled by Abe's fragility. Had it really been that long since
they had seen one another?

“I'm sorry, Dad,” he said. “I really should have come
sooner. I wanted to. I thought that Mom wouldn't let me in.”

Abe nodded. His emotions required all of his energy
and there was little left for physical movement. He reached out,
groping for his son. Seth stilled his trembling hand and enfolded
it in his own. “I'm right here,” Seth said.

“It's all my fault,” Abe whispered. “I blame it all
on myself.”

“Don't say that,” Seth said. “Sometimes, things just
turn out the way they turn out.”

Abe managed a small headshake. It was brief but
emphatic. “No. I blame it on myself.” He coughed but recovered. He
was determined to have his say. “I grew up hating my brother and
look what happened—I taught my own children to hate.”

“I don't hate you,” Seth said loudly. “I don't hate
anyone.”

“No, I know you don't. You and your sister escaped
it. But my poison spread. Look at your mother and all she has. But
she always wants more. Look at your brothers and how they hate one
another.” He stopped. “Hated one another. Davy's dead.”

“I know.” Seth patted his father’s hand. “I'm sorry.
I should have come to see you. I should have known how you’d
feel.”

Abe sighed. “I don't know what to do anymore. I want
to die, but I can't seem to die.”

“If you're tired, Dad, don't hold on.” Seth's voice
quavered.

“I can't. I have to be here. It may come down to
me.”

“What do you mean?” Seth asked.

“I'm afraid for the family,” Abe told Seth in a
whisper. “I know that someone in the family must have killed Max
and I think I know who killed Davy. There's nothing I can do about
it now. But I don't want this to destroy the whole family, Seth.
Promise me that you won't let it destroy the family.”