Death Will Help You Leave Him (12 page)

“That’s the Mayor of Central Park,” Barbara said. “He’s in his nineties, and he started running around the track in 1935. What a great old guy.”

“Frankie will never get old,” Luz said. Her eyes and mouth drooped, forming a mask of tragedy.

“Did you ever think about the future?” Barbara asked.

“Barbara, you taught me yourself to take everything one day at a time,” Luz said. “Whenever Frankie said he loved me, I took it as a sign from God that what we were doing was okay. I guess I was wrong.”

“It’s not about right or wrong,” Barbara said. “You did what you did. You feel what you feel.”

“I feel sad,” Luz said. “And angry— angry at Frankie for lying to me and then for dying. Angry at the police, and scared, too.”

“What happened when you saw them again?”

“They took my fingerprints,” she said. “They said they were all over the security bar. Of course they were— I always set it when I’m home alone.”

“Did Frankie set the bar?”

“Sometimes yes, sometimes no. He would never admit he was scared of anything. They found it lying on the floor.”

“Maybe they found signs that someone else handled it after you and Frankie. Not fingerprints, necessarily. Maybe someone with gloves.”

Luz laughed briefly, a sad little sound without humor.

“Nobody wears gloves in East Harlem— not in October when the weather is still beautiful like this.”

“Yeah, he would have looked kind of peculiar,” Barbara said. “And if he had an iron bar in his hand, why did he need a knife? Also, he’d have had to plan in advance, and— well, if he had to use one of your kitchen knives, it sounds like a spur of the moment thing, but if he brought his own— I’m sorry, Luz. I’ll shut up if it upsets you.”

“No, it’s okay,” Luz said. “This must sound crazy, but I like it. I like that you and Jimmy and Bruce keep trying to figure it out. You’re all so sure that you can find the solution.” A smile, tentative but genuine, illuminated her face. “And none of you think that I am guilty.”

“Of course not!” Barbara exclaimed. “If anyone knows how much you adored Frankie, it’s me. Is it okay to tell you now how many times I zipped the lip? I nearly burst not giving you advice, not telling you to leave him.”

“I know,” Luz said. “You made your feelings clear.”

“Oh, hell!” Barbara said. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

“No, no, you did exactly right— you’re a good sponsor, and you didn’t try to tell me what to do,” Luz assured her. “I knew in my heart that I should leave.”

“No shoulds!” Barbara said. “Should is a toxic word; it only makes you feel unnecessary guilt.” She grinned. “But yeah, you should have.”

“Oh, Barbara!” Luz grabbed Barbara’s hand and gave it an impulsive kiss. “You are more than a sponsor, you are a fantastic friend.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Barbara said. “You don’t know how much it means to me. I worry all the time about whether I’m saying the right thing.”

“Everything you say is perfect,” Luz declared.

Barbara gave a shout of laughter.

“I wish you’d tell Jimmy and Bruce that. They love me, but they both know all my defects of character. Anyhow, the past is gone, we can’t fix it. The important thing now is to figure out who did this, so the cops can’t possibly think it might be you.”

“What can we do?” Luz asked. “I mean you and me. You and the boys already do so much. I want to help. It is silly not to, especially as it is all to save me.”

Barbara glanced sideways at her as they jogged past the Guggenheim.

“Well, I did think of something. Will it bother you if I talk about Frankie’s dealing?”

“No, no, Barbara, you have the right. I am so ashamed I lied to you. I didn’t know much, he would get angry— okay, I tell the truth now, he’d get ugly, start criticizing me and yell or even shake and pinch me— if I asked a question. He took me with him a few times to see Ishmael, but he swore it was simply to buy a little marijuana for himself. Ishmael was the big bad wolf, Frankie was only— is it Little Red Hood?”

“Little Red Riding Hood,” Barbara supplied.

“In my heart, I knew,” Luz said. “But I didn’t know, because I didn’t want to know.”

“I understand. Denial is a defense mechanism. You can’t control your unconscious. It was the same for me with Jimmy’s drinking. I didn’t know because knowing would have been unbearable.”

“Right, that is it exactly,” Luz said. “But all the signs were there. They would go in another room, and Frankie always wore this big jacket with lots of pockets on the inside when we went up there.”

“Up there, you mean Ishmael’s apartment?” Barbara asked.

“Yes. He had a nice apartment— leather furniture, pictures on the wall that looked expensive. Velvet drapes.”

“I bet those came in handy.”

“Yes, it was never daylight in Ishmael’s apartment, always night.”

“Do you remember where he lives? How often did you drop in?”

“Oh, you don’t drop in on Ishmael. That would be a very, very bad idea. You have to call.”

“Do you still have the number?”

“Oh, yes. Frankie had a lot of numbers on his cell phone, and the police took that away, but before that we had a Rolodex. I kept using it when he stopped, and it was in with my things, so the police must have thought it was mine. They didn’t take it. Why, Barbara? Do you think of copping some drugs? Ishmael has them all— heroin, crack, cocaine, crystal meth, hashish, whatever you want. I am joking,” she added.

“God, I hope so!” Barbara said. “I’m not an addict, but I’m a counselor. I’m not supposed to use illegal substances. I was always scared of the heavy drugs, anyhow. I don’t like going out of control— big surprise, huh? Though I admit getting stoned was a lot of fun.”

“Yes, the Al-Anons want to know what happens next. We want to be safe.” Luz shivered as if the day had suddenly turned cold. “That is not always possible.”

“You’re right there. We can’t stay safe— stuff we can’t control happens all the time— and we never know what happens next. No, I’ll tell you why I asked. I was thinking— I know this is a lot to ask of you, but we need to know whether Frankie was in trouble with the dealers. The police know, or they can find out. But they won’t tell us.”

They rounded the northwest corner of the track and started on the last leg. Squirrels scurried about their business in the grasses and wildflowers beside the track. A few golden leaves drifted down. Ahead of them, the shadows of the cherry trees striped the path with shade and sunlight.

“If his death was drug-related,” Barbara said, “they’d have to admit it had nothing to do with you. Were you surprised when Frankie decided to go to rehab? And right before, did he seem different than usual? Nervous, watching his back more?”

“The police asked me that,” Luz said. “Not more than usual. Frankie was always— what is that ACOA word?”

“Hypervigilant.”

“Yes, that’s it. Frankie always acted as if trouble might come out of nowhere any time. When we ate in a restaurant, he always had to sit with his back against the wall.”

“For a drug dealer,” Barbara said, “I can see how hypervigilance would be a survival skill.”

“And about the rehab— yes, I was surprised. One day, all of a sudden, he wants to go to this place for twenty-eight days and recover. Before, he would never consider it. What are you thinking, Barbara? Do you have some plan?”

“I do,” Barbara said. “You can say no if you’re not comfortable— I really mean that, because maybe it’s a crazy idea. But— the police won’t tell us if anyone from the drug world had it in for Frankie, but I bet Ishmael knows. And you know Ishmael. How would you feel about calling him— didn’t he say something at the funeral about getting together?— and asking if you could see him and talk about Frankie?”

“Barbara, I don’t know about this. I don’t think he meant that pleasantly, about seeing me soon. When he said, ‘I know where you live,’ my stomach did like this.” She held her hand out and made a fist.

“I’d go with you, of course,” Barbara said. “If there are two of us, he wouldn’t do anything— would he?”

“Probably not,” Luz said. “And the neighborhood is okay, especially if we go in the daytime. It’s uptown, on the West Side, between Harlem and what they call Inwood. Do you really think we’d learn anything?”

“Ishmael struck me as the kind of guy you don’t hint around with. We’d ask. The worst he can do is not tell us.”

“Or lie to us,” Luz said.

“Good point.”

“If you think it is important, I will do it,” Luz said. “We will protect each other.”

“I can bring my can of pepper spray,” Barbara offered.

Luz giggled.

“Maybe not, Barbara. That would make him angry.”

“Yeah, I guess we really don’t want to make Ishmael angry. Even the little I saw of him, he is one scary dude. But we don’t want to leave a single stone unturned. And we’re the only ones who can turn this one, so let’s do it. Let’s give ourselves points for bravery— courage is a character asset, anyhow.”

“You’ll be with me when I make the call?”

“Holding your hand if you want,” Barbara assured her.

“Oh! I just thought of something else,” Luz said. “He won’t talk to us unless we smoke with him.”

“Pot, you mean?”

“Oh, yes, he always has marijuana. That is the ritual, first you have the joint, only then you can talk business. If we refuse, he might get angry, but he will certainly tell us to go away.”

“I don’t mind. In fact,” Barbara confessed, “I’ll look forward to it. I told you getting stoned was fun for me. Of course I stopped when Jimmy got clean and sober. And then I became a counselor, and who are you going to do dope with? I wouldn’t get high with an addict, that really would be wrong.”

“Oh, yes, you said, your counselor ethics. This whole thing would not be breaking them?”

“We-e-ell,” Barbara said. “I think in this case, clearing you of murder trumps a bunch of rules. It’s in a good cause, and it’s only just this once. You have to swear you’ll never, never, never tell anyone I did it.”

“Not even Jimmy and Bruce?”

“Especially not Jimmy or Bruce,” said Barbara. “They would kill me.”

Barbara took a deep breath and let it out slowly as the door closed on her cheerful, lying goodbye to Jimmy and Bruce. They planned to dine on leftover Chinese food heated in the microwave and attend an AA anniversary meeting. She had allowed them to believe that she and Luz would spend the evening at Al-Anon. Lying to Jimmy made her feel miserable. He was so sunny-tempered and goofy, and he trusted her so much. As the elevator made its creaky ascent to pick her up, the apartment door opened again. Her heart thumped as Jimmy’s head appeared in the doorway.

“Did you know,” he asked, “that Frederick the Great called Empress Maria Theresa the only
mensch
in Austria?”

“No, Jimmy,” she said, “but thanks for letting me know.” How could you lie to a guy like that? “Here’s my elevator. Have fun at the meeting!”

At the Starbucks on the corner, she found Luz sipping espresso. Barbara slid into a chair and leaned her elbows on the small round table.

“Did you call him? What did you tell him? Did he say we could come?”

“I told him I’d hardly slept since Frankie died— that part is true— and that I needed something to help me relax. And I said my friend’s boyfriend is in recovery so she can’t let him know she still likes to get high.”

“Oh, God, Luz,” Barbara said, “what are we doing? You set us up so well that he’ll expect us to buy. Oy veyzmir. The part about not being able to take anything home is totally true.”

“I can’t take it home, either,” Luz said. “Thank heaven Frankie tried so hard to hide the drugging from me that he didn’t leave a stash in my apartment. The police went over every inch of it. They were worse than Tia Wanda on a cleaning mission. They took down the crime scene tape, but how do I know they won’t ask to take another look?”

“Only they won’t ask,” Barbara said, “they’ll come with a search warrant. I agree, you don’t want them to find a baggie full of marijuana.”

“Besides, then we’d have to smoke it. That does not seem like such a good idea to me.”

“You’re right,” Barbara said. “I know it’s tempting to bypass the feelings, but in counseling we say the only way out is through. You need to mourn.”

“Believe me, Barbara, I am mourning.” Luz’s eyes filled with tears.

“I know, baby, I know.” Barbara reached out a soothing hand and started rubbing circles between her shoulder blades. “This is very hard for you. This too shall pass, but in the meantime, it sucks.”

Luz smiled through a watery sniffle.

“I bet they don’t teach you to say that in counselor school. But it is a true word.”

“So what do we do, buy half an ounce and throw it away on the way home? I brought cash just in case we couldn’t get out of it.”

“Oh, no,” Luz exclaimed. “We can’t throw away money like that.”

“It does go against the grain,” Barbara said. “Maybe we’d better find a way to tell him what we really want. Say we’ll pay him to answer a few questions about Frankie, whatever he would have charged us for the dope. An ounce, maybe— we can’t be stingy, he’ll know how much we need the information, and it’s not as if we’re going to smoke it.”

“But when we first go in,” Luz said, “that is different. He offers it, it’s free, but it’s— what would you call it?”

“A ritual,” Barbara said.

“Yes, to be courteous. He would be offended if we said no.”

“Like a peace pipe,” Barbara said. “I just hope I can keep my mind on what we came for once I get stoned. It never took much in the old days. Jimmy used to laugh at me. Two or three hits, and I’d be on the floor clinging to his ankles and saying, ‘Save me, save me!’ ”

“I don’t think you’d better do that with Ishmael,” Luz said.

“I’ll try not to,” Barbara said. “So I guess we both get to take a time out— me from my counselor ethics, and you from your sorrow.”

“You know what, Barbara?”

“What?”

“We will probably enjoy this.” She caught Barbara’s eye, and they both giggled.

*

Barbara looked curiously around Ishmael’s apartment, trying to decide whether it was what she had expected. The heavy velvet drapes that must make it seem like night even on the brightest day, yes. The thick Persian or Turkish carpet, maybe. The art on the walls, only because Luz had told her beforehand. It included a DeKooning, a Botero, and what couldn’t possibly be a Cézanne as well as two extremely well done Haitian scenes and several magnificent West African masks. The collection of teddy bears, definitely not.