The Big Nap (23 page)

Mindy shrugged her shoulders and turned away. She
walked a few steps and then turned back. “We need to talk,” she said.

I felt my stomach tie itself in a knot. Was this true confessions time? Was she about to tell me that she and Peter were desperately in love? Mindy took my arm and led me a few steps toward an empty corner of the sound stage. I rolled the stroller along.

“Listen, Mindy, I can’t do this now. I have my kids with me. We can’t have this conversation in front of my children.”

“I think we can.”

“Well, you’re not their mother. I am.”

“I
know
that, for goodness’ sake. Look, Juliet, I’m not an idiot. I know what you think is going on.”

“Oh, you do, do you?”

“Yes, I do. And it isn’t. Nothing is going on. We work together, that’s it.”

“Well, pardon me for thinking that you guys are just a little more intimate than that. I’ve worked with plenty of people and never been so, how shall I put it? Close.”

“But you’ve never produced a TV series. It’s a totally different level of stress and time commitment. Peter and I are forced to spend fifteen hours a day together.”

“Neither of you seems to be objecting.”

“Because we
like
each other. Because we’re friends. Don’t you know how much Peter would rather be with you?”

“Look, Mindy, I don’t know what you’re after here. But I don’t have time for this. I have something really important I need to do. And I can’t do it with my kids. I need to find Peter and get the hell out of here.”

“I said you should leave them with me.”

“No.”

“Juliet. I’m gay.”

I stared at her. “What?”

“I’m gay. I’m a lesbian. You see that woman?” She pointed toward a tall athletic woman with close-cropped blond hair bent over one of the cameras. “That’s my girlfriend. I’m not having an affair with your husband. I’m having an affair with
her.
”

My mouth dropped open. I didn’t know what to say. “God. I
am
an idiot, aren’t I? I am so sorry, Mindy. I don’t even know how to begin to say how sorry I am.”

“You’re not an idiot. You’re a new mother married to an incredibly sexy man who hasn’t been able to spend much time at home lately. You’re normal. You were just wrong.”

“That’s for sure. Why didn’t my lunatic husband
tell
me this?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he figured it was my business. Or maybe it just never occurred to him that you would be jealous. Maybe he loves you so much he can’t even imagine that you’d ever think he’d cheat on you.”

Suddenly I remembered where I needed to be.

“Mindy, can you really watch the kids for me? Just until Peter gets back.”

“Sure. I’d love to,” she said and smiled.

“Terrific.” I turned to Ruby and crouched down next to her. “Hey, kiddo, are you all right?”

“Yup,” she announced. “I was just surprised by the dead guy. It’s okay. It’s just a show. Like a comic book.”

“Right. It’s not real. Listen, Ruby, Mama needs to go somewhere real quick. You’re going to stay here with Mindy. It’ll be so fun!”

Ruby looked unconvinced.

Mindy leaned over and said, “How’d you like to go to the makeup room and have your face painted?”

Ruby nodded.

“Okay, honey. That’s a great idea. Daddy will be here in a few minutes.” I handed Mindy Isaac’s diaper bag. “Thanks, Mindy. This is terrific of you. Just tell Peter I’ll be home as soon as I can. And I’m sorry. Really.”

She waved me away with a smile and walked away with the stroller. I watched them for a second, and then tore off the sound stage and leaped into my car. As I careened down Melrose Avenue, I dug in my purse for Detective Black’s card. I found it and dialed the number. Voice mail. Of course. I left a message and my cell-phone number as I pulled up in front of the Finkelsteins’ house.

Yossi had arrived before me and was waiting on the corner. He stood nervously, his hands shoved into his pockets. I parked my car in a commercial loading zone and together we walked toward the house. The two little boys were in their seemingly permanent position on the porch and Nettie sat on the steps, watching them. She was wearing a dark dress and a pair of fabric slippers. Her face was blotchy and pale but she smiled wanly when she saw me. The smile dried up when she saw Yossi. I marched up the steps. At my approach, the boys ran inside.

“Nettie, this is Yossi, Fraydle’s boyfriend,” I said.

Nettie paled and muttered something in Yiddish.

Yossi, who’d followed me, shook his head vehemently and replied in the same language.

“You speak Yiddish?” I asked him.

“My grandmother taught me,” he said.

“What did Nettie say to you?”

“She says maybe I killed Fraydle. But I told her that is not true. I told her I loved Fraydle. I wanted to marry Fraydle. I would never have killed her.”

Nettie turned to me. “What do you want? Why did you
bring him here?”

“Nettie, we’re going to talk to Fraydle’s parents. We’re going to get to the bottom of this.”

She shook her head.

“Nettie. Please,” I said softly. She looked at me silently for a few moments, and then shrugged her shoulders. “She is dead. What else matters?”

“Finding out who killed her matters.”

“That might be true. But it might also be a terrible thing to find out.”

“Maybe. But don’t you think we owe it to Fraydle to find out who did this to her?”

Nettie shrugged her shoulders again and stood up with a soft groan.

“Come,” she said, leading the way into the house.

F
RAYDLE
’
S
parents’ home was full of people. The men were in the living room, standing around in small groups, most of them holding plates heaped with food. A tall candle burned on the hall table. Through the open door to the kitchen I could see the women in their accustomed place. The soft buzz of conversation stopped entirely as Yossi and I walked inside. As we entered the room I noticed a large, dark cloth covering what I assumed was a mirror over the mantel. Jewish law requires that during the seven-day period of mourning all mirrors in the house must be covered. The furniture had been moved out of the living room. Fraydle’s father and the older boys sat on low chairs pushed up against the walls. Their vests and shirts were torn to signify their mourning.

As I walked in the room, Fraydle’s father lifted a hand and waved me over. I walked over to him and stood quietly,
waiting for him to speak. He wept openly, as did Fraydle’s brothers.

“Thank you for coming,” he said.

“I am so terribly sorry for your loss, Rabbi Finkelstein.”

“My sister tells me that I have misjudged you, Mrs. Applebaum. She says that you have tried very hard to find out what happened to my daughter.” A fresh stream of tears streaked down his reddened cheeks.

I didn’t know what to say. “I just wanted to help, Rabbi. I didn’t know your daughter very well, but she was a lovely girl.”

At that moment, Sima came in from the kitchen. She was also weeping. She held Sarah firmly by the hand. The girl had an expression of complete panic on her face and she sank into a low chair. I followed her gaze to Yossi, who stood, head bowed, behind me.

“Rabbi, there is something I’d like to talk to you and your wife about. In private.”

The rabbi looked, for a moment, as though he was going to say no. Then, with a wave of his hand, he motioned to the crowd of men and said something in Yiddish. Within two minutes the house was empty of everyone except Fraydle’s family, Yossi, and me.

As the men left the house, followed by their wives, mothers, and daughters, I watched Sarah’s face grow paler and paler. The only sound that came from her was the rasping of her breath.

“Rabbi Finkelstein, Mrs. Finkelstein, this is Yossi Zinger. He was a friend of Fraydle’s. And of Sarah’s,” I said.

The rabbi looked confused. “What are you talking about? A friend?” He turned to Yossi. “Who are you? How do you know my daughters?”

Yossi stepped forward and said, in a far firmer voice
than I imagined he would be able to muster, “I was Fraydle’s boyfriend, Rabbi. I wanted to marry her.”

“Boyfriend? Boyfriend?” Sima interrupted. “What do you mean? My daughter was engaged to marry Ari Hirsch. She had no boyfriend.” Sima looked at Sarah’s stricken face. “Sarahleh, what is this man talking about? Do you know him? Did Fraydle know him? What is happening here?”

Sarah jumped to her feet and in a quavering voice began to talk. “It’s not my fault. Fraydle went with him. She went to his house. She told me she was with him. She was proud of it!”

“What are you saying?” her father roared. He turned to me. “Is this true?”

I nodded.

“And did he kill her? Did you kill my daughter?” His shout made the walls of the house shake.

“No! I did not kill her,” Yossi said. “I loved her. I wanted to marry her.”

“But she didn’t want you!” Sarah wailed. “She said she was going to marry Ari. That
Abba
and
Ema
wanted her to. That’s why I went to you! Because she didn’t want you anymore, so I could have you!”

Sarah’s parents fell silent. Her brothers looked as if they were melting into the chairs on which they sat.

“Papa. It wasn’t on purpose. She said she was going to marry Ari. So that meant I could have Yossi.”

“But then she changed her mind,” I interjected softly.

Sarah nodded. “It wasn’t my fault. I wasn’t going to tell her that Yossi was mine until she was married. But then she changed her mind. She decided not to marry Ari; she decided she loved Yossi. So she went back to Yossi. And when she was there she saw my sweater and found out
about us. She was so angry. She didn’t understand that it wasn’t my fault. I only did it because she decided to marry Ari Hirsch. I went to Yossi because she didn’t want him anymore. It was my turn. She was supposed to marry Ari Hirsch and that meant I could have Yossi.”

“Sarah,” I said, “What happened?”

“It wasn’t on purpose,” the girl repeated. “She found out about Yossi and me. And then he didn’t want me anymore. I was so angry. I just slapped her, not hard or anything. But she slipped. She just slipped and fell down the stairs. It was so loud. Such a loud crash. I ran down after her, but it was . . .” Sarah paused and waved her hands in the air, as if she were pushing something away. “It was so messy. Her head was wet and bloody. Her neck was all crooked.”

“Did you put her in the freezer?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I had to put her away. It was so messy.” Sarah’s voice was affectless and flat. “She fit in there just right. Once I had her in I just plugged the freezer in. So she wouldn’t get spoiled.”

At that her parents, who had been staring silently, erupted in loud, anguished sobs. Nettie stood against the wall, her hand clamped over her mouth, her eyes wide with horror. Yossi crumpled onto the floor, kneeling with his head bowed and his eyes streaming.

I remembered the broken saucer hidden away in a pocket. At the time, I thought that Sarah had so carefully hidden her misdeed because she was afraid of her parents. I assumed that Sima or the rabbi had terrorized her into feeling that she couldn’t make a mistake. But now I realized that, like some of the sociopaths whom I’d represented, this deeply disturbed girl was simply unable to
respond in anything resembling a normal manner. She hid her broken saucer. She hid her broken sister.

“No,” Fraydle’s father said suddenly, shaking his head. “This did not happen. Some stranger did this. You!” He pointed at Yossi. “You did this! Not my daughter. No.”

Yossi shook his head wordlessly, tears spilling out of his eyes and down his cheeks.

“Rabbi,” I said, “the police will figure it out. They’ll find evidence, maybe Sarah’s fingerprints or something else. You must get a lawyer right now and go to the police. She’s a minor; she’s clearly disturbed. The lawyer will be able to help you figure out a strategy.”

“No!” he shouted again.

“Rabbi, they will never believe that a stranger did this.”

“So I will tell them it was me! It was me.” He wasn’t shouting any longer, but his voice was loud.

“No, Baruch,” Sima whispered, through her tears. Her voice grew firmer. “You will not do this. You will not take responsibility for this. We will do what Mrs. Applebaum says. We will find a lawyer to help Sarah.”

“But—” he began.

“No,” she said.

I
left Fraydle’s family with the lawyer, a Hasid, who had come as soon as the rabbi called. They didn’t need me anymore. I left quietly. I stood for a moment on the front steps of the house, looking out at the street where the Finkelsteins’ community had gathered. A few men looked at me, and I lowered my eyes. I felt a hand on my arm and turned to find Nettie. She reached an arm around my shoulders and whispered, “Thank you.”

“Thank you? For what?” Ruining her life and the lives of her family even more than they’d been ruined before? After all, what good had I done? I hadn’t saved Fraydle; she was gone. And because of me their other daughter was lost to them forever.

“Oh, Nettie, you were right. The truth is a terrible thing. I’m so sorry for what I did,” I said.

“For what
you
did? You did nothing wrong. What, you
think you had something to do with this? Don’t be silly.” She squeezed my shoulder.

“If I hadn’t gotten involved, you might never have found out about Sarah.”

“Juliet, with or without you, our darling Fraydle,
aleha ha shalom
, would still be dead. With or without you, we would have found her body. And then, with or without you, Sarah’s guilt would have come out. The only thing you did was spare us months of uncertainty.”

I nodded, embarrassed at my own self-centeredness. Was I really looking to
her
to comfort
me
?

“If you need anything, call me, okay?” I said.

She patted me on the arm. I put my arms around her and we hugged for a moment. I kissed her on the cheek and walked down the steps and through the crowd, which parted for me as if I were Moses and they the Red Sea.