Confessions: The Private School Murders (35 page)

The nurse looked at Jacob.

“Just give us a minute,” he said to her. “Please.”

78

I couldn’t breathe.
Sweat poured from my hairline down my temples and pooled in my ears. In my mind, I was back with Dr. Narmond in the CT scan room. I could hear those piercing buzzes that were zapping and burning my memories away.

“Don’t let them,” I wheezed to Jacob.

“This isn’t Fern Haven, Tandy. This is just a hospital. You do have a hard head. We all know that. But if that guy clocked you with enough force—”

“It’s just a headache,” I pleaded. “Give me some Tylenol and let’s get out of here.”

“I’m going to be right here.”

Jacob wheeled over a stool and sat down next to me. When I turned my head, his eyes were on a level with mine.

“I wanted to take care of you and your brothers,” he said, gripping my hand. “We’re the same flesh and blood, Tandy. You and your brothers and Peter and your father and I. We’re family.”

“What?” I asked.

He smiled and touched my forehead, his skin cool against my burning, panicked flesh.

“Jacob, what the hell are you saying?”

Jacob laughed. In fact, he suddenly couldn’t stop laughing.

“Stop it!” I barked. “Stop laughing and talk!”

He almost got the laugh under control, but not quite. He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I’m just so glad you’re okay. You really are a remarkable girl, Tandy.”

“Thanks,” I said. “Now start talking.”

“What I was awkwardly trying to say is that I’m your uncle.”

“No,” I replied. “No, you’re not.”

His eyes glittered with amusement. “Actually, yes. Yes, I am.”

I stared at Jacob, the CT forgotten, my mouth agape.

“How, exactly?” I asked shrilly.

“Your gram Hilda was my mother. I have a different
father than Malcolm and Peter, so they’re my half brothers,” he explained. “That’s the short version.”

I must have blinked two hundred times just trying to process this information. My father had another brother and had never told us? How was that possible? How many other long-lost relatives slash Israeli commandos did we have walking around? “I don’t want the short version. I want the long one. The supersized one. The IMAX, 3-D, cross-your-eyes version.”

“We really should get started,” the nurse said, stepping back into the room.

“Five minutes,” he told her. “We just need five minutes.”

She slipped away quietly, and Jacob told his story.

“When your grandmother was seventeen, just a little older than you are now, she went to a farm commune in what is now Israel, known as a kibbutz. It was quite the vacation for Hilda. She fell in love, got pregnant, and gave birth to a baby boy. A very cute one, if you ask me. Named him Jacob.”

“Cute? Yeah, right. I bet all the other babies were terrified of you.”

Jacob laughed, then continued. “Well, when Hilda had to go back to New York, there was a lot of talking about what to do with the awkward situation known as
me
, but in the end, it was decided that I would stay on the kibbutz with my father, Ezra Perlman, and the rest of my family.

“Hilda left, and a few years later, she married Max Angel, and they had your father and uncle, but she stayed in constant touch with the Israeli branch of the family. And when she died, my story was passed along to my brothers. When your parents died, Peter contacted me, and I made plans to come to New York.”

“You dropped everything and came here for us?” I asked. “Why?”

“Because you’re my family. And that means something to me,” he said. “I had to make sure you were all going to be okay.”

I felt a pang in my heart and tears filled my eyes. Someone who actually cared about family, no matter what? How could this guy share any DNA with my father? “Why didn’t you tell us from the beginning?”

“I should have, Tandy,” he said with a sigh. “But I really didn’t know your father or Peter. And what I did know of them made me think that you kids would probably be… a lot like them. I didn’t think we would get along, and I didn’t know if I’d be staying beyond helping you all get settled in your new lives. I thought it might be easier on all of us if we kept our distance.”

Distance
. Spoken like a true Angel.

“But, Tandy,” Jacob added, “please believe me when I
say that now that I know you guys, I love you all more than I could ever have imagined. You’ve enriched my life.”

My tears spilled over then, and I sucked in a deep, broken breath. “We love you, too.” I laughed and sobbed at the same time. “Oh my God, the boys are gonna freak.”

Jacob smiled and squeezed my hand again, and when the nurse came back in, I realized I felt safe. I stayed perfectly still during the entire scan because I knew that my uncle Jacob was behind a wall, watching me through a window and that he was waiting to take me home.

79

The courtroom was packed tight,
wall to wall, standing room only. Everyone with a connection to the court, anyone with a press pass, anybody with an interest in Matthew Angel or murder trials had lined up early, eager to hear the closing arguments in the case against my brother.

Matty’s family fan club was there, too, and we took up the entire row behind the defense table—me, Hugo, Harry, Jacob, and C.P., plus Virgil. Mrs. Hauser from the eighth floor was stationed behind us next to Paulie, who had finagled a day off so that he could attend.

Across the aisle, behind the prosecution table, sat the Tamara Gee contingent: her family and fans, who believed
she’d been coldly and brutally slashed and stabbed to death by her boyfriend.

Closing arguments were to begin in just a few minutes. Nadine Raphael would tell the jurors why my brother was guilty of killing Tamara Gee and their unborn child, guilty beyond a reasonable doubt. Then Philippe Montaigne would say that Matthew was innocent and that the prosecution hadn’t proved its case.

This was to be the climax of the last two weeks of Matthew’s stomach-churning murder trial, but I was pretty sure it wasn’t going to be the climax that the prosecution was expecting.

At least, I hoped it wasn’t.

The buzz in the courtroom hushed as the judge came in through the back door and ascended to the bench. Normally, at this point in the proceedings, Judge Mudge would review his notes, speak with the bailiff about court business, and make sure all the key parties were present. When administrative court duties were squared away, the bailiff would bring in the jury and court would be convened.

Today was entirely different.

The judge came in. Phil got to his feet, handsome as ever but with a different look in his eye than I’d seen since the trial began. Today he was confident.

“Your Honor,” Phil said. “Permission to approach the bench.”

“Okay, but keep it simple, Counselor. We’ve got a full day ahead of us. Ms. Raphael, please join us.”

Nadine Raphael didn’t look pleased, but I’d only ever seen her happy when she had her foot on Matthew’s throat. She was salivating to put him away—and annoyed that her euphoria was being postponed.

I grasped Harry’s hand as Ms. Raphael and Phil walked over to the bench and Phil began to whisper to the judge. When the judge’s face registered surprise, my heart leapt. Nadine Raphael’s body went rigid. Suddenly, their voices rose as the defense and the prosecution talked over each other. A few snippets were heard clearly by everyone in the crowd.

“This is an act of sheer desperation, Your Honor,” said Ms. Raphael.

Then Phil said something that included the phrase
offer of proof.

I glanced at Hugo. His chin was tipped up as he tried to see the judge’s face, and he looked about to burst out of his suit. There was more back-and-forth between the lawyers and the judge, who finally had enough. His voice carried when he said, “I’ll see counsel and the parties in chambers.”

Then he looked directly at me.

“You, too, young lady. Now.”

80

Judge Mudge’s office was arranged
around a modern desk made of twisting wood and glass. Two ergonomic chairs faced it, and photographic studies of natural objects like leaves and vegetables blown up almost beyond recognition, adorned the walls.