I Am God (22 page)

As another woman, Carmen knew Vivien would
understand
what she was talking about. Indeed, the detective seemed satisfied with what she’d said and changed the subject.

‘Can you confirm that your husband had a tattoo on his right shoulder?’

‘Yes. It was a pirate flag. You know, with the skull and crossbones. There were words underneath it, but I can’t for the moment remember what they were.’

‘
The
only
flag
,
maybe?’

‘That’s it. It was the symbol of those weird biker friends of his. We used to live in Coney Island and Mitch—’

‘Yes, we know about the Skullbusters,’ Vivien interrupted her, gently but firmly.

Carmen remembered that she had reported her husband missing to the 70th Precinct. She wondered what could have happened for the police to come here from a precinct in Manhattan.

‘Did your husband have any broken bones?’ the detective continued, in the same professional tone, forceful but at the same time reassuring.

‘Yes. He fell off his bike once. Broke his humerus and tibia, I seem to remember. That was how we met. He was admitted to the hospital where I worked. When he was discharged, he made me write my phone number on the plaster. We spoke often on the phone and when he came back to take off the armour, as he called it, he asked me out.’

‘One last thing. Where was your husband working when he disappeared?’

Carmen made an effort to call up long-buried memories. ‘His company was renovating a building in Manhattan, around Third Avenue, I think.’

Vivien was silent for a moment, as if searching for the right words. There are words people say, it occurred to Carmen, which are like mathematical equations. However you change the order of the words, the result remains the same. What Vivien said next confirmed that fleeting thought.

‘Mrs Sparrow, I’m afraid I have some bad news for you. We’ve found a body hidden in a cavity wall of a building on the corner of 23rd Street and Third Avenue. In the light of
what you’ve just told us, we have reason to believe that it’s your husband.’

Carmen felt something come and go simultaneously, like a long-awaited wave that only makes the boat sway before sinking back into the open sea. In spite of what she’d said earlier, after so much time spent speculating, now that there was certainty tears started to run down her cheeks. She bowed her head and hid her face in her hands. When she looked up again, straight at Vivien, Carmen had the feeling they would be her last tears.

‘I’m sorry.’

She got up and went into the kitchen. When she came back she had a pack of paper handkerchiefs in her hand. As she sat down, she asked the question that had suddenly occurred to her.

‘Do you have any idea who …’

Vivien shook her head. ‘I’m afraid not. That’s why we’re here, to see if we can get a clearer idea. Even identification is very difficult after all this time. We’ll only know for sure after the DNA tests.’

‘I have his pony tail.’

‘I’m sorry?’

Carmen got up from the armchair. ‘I won’t be a minute.’

She walked across the room and out into the corridor, where there was a door beneath the stairs. She knew where what she was looking for was kept. She remembered everything to do with her only husband.

Her only man.

And there it was, when she opened the door, a trunk full of things low in price but big in value. She snapped open the lock and lifted the lid. What she was looking for was on top of
everything
else, wrapped in a light cloth. She took out the package,
removed the cloth, and looked at the object for a moment. There was a bitter taste in her mouth, the taste of the tenderness this strange relic aroused in her. She also took out an old
photograph
, from around the period when Mitch had disappeared.

Then she went back to the living room and showed her two visitors what she had brought with her. It was a dark wooden frame inside which, lying on a green cloth under glass, was a braid of fair hair.

Carmen smiled at the memory.

‘When Mitch started work,’ she said, speaking with the same clarity with which she was reliving the episode, ‘he cut his hair, which he used to wear in a pony tail. Before he did that, I gathered it into a braid and had it framed as a souvenir. You can take this. If you can find any of the bulbs, you can get DNA from hair.’ Then she handed Vivien the photograph. ‘And this is a photograph of my husband. One of the last.’

Carmen saw a hint of self-satisfaction on Vivien’s face. She had noticed that, all this time, the man had remained silent, looking at her intensely with those dark eyes that seemed to dig deep inside her. She had told herself that, of the two, the woman was the one who called the shots.

Vivien took the photograph and placed it beside her on the couch. ‘A couple more things, if you don’t mind.’

She took an object from the inside pocket of her jacket. She held it out and Carmen saw that it was a document holder.

‘Did this belong to your husband?’

Carmen took it in her hands and examined it carefully. ‘No, I really don’t think so. It isn’t his style. He only had things with the Harley brand name on them.’

‘Have you ever seen this person?’

Carmen looked at the photograph Vivien handed her, a
photograph of a dark-haired young man and a big black cat posing for the camera.

‘No, never.’

As Vivien put the objects back in her pocket, Carmen had the impression that what she had just said had disappointed the detective but not surprised her.

‘As far as you know, did anything strange, anything out of the ordinary ever happen in your husband’s work? Anything he may have told you about, maybe not thinking it was that important.’ She gave Carmen time to think, then said to encourage her, ‘For obvious reasons I can’t tell you anything, but I want you to know that it’s extremely important.’

There was a hint of sadness in her tone, which conveyed a sense of anxiety to Carmen.

She thought it over for a while, then made a resigned gesture with her hands. ‘No. Mitch may have been wild in the past, but we led a quiet life. Every now and again he saw his old friends, the Skullbusters I mean, but apart from a couple of nights when he came back home with a few too many beers under his belt, he was a hard worker, always did what he was told. At home he didn’t talk much about his work. He played with Nick all the time.’

Vivien was about to reply when they were interrupted by the noise of a key in the lock and the front door opening. They stopped talking and listened to footsteps in the corridor that seemed more eloquent than words. Carmen’s daughter appeared in the doorway of the living room.

She had short hair made spiky with gel, heavily made-up eyes, purple lipstick and black half-gloves on her hands. Her jeans seemed a couple of sizes too big for her and she had on a short T-shirt that left her pierced navel exposed.

She didn’t seem surprised to find her mother in the
com
pany
of two strangers. She looked smugly at the strangers, then at her mother.

‘You didn’t have to call the cops. You know I always come back.’

‘They aren’t—’

‘They have cop written all over their faces,’ the girl said, more bored than upset, and looking away as she put her key in her bag. ‘You think I was born yesterday?’ Then she looked at her mother again. ‘Anyway, the bad girl’s come home again, so your two bloodhounds can go back where they came from. And tell them if they don’t have a search warrant, they can’t take anything from this house, not even a tablecloth.’

Carmen saw a shadow descend over Vivien’s eyes. As if she already knew this situation, as if she had already lived through it before.

‘We aren’t here for you,’ Vivien said to Allison, forcing herself to be patient. ‘We’re here because we had some news for your mother.’

But Allison had already turned her back on them, as if the conversation didn’t interest her. She disappeared round the corner, leaving only the sound of her voice.

‘Who the hell cares?’ she said, as she climbed the stairs to her room. Before too long, cutting through their silence and embarrassment, the noise of a door being slammed came from upstairs.

Carmen didn’t know what to say. It was Vivien who spoke first. The scene she had just witnessed seemed to inspire a new familiarity in her.

‘Carmen, can I go up and say a few words to your daughter?’

Carmen was startled for a moment. ‘Yes, I suppose so.’

‘I’m afraid they may be rather rough words,’ Vivien added.

‘I see. Well, I don’t think they’ll do her any harm.’

Vivien stood up.

Carmen gave her a small, knowing smile. ‘First room on the right, at the top of the stairs.’

Vivien disappeared behind a corner, knowing that what she was about to say was something it was right to say to that person at that moment.

The man who had introduced himself as Russell assumed an expression of slightly forced irony. Up until now he had remained silent but when he spoke, his voice was exactly as Carmen had expected it to be.

‘Vivien is a very determined woman.’

‘So I see.’

‘And also very direct, when she wants to be.’

With a touch of self-satisfaction, Carmen agreed. ‘I’m sure she is.’

They sat there in silence until Vivien returned. She had not been gone for long. Calmly, she sat down again on the couch.

‘It’s done. She’ll have slightly red cheeks for the next few hours, but she ought to have understood the way things are.’

She took out her business card and placed it on top of the Sudoku magazine. Carmen saw her pick up the felt-tip that was next to it and write something on the back. Then she leaned towards her and held out the card.

‘This is my number. On the back is my cell number. If you remember anything connected with your husband, or have any more problems with your daughter, call me.’

Vivien took the frame and stood up, and Russell immediately did the same, a sign that their visit was over. Carmen walked them to the door. As they were about to leave, she placed a hand on Vivien’s arm.

‘Vivien.’

‘Yes?’

‘Thank you. It’s something I should have done myself a long time ago, but thanks all the same.’

Vivien smiled and shrugged, downplaying what had happened. But at the same time there was a tiny gleam in her eyes. ‘Don’t mention it. Goodbye, Carmen.’

Carmen waited until they were at the foot of the steps and then closed the door. She walked back to the living room, thinking over the whole story.

Mitch
,
damn
you
,
for
however
long
it
lasted
I
hope
I
made
you
realize
how
much
I
loved
you
…

She knew that the difficult part would come that night, when she had turned out the lights and found herself alone with her ghosts. For the moment she decided to switch on the TV and ask the world to keep her company.

When the screen lit up, there was a news item about Saturday’s explosion on 10th Street in Manhattan. The images of destruction reminded her of something. She leaped to her feet, ran to the door and opened it. Russell and Vivien were still outside on the sidewalk opposite, standing by a car, as if they had stopped to discuss the outcome of the visit.

She waved at them to attract their attention, and called out, ‘Vivien!’

The detective and her partner turned their heads in her direction.

‘What is it, Carmen?’

‘I just remembered something. It was a long time ago, and my memory—’

An excitable Vivien interrupted her with a touch of impatience in her voice. ‘Go on.’

Carmen was embarrassed. For the first time in her life she
was playing a role in a police investigation, and she was afraid of looking foolish or saying something they would think was stupid.

‘I don’t know if this is important at all, but I just remembered that a long time ago the company Mitch worked for, Newborn Brothers, renovated a house on North Shore, Long Island. The house of an ex-soldier, I seem to remember. A major or a colonel, something like that.’

Vivien pressed her. ‘And?’

Carmen paused again, then at last came out with what she had to say. ‘About a year after the end of the work, the house blew up.’

Even though it was dusk and the light was dimming, Carmen saw, as clear as if it was day, the young detective’s face turn pale.

Through the car window Russell and Vivien saw Carmen Montesa slowly close the house door, a lonely desolate figure trying in vain to keep outside the door something that would surely get in through the window. At night and with teeth bared. A moment later Vivien had already picked up the car phone and was punching in the captain’s number. Sitting beside her, Russell counted three rings before the answer came.

‘Bellew.’

Vivien came straight to the point. ‘Alan, we have something.’

The question that followed took Vivien by surprise. ‘Is Wade there with you?’

Vivien instinctively turned to look at Russell. ‘Sure.’

‘Can you put me on speakerphone?’

‘Sure.’

‘Good. Both of you need to hear what I have to say.’

Vivien was bewildered. She found this procedure highly unusual. Though of course this whole business was unusual. Even crazy. Then she told herself that, in line with the promise he had made, the captain must have decided to include Russell in their conversations. Or maybe he had something to say that particularly concerned him. Vivien pressed a button.

‘You’re on.’

The captain’s voice came through the car speakers, loud and clear. ‘Tell me what you have first.’

Vivien updated the captain on their progress. ‘I’m almost sure the guy in the wall is this Mitch Sparrow I told you about. I may even have something that can be used as the basis for a DNA test. But we have to move quickly.’

‘Let me have what you’ve got, and consider it done. Anything else?’

Russell was fascinated by the laconic but clear way the two police officers communicated. They spoke the same language, which they’d learned by experience.

‘Years ago,’ Vivien continued, excited, ‘Sparrow worked for a small construction company called Newborn Brothers. His wife just told me. They did renovation work on a house at North Shore, Long Island. And listen to this: apparently the house belonged to an ex-soldier and one year after the end of the work it blew up. According to the experts it wasn’t an accident, but a bomb. What do you think?’

‘I think you found yourself a good lead.’

Vivien continued, certain that her chief was taking notes at the other end. ‘We have to check out Newborn Brothers and the company that did the building on the Lower East Side, and look through the personnel records, if they still exist. See if there was anyone who worked on both buildings. And find out the names of the heads of the company.’

‘I’ll get the men on it straight away.’

The captain changed tone. Now it was his turn to update them.

‘I’ve been moving in the meantime. I had a talk with Commissioner Willard. A private talk, if you know what I mean.’

‘Perfectly.’

‘When I showed him the letter, he almost jumped out of his chair. But, as I expected, he distanced himself and started to stall. He said he thought it was a pretty slim lead, though of course we can’t rule out anything. He wants to have the letter examined by a criminologist or a psychologist, but someone outside the police or the FBI. Someone who’ll keep it
hush-hush
, obviously. He’s looking at a list of names. He agreed that for the moment we should proceed with caution, keeping it strictly between ourselves, as agreed. It’s a tricky situation for everyone. People have died. Others may be in danger. As far as we’re concerned, we may end up praised to the skies, or we may be out on our ears. I’m talking about us, Vivien.’

Russell had the impression that Vivien had expected these words. Her only reaction was to say, ‘Received.’

‘Wade, can you hear me?’

Russell instinctively moved his head into the area he supposed the microphone to be. ‘Yes, captain.’

‘I didn’t tell the commissioner about our arrangement. If anything gets out before this thing is over, your life will be worse than your worst nightmares. Do I make myself clear?’

‘Very clear, captain.’

This meant that from now on their lives were inextricably linked, for better or worse. When Vivien next spoke, it was in a calm, detached voice. Russell admired her self-control, something he himself was quite lacking in.

‘Good. We’ve established that. Any other news?’

The captain’s tone retuned to being the professional tone of a police officer examining the elements of an investigation. The emotional break was over. They were getting back to work.

‘The good news is that, if we need it, we have the whole of the NYPD at our disposal. And the power to drag anyone
from their beds at any time of the night, starting with the commissioner.’

There was a noise of papers being leafed through.

‘I have here in front of me the results of the first tests. The experts think they’ve identified the kind of primer used. It’s a simple but very ingenious device, which emits a series of radio impulses at different frequencies and in a specific sequence. Given all the radio waves in this city, this stops the mines from exploding at a chance signal.’

Russell had a question that had been nagging at him since this crazy story had started. He again intervened in the conversation.

‘The building that blew up was built some years ago. How come the bombs were still working after all this time?’

That question was one that the captain must also have asked himself, because he let out a sigh before answering. In spite of his experience, it was a small mark of his incredulity at the genius of madness.

‘No batteries. The son of a bitch connected the primer to the building’s current. It may be that in the course of years some deteriorated and are no longer active, but God knows how many places the man put that shit.’

There was a strange sound, and for a moment Russell was afraid that they had been cut off. Then Bellew’s voice again spread through the car.

‘You’re doing great work, guys. I wanted to tell you that. Great work.’

Vivien took over again and ended the conversation. ‘I’ll wait to hear from you, then. Call me as soon as you have anything.’

‘As fast as I can.’

Vivien hung up and for a few moments only the muted
noise of the traffic competed with their thoughts in the silence of the car. Russell looked out at the street and the lights shining through the dark. On this day without memory, time had preceded them and the darkness had caught them almost by surprise.

It was Russell who spoke first, with words that
reciprocated
the trust Bellew had placed in him. ‘Do you want the original?’

Distracted by her thoughts, Vivien didn’t immediately grasp what he was saying. ‘What original?’

‘You were right when you accused me of coming to you with a photocopy of the paper I got from Ziggy. The real one I put in an envelope and sent to my home address. It’s a system he taught me. I think it’s in my mailbox right now.’

‘Where do you live?’

Russell was pleased that Vivien had made no other comment. ‘Twenty-ninth Street, between Park and Madison.’

Vivien drove in silence along Queens Boulevard and across the Queensboro Bridge. They emerged onto Manhattan at 60th Street, turned left onto Park Avenue and drove south, at the mercy of the traffic.

‘Here we are.’

Vivien’s voice reached his ears like a memory and Russell realised that he had dozed off. The car was now parked on 29th at the corner of Park, just across from his building.

Vivien saw him rubbing his eyes. ‘Are you tired?’

‘Afraid so.’

‘You’ll have time to sleep when this is all over.’

Without saying that what he was hoping for was not sleep, Russell took advantage of the green light and crossed to the other side of the street. When he got to the entrance to his building, he pushed open the glass door into the lobby. The
building, like all those of a certain standing in New York, had the services of a doorman twenty-four hours a day. He approached the doorman behind his desk and was surprised, at this hour, to find Zef, the building manager, with him. Zef was a friendly man of Albanian origin, who had worked hard to get to his current position. Russell had always been on good terms with him. He was convinced that Zef, for all the dubious activities he’d been a witness to, was secretly his only fan.

‘Good evening, Mr Wade.’

Russell not only led a wild life, but was also a tad
absent-minded
. That was why, after losing several bunches, he always left his keys with the doorman. Usually whichever of them was on duty would hand them over as soon as he arrived, without even needing to be asked. The fact that this didn’t happen now told him that something unusual was going on. His suspicions aroused, Russell turned to his friend.

‘Hi, Zef. Have you lost the keys this time?’

‘I’m afraid there’s a problem, Mr Wade.’

The man’s words, not to mention his expression, made him even more suspicious. The thought that now crossed his mind wasn’t so much a conjecture as a certainty, but he asked the question anyway. ‘What problem?’

The man’s embarrassment was obvious on his face, in spite of which he had the decency to look him in the eyes. ‘A representative of Philmore Inc. came here today. With him was a lawyer bearing a letter from the executive director addressed to me. And one for you.’

‘And what was in them?’

‘The one addressed to you I didn’t open, obviously. I put it with the rest of your mail.’

‘And the other?’

‘The one addressed to me says that the company apartment
in this building is no longer at your disposal. With immediate effect. So I can’t give you the keys.’

‘What about my things?’

Zef shrugged his shoulders in a gesture that meant: Don’t shoot me, I’m only the piano player. Russell felt like laughing.

‘The person in question went up to the apartment and put all your personal effects into suitcases. They’re over there, in the storage closet.’

He seemed really upset by what had happened, and, given their relations in the past, Russell had no reason to doubt that he was genuine. In the meantime, the doorman had fetched the mail and placed it on the marble desktop. Russell recognized the logo of Philmore Inc. on an unstamped yellow envelope. He took it and opened it. When he unfolded the sheet of paper, he immediately recognized his father’s handwriting.

As Russell put it, when he finished reading, ‘So my bastard of a father has kicked me out.’

Zef assumed a fitting expression, which even included an embarrassed half-smile. ‘Well, I would have phrased it differently, but that’s more or less the idea.’

For a moment, Russell was lost in thought. In spite of everything, he didn’t feel like blaming his father for his decision. On the contrary, he was surprised it had been so long in coming. He wouldn’t have given himself all that time.

‘It’s all right, Zef, it doesn’t matter.’

He took the envelopes from the desk and put them in the inside pocket of his jacket.

‘Can I leave the bags here for now?’

‘As you wish, Mr Wade.’

‘Good. I’ll pick them up later. And I’ll swing by every now and again to see if there’s any mail.’

‘You know I’m always pleased to see you.’

‘OK, then. Goodbye my friend.’

Russell turned and headed for the door.

Zef’s voice held him back. ‘One last thing, Mr Wade.’

Russell turned and saw Zef leave his post and cross the lobby. He placed himself between Russell and the doorman and said in a low, conspiratorial voice, ‘I assume your situation is a little precarious right now.’

Russell had always been amused by the man’s decorous language. This time was no exception.

‘I think that pretty much sums it up.’

‘Well, Mr Wade, if you’ll allow me …’

Zef held out his hand as if in farewell, and when Russell shook it he felt the thickness of a few banknotes in the palm of his hand.

‘Zef, look, I can’t—’

‘It’s only five hundred dollars, Mr Wade,’ Zef interrupted him, with a knowing look. ‘It’ll help you to keep going. Don’t repay me until you’re back on your feet.’

Russell withdrew his hand and put the money in his jacket pocket. He accepted it for what it meant. To him and to the person who had offered it to him so generously and so discreetly. At this major turning point in his life, the only tangible help he had received came from a near-stranger. He put a hand on Zef’s shoulder.

‘You’re a good man, my friend. I promise you’ll get it back. With interest.’

‘I’m sure I will, Mr Wade.’

Russell looked Zef in the eyes, seeing in them a sincerity and trust that he, for one, was very far from possessing. He turned his back on Zef and walked out onto the street. Here, he stopped for a moment to think again about what had just happened. He put his hand in his pocket to make sure it was all true, that people like that still existed.

At that moment, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a
movement
behind him. A hand reached out of the semi-darkness and grabbed his arm. He turned his head to the right and found himself confronted with a tall, solidly built black man, dressed all in black. On the other side of the street, a large dark car switched on its lights and pulled away from the kerb. It stopped in front of them and, at the same time, as if the two things had been synchronized, the back door opened.
Instinctively Russell looked around, trying to figure out what was happening. His guardian angel thought he was looking to escape, and saw fit to underline the reality of the situation.