The Girl Is Trouble (21 page)

How could he have gone from someone who mattered so little to me to someone who’d become my everything?

I closed my eyes and took myself back to that awful New Year’s Day. While everyone was celebrating the arrival of 1942, I was sitting in this very office across from Uncle Adam as he told me that my mother had killed herself. I could hear the words in my head as clearly as the day he’d spoken then, but try as I could, I couldn’t see his face. Why the lie? He had to know that Mama had been murdered. Was he worried that I couldn’t handle the truth?

Or was he worried that the truth would lead back to him?

The front door opened. I jumped at the sound and froze as my aunt’s voice rang out, instructing Pearl to leave her coat in the foyer. I closed the folder, made sure no stray pages had escaped, and shoved it into the file cabinet, not bothering to make sure it went back exactly where I’d found it. There was no way I could leave the office as long as they were in the parlor, so I turned off the lamp, retrieved my sweater, grabbed my camera and picklocks, ducked down, and once again hid in the space beneath the desk, hoping it wouldn’t take long for the three of them to disperse and go to bed.

“I should check on Iris,” said Aunt Miriam.

I swallowed a yelp. Just when I thought I was going to be caught for sure, Pearl spoke up. “I’ll do it.”

As soon as Pearl was gone, Adam lowered his voice. “She’s an odd girl.”

“But a good one,” said Aunt Miriam. “I’m glad Iris made a friend.”

“Didn’t you find it strange how she kept pleading to stay longer at the Pollocks’ tonight?”

“She doesn’t get out very much, Adam. The poor girl wanted a chance to see how the other half lives. Who can blame her? Besides, you seemed to be enjoying yourself.”

“You weren’t?”

“I didn’t say that.” She paused. There was an uncomfortable tension in the room that I couldn’t read, but which reminded me of their phone call the night of the ice storm. “Beverly Pollock certainly looked nice tonight, don’t you think?”

“I can’t say I noticed.”

Pearl returned to the living room. “Iris is asleep,” she said.

“Oh,” said Miriam. “I hope she’s feeling better.”

“Hard to tell,” said Pearl. “But she’s snoring up a storm.”

“Would you care for some tea, Pearl? Maybe a late-night snack? We still have cookies.”

“Thank you, but I’m quite full from dinner.” That had to be killing Pearl, turning down a perfectly good cookie. I owed her big time. “You don’t need to entertain me. I’m sure you’re both exhausted.”

“Perhaps we should go to sleep. Will you attend shul with us in the morning?”

“Yes, I’d love to,” said Pearl.

“Then we’ll see you in the morning. Good night, Pearl.”

My foot had fallen asleep. As I attempted to shake it back to life, I hit the side of the desk. The wood reverberated like a drum until it seemed like it had swallowed all other sounds.

No one said anything in the parlor. Had they heard me in the study?

“Would you mind if I stayed in here and read for a little while?” asked Pearl.

“Of course not, dear,” said Aunt Miriam. “Make yourself at home.”

Adam and she left after that, and I could hear Pearl rustle around in the parlor. Once I was certain that she was alone and no one was going to suddenly reappear and engage her in conversation, I grabbed my sweater and the picklocks, left my hiding place, and sneaked out of the office.

Pearl started as I appeared. I put a finger to my lips and gestured for her to follow me back to my room. I don’t think I breathed until we were behind the closed door.

“I’m sorry about before,” I said.

“It’s all right.”

“No, it’s not. But you need to know why I said what I did. I saw you putting something in Judy Cohen’s locker.”

The little color in Pearl’s face ran out. “Oh.”

“I didn’t tell anyone, but apparently Judy saw you, too.”

She took a deep breath. “I saw the note poking through the vents, so I pulled it out and read it and then stuck it back in the locker.”

“Did you see who put it there?”

She rubbed her eyes with both hands. She was clearly exhausted. “No. I was hoping it was just a note from a friend, because I knew Michael was going to be steamed that we’d missed whoever it was again.”

It was amazing how much better I felt after hearing this. “I didn’t think you could do something like that—”

“Would you have turned me in?”

“What?”

“If it was clear that I was the one writing the notes and putting them in the lockers, would you have turned me in?”

I couldn’t tell what answer she wanted to hear, so I told her the truth. “I guess I would’ve wanted to know why you were doing it first. Then I would have decided.”

“But why should it matter? Would you give anyone else the benefit of the doubt if they were doing something as awful as writing those notes?”

The answer was clearly no. If it was anyone but Pearl, I wouldn’t have hesitated before giving their name to Michael. “Probably not.”

“Then you shouldn’t give me the benefit of the doubt, either. Because even though you’re my friend, what I was doing was inexcusable.” She was pleading with me and I didn’t understand why. The point was moot since she hadn’t left the note.

“Okay, if I’m ever positive I’ve caught you doing something awful, I’ll turn you in.”

“Even though we’re friends.”

“Why are you being so weird about this?”

“I’m not being weird.” She leaned toward me and for the first time I could see that she wore a gold chain around her neck, half-hidden by the dress she’d worn to the Pollocks’. There was a Star of David dangling from it. Had she always worn that? “That’s how it starts, isn’t it, Iris? All these awful things in the world? We don’t stand up for the people being hurt because the ones doing the hurting are our friends or our family and we can’t believe that they don’t have a rational explanation for why they did this awful thing. Because what does it say about us that we could be friends or relatives with someone like that? But here’s the thing: if we turn a blind eye and allow ourselves to believe that it’s okay for them to be doing these things, before we know it, we’ll be doing those things, too.”

For the first time in our friendship, Pearl had made me speechless. She was right, absolutely. Even though our lives seemed small and unimportant, deciding to tolerate something we’d normally run from, because we liked the person doing it, was what made it easy for evil to creep into our world.

It was how someone like S. Haupt had convinced a bunch of lonely Germans to follow him and how he’d persuaded everyone to lie about how Mama died.

“I promise you, Pearl. Whether it’s you or someone else, I won’t let you get away with something I think is wrong.”

She looked like the weight of the world had just left her shoulders. “Did you get the photo of your uncle?”

“No, but I don’t think it’s necessary. I’m pretty sure he’s not the murderer.”

She brightened further. “That’s good news, right?”

“Not exactly. I’m still pretty sure he’s the reason my mother is dead.”

“How?”

I wasn’t sure where to start. There were so many things floating through my head: the murder called a suicide, the good German labeled a Nazi, the sister-in-law coerced into losing everything. And poor Pop left in the dark because Adam didn’t want to admit how badly he’d messed up.

I decided to tell Pearl everything. Starting with how Anna Mueller had told me my mother was a Nazi.

She listened in rapt silence as I rushed through the story, painting it in broad strokes, giving details only when I thought they were necessary. I don’t know how long I talked, but by the end of my tale of what I’d read in the file, my voice had grown hoarse.

“You thought your mother was a Nazi?”

“Not really. For a second, maybe, but then I realized how foolish that was.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It didn’t strike me as the kind of thing I should tell people, you know?”

She nodded, and I was relieved that this wasn’t going to turn into another argument, especially after the strange conversation we’d just had. “So you don’t know what happened after he wrote his last notes?” she asked.

“Only what he told me last year about her committing suicide,” I said. “And we know that wasn’t true.”

“Then how do you find out?”

That was the question, wasn’t it? I’d gleaned everything I could from the file. There was only one person who could fill in the missing part of the story and that was my uncle.

I told Pearl this and she nodded solemnly. “What about your aunt?”

“I don’t think she knows everything. I just can’t believe she would’ve stayed by his side if she did.” Or at least, I didn’t want to believe she could. I had a feeling that after this weekend, whatever relationship Adam and I had would be over for good. I didn’t want to lose Aunt Miriam, too, not when I felt like I’d just gotten her back.

“So how do you get your uncle to spill?”

“I don’t know yet.”

While I mulled over my options, Pearl told me about the party they’d gone to. It was a typical Upper East Side Hanukah celebration, replete with good food, music, and fun games. Pearl thought she’d be bored, but between the lavish apartment and the pedigree of those in attendance (college professors, artists, writers, and musicians) she found herself wishing the night wouldn’t end.

“So you had fun?”

Pearl sat cross-legged on the bed. “I guess. It would’ve been more fun if you’d been there.”

There was a hitch in her voice that hinted there was something she wasn’t telling me. “Is something wrong?” I asked.

She bit her lip. “I saw something tonight.”

“And?”

Another bite, hard enough to leave the impression of teeth on her skin. “I’m sure I misinterpreted it.”

“Tell me and I’ll tell you what I think.”

“It was something between your uncle and the woman who was hosting the party. Mrs. Pollock.”

I still wasn’t getting it.

“They were kissing,” said Pearl.

“Like a hello kiss?”

“More like a
this way to my bedroom
kiss.”

A chill went through me. He was doing it again. “Did he see you?”

“No. And I don’t think it went any further than that. But from the way they were acting, I don’t think it was the first time.”

Did Miriam know? Her remarks to Adam implied that she was uncomfortable about
something
. How could he do that to her?

“You look really upset,” said Pearl.

“I’m just surprised.” I shouldn’t have been, though. After all, if he’d cheated on my aunt once, it wasn’t a leap to think he’d do it again. And again. “I keep learning all this stuff about Adam that makes me dislike him more and more.”

“More than when you thought he might be a murderer?”

“In some ways, yes.” For all my relief in realizing that, given the facts, it wouldn’t have made sense for Adam to have killed Mama, I still hadn’t forgiven him for putting her in a dangerous position to begin with. At least it wasn’t Mama I was learning these things about. There was some consolation there. Her misdeeds, if she’d committed them, were done.

We said good night and Pearl went to her room. How could I get Adam to tell the truth about what had happened? Just asking him wasn’t likely to do it. If Pop could cut me off with nothing more than a stern “I’m not talking about this now or ever,” there was no reason my uncle couldn’t do the same. I needed leverage, a reason to make him tell me what I needed to know.

I almost woke up Pearl when the idea hit me: Pearl had given me the perfect leverage. And now I was going to blackmail my uncle into telling me the truth.

I would’ve felt relieved that I had a plan, if I hadn’t realized just then that I’d left my camera under Adam’s desk.

CHAPTER

18

I HAD NO CHOICE:
if I was going to get the camera back, I had to do it then, while everyone was in bed. I left the guest room and headed back toward the front of the apartment, picklocks in hand. There was no reason to panic, I assured myself as I crept down the dark hallway. I’d gotten into the office relatively easily before. I could be in and out again in under five minutes.

I kept my hand on the wall to help me find my way in the dark. As I left the hallway and entered the parlor, the darkness abated enough that I could make out the furniture with relative ease. Where was the light coming from? It took me only a second to find out: it was leaking from beneath Adam’s closed office door.

Had I left the lamp on, too? I couldn’t believe I’d forget something so obvious. In fact, I was almost relieved when I heard someone moving around behind the closed door since it meant, more likely than not, that they were the one who turned the light on. That relief went out the window as soon as I realized that it also meant there was no hope of going into the office and getting my camera.

I retraced my steps and went back to the guest room, praying that Adam had no reason to look under the desk for at least the next twenty-four hours.

*   *   *

MIRIAM WOKE US AT 8:00
and instructed us to get dressed for synagogue. I thought about continuing to cry sick so that I could go back into the office, but I needed to figure out a way to get time alone with Adam without any chance of Miriam being in earshot. The camera could wait.

My plan fell into place on the way to shul. As we walked, Aunt Miriam proposed that we have lunch at the Plaza Hotel afterward, an experience Pearl had never had before. Pearl oohed and aahed at the prospect, cementing our plans for the rest of the day.

The weather was clear and cold, the sun adding a welcome warmth each time we left the shade of the awnings that lined the businesses we passed. I paused twice on the brief journey, complaining that I still felt a little weak from being bed-bound the day before.

We arrived at the synagogue, covered our heads, and took our places, Pearl, Miriam, and me on the women’s side of the congregation, Adam on the men’s. As I settled into a service I hadn’t heard in almost a year, I began to doubt my strategy. Was it possible Pearl had misunderstood what she’d seen? No, I couldn’t believe that—Pearl was a reliable witness, I was certain of it. But what if Miriam already knew and my threat did nothing but reveal to Adam that I’d been snooping in his office? If I didn’t play this right, I might lose whatever chance I had to find out what had happened.