Chapter 18

 

IF WE JUDGED a person’s happiness by the photos in their home or on their social media we would tend to believe that everyone led a happy life. Look at sites such as Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and all the rest: filled with nothing but happy, happy people. The smiles, the cuteness; everything’s good, the we’re-happy-as-kitties-with-catnip pictures.

But the smiling faces in pictures hide life’s skeletons, the darker side of our actual lives. The smiling people are just for show, nothing more. They’re not real. My brownstone has pictures of me with Giles; Melissa; birthday celebrations; restaurant outings; baseball games; my parents Nonna Rita; and Myrtle and Harry. And even though Will and I have certainly had our miserable relationship bumps, the smiling, happy, even goofy pictures of us are still there.

When I was in Jennifer’s condo last week, something struck me. I hadn’t really let it settle in my mind because there was too much else going on and I was fatigued and on pretty strong antibiotics. But what I noticed was a lack of pictures. Okay, maybe it’s because Jennifer doesn’t want any pictures from her past to remind her of how she looked; that I get. But, there are none of Edward either. This was his condo before he met Jennifer, he’s in his fifties so he did have a life before they got together. You would think that he would have some mementos of his past; a few pictures from his professional achievements, relatives, friends, vacations, but not at all. The only picture I did see in the entire condo was a recent photo of Edward and Jennifer posed together. Strange.

The doorman gallantly holds the door open for me and waves me through. He quickly buzzes the “Penn residence” as he calls it and I enter the elevator for the ride to their floor. The building manager and he know some of what’s going on in regards to Jennifer and they’re fascinated by the details.

I’m just here to check out the premises and talk to Jennifer. I need to gauge her mental status and if necessary, suggest having a doctor come in and examine her. The kind of stress she’s been under takes its toll physically as well as mentally.

Natalie, Adrian’s agent, is standing right in front of the elevator doors as they open. She greets me by telling me that Jennifer is resting but that Edward is available. I glance at my watch; it’s eleven forty-five. “How long has Jennifer been resting?”

“She never got out of bed today except to go to the bathroom. Been like that for the last three days. Those sedatives she takes knock the hell out of her. I don’t know if that’s good or bad. When she’s awake she cries a lot, but, still, I don’t like how the pills affect her mind. Instead of making her calm, they seem to make her almost comatose and depressed.”

I nod assent. Relying on pills to get you through life is dangerous and something that I avoid. When I was conked on the head last year during the McElroy missing person’s case and had to stay home for three days, I did leg-lifts in bed and squats in the kitchen to keep myself mentally alert. Will had to almost physically restrain me from doing jogs around my brownstone. Staying comatose was not an option for me and I even secretly threw away the pain meds I was given because they made me groggy. A good over-the-counter pain reliever did a fairly decent job of keeping the pain a dull ache.

“Cate, what an unexpected pleasure,” says Edward rising from the loveseat to greet me as Natalie escorts me from the foyer into the living room. “Jennifer’s a bit out of it today but I’ll go get her if you really need to speak with her.” I raise my hand to let him know that’s not necessary and shake my head.

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“No, I can talk to you. I’m guessing that Jennifer is using sleep to escape reality.”

Edward looks down at the carpet for a moment. “So you know?”

“Know what? That she’s taking doctor-prescribed sedatives?”

“That she is changing from a woman who loved life and took great care with her appearance to someone who doesn’t care about anything anymore. It’s almost as if she’s giving up.”

“That’s a fairly normal reaction to the strain she’s been under, Edward. The closer we get to her birthday, the more the reality of her situation sets in. I’m working on this, Edward; I’ve put all other cases aside and am concentrating on finding this hit man.”

I look around the living room; there’s just the one picture of Edward and Jennifer that I had seen before.

“You don’t have many pictures of yourself on display, Edward,” I say casually. “I’m surprised. A man like you who’s been honored in business and traveled the globe should have some visual memories of all that—friends, colleagues.”

Edward looks a bit surprised by my blunt statement. It seems as if he doesn’t quite know what to say. Then after a brief pause he smiles at me in his sad way. “If it were up to me, I would have all the pictures of my life displayed. I did have a life before I met Jennifer, a very rewarding and successful one. But…well, you know that she wanted to start life brand-new. She has made the decision to leave her past behind and I can respect that. At the same time, though, she didn’t want to see me...” He stops as if he doesn’t want to say too much.

“She didn’t want to see you what, Edward? You can tell me.” I press gently. “You know it will be confidential.”

Edward sighs and looks out the window. “Cate, it hurts me to say this, I feel very, incredibly disloyal even saying this but the truth is that Jennifer is a very jealous woman. A month after she moved in here she asked me to put the pictures away. She cried almost hysterically when she saw pictures of me with female colleagues. It was insane of course, to be jealous of my life before I met her but…” He sighs deeply and continues, “She did not, does not, want to see pictures of me with other people from my past life. Jennifer wants our life to have started when we met, as if neither of us had a life before. I understand her need to be the one and only in my life right now. Sometimes her need to be constantly reassured that I love her and that she is all that I want is very exhausting. Of course that will change the longer we are together and she becomes more secure in the relationship. Also, after this frightening situation is…over, I believe she will be more accepting of the fact that I know other people and want to socialize more.”

“I’m sorry, Edward, I didn’t know any of this.”

“Please don’t repeat this to Jennifer, Cate. I don’t want her to be upset any more than she is.”

“Of course I won’t say anything, Edward.” To alleviate the tension which must be explosive in this condo I tell Edward about my plan for him and Jennifer to have a night out on Wednesday.  ”You’ll be very well protected, Edward. Adrian’s people and Adrian himself will escort you. I’ll be there with Detective Will Benigni who is a decorated police detective. In fact his precinct is close by. We’ll make sure that nothing happens. This restaurant has a back room,

 

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no windows or door, where we can have dinner and just relax. You and Jennifer need to feel like

normal people.”

I don’t say that Jennifer’s death day isn’t for a few weeks yet, the day of her birthday, and that men like the Eliminator are sticklers for that contractual detail. I just tell him that we’ll take care of everything.

“Cate, Jennifer will be so happy to hear this. We’ve both gone a little crazy in here. A night of feeling normal will be wonderful for her, for us. I’ll tell her about it when she…wakes up.”

“No, Edward, let me tell her. I have to set it up and make sure everyone is on board with this. I’ll speak with her soon.”

As he sees me to the door I tell a little lie, “You know, I’m not into photo displays very much. The frames and all, they’re just dust collectors.” Edward simply smiles and shakes his head.

Going down in the elevator I think about what Edward just told me about Jennifer being a jealous woman. Somehow she doesn’t seem to be the type but then who knows? Maybe there’s more fire in Jennifer Brooks-Warren than I know.

 

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Back at my office I get a nice surprise; Dr. Giles Barrett is standing outside the door to my building. He greets me with a hug and long, moist kiss. “Catherine, how are you feeling?”

“Pretty well,” I say catching my breath. Giles always was a good kisser and very good at all-day foreplay. My erotic catalogue of sex-gone-by catches me unaware.

“Good, that’s good. So you’re feeling better then, no relapse?”

“No, I’m feeling really well. Um, do you want to come inside?”

“Actually, Cate, I came by to see if you’d like to have late lunch with me. I have a court date at five so I have a couple of hours to spend some time with you. How about Enzo’s? I have a bottle of wine in my car, that special merlot you like.” He pauses smiling, “Unless you have pressing work with a case...of course I’ll understand.”

I debate his offer. Seriously there’s nothing that can’t wait until later or even tomorrow. The promise of a good bottle of wine with a lovely lunch at Enzo’s is very tempting. My only problem is actually being alone with Giles; for a while there I was making a good bet with myself that we would end up together as a couple. We probably would have too if I hadn’t given in and had my sexual itch scratched by the erotically charged hands and other body parts of the devilishly sexy Will Benigni. Still...why not spend an hour or so with Giles? After all it’s only a lunch. I mean, what’s the harm? I sigh deeply. Jesus, I can convince myself of just about anything! “Sure,” I say. “Want to walk it?”

“Yes, that would be nice.” He grabs my hand and holds it warmly as we go down the street together. On the way we pass Bo the homeless man who actually isn’t so homeless; he has a small place in the basement of an abandoned building not far from my office. It’s warm and protected and I know he calls it home.

 

 

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“Hey! Hi!” He hurries over smiling a grin with a few missing front teeth. Some day I’d like to get him to a dentist. The problem is that he’s afraid of any and all people he thinks may take away his freedom. That includes doctors and dentists. Giles walks over to him and asks how Bo’s friend is doing.

“Hey?” Bo calls his friend Hey because he doesn’t know his real name. Bo says “hey” a lot. When he says “hey” I never know if he’s saying hello to me or wants to talk with me about his friend. “Yeah, he’s okay. He’s stayin’ by me now, I think. Yeah, yeah he is. Came last night, yeah. He might go away again, maybe Alaska or Mexico, maybe, but now he’s here.”

“Cate and I will bring you both something to eat. How about two subs?”

“Okay, yeah. Hey, hey can you bring the cheese things? I like those.” Giles knows he means the mozzarella sticks and says he’ll make sure Bo and his friend get those along with the subs and iced teas. We wave to Bo as we continue on our way.

Enzo’s is always crowded but the owner finds us a table in the back away from the noisy street. Enzo himself pops the cork on the wine Giles has brought, pours us each a half glass, and places the bottle in a chill bucket. Then he takes our orders. I decide on steak pizzaiola and a Caesar salad. Giles gets shrimp scampi and penne pasta and orders the food he promised Bo he would bring back. Enzo leaves and we’re alone. Giles takes my hand. “It’s good to see you, Catherine.” I smile and nod.

“So how is everything? You said you had to be in court today. New case?”

Giles breaks off a piece of Enzo’s delicious brick oven–baked bread and dips it into the small dish of special oil and garlic sauce on the table. “Recent case, an exhumation request from Staten Island. A man was buried a short while ago and his daughter has been crying financial foul-play. Seems that her father left a very expensive painting, Marie Madeleine by Artemesia Gentileschi, to a woman his daughter says influenced him unduly. Says this woman had a perverted sexual hold on her father. Anyway, the painting’s last estimate was for $200,000.”

“Artemesia Gentileschi was one of the few famous female artists of the Renaissance. Nice gift!” I say. “Must have been very close friends.”

“More than friends it seems. The daughter is claiming that the woman introduced her father to some deviant sex games, her words not mine, and that these games made her otherwise godly church-going father into a sex slave.” I lower my eyes and smile at the words “deviant sex” and when I look up, Giles is smiling at me wickedly. Oh lord!

“Excuse me for asking this, but since when did testifying about an exhumation on Staten Island become the business of the NYC ME’s office? Isn’t that a local decision? I know you or a member of the state staff have to be there when the body is exhumed but why do you have to testify? Is there a hint of murder or something like that?”

“Not murder—that would be easy, but no. This case came from a colleague in Staten Island. He needs confirmation about procedure. Since I’m the chief ME, he called me. Long story, the man was in politics, had been a police chief before he retired to go into the political arena. He had his share of enemies but the original autopsy report showed nothing out of order. Massive cerebral hemorrhage, nothing to suggest foul play. And the man was hardly a specimen of health; well over three-fifty in weight, diabetes, and high blood pressure. The only foul play I can see was a man who didn’t take care of his health. “

 

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“So?”

“The problem is that the daughter insists incriminating evidence, sexually explicit pictures of her dad and this woman, were buried along with her father. She claims that the pics will identify this…dominatrix. The daughter’s words refer to her as a ‘perverted whore’. The will was worded so as to keep the identity of the woman secret but the daughter claims that an assistant funeral director told her that right before the coffin was closed, a woman came in and placed some photos in her father’s jacket pocket. She only left after having watched the coffin lid being tightly secured. Daughter wants him dug up and the photos examined. Says she feels his sexual activities or relationship with said woman may have contributed to his death. Anyway, that’s all I know. I’m just there to give an opinion on exhuming the body if there’s enough evidence to do so.”

“Well, good luck with this one. Sounds interesting to say the least.” Our food arrives and we put conversation on hold for a while. Enzo is an epicurean artist and his food presentation has to be admired. Then the delight of actually eating it begins.

Over coffee and a chocolate shell filled with ripe raspberries, I tell Giles about my Jennifer Brooks-Warren case and all the strain this impending death sentence is putting on her. He agrees that the stress of it all can cause her to become disoriented and depressed. “She shouldn’t be taking any heavy sedatives, Cate. Mild ones can do the trick just as well. Depression and heavy medication are a dangerous combination. While the mind and body aren’t made to withstand unremitting stress levels for long periods of time, they’re also not made to tolerate prolonged strong sedation.”

I tell him about my plan to get her and her fiancé out of the condo for a night and he thinks that’s a good idea. “Provided she’s well protected, and from what you tell me she will be, this will have a beneficial effect on her state of mind.”

I have an idea. “Want to come along with us to the restaurant? I mean you are a doctor, maybe it would be a good idea for you to come. You once told me that in med school, you were fascinated by the study of the effects of drugs on people suffering from depression. Check out her mood and all. I believe her fiancé’s doctor saw her once and prescribed some sedatives. I’ve suggested having him or another doctor come to examine her in her home, but Edward, the fiancé, says she won’t let anyone come to see her. As long as she has her sedatives she feels she doesn’t need to see a doctor. How about it, Giles?”

He doesn’t answer right away, just spoons the rich concoction of chocolate and raspberries into his mouth and contemplates what I’m saying. I’ve always known Giles to choose his words carefully and answer with honesty. Maybe I am asking too much of him. After all there is an element of danger in the restaurant outing. Every one of us, with the exception of Jennifer and Edward, will be armed. I don’t think Giles even owns a gun, let alone would know how to fire one accurately. He’ll probably say no.

But his answer surprises me. “It would be a good medical experience, that’s for certain. Drugs and depression can lead to something lethal. I hope her fiancé is monitoring her doses. She shouldn’t have them in her possession; I’d be concerned about an overdose, accidental or otherwise.” He sips his coffee and his look of concern for someone he doesn’t even know touches me deeply. “All right, Catherine, sure, I’ll come. You said Wednesday, right? Six?”

 

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“Yes, six on the dot. Come early, though, parking’s a bitch.” I tell him who’ll be there and look to see if the mention of Will’s name brings a reaction but except for a small smile, he says nothing. I tentatively broach the topic of Giles and Felicia.

“How’s Felicia? She really helped me that night.”

“She was happy to do so. Have you called to thank her?”

I look around the restaurant before I answer. “Um, well, no. I have been meaning to, really, I have, it’s just that I’ve been so busy with this current case and several smaller ones. You know how it is. And seriously I’m...”

Giles grabs my hand across the table and smiles. “Jealous? And that’s okay, Cate. Jealousy is a very human emotion. God knows I’ve had that feeling concerning you and Will.”

“Will? You’re jealous of Will?” I guess I shouldn’t be surprised but I am. Giles always seems so easygoing and laid-back. The kind of person who just understands what is and what isn’t possible and goes with the flow of life. But I did hurt him; I know that.

“I was jealous of Will for a while, a long while I have to say. When you and I were together I knew you still had some very strong feelings for him. And we were together for almost two years, Catherine. When you got back together with him, believe me, the jealousy was there. The irony is that Will and I could be friends if we’d met at another time and if it weren’t for the fact that we both…well, you know. But, Cate, it is what it is. I’m not jealous anymore.” He smiles again and squeezes my hand. “Not so much anyway. And I can take you out as a friend, a very well-loved friend and make myself be content with that. I do want you in my life.” Over my protest he picks up the check lying on the table and hands the cash, plus a generous tip, to the server.

As we walk outside, still holding hands, Giles turns and says, “You’ve no reason to be jealous of Felicia, Catherine. She’s a lovely woman, warm and intelligent, but we aren’t seeing each other officially. Right now it’s just a few comfortable dinners and social gatherings. Neither of us is ready for a commitment.” Warm and intelligent; I feel a nasty prick of the green-eyed monster. I am such a bitch.

Back outside my office building we hand the large lunch to an anxiously waiting Bo. He examines it then holds it close to his chest as if someone might take it away from him. Life on the streets. Before he leaves to bring the food back to where he and his friend Hey hide from people and the elements, he tugs on my sleeve.

“Hey, hey listen. That lady, that doughnut lady. She was cryin’, I saw her. She was cryin’ when she was walkin’ down the street. I like her. Maybe somebody kicked her or somethin’? Maybe she lost a puppy? You better check it out. That’s what you do, right? Yeah, you do that, yeah. She was cryin’. She always gives me doughnuts! I like doughnuts. I hope she don’t go to Mexico or Alaska. No, not Alaska. She’s nice, that doughnut lady. Yeah, she’s nice. ’Bye.” And he quickly disappears down the street toward the rat-hole he calls home.

The “doughnut lady” Bo’s telling me about is Myrtle. Inside my office I see Myrtle sitting at her desk with red, swollen but dry eyes and a look that warns me not to ask questions.