“Did you know that if Rosita were alive she’d have been a millionairess?” I asked my mother.
She was standing in the kitchen preparing a casserole. Aaron was sitting on the sofa (protected with a quilt again, naturally) watching the fish. The news out of Utrecht was that the demise of King Kong and Hannibal was being attributed to some unknown organism. They were sending out a crew to take samples of the water and to observe the other fish. Apparently the deaths were a rather singular occurrence in the world of fish diseases.
My mother was in the process of fanatically slicing boiled potatoes into precise slivers and arranging these in a glass baking dish, alternating with layers of eggplant and tomato. It was a dish she often made. It was a bit like moussaka, although my mother denied any resemblance.
“Apparently Rosita’s mother had an uncle in England who made a killing in the poultry business. He left Rosita two million pounds.”
“Now that’s what you’d call dumb luck,” my mother said testily. “Can’t we please talk about something else?”
“No, why?”
My mother scattered grated cheese over the casserole with short, irritable gestures.
“We’re not done talking about it,” I went on. “I’ve only just taken on this case, and already all these intriguing facts have started coming out. Want to know who’s inheriting Rosita’s two million pounds? You have three guesses.”
My mother slid the casserole in the oven and slammed the oven door shut. “I’m not in the mood for guessing games, and I’m not in the mood for having this conversation.”
“Her stepfather. Normally, her daughter, Anna, would have inherited all of it. But she isn’t alive, either. The next legal heir would have been Rosita’s mother. Also deceased. So who’s left? Rosita’s stepfather. He and her mother were legally married, therefore all her assets go to him. Ka-ching!”
“So then marry the guy.”
“He’s closer to your age than mine, Mother. All I’m trying to tell you is that someone stood to profit from Rosita’s death. And even though I admit it’s pretty unlikely that Ray wasn’t the one to kill her, I still think we owe it to him to look into it.”
My mother went into the living room. She suddenly got very busy tidying Aaron’s toys.
“I just want to know what really happened. Can you blame me?”
My mother gave me an exasperated look and began tossing handfuls of Legos into the designated bin.
I kneeled down next to her to help. “What do you know about that Rosita, anyway?”
“Iris . . . I’ve had enough. For the last time, change the subject.”
“Come on, help me out here. Please. Did you ever meet her? According to the woman across the street, you used to show up at Ray’s place every so often.”
“I saw her a few times.”
“And?”
“What do you want me to say? A cunning little bitch. That’s what she was. She knew exactly how to get whatever she wanted out of Ray.”
“Like what?”
My mother got to her feet, sighing with annoyance. “I just told you, I’m not in the mood for this line of questioning. If all you want to do is whine about Ray, then don’t come here anymore.” She opened the cupboard to get the dishes out.
“I understand it upsets you that I keep harping on it. But can’t you at least explain to me why you never told me about Ray? And why you no longer want to have anything to do with him? After all, he still is your son . . .”
My mother whipped around to face me. “I don’t owe you an explanation, Iris. You have no idea what I went through with Ray. No idea.”
“Then give me an idea. Because believe me, I’ll keep bugging you until you give me an answer.”
My mother sighed demonstratively.
“What did you go through, then? What was Ray like as a child?”
My mother put her hands on her hips. “Ray was a runaway train that couldn’t be stopped, not even with the best will in the world. I just couldn’t manage him. He was impossible. He was always breaking things, pooped all over the house, even when he was eight, and could spend hours on end banging his head against the wall.” She rattled off the facts as if she’d learned them by heart.
“That must have been awful for you, Mother.” I really meant it.
She went on in a quieter voice. “I could never predict what would set him off. He’d come out with this ear-splitting scream and keep it up for so long that it drove me up the wall. It was like living with some wild animal. Although he could also be very sweet. He’d sit and play with his Legos for hours, and he loved to draw. Beautiful drawings of birds or spaceships, extremely detailed. But then if I told him it was time to put the crayons away, he’d have a tantrum.”
I looked at Aaron, who was still staring at the aquarium with empty, faraway eyes. I could picture him tumbling through space, way out beyond the Milky Way, among the millions of distant suns and their orbiting moons.
“And then all the problems with the other kids. The daily fights. Because teasing Ray always produced great results. You can’t imagine how aggressive he could be. You don’t even want to know how many times I had to humble myself and say I was sorry. ‘You’ve got to be stricter with him,’ I’d hear from Grandpa. ‘Discipline him, give him a good spanking if he refuses to listen.’ And from the neighbors: ‘Single mother, no idea how to cope.’ I kept punishing him, I yelled, begged, wept, bribed, ignored, smacked him, beat him, hit him hard, too hard, even . . . It was a nightmare.”
There was something uncomfortably familiar about my mother’s story. I, too, was often made to feel I was a failure at child rearing, in spite of all the well-intentioned advice.
“When it all got too much for me, I sent him to the Mason Home, a boarding institution for difficult children. That was”—my mother swallowed painfully—“after he killed a dog.”
Hearing it from my mother felt different than hearing it from Detective De Winter. I could sense the horror, the shame and frustration lurking beneath my mother’s words. How would I feel if Aaron did such a thing?
“The neighbors’ dog,” my mother went on. “It was scary. That he was capable of killing was bad enough. But even more worrying was the fact that he didn’t seem at all aware that he’d done something wrong. It was then that I realized Ray was a threat to society. And that I no longer could be responsible for him.” She gave me a tremulous smile. “There, now I’ve told you.”
My mother and I rarely touched. But on an impulse I threw my arms around her and we hugged for a while. It was an awkward moment, but we somehow managed to get through it.
“What you doing?” asked Aaron from his perch on the sofa.
My mother and I quickly let go, as if we’d been caught in some perverted act.
“We’re having dinner soon, my darling,” said my mother, walking over to him and running a hand through his hair. It always astonished me how easy it was for her to show affection to Aaron, as opposed to the obvious difficulty she had being affectionate with me. “How are the fishes doing?”
“Venus is acting funny,” said Aaron.
Venus was a Brazilian basslet: fuchsia in front and bright yellow in back. She and Peanut, her mate, spent most of their time in the grotto, a plastic contraption encrusted with coral and anemones. In spite of her bright coloring, Venus was a small fish that was easy to overlook.
Now she was floating at the surface, her mouth wide open. The same pose in which I had found King Kong. She was still alive, but the question was for how much longer.
“God, those wretched fish,” said my mother. “What do we do now?”
“Add antibiotics to the water?”
My mother shook her head and walked over to the sideboard. “I’ll just make a note to call Utrecht tomorrow, or I’ll forget. If my head weren’t attached to my body, I’d forget to take it along one of these days. It’s taking me such effort to focus lately.”
“Well, Ray would love to take care of them again.”
“Can’t you just see it? This enormous tank in a cell?” My mother put her pen down, a garish gold fountain pen.
“It’s possible he’ll get out in the near future.”
“Are you still insisting on going on with that ridiculous nonsense?”
“I am.”
“You know it’s pointless.”
“Most of the cases I deal with are pointless, Mother.”
We heard a ping from the kitchen. The not-quite-moussaka casserole was done.