Are you crazy? I didn’t kill anyone. I didn’t hurt Venus. David did. I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“That’s fine. You don’t have to.”
I pulled out my cell phone.
“Who are you calling?”
His shirt was soaked with sweat, a lot more than he’d worked up in class.
“The Sixth Precinct,” I said. Dead calm. “Of course, I know you. We have a relationship. I know that whatever you did, you had your reasons. Or maybe something happened and things got out of hand, you couldn’t help yourself. I can understand that, Samuel. I care about what you feel. But the cops”—I shrugged my shoulders—“hey, they have different pressures than I do. They just want to find someone to hang this on. They just want to close the case, be done with it. Why? Why doesn’t factor into it. Why gets you no sympathy there. Why only counts right here, Samuel, so make up your mind who you want to talk to. And don’t take too long, because if the answer is no, you don’t want to talk to me, then I have this call to make. And afterward I’m going to walk across the lobby and knock on Daddy’s door, have a few words with him, see what he thinks about all this.”
“No—don’t do that. Please don’t do that. He’ll believe you. He’ll think I did it, all of it, everything. And more. Whenever there’s a fuckup, he always thinks it’s me.”
Harry’s death, a fuckup?
“You’ve got to help me, Rachel. You like me, don’t you?”
I waited, eyes hard, enough adrenaline pumping to pick him up like the sack of garbage I thought he was and toss him out into oncoming traffic, the asshole.
“I have her,” he whispered. “Lady. But I didn’t touch Harry or Venus. I swear to you.”
He waited.
I let him.
“Can’t you say you found her at the shelter? She could have gotten out, got picked up. It’s possible. He’d believe you. Couldn’t you say that?”
“Only if you tell me the truth.”
“I am. This is the truth.”
“Excellent. In that case, let’s go get Lady.”
Slipping the phone back into my pocket, I indicated the front door with a tilt of my head and followed Samuel out.
“You’ll see, I took good care of her. I never hurt her. I only wanted—”
“Let’s move,” I told him. “I don’t want to hit rush hour, and we have to drop Dashiell off first. We’ll never get a cab with a dog this big. Did you take Lady to Brooklyn in a cab, Samuel, the night you walked out with her?”
He wasn’t looking at me. He was looking at his shoes, maybe at the spot where Dashiell had pressed his nose, the moisture in his breath condensing, leaving a dull spot when it dried.
“I didn’t have enough money with me. I took the subway. Nobody said anything. Anyway, she’s a therapy dog, so she’s allowed.”
“Going to and from a gig, Samuel. Not being stolen. When you steal a dog, you’re supposed to use a car. Or at the very least, a taxi.”
We headed over to Washington Street, toward the sound of construction, then kept going east, toward Hudson Street.
He could have slipped out after his daytime class, taken the bike, killed Harry, come back for his evening singsong, Mr. Innocence, Mr. Helpful. I wondered if he’d cried when he heard the news.
And wasn’t he the one who’d found Venus? Found Venus. Right.
Blaming David. Or had that been Nathan’s idea? Was it his brother he’d been protecting all along?
“Okay,” I said, “I’m ready for the sad story of your life.”
He took out a handkerchief that looked as if it had been out too many times already and wiped his dripping face. It was hotter than Hades. Maybe he ought to get used to it, I thought, because as far as I could tell, that was where he was headed.
“Lady,” I prompted. “Start with Lady.”
“I told you, she’s fine.”
Petulant. Not looking at me.
“Why did you take her, Samuel?”
“It wasn’t fair.”
Four years old.
“Tell me about it.”
“Everything she did, every stupid little thing, everyone k’velled about it. Dad and Harry and Venus, even Molly, they kept saying she was the best thing that had ever happened at Harbor View. She was the best, a life saver. Not a word about me, about everything I did there, day after bloody day for coolie wages. I thought that if she weren’t there, maybe Dad would see—”
And then he began to cry, great oceans of water running from his eyes and monsoons of mucus leaking from his nose. He drooled a little, too. It wasn’t a pretty sight, a grown man bawling like that in the street because he was jealous of a little dog.
I put my arm around his shoulders, feeling how wet and hairy he was underneath his shirt. I could think of about seven thousand things I’d rather be touching. But none of them would pay the rent. Or get Lady back to Harbor View.
“I took good care of her. I meant to bring her back. After. After Dad appreciated me for once.”
“Did it work?” I asked. Like a courtroom lawyer, I knew the answer before he responded.
“What do you think?”
Sullen now.
“I think it didn’t, Samuel. I think your father and Harry and Venus were too wrapped up in what was helping the kids to think about your feelings. But everyone needs a little appreciation. It’s only human.”
“Do you really think so?” he asked.
Jesus.
“I do,” I told him.
“That’s all I did,” he said, his voice nearly inaudible. Then he looked at me for the first time since we’d left Harbor View. “I’m ashamed of what I did. I truly am. But I didn’t hurt her. I took good care of her. And I meant to return her. I really did. I only wanted—”
“Of course you did. Anyone would.”
“But I never hurt Uncle Harry. Why would I?”
“Wasn’t he the one paying you those coolie wages?”
I watched his face.
“Wasn’t that a pretty big slap in the face, working so hard for so little money? It’s not like the old bastard didn’t have it. He was loaded. What was he planning on doing, taking it with him?”
“No, no, it wasn’t like that. I didn’t do that. He’s always been—”
“What, Samuel? What’s he always been? Arrogant? Cheap? Unappreciative? It was always about his sister, never about you. What, he felt guilty he was normal and she wasn’t, he had a life and she didn’t? It made him hard, didn’t it? Hard-hearted toward you, not loving, supportive, appreciative. Uncle Harry, my ass. Why, the man should have been treating you like family. Instead, he treated you like a servant. How many years were you supposed to take it? Forever? Who wouldn’t have wanted to kill the cheap son of a bitch?”
“Is that what people will think, just because I took the dog?”
When we got to the corner, I yanked on his arm. “Hurry up. We can make the light.”
We stayed on the north side of Tenth Street. He didn’t see the precinct until we were almost on top of it.
“You said—”
“I lied,” I told him.
The door opened, and a uniform came out. Samuel waited until he’d walked up the block, toward Bleecker Street, so much equipment hanging off his pants it was a wonder they didn’t fall down.
“But they’ll think I killed Harry. They’ll think—”
“They’ll think you stole a bike from one of the Chinese delivery men taking a nap in the Westbeth courtyard and rode it full tilt into Uncle Harry. Were you trying to kill him, Sammy, or just trying to get his attention?”
Samuel’s mouth hung open. Any moment now, and he’d start drooling again.
“What was the fight about that afternoon, you and Harry screaming at each other? Did you ask for a raise, more compensation for your little classes? Is that what it was? Well, you showed him, didn’t you? Pretty soon, everyone will know what you’re made of, what a big man you are. No one’s going to ignore you now, will they?”
But he didn’t answer me. He just stood there, blinking, as if the sun was more than his eyes could bear.
“And that wasn’t enough for you, was it? You had to try to kill Venus, too, clobber her with a bookend, make a hole in her head. Well, she’s awake now, Samuel. And she’s talking. The charade is over.”
“But—”
“Give me your keys,” I said, holding out my hand.
“What?”
“Your keys. What do you want me to do, leave Lady at your house without food and water and someone to walk her while you rot in jail?”
“I thought you were going to help me,” he said, his face as wet and crushed as a used tissue. It was about as appealing, too.
“I thought you liked me,” he whined.
“Keys,” I said.
He mustered an ounce of backbone. I could see it coming, right between the panic and the rage.
“I don’t have to listen to you. Who the hell are you to tell me what to do?”
“You might want to think that over.”
“Why? Why should I?”
“Watch him,” I said.
Not getting it, he turned around. There was no one behind him, just the closed door to the precinct.
When he turned back toward me, he still didn’t get it. I pointed to my dog. He was facing Samuel, looking alert.
Okay, not alert. Menacing.
“Keys,” I repeated.
Samuel looked like a balloon with a leak. He reached into his pocket and handed me his keys.
We went inside. After explaining my visit to the desk sergeant, I waited while he called upstairs. In no time at all, two detectives came down, thick-necked guys with Try me, asshole expressions.
I walked off to the side with one of them—Matthew Agoudian, young guy with a big nose, dark eyes, good listening skills—told him what I knew, then stood there until they’d walked Samuel to the stairs, listening to him protesting his innocence, first to one detective, then the other. Bet they never heard that before.
Back outside, I ran across the street, got some cash from where it was cleverly secreted in my top desk drawer under my checkbook, then headed toward Bleecker Street to catch a cab.