The EMT on the scene suggested taking Enza to the Emergency Room. She had stepped on what was later identified as a rusted hinge and would need both stitches and a tetanus shot. She waved the suggestion away.
“I gotta make a statement,” she said. “That’s more important. Unless I’m gonna die from lockjaw in twelve hours?”
The EMT conceded she’d probably make it that long.
There was a brief discussion when the Newark police arrived on the scene about whom Henry Silvio belonged to. They contended that he was on their turf. Sam flashed the Connie card, but apparently it wasn’t enough.
I drove Enza’s Mercedes, as she couldn’t drive, and she followed in Jo’s car. We went to the police station in Newark and waited. I texted Cait to tell her I’d be very late. We saw Sam arrive with Henry. A while later, John Monroe and Miranda Beauregard arrived. Detective Beauregard took one look at us, sitting on what Enza dubbed the group W bench, and shook her head.
“You win,” she said.
“Then can we hear what Henry has to say?” Enza asked.
I could feel Jo poke her in the ribs and hiss something.
“Hey,” Enza said. “Ellie and I deserve a little credit, you know? Why can’t we be in on the kill?”
I was so tired and punchy, as well as probably still in shock, that all I could do was giggle helplessly against her shoulder.
Half an hour later, Sam came by, bent over and kissed the top of my head. “You three are up next. But Henry is going to make a statement, if you’d like to hear.”
Jo shrank back, shaking her head. Enza stood unsteadily, and used it as an excuse to drape her arm around Sam’s shoulder. In her one heel, she was almost tall enough, and Sam stooped a bit to accommodate her. We went down the hall, turned, turned again, and finally sat in a bare, stuffy room filled with a table and lots of wooden chairs. One wall was a giant piece of glass, and I realized it was a one-way mirror, and on the other side sat Henry Silvio in handcuffs, his head bowed.
Enza sank into a chair. “Just like Castle,” she whispered excitedly. A few people in the room heard her, including Sam, and smiled.
John Monroe, a woman in a suit, and a policeman in uniform came into Henry’s room. They had a tape recorder with them. They spent a few minutes arranging things on the table, and the woman began in a dry monotone to say various legal-sounding things. I wasn’t paying attention. I was waiting for Henry.
“I loved her,” Henry croaked. “Patty. I’d known her from when she was a kid, and I loved her. But she liked men. Lots of men. And she never liked me enough.”
“So what happened the night of May twenty-third?” the woman asked.
He shrugged. “We was all at the dance, down at the CYO. I hadn’t seen Patty since a few days before. We’d had a fight. I asked her to go steady. Most girls, they’d be thrilled, you know? She laughed at me, and I got angry. And then, when I saw her…”
His hands moved, and the handcuffs grated against the tabletop.
“Go ahead,” the woman coaxed.
“They was all in front of me, walking home. I caught up and took Patty’s arm and tried to apologize. She stopped, and she listened to me, but she said she still wouldn’t go steady with me. So I told her I loved her, and that I wanted to marry her, and we could live right in the neighborhood and run the store together. And she laughed. Said she wanted to get out of Newark for good.” He twisted his head from side to side. “She was wearing this pink silk scarf around her neck. That was the style then, you know. And she was twisting it, nervous maybe. So I took the scarf and pulled it. She was so shocked. I was lookin’ right at her. She opened her mouth, but never even screamed.”
Enza exhaled loudly. I clenched both hands.
“What happened then, Henry?” The woman asked.
“I drove down to the Pine Barrens, and I carried her into the woods, and I dug a grave and left her there.” The handcuffs made another noise.
“Could you find the place again, Henry?”
He looked up then, straight into the woman’s eyes. “In my sleep.”
She looked down at her file and turned a page. John leaned forward.
“Tell us about Connie.”
Henry spat out something in Italian that caused Enza to shake her head.
“After all those years, what the hell was she doin’? Asking me about Patty? Connie was there that night at the dance. She was always such a loudmouth. And there she is, sixty years later, and she comes up to me and asks me straight out, did I kill Patty? She was drunk. I thought she was kidding. But she asked me again, and when I laughed it off, she didn’t look so sure.” He swore in Italian again. “How could I know if she meant it? I couldn’t take the chance.”
The woman glared at John, reached over, and deliberately closed his file. “We’ll get to that later,” she said pointedly. “Now, what about the others?”
I didn’t get to hear any more, because Miranda stuck her head in the room and motioned to Enza and me. We filed out, into another office, and each gave a statement. Jo was with us. When we finally left the station, the door to the room where we had sat was closed.
Henry still had a lot of talking to do.
Enza needed eight stitches in the bottom of her foot, as well as a tetanus shot. She called me early the next day to tell me all about it. I had climbed back into bed after talking to her and seeing Tessa off to school, and blown off my morning walk. When I woke again at noon I called her back and went over everything in detail.
She was extremely proud of us. “We make a good team,” she said.
I laughed. “We do, but I’m already on a good team.”
As spring was wont to do in New Jersey, it had turned suddenly cold, and after dinner, I lit a fire before opening some wine, waiting for Sam. When he arrived, I was curled up, sipping wine on the couch. Boot was next to me, her head in my lap. Sam sat and put his arm around my shoulder. I felt happy and safe and relieved.
“I’m so glad that whole thing is over,” I said, sighing with pure and simple contentment. “Aunt Rose and Aunt Gloria will never get over it, of course, but they’ll have plenty to talk about next time they visit Mom.”
“You almost didn’t get over it,” Sam said gruffly. “I still cannot believe the two of you went after him like that. After all the times…”
“I know. Believe me, I know. Luckily, Enza will stay on her side of the county, and I’ll never be tempted to do anything like that again.”
He snorted. “Really? You’re going to blame her now?”
I sat up and looked straight at him. “Sam, I swear, I was going to walk away. Enza just kind of crooked her little finger just enough…” I actually crossed my heart. “Never again, Sam. I promise.”
He closed his eyes and gave his head a little shake. “I’m going to believe you. Again. But only because my sanity is at stake. You’re very lucky, by the way. Someone actually mentioned a breaking and entering charge against you.”
“What?”
“You’re very lucky you’ve got friends in high places.” He poured himself a glass of wine.
I settled back into the couch. “What about James?”
“He drove into New Jersey this morning and surrendered to the State Police. He should arrive tomorrow to be processed.”
Processed. That’s what Sam called it. A man was going to be arrested for murder, go before a judge, probably be denied bail, and sit in a jail cell for months while the legal system of New Jersey decided his fate. And my best friend would visit him, talk to him, and try to build a new life without him. Processed.
“So does Nick have to get a new identity now? I mean, Enza and I kinda blew his cover. Do you know what the FBI will do?”
He threw his head back and laughed. “Ellie, you should be writing stories, not just editing them. What an imagination!”
“Yeah. Well. Why did Enza have your phone number on speed dial?”
He shifted away from me. “What are you talking about”
“When she called you last night, you were on her speed dial. Why?”
He leaned forward to pour himself more wine. “Did you ask her?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact. She said if she told me I wouldn’t like it.” Why had I started this conversation? Why hadn’t I just let myself enjoy feeling like all was right with the world, instead of inviting possible disaster?
He drank. “You don’t trust me?”
“Of course I trust you. But she met you once, Sam. How did she get your phone number? It’s a simple question.”
“She’s right. You won’t like the answer.”
I buried my nose into Boot’s fur for a moment and clenched my jaw before I spoke. “Cait is going to France. She’s going with Kyle. He’s actually buying them a place there. I was telling her how much I’d miss her, and you know what Tessa said? That maybe I could ask you to move in. Tessa, who doesn’t like anyone or anything right now, wanted you to move in. And you know what I thought? What a great idea. And then I find that my hot and sexy new friend has the your phone number on her speed dial. Boy, did I feel like an idiot.”
He put down his glass, turned on the couch and faced me, taking the glass from my hand and setting it on the table. Then he held both of my hands in his and shook them gently.
“Enza and I were working on something.”
“Working? Oh, Sam—”
He tugged on both my hands hard enough to stop my words. “I’m planning to propose to the woman I love, and I wanted a few ideas on some really special, romantic places. The last time I planned a getaway for the two of us, we ended up with a dead body, so I thought I could use some professional help.”
I felt a sudden rush of heat to my face, and the blood in my ears began to hum.
“Of course, it’s all spoiled now, because, you know. You can’t let anything go. So, since the cat is out of the bag, which would you prefer? We could take a private yacht up the Hudson River, complete with champagne, and apparently, a violinist to serenade us. Or there’s a guy who will take us up in a balloon and a picnic lunch. I kinda like that one, but I’m not sure about you and heights.”
I was having trouble breathing. I could also not think of a single word to say.
“Ellie?”
“Propose?”
“Yes.”
“Marriage?”
“Well, that was my first thought, yes. Did you have something else in mind?”
“I was going to suggest we just live in sin for a while.”
He kissed both of my hands “I think we can do better than that.”
“In a yacht? Or the balloon?”
“I’ll call Enza and have her cancel them both.”
“No! I mean, I like the yacht idea. A violinist?”
“Yes.”
“It sounds so romantic,” I said.
“That was the whole point. But since I’m asking you now, do I need to propose to you again? On the yacht?”
I thought for a second. “No. I guess not.”
He slid off the couch and on to one knee. “If you had been a less outrageous girlfriend, I’d have the ring with me as I’m saying this.”
“A ring? Really?”
“Of course. Do I look like a barbarian?”
“No, not at all.”
“Will you stop talking now?”
I nodded.
“Ellie Rocca, love of my life and scourge of my professional existence, will you marry me?”
I think I was crying. “Can I talk now?”
“Only if you’re going to say yes.”
I threw my arms around his neck and knocked him down to the floor. Once we were there, I kissed him, and kissed him some more, and one thing led to another, and it was actually quite a bit later before I finally got around to saying yes.
In the end, we got married in the little Methodist church where Sam had been a member for years, and we had a small, quiet reception afterwards at the Lake Abrams clubhouse. I wanted to be married before Cait and Kyle moved to France, so there wasn’t time for a lot of planning. I didn’t worry about it. Besides, I was too busy being happy.
Enza put everything together as her gift to us. We had the violinist, and my daughters were my bridesmaids, and Shelly stood with me at the altar. We drove from the church to the clubhouse in a long white Rolls Royce convertible, and as we came through Mt. Abrams, my neighbors stood on the side of the streets and waved and cheered as we drove past.
Sam, his arm around me, laughed and waved. “I feel like a float in the Founder’s Day parade,” he joked.
“I bet we’d win a trophy.”
“I bet you’re right. So, I guess this settles the question of where we’re going to live,” he said.
I kissed the side of his neck. “Was there ever a question, really?”
“I suppose not.”
Yes, well, that was Mt. Abrams for you.