Red Leaves

  Spencer moved away from the glass and toward the door. Any moment he was going to be needed in the small square room with the round table.

  Conni spared him from intervening by intervening herself. ‘Guys, please,’ she said in a small voice, ‘can we just please stick to the matter at hand?’ Looking at Albert across from her, she said, ‘I’m with you. We’ll give our money to Red Leaves.’

  When no one said anything, Conni looked at Jim. He stared back at her, and his mouth tightened. Conni reached out and patted his arm. ‘Jimmy, why are you so angry? She’s gone.’

  He moved his arm away and said harshly, ‘So what? Does that make it all better?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Conni quietly. ‘Doesn’t it?’

  ‘What are you talking about, Conni?’ said Jim, staring at her intently. ‘Don’t say that, you of all people, don’t say that.’

  Not answering, Conni stared at the table. Albert said nothing.

  Spencer was amazed. Minutes passed, and the three of them began talking about other things: about the ex-husband; what would Kristina be doing married so young, and why? Why hadn’t Kristina ever told Conni about Howard when they talked about everything, and then Conni looked at Albert and asked, childlike, ‘Everything, Albert?’ and he said, ‘Guess so,’ and then they talked about Kristina’s funeral, would she be buried at Pine Knoll, in which case they could come, or would she be buried in Brooklyn? In which case they couldn’t take the time off from their exams. Well, Jim said, he’d take the time off, and the other two were surprised. Jim? Time off from school?

  None seemed disturbed by the fact that they had vowed to give away over nine million dollars.

  With a sleight of hand, Albert, Conni, and Jim gamely gave away what Spencer thought was the motive while he watched from a two-way mirror.

  And the subject of Kristina’s actual death was going selfconsciously untouched.

  Spencer suddenly thought of last week when they went for coffee – was that only last week? What had Kristina told him? She was broke. She drove an old Mustang, she bought used textbooks because she couldn’t afford new ones. She had three dollars in her pocket. Had she told a single soul she was coming into nine million dollars? And if not, why not? If Spencer were coming into nine million dollars, heck, if he were coming into nine hundred dollars, he would tell everybody. Certainly Will. But Kristina hadn’t told her three best friends. Why not?

  He turned around to walk out of the room, and Will was standing at the door. ‘What was she afraid of, Spence?’ Will said.

  For a second Spencer thought Will had read his mind and was talking about Kristina. Then he realized Will was talking about Conni. ‘Was I talking out loud?’ Spencer said.

  ‘No, you were thinking out loud,’ Will said, coming closer to Spencer. ‘I stood behind you the whole time.’ Will put his hand on Spencer’s shoulder. ‘You’re taking this way too personally, O’Malley. What’s gotten into you?’

  Spencer ran his hand over his cropped hair. ‘Nothing, man.’

  ‘Relax. We’ll figure it out. You’ll figure it out. I know you will.’

  ‘Will I?’

  Will nodded. ‘There’s something else here. Something else besides the money.’

  ‘I agree.’

  ‘There’s this abnormal tension among kids who are supposed to be friends.’

  ‘Yes.’

  Will said, T think they really didn’t know about the money. Did you see their faces? I watched them. Albert nearly fell off his chair. Conni acted like somebody hit her. Jim closed his eyes; he understood right away what it meant for them. I’m telling you it’s not the money.’

  ‘I don’t know, Will. It’s too much money not to be the money.’

  ‘Yes, but O’Malley, Albert goes alone to Kristina’s room. She is possibly naked, and he is possibly tying her boots. Conni sees Albert is not in his room and goes nuts. No wonder she is obsessively looking for him all over campus at one in the morning.’ Will was talking quietly, but he lowered his voice another notch. ‘And why is Conni so uncomfortable? She keeps pulling on her eyebrows all the time.’

  ‘Yeah, I know. But Will, where was Jim?’

  ‘Sleeping.’

  ‘Okay, if Jim was sleeping, where was Albert?’

  ‘You’re saying he could’ve slipped out?’

  ‘No,’ said Spencer. ‘I’m not saying that. I’m saying, where was Conni?’

  Will stopped him. ‘Tracy, we’ve been so wrapped up in looking for the motive, we haven’t been looking for the killer. What if it was just some crazy lunatic? What if someone demented knew she walked the wall naked, so he waited for her, dragged her into the bushes, raped her, and then killed her because she was screaming like a banshee?’

  Spencer shook his head vehemently. ‘Will, I know you’re making this up. She was clean. And she wouldn’t have gone into the woods for a psycho. Where she was found was a long way from the bridge. What did he do? Carry her tenderly in his arms? Besides, what kind of sicko would rape a woman in the snow? What did he do, bring a picnic blanket? He’d have to get down in the snow himself, and it’s cold. His dick would freeze.’

  The two men eyed each other, and Spencer said, ‘Look, it’s not a bad idea to say that that’s who we’re looking for, a crazy man. It’ll give us a little more time, and might relax these kids a little.’

  Will nodded. ‘Not a bad idea. Still, though … I think …’

  ‘Shhh,’ said Spencer. ‘Let’s go.’

  Opening the door for Spencer, Will said, ‘These kids worry me. There is something weird going on.’

  ‘Yeah, but we haven’t met the husband yet,’ said Spencer, walking out of the room. ‘He could be weird as hell.’

  Howard Kim was neat, well dressed, gravely serious, and Asian.

  Spencer was not surprised. He had expected Howard to be Asian.

  They shook hands. ‘So she is dead? I am sorry to hear that. I am sorry. How did she die?’

  ‘She was found frozen in the snow.’

  Howard looked at the floor. They were standing near the front reception desk at the hospital.

  ‘God, how horrible.’

  ‘Yes,’ echoed Spencer. ‘I’m very sorry.’

  ‘Do you need me to identify her?’

  ‘Thanks, but she’s already been ID’d. We need your permission to autopsy her.’

  ‘That will be it?’

  ‘No.’ Spencer glanced at Will. ‘Then maybe you and my partner, Will Baker, could talk.’

  ‘Kind of like a formal talk?’

  ‘Formal?’

  ‘Like questioning talk?’

  Spencer looked at Howard askance. ‘Questioning?’ Spencer’s voice wasn’t as friendly and sympathetic anymore. ‘I don’t know, Mr Kim. Is there something we should question you about?’

  ‘I am a lawyer, Detective O’Malley. I know how these things work. A young woman is dead. Everybody close to her is a suspect.’

  ‘Yes, and you, after all, were her husband.’

  Howard waved him off. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘but in name only.’

  After that, Howard asked to look briefly at her body. They took the elevator into the dungeon. With a disbelieving, stricken look, Howard touched Kristina’s corpse, now unfrozen and decomposing.

  ‘How did this happen?’ he whispered. ‘How?’

  Spencer shook his head, trying not to look at Kristina’s body. ‘What can I tell you? You allow us to autopsy her and we’ll have more answers for you then.’

  Howard nodded his assent and began to cry. Spencer breathed shallowly, quickly – to keep his composure.

  ‘I do not want to leave her here,’ said Howard, turned away from Spencer, from Will, and from Kristina. ‘Not another minute. She does not belong here. I – want to bury her. Her body needs to be at rest for her spirit to be at rest. I have to take her out of here. Please,’ he added.

  Spencer wanted to put his hand on Howard’s shoulder. ‘After the autopsy, the funeral home in Hanover will ta
ke her anywhere you like,’ he said, unable to comfort Howard. ‘Let’s wait outside, and I’ll talk to Dr Innis.’

  Howard started to leave, and then took a black scarf off his neck and placed it on Kristina’s body. He was sobbing. Spencer took the scarf off and handed it back to Howard. ‘No,’ he gently said. He asked Howard to wait for him in the corridor.

  Dr Innis was in the autopsy room. The three metal tables were empty. The doctor was putting on his rubber gloves. ‘Can we begin?’

  ‘How long is it going to take?’ asked Spencer.

  Dr Innis handed Spencer a white overcoat. ‘About six hours. Three for the autopsy, another three for the coroner’s report. This isn’t your first autopsy, is it, detective?’

  Spencer’s life in the last two days had been doled out in three-hour increments. It wasn’t bad enough that it was ten at night. Three hours from now it was going to get worse. And Spencer was still on the job. ‘No, it isn’t my first,’ he said. ‘Certainly not.’ But the lab coat in his hands made him shiver, and his head jerked.

  Dr Innis calmly looked up at Spencer. ‘Detective?’ he said.

  ‘Yes, yes,’ Spencer said hurriedly, fumbling with the white coat. ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘Good. Can we begin? I’ll have Ralph wheel it in.’

  Spencer leaned against the wall for support. Had the word it made him feel suddenly queasy? He waited five minutes for Kristina’s body to be brought over to the cold room. Glancing at him, Dr Innis, said, ‘Detective O’Malley, I don’t have all night. Are we ready?’

  ‘I’m – I’m –’ Spencer stammered. His back was still against the wall. ‘I’m sorry, doctor, if you could – excuse me for just a minute.’ Spencer turned and walked out of the room.

  He walked down the corridor to Will and Howard. ‘Will, can I have a word with you?’ he said. They went inside a small waiting room, and Spencer closed the door. He handed the white lab coat to Will.

  ‘What’s this?’

  ‘Will?’ Spencer said. ‘Feel like staying here for three hours?’

  ‘No,’ was Will’s quick response.

  ‘Go on. You know one of us has to be in there.’

  ‘This is why I’m glad you’re detective-sergeant and I’m just plain detective.’

  ‘As detective-sergeant then, I’m ordering you to go in there.’

  ‘No, thank you. You go. You live for that stuff.’

  ‘You’re confusing me with Ray Fell.’

  ‘Yeah, well, where is he when you need him?’ said Will, shaking his head. ‘O’Malley, it’s ten at night.’

  ‘Tell me something I don’t know.’

  They looked at each other. ‘Will, this is important,’ said Spencer.

  ‘Yeah, yeah, yeah.’ Will sighed. ‘All right. Let me call my wife. Tell her I’m not coming home anytime soon.’

  It had been several years since Will stayed with Spencer all hours of the night. Spencer wished there had been more of those hours – he missed Will.

  He shook Will’s hand. ‘Will, you know I’d do it, I’d go in,’ Spencer said quietly. ‘But I just can’t on this one, okay? Wish I could. I just can’t.’

  Patting him gently, Will said without artifice, ‘Tracy, I don’t get you at all sometimes. But you don’t have to explain.’

  Wordlessly relieved, Spencer smiled.

  ‘Should I wait for the death certificate if you aren’t back?’

  ‘I’ll be back, don’t worry.’ Seeing Will’s slightly disappointed face, Spencer added, ‘We’ll wait for it together, okay?’ Despite the morbidity, he understood Will’s anticipation. It wasn’t every day they waited for a death certificate. Even rarer when they didn’t know what was going to go on it.

  When Spencer came out into the corridor, he said to Howard, ‘What do you say we go check you into a hotel, and we’ll talk there?’

  Howard, his bloodshot, tired brown eyes rimmed with wire glasses, nodded. ‘I usually stay at the Hanover Inn,’ he said.

  ‘That’s fine,’ said Spencer, thinking, usually?

  When he and Howard were at the Hanover Inn, Howard said to Spencer, ‘Your partner seems like a good officer. Wish we had more like him in New York.’

  You once did, Spencer wanted to tell him. You once had me. But then my wife died. And who wanted me then, except a town of ten thousand people in the middle of the mountains?

  Spencer wanted to help Howard with his bags, but Howard didn’t have any. ‘I came too quick. Didn’t even pack,’ Howard said apologetically, as if Spencer would somehow mind not being able to help him with his luggage.

  ‘Doesn’t matter. Want a cup of coffee?’

  ‘Yes. Maybe some dinner, too. Have you eaten?’

  ‘I have, but I’ll have some coffee.’

  They went to the hotel’s Ivy Grill. Howard ordered a shrimp cocktail and a steak. Spencer ordered a whiskey and a coffee and drank them alternately. One sip of whiskey, one sip of coffee.

  Howard was staring at him. ‘Don’t want to go to sleep,’ Spencer said as a non sequitur, by way of explaining. Explaining what?

  ‘No explanation necessary,’ said Howard coolly.

  Or even wanted, thought Spencer. ‘So Howard, tell me, how does a sixteen-year-old white girl marry an Asian lawyer from –’

  ‘Hong Kong.’

  ‘- Hong Kong, a good ten years her senior?’

  ‘We were in love?’ Howard said as a question rather than an answer. ‘We could not wait to be together?’

  Spencer raised his glass. ‘My condolences to a grieving ex-husband.’

  Silence.

  ‘You said earlier you were married in name only.’

  Howard fumbled with his fork, which fell to the floor. He had shown little interest in eating his shrimp cocktail. The Ivy Grill was nearly empty; it was getting ready to close. ‘Kristina was a very nice girl,’ said Howard, trying to stay composed. ‘I tried to help her as much I could.’

  ‘I don’t doubt that. When was the last time you saw her?’

  ‘Sunday afternoon.’

  Spencer for an instant thought he meant this past Sunday and was filled with a kind of insane hope that maybe, just maybe, things weren’t what they seemed. Maybe she had gone home, was alive for her last Thanksgiving, had some turkey, spent time with her family … was alive for a few more days.

  ‘Sunday before Thanksgiving,’ added Howard. Spencer sank back into his upholstered chair. ‘She gave me the divorce papers.’

  Spencer didn’t know what to ask next. He tried to focus himself by taking a sip – a gulp – of bourbon. ‘When did you see her last?’

  ‘Like I said, Sunday before Thanksgiving.’

  ‘Yes. Yes, of course. I meant, what were your whereabouts on Tuesday night, November twenty-third?’

  ‘Am I under suspicion, Detective O’Malley?’

  ‘As much as anyone else is. We have to question everybody. That’s our job. You said so yourself.’

  ‘Is that why you called me here? To question me?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Spencer. ‘You were her husband until a week ago. What kind of law do you practice, Mr Kim?’

  ‘I practice business law in Chinatown, detective. For your information, I was in court until eight o’clock in the evening, and then I was home.’

  ‘By yourself?’

  ‘No, wait. Last Tuesday? I went out to dinner with one of my clients.’

  Spencer wrote it down in his notebook. ‘His name?’

  ‘Her name,’ Howard corrected. ‘Anna Chung.’

  Spencer looked up from his notebook. Howard stared back calmly. ‘Yes, Detective O’Malley. I have a life.’

  ‘The ink was not dry on the papers.’

  ‘I told you, we were not married in the proper sense of the word.’

  ‘How were you married then?’

  Howard thought about it. ‘Improperly,’ he finally said.

  The waiter took away Howard’s shrimp cocktail untouched, and brought him filet mignon, medium rare, wi
th a baked potato and garden vegetables.

  ‘Eat, Howard,’ Spencer said. ‘I’ll be brief. It’s been difficult getting information from people who are supposed to be her friends and/or ex-husbands. Everyone is tight-lipped, uncooperative, or downright hostile. As if I should just mind my own business, really. As if it’s none of my concern that this girl is found dead at twenty-one, dead in the snow for nine days while her friends merrily or otherwise go about their business, without bothering to check or notice or report that their friend is missing. Well, I’m going to tell you, it is my business. And I don’t want to make an example out of you, Mr Kim, but I’ve just about had enough. I’ve had no sleep, I’m very tired, and the girl is, after all, dead. And I will bet my mother’s house that she is not accidentally dead, no matter that you and her friends would like me to think so.’

  ‘I do not want you to think anything, Detective O’Malley,’ Howard said coldly.

  ‘Wait.’ Spencer had a sip of coffee. ‘So if I have to drag you to the police station and keep you there until you answer every question to my total satisfaction, I’ll do just that and be happy that at least I’m keeping you up, too. Do you understand? Or would you like to call your lawyer?’ Spencer finished.

  Howard Kim slowly took a bite out of his steak, chewed it, swallowed it, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and then said, ‘I understand.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘You think her death was not accidental?’

  ‘It’s a hunch I have. Call it my man’s intuition. There was no reason for her to be dead. Other than she was naked in the year’s worst snowstorm. You’ll see – the autopsy report will bear me out. She was killed.’

  ‘Were there marks on her?’

  ‘Not that I saw. There could’ve been. She might have been drinking.’

  ‘Yes.’

  Spencer studied Howard for a measured moment, and then said, ‘She liked to drink?’

  Howard nodded. ‘She was a college student.’

  ‘Yeah, so what? I like to drink too,’ said Spencer. ‘You don’t find me naked and dead.’

  ‘You weren’t unlucky.’

  ‘Wrong. I wasn’t killed. I’m plenty unlucky.’ Spencer took a quick sip from his whiskey glass.