Please, please, let not the words of George Bernard Shaw apply to you –
She makes you
Will
Your own destruction.
Love, Rocky.
Spencer read the words over and over and over until he had them indelibly committed to memory. But they didn’t make any sense, not the first time, not the hundredth time.
The note was written on the back of an old letter, hidden by envelopes and pictures and napkins, almost as if it weren’t meant for anyone eyes but Albert’s.
‘Well, come on, Albert,’ said Spencer aloud, getting up and taking the letter. ‘It’s showtime.’
Spencer drove to Hinman Hall. It was one-thirty on a gray and cloudy December afternoon.
Albert was alone in his room. They nodded to each other politely. ‘Do you have a few minutes? I’d like you to take a ride with me,’ said Spencer. ‘I want to show you something.’
‘Sure,’ said Albert, putting on his leather jacket. ‘I’m glad to cooperate in any way I can.’
‘Can we take Aristotle?’ Spencer asked.
‘Rather not. He’s a pain.’
‘He’s good dog. I’d like to take him.’
Shrugging, Albert said, ‘Sure, go ahead.’
They drove. Spencer made a right on West Wheelock, and drove across the river – the natural state line between New Hampshire and Vermont – across Interstate 91, through a quaint and tiny Vermont town called Norwich, and up the two-lane road, through the bare trees, through the snow, up the hill, past the farms and the whitewashed colonials.
‘Where we going?’ asked Albert pleasantly.
‘You’ve never taken this way? To Thetford Hill?’
‘This way to where?’ said Albert, less genially.
‘There’s a little hilltop retreat around here somewhere. I’d like to show it to you.’
They drove the rest of the way in silence. Aristotle panted in the back.
‘Here, we turn here,’ said Spencer, making a left. ‘Recognize this place, Albert?’
‘No,’ Albert said sullenly.
‘Hmm. The dog sure recognizes it.’ It was true, the Lab was beside himself. His tail became an animate object.
Shrugging, Albert said, ‘Aristotle was Kristina’s dog.’
Spencer watched the dog as they drove up the hill on a dirt road. The first house did not excite him. He was staring straight ahead and panting. At the top of the hill there was a clearing with two wood country houses right in front of the Vermont hills.
Spencer parked and got out of the car. ‘Nice view,’ he said. ‘Very peaceful.’
Albert said nothing. He too got out of the car, and stood mutely by the door. Aristotle became wild, running from house to house and barking.
‘Happy dog,’ said Spencer.
‘Yes, happy,’ echoed Albert.
Spencer turned to him. ‘Do you recognize this place?’ he said.
‘No,’ said Albert.
‘Really? Let’s go in and check the guest book, shall we?’
Albert didn’t say anything, and Spencer watched him carefully before he repeated, ‘Shall we?’
‘Yes, let’s,’ said Albert and headed for the house closer to the top of the hill. He walked ahead of Spencer up the steep stairs and opened the door. Thoughtfully and slowly, Spencer followed.
The guest book was on a low dividing wall next to the door. The house inside was homey and warm, decorated in wood and books and corrugated iron. There were throw rugs on the floor and comfortable chairs. Books were everywhere. When Spencer called to inquire about Fahrenbrae, he had found out that the mother of the owner was a librarian in a local town. She obviously wanted to pass her love of books to all the people who stayed in her homes.
‘Have a look,’ said Albert.
Spencer did. He went through the guest book as far as last summer. There was no Kristina Kim, or Kristina Sinclair, and there was no Albert Maplethorpe. That there was no Kristina, Spencer was not surprised about. He read all the names again, more carefully, and still nothing.
‘Satisfied?’ said Albert.
Spencer didn’t like that. ‘Yes, very,’ he said. ‘Tell me one thing, though,’ he asked, slamming shut the guest register. ‘If you’ve never been here and this is all new to you, how did you know you could just walk right in without needing a key? How did you know the place wasn’t locked?’
Albert was startled for a moment, only a moment, but it was all that Spencer needed to see. Albert was lying.
Laughing lightly, Albert said, ‘Look, this is Vermont, for God’s sake, not New York. Everyone knows you can just walk in here, no one has keys. People are very trusting here.’
‘Yeah, right,’ said Spencer.
‘What did you bring me here for, detective? Certainly not to read a guest book?’
‘You want to talk here or would you like to be brought back to the police station and talk there?’
When Albert remained silent, Spencer said, ‘I thought so.’
‘What would you like to talk about?’ Albert said. He put his hands inside his leather jacket pockets and smiled warmly. His black eyes were shining. Outside, Aristotle, unmindful of the cold, was trying to dig a tunnel under a wide oak.
‘Tell me about Kristina.’
‘What about her?’
Spencer had to put all his feelings aside to ask Albert his question. It was so cozy inside the house, he almost wanted to light a fire and forget about the dead.
‘Tell me,’ Spencer said, ‘did you love her?’
Albert stared at him for a moment and then, unfazed, said, ‘What are you talking about?’
‘You should’ve told me,’ said Spencer. ‘You should’ve told me about you and her. When we last spoke, you should’ve.’
‘There’s nothing to tell,’ said Albert, looking right at Spencer.
‘Albert, did you deny her in her life, too? Why are you denying her in death? Be a man. She’s dead. And she loved you so much. Why are you lying to me?’
Bowing his head, Albert said, much quieter, ‘I’m not lying.’
‘Oh, please.’ Spencer shook his head, disbelieving and fed up. ‘Things aren’t looking good for you, not for you, not for Jim, not for Conni. Your friend Frankie, they’re looking terrible for him – he’s disappeared.’
Albert just stood and watched the dog running in the clearing.
Finally, Albert, struggling with every syllable, spoke. ‘I didn’t tell you because …’
‘Yes?’
‘Because,’ Albert finished, ‘it’s a terrible situation.’
‘Couldn’t agree more.’
‘No. I mean, Kristina is dead, but Conni is not dead. Jim is not dead.’
‘And you – you aren’t dead.’
‘Oh, really?’ Albert said in a shaken voice, stirring grief inside Spencer. ‘What’s alive about me?’
Spencer thought about it. Albert was breathing – that seemed alive. Albert wasn’t naked, he wasn’t forgotten in the snow for nine days by his closest friends. She was a popular All-Ivy beautiful girl, and when she died, no one had come looking for her. Spencer’s eyes hurt at the injustice. Or maybe just at the lack of sleep.
As if reading Spencer’s mind, Albert said, ‘I don’t need to be brought to justice. I’m tormented every day.’
‘Tormented!’ exclaimed Spencer scornfully.
Albert shook his head, and his face was ashen. ‘Tormented,’ he whispered. His hands were shaking as he tried to get the cigarette into his mouth. ‘This impossible thing,’ he said, fumbling with a Marlboro. ‘We had this impossible love.’ Glancing at Spencer, he said, ‘I couldn’t deny her in real life, and I’m not denying her in death. I just don’t want to hurt Conni, I don’t want to hurt Jim.’
Spencer raised his hands as if to shake Albert and then put them back down. ‘Albert! Conni knows it’s true. Jim knows it’s true. I know it’s true, and I hardly know you –’
‘You don’t know me at all,’ said
Albert.
‘Oh, I know you a lot better than you think I do.’
‘I don’t think so, detective.’
‘Did you and Kristina go to Edinburgh together?’
‘Not together,’ Albert said, blowing on his hands, cigarette dangling from his mouth. ‘But yes, we went to Edinburgh. We were both philosophy majors. We went on an exchange program.’
‘I see. Edinburgh meant a lot to Kristina.’
‘Yes.’
‘Kristina saved matchbooks from the places you used to stay in and napkins from the pubs you used to go to.’
‘She did?’
What was that in his voice? Regret? Tenderness? Worry? Albert was impenetrable.
‘Albert, you can’t stand here and pretend that Conni didn’t know.’
‘I don’t think she did.’
‘Really? Then why would she run out into a blizzard at one in the morning, desperately looking for you?’
‘Sometimes she gets … overwrought. Conni is a very passionate person,’ Albert said.
‘Passionate? Overwrought? She was frantic! Friends don’t elicit this reaction in girlfriends. Lies do, lovers do. Deceit, betrayal. Did you betray Conni?’
‘I betrayed nobody, I’m telling you. Nobody.’
‘Will Conni think you didn’t betray her?’
‘Yes, I think so. What are you getting at, anyway?’
‘Listen,’ Spencer said. ‘You’re so used to lying about you and Kristina, you don’t know when to stop. I’m telling you, stop. Now. You’re really pissing me off.’
They walked outside and were now near an old hammock covered with snow. Albert visibly shivered and zipped up his jacket. Then he sighed. ‘Look, I’m not lying. I feel terrible about the whole thing.’
Spencer let out a silent internal sigh of frustration. Here, the mountains, the snow, the valley lying below them, it was all so beautiful. Why didn’t he feel relief, why didn’t he feel at peace? Why did being here bring on feelings that were too intense to deal with in front of this stranger whom he was liking less every minute?
‘Albert, what kind of a person are you? What kind of people were you and Kristina? It’s obvious Conni’s in love with you. And Jim loved Kristina –’
Albert snorted. Spencer went on, ‘Why would you just shit on them like that? Why? Why didn’t you just break up with them and go out with each other?’
‘Because we were all friends and we wanted to stay friends. Besides, Kristina and I were all wrong for each other. Detective O’Malley, listen, I am going to have to live with this the rest of my life. I’m trying to make it up to Conni, I’m trying to be a good friend to Jim, I’m trying to put all this behind us. Kristina and I just couldn’t free ourselves from each other, but she’s dead now, and it’s all over. I have to take care of the living.’
‘The living, huh?’ Spencer remembered the blood under Kristina’s nails and the scratch on Conni’s cheek.
‘Let me ask you, Albert,’ Spencer said sharply. ‘When you were all still living, do you think it was possible for Conni to get so bent out of shape about you and Kristina that she went after her and killed her?’
Albert looked profoundly startled. ‘Detective, I –’ he stammered. ‘I don’t know – of course not – I mean, what are you talking about? Of course not.’
‘Of course not? There was blood found under Kristina’s nails. I’m not going to jump to any conclusions. I’m going to wait till Monday, then I’ll jump to all of them.’
‘Blood?’ Albert became agitated. ‘Well, so? It’s probably nothing.’
‘Albert, your lover has been murdered. Nothing is nothing.’
Albert tried to light another cigarette, but his hands were shaking too much. ‘No, detective, no. I’m sure … I’m sure, it’s just … really, just nothing. Believe me.’
‘Albert, did Conni kill Kristina? Are you covering up for her too?’
‘No! Of course not, of course …’ He trailed off. The cigarette fell into the snow. ‘God … I don’t know what’s going on.’
‘I’ll tell you what’s going on – you drove her crazy by your lies. Any sane person would crack.’
‘I didn’t drive her crazy! And she didn’t crack – we got engaged Thanksgiving.’
‘That’s very convenient. What about Kristina?’
‘I told you, Kristina and I … we were over, we were trying to be over. She didn’t want to continue behind everybody’s back, she just … she knew Conni and I were getting engaged. It was over.’
‘Why didn’t you stay with Kristina?’
Albert didn’t answer at first. ‘I told you, detective,’ Albert said quietly, sadly. ‘We were wrong for each other.’
‘Why?’ And who the hell even thought about these things? thought Spencer. Wrong for each other? They were in college, for God’s sake.
‘Jim and Kristina were much better suited. He was going places. He was good for her.’
‘Are you? Going places? Better suited to Conni?’
‘I don’t know. Never thought about it, really.’
‘You haven’t thought about it? How long have you and Conni been together?’
‘Three years, about.’
‘And you haven’t thought about whether you’re good for her?’ Spencer said incredulously.
‘You know,’ said Albert acidly, ‘I guess I stopped thinking about it when I realized I wasn’t good for anybody.’ His voice was dry and scratchy.
‘Anybody? You mean not good for Kristina.’
‘Look! We were both broke, I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life, and she wanted stability, a career, a decent life. We just wanted completely different things.’
‘You were both broke? Well, you got that wrong, didn’t you?’
‘Obviously,’ said Albert sarcastically.
‘She never told you she was going to inherit any money?’
‘No, she did not.’
‘Don’t you think that’s strange? Your lover doesn’t tell you she’s going to become a millionaire?’
‘Yes, I think it’s very strange. But she didn’t.’
‘I wonder why not.’
‘I don’t know. Why don’t you ask her?’
Spencer eyed Albert coldly. He pulled out Kristina’s note and shoved it in Albert’s face. ‘Tell me, does this make any sense to you?’
Albert backed away to try to read it. ‘What is this?’ he said.
‘I don’t know. Kristina left her safety deposit box contents to you. Too bad for you she was killed and everything in it is now evidence for the state. What does this mean?’
‘How the hell do I know?’
‘She makes you will your own destruction. What is she talking about?’
‘Haven’t a clue.’
‘Did she put special emphasis on “will” the way she wrote it?’
Glancing at the note again, Albert said, ‘I really have no idea.’
‘Kristina made a point of writing this to you on the back of an old letter. She dated it – look.’ November 23, 1993, the date read. ‘She addressed it to you and she pleaded that these words not apply to you. What does it mean?’
‘Detective, how do I know?’ Albert laughed thinly. ‘Kristina was an odd person sometimes.’
‘Yes, “odd” would be one way to describe her. “Dead” would be another.’
Albert lowered his head. ‘Yes. Dead.’
Spencer stuffed the note back into his jacket pocket. Albert said, ‘Can I have that?’
‘Certainly not. She makes you will your own destruction. I want these words to make sense to me.’
‘Me too,’ said Albert.
Spencer became quiet and waited. Albert said nothing. Something else was bugging Spencer. ‘Tell me again how you met her,’ he asked.
‘I told you, we had a class together.’
‘Class together,’ Spencer repeated. He became acutely aware of his chattering teeth. ‘When was that?’
‘In our first semester
, I told you.’
Nodding, Spencer said, ‘Dartmouth. Nice college. Expensive, though. And you’ve got no family. How are you paying for this?’
‘Scholarships, grants, loans.’
Spencer stroked his face thoughtfully. ‘How is a philosophy major going to repay Dartmouth eighty grand?’
‘I don’t think I owe them eighty grand.’
‘No, you most certainly don’t,’ said Spencer, and hoped that Albert heard the sarcasm in his voice. ‘How much do you owe them?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Probably a lot?’
‘Probably.’
‘Well, that money from Kristina –’
‘What money from Kristina?’ Albert interrupted rudely.
‘Let me finish. That money from Kristina’s accounts – your share would’ve come to over three million dollars. Would’ve nicely covered your debts. Don’t you think?’
‘Yes. I didn’t want her money, though.’
‘I see. You’re proud. Is that a recent thing?’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘What am I talking about? Do I look like an idiot to you?’
‘No,’ said Albert, staring hard at Spencer.
‘No, I think you take me for a real idiot.’
‘This is getting out of hand.’
Coming closer to Albert, Spencer said through gritted teeth, ‘She paid your tuition, Albert. She paid it, and you don’t owe the college a damn penny.’
Albert didn’t reply. The wind howled off the Vermont hills. The dog was lying in the snow, chewing on a stick. It was very quiet. No wonder she liked to come here, Spencer thought. But with him?
‘What if … she did?’ Albert said finally. ‘What if she did? There is no law against that.’
‘No, but there is one against lying to a police officer.’
Silence.
‘You think I’m an idiot?’ said Spencer.
‘No!’
Spencer said, raising his voice, ‘Albert, she paid for your tuition the very first year you were at Dartmouth.’
‘So?’
‘Albert,’ Spencer said slowly, ‘she paid for your freshman tuition. How could she have paid for it if you only met in the freshman year?’