“I guess,” said Lily. “I don’t want to be buried like that, all alone. We didn’t even call her friends.”
Simonova’s address book was still in my pocket. “There wasn’t much time.”
“Lionel told me she wouldn’t want anybody there. But early this morning-you were still asleep-I decided I wanted him to go with me, that Marianna would have wanted him there. I knocked on his door, but nobody answered,” Lily said. “I thought he was asleep. I guess he was already dead. My God, how did it happen? I don’t understand.”
“This is a bad time,” I said, because I couldn’t think of anything else.
“There was one bizarre thing,” said Lily. “Carver called me.”
“Why?”
“He called and said, was I at the cemetery, and I said yes, but I couldn’t really talk, and he said, could they hold it, he wanted to come, and I said it was too late. They had already put Marianna in the ground, and he asked me to describe the scene and tell him the location of her grave, I think he was crying. Then he just hung up.” Lily pushed her hair back and fastened it in a pony tail with a rubber band. “When I went by his place a few minutes ago, to find Marie Louise, he looked wrecked. I asked what it was. He just shook his head and didn’t say anything.”
“Listen, didn’t Simonova have presents for him and his kids under the tree? She made up stockings for them, with money and chocolates, right? Maybe they were close.”
“I guess.” Lily leaned on the kitchen counter. “All the way home, I was thinking how lonely it was there, Marianna all alone. I don’t want to be like that,” she said. “Artie, tell me about Lionel.”
I told her how I’d found him lying on the ground, that I figured it for an accident at first and then thought it might be suicide. I told Lily the ME was now sure Lionel Hutchison had been pushed.
“How sure?”
“When they find the spot where he was pushed, when they match some boot prints to the person who pushed him, when there’s some decent forensic stuff, we’ll know for sure. Meanwhile, pretty sure.”
“Pushed from where?”
“The roof. I was up there. There’s a broken wall.”
Lily poured more Scotch for both of us.
“Talk to me, Artie.”
“What should I tell you?”
“Everything. Anything. Whatever it is that’s buzzing around in your cop’s brain. I mean, who would fucking kill Lionel? Who would kill a dog like that?”
“I don’t know. You want to know what’s on my mind?”
“Sure.” She drank a little more and pulled a plate of cookies across the counter. “If we’re going to drink like this, we should eat something.” She picked up a cookie, put it back. “I can’t eat.”
“How well did you know Amahl Washington?”
“Hardly at all, I told you,” she said. “Why?”
“You must have figured out where I’m going with this. Lily? Right? I’m going to work this case, if it’s OK with you,” I said.
“What about Virgil?”
“With him. It’s his case. I’ll help.”
“So it’s been decided.”
“The chief at the local house is going out of his mind. This is pretty high profile. I mean, Hutchison meant something in this community.”
“And you think whatever happened to Lionel is connected to Amahl Washington?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Artie?” She kicked off her boots. “The dog-you thought Marie Louise was involved, didn’t you, as soon as you saw it?”
“Didn’t you?”
Lily hesitated, and before she could answer, somebody knocked at the door. Lily opened it. It was Virgil.
“Celestina Hutchison is back,” said Virgil. “She’s asking for you, Artie. She says you’ll understand.”
“She knows about the dog?”
“They came, the animal forensics unit, and she wouldn’t let them take the dog. It’s in her apartment. Your phone’s ringing, Artie.”
It was a message from Gloria Lopez. I sent her a text saying I’d call soon. She sent me one back saying she’d have information by the next day, information on the pills I’d sent over to her.
CHAPTER 44
Celestina Hutchison was in her bedroom, packing a suitcase. On the floor near the bed near the suitcase were six pairs of shoes, tiny shoes with high heels, all highly polished.
In the room with her were Virgil, the young cop from the church-Officer Alvin-and Carver Lennox.
As soon as Lennox saw me, he whispered something to Celestina, nodded at me, and left the apartment. “The place should be sealed,” I said so Celestina could hear me. I wanted to see her reaction, but she went on packing.
“I told her she could get some of her clothes before moving over to her sister’s,” Virgil said.
I lowered my voice. “Just so she doesn’t take anything we might need.”
“I hear you.”
“And Lennox?”
“She says she needs him. Says he’s helping her with the funeral plans. He’s saying it should be a big, important funeral because Lionel was a big deal in the building.”
“Where’s the dog?”
“Bathroom,” Virgil said. “I’ll leave you with Celestina now.”
“They killed my Ed,” said Mrs. Hutchison when we were alone, as she folded a white silk blouse carefully and placing it in the suitcase.
“I’m sorry.”
“I don’t know that I can survive without him,” she added. What about your husband, I wanted to say, but I kept my mouth shut.
“I really am sorry,” I said.
“And no, detective, I did not kill Lionel, if that’s what you’re wondering. Or his friend either.”
“Simonova, you mean?”
“Ugly woman that she was, ugly with stupid political ideas, and her theories about black people, black people and Communists, we were alike, she said, we understood one another, she said. Paul Robeson, my ass, if you’ll forgive me, it’s no more likely he cared for her than a pig can fly. But Lionel liked her. He said he wanted to help her. I was so furious yesterday with all his nonsense, I said to him, ‘Well, did you kill her, dear? Did you, as you like to say, help your girlfriend on her way? Did you kill Amahl, too?’ I said. ‘Did you help them leave this life less painfully?’ ” Her tone was mocking. “He did not. I knew from his face. He didn’t kill them, or himself. In point of truth, detective, I’m not sure he would have had the guts, if he himself was sick. Somebody else murdered him.” Her face was blank, eyes filled with rage. “Killing is a sin,” she added.
“Was he sick?”
“No, so long as he took his medication, he was fine. It was only his blood pressure, and that was under control, and he was very rigorous about it. He was an old man, of course, he had his aches and pains, but his illness was all in his head, his ridiculous ideas. He was a weak man. He could not bear to see even a little minor suffering but that he wanted to murder the patient. But this time, somebody murdered him.”
“We know that now.”
“Do you? Good.” She looked around the room and said, “I hope this is the last time I ever see this place. I’ve been a prisoner here for too many years.”
“Prisoner of what?”
“Of all the history,” she said. “Now please ask nice young Officer Alvin to take me to my sister’s. I’ve had enough of this for today.”
“What was Carver Lennox doing here?”
“As I’m sure you were told, he is helping me plan the funeral. The last thing I will do for Lionel is to make sure he has a good funeral. Even if he was an atheist.”
“At your church?”
“Of course.” A faint vengeful smile on her face, she sat on the edge of the bed, removed her hat, ran her hand across her head. Her body sagged, as if she had let go for a minute.“I asked Carver because he is my friend. He wouldn’t let them take Ed away. We’re going to have a lovely funeral for Ed.”
“I see.”
“Mr. Diaz is coming to get him.”
“Who?”
“Ed. To take him to the funeral home. It’s in Brooklyn. Mr. Diaz can drive Ed to the All Pets Go to Heaven home in Brooklyn. They will prepare him. I’ve contacted them.”