Blood Count

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.”

“Will Carver help with that, too?”

“Carver will do what I ask,” she said. “With him, I don’t have to pretend.”

“Pretend what?”

“All of it. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because you’re white.”

“I see.”

“You don’t see, detective, you can’t see. It doesn’t matter. I didn’t kill Lionel, I don’t believe in killing, and if you need to check, you’ll find I was at my sister’s house all night after I left the party, I can give you the receipt from the taxicab I took from the club to my sister’s, if you like, and not only was she there but so were several of her friends. I shared the guest room with one of them. You can call her. Her name is Miss Sophia Roberts.”

“I believe you.”

“Do you? You seem mighty suspicious, especially about Carver.” She put a yellow silk scarf around her neck. “He helped me out, as I said. I wanted to leave this place a long time ago. I wanted to leave this city. I wanted to live somewhere warm. I thought about Hawaii. Or a lovely condo in Sarasota, Florida, quite a few wealthy African American executives have retired down there, Carver tells me. Or perhaps I’ll go to Trinidad. Every year, Carver has always purchased two tickets for me for one of the islands, though Lionel only ever accompanied me quite grudgingly. Said he didn’t like the heat. One year I just went with my sister. I did like Barbardos, but not Jamaica. I would certainly not choose that island,” she said with contempt. “Carver thought it would help persuade Lionel if he saw how nice life could be.”

“What did Carver want?”

“He wanted us to sell him the apartment. I promised him that we would. I didn’t care if it was a bribe; it was just lovely to have those two weeks to look forward to, and every year at this time, when it started turning cold, I’d say to Lionel, dear boy, I want to spend our remaining days near the sea, under the sun, and if we sell this apartment, we can live a really fine life with the money, and he refused me. Every year, he refused. He said his people were here. What people?” she asked. “Was I not his people? After all I had done for him?” She was enraged. “I was sick of it, of this city, of its memories. Oh, you think that I relish all this, the past, everything that’s dead and dying? If you do, it’s because you’re still young. Because you don’t know what it all meant, especially for women. To be colored and female,” she said. “Never mind. I don’t dwell on the past,” she added. “He wouldn’t leave. Lionel said the Armstrong was his life.”

I looked at her carefully. “So there was good money if Lennox bought the apartment?”

“Yes, indeed. In fact, he has already given me some.” She smiled. “As a sort of down payment.”

“And the vacations?”

“Money, too, and little gifts to make life agreeable. I believe he did the same, or proposed it, to the others.”

“What others?”

“Marianna, Amahl Washington, and Regina McGee, though I don’t know that any of them was smart about it as I have been. I have put a little money into property here and there,” she said.

“The apartment is in your husband’s name, isn’t it?”

“It was,” she said, expressionless. “Until this morning.”

“It’s yours now.”

“Naturally,” said Celestina Hutchison. “Carver Lennox is the only real man in the building, the way he’s helped us and put up with so much from so many silly old people.”

“You can sell it to him now.”

“Yes. But I won’t have my Ed.” She placed a photograph of the dog in her suitcase. “I’m going to say good-bye to him now. Will you come with me?”

In the mint green bathtub was a large wet bundle. It was the dog-or the pieces of the dog-wrapped, the sheets and blankets like a kind of shroud, blood on it. There was blood in the bathtub. The smell was bad.

Celestina went to the tub, looked down, kissed her fingers and placed them lightly on the bundle, nodded at me, and turned, and I followed her out.

In her room, I picked up the suitcase, and we went to the living room, where Alvin took it from me and escorted her to the door. He was a tall guy, and with her hand in his, she looked even smaller, small as a child.

At the door, Mrs. Hutchison turned to me.

“When will you arrest that woman for killing my Ed?”

“What woman?”

“That African,” she said. “Marie Louise. She hated my Ed. She said he was a devil, not to my face, but I knew it was what she believed. Who could think my Ed was a devil?”

“When did you last see the dog?”

“I told you, for heaven’s sake, or I told somebody, I came home from my sister’s to change for the party last night. I left Ed with Lionel. I assume that woman came by to help out with the cleaning at Carver’s. Perhaps she heard poor Ed crying, barking and crying, and she couldn’t stand it. She’s a crazy woman, but what can you expect? She’s from Africa.”

“How would she get in to your apartment?”

“Maybe Lionel let her in.”

“I see.”

“Maybe she killed Lionel, too,” said Celestina Hutchison. She walked out of her apartment, Officer Alvin following her with her suitcase, and didn’t look back.