Falls The Shadow

55

I was in my car, driving and stewing, accompanied by the raging of my anger. I had been lied to, I had been used and abused, I had been manipulated like a monkey. It had all been a fabrication, the whole violent affair between a dead woman and a mysterious motorcycle maniac named Clem, a figment of one person’s twisted imagination.

And I had bought it.

That’s what got to me the worst, not that I had been lied to – I’m a lawyer, everybody lies to me; lying to the lawyers is the true national pastime, as American as baseball and cheating on your wife – but that I hadn’t sussed out the lie. And it’s not like there weren’t enough clues. The overly dramatic visits to the grave site by Velma Takahashi. The way I forced the story of Clem out of that bastard Sonenshein with my way-too-clever threat of Japanese gangsters. The manner of Velma Takahashi, going through the motions during our confrontation about the mystery man. And what had she said of him? He is nothing. He’s nowhere. He’s a phantom.

Sometimes I almost think I’m clever, and then reality spits a glob of humiliation in my face.

I realized it all while staring at Jerry Sonenshein on the witness stand. And still I thought of going after him, of showing him to be a liar and continuing with the Clem defense. The believable lie is often the best approach in court. Where would lawyers be if all we had to work with was the truth? But the strange image that kept coming back to me, the image of the flower in the vase, convinced me otherwise. Even one question to that bastard would have been one question too many. So I declined our cross-examination. And as the spectators let out a collective gasp, I stormed out of the courtroom without another word, leaving it for Beth to clean up the mess.

And now I was in my car, driving and stewing. Stewing and driving. But I wasn’t just driving hither and thither, without a plan. I knew where I was headed. It was a Thursday afternoon, and I was going to the manicurist.

The joint was posh, with a long maroon awning fronting the entrance, with blue and gray velvet curtains and fresh flowers artfully arranged in the waiting room, with a marble floor and a woman sitting behind the appointment desk so pale and so cold she might as well have been made of porcelain. Her face cracked a little when she saw me charge through the front door.

“Helloo,” she said. “Do we have an appointment?”

“No,” I said as I moved right past her. “We don’t.”

“Sir, you have to-”

“I can’t wait,” I said, showing her the back of my hand, wiggling my fingers. “It’s a cuticle emergency.”

She recoiled in horror at the sight of my nails, which gave me enough time to slip through the doorway and into the salon proper. There were a series of workstations on either side of a hallway, each curtained off for privacy. I moved through the salon with an abiding sense of purpose, flicking open the curtains to check who was being worked on, eliciting a series of shrieks as I made my way toward the rear. And then I found her, swathed in a thick white robe, a towel around her head, leaning back in a lounge chair, being fussed over, literally, hand and foot.

“Why did you do it?” I said.

“Have you come for a pedicure, Victor?” said Velma Takahashi as the two slim woman working on her nails turned their faces toward me. “Minh here has such a deft touch. It is so relaxing.”

“Why did you do it?”

“Do what? Choose this color polish? I thought it matched my eyes. You don’t think it matches my eyes?”

Just then the receptionist came up from behind me, holding a nail file like a knife. “I tried to stop him, Mrs. Takahashi,” she said.

Seeing the situation, one of the seated women grabbed a pair of scissors and held it high, as if she were about to stab me in the kneecap.

“It’s okay, dears,” said Velma to the women. “He works for me, though I do think after this I’m going to have to let him go.” The receptionist retreated, the manicurists went back to work.

“Why did you set up François?” I said, still standing before her as the women filed and painted and buffed.

“I would never set up François.”

“But it sure seems like it. I’ve been trying to figure it out, and I can’t. Do you hate him so much you were you trying to torture him further, providing him false hope and then manipulating his defense attorney into relying on a premise so easily shown to be false?”

“Tell me what happened, Victor.”

“Your buddy Sunshine spilled it all to the D.A. The way you convinced him to tell his cock-and-bull story about Clem and Leesa, the way he duped me into believing it.”

Her mouth twitched and then regained its normal artificial poutiness. “He’s a pathetic liar.”

“Yes, he is,” I said. “But this time he’s telling the truth. And now François is screwed, and I’ve been played for the fool.”

“Your natural position. I guess you won’t anymore be needing me to testify.”

“Why, Velma? That’s what I want to know.”

“Have you ever regretted anything in your life, Victor?”

“Only everything.”

“So you know the way it seeps through your bones like an acid. Drip, drip, drip.”

“But what is it you regret? A life wasted in the pursuit of someone else’s money?”

“Is that a waste?”

“The series of surgeries that turned you into a Kewpie doll?”

“I thought you liked the result.”

“Or do you regret killing Leesa Dubé?”

“Oh, Victor, you’ve come unhinged.”

“Have I? You say you didn’t try to set up François, so maybe you were actually trying to help him and botched it. But then the question is why? Why help that slimy son of a bitch? The answer might be in the visits to the grave site, the guilt in your eyes. Why would you concoct this lie except to make some amends? Did you kill her, Velma?”

“Why would I kill my best friend?”

“Maybe she knew more than she should have. Maybe she knew enough to prove adultery to your husband and ruin your marriage, not to mention your bank account. All those years with Takahashi wasted if he could enforce the adultery provisions of the prenup. So Leesa had to go, and to keep attention away from you, you framed the husband. You sneaked into his apartment after the deed, dropped the gun in his shirt, smeared some blood on his boot. A perfect frame.”

“You’re being silly.”

“Am I? Or am I so dead-on it’s scary?”

“It’s scary, all right. The thing is, Victor, your motive is empty. I’ve never cheated on my husband.”

“I’m supposed to believe that?”

“No, of course not. Why would you? It’s only the truth.” She pulled her hands away from the manicurist. “I’m sorry, but I have to go. I have a meeting.”

“To figure out another lie to tell?”

“One mustn’t become bitter, Victor. Life is full of wonderful surprises, so long as you aren’t looking too hard for them. Like love, when you thought you were incapable. I still have some time here. Why don’t you take over the rest of my appointment? Your hands could use some work, and I don’t even want to imagine your feet.”

“That’s okay,” I said.

“No, really, Victor. Take advantage.” She lifted her feet off the pads, slipped them into a set of slippers, stood up from the chair, waved her hands in the air in an effort to dry the polish. “Minh is the best in the city.”

“I’ll pass.”

“You don’t think much of me, do you, Victor?”

“No, actually.”

“Well, I might agree with you. But quick, choose: love or money?”

“Both.”

“And so you have neither. I wasn’t satisfied with that option.”

“I don’t see you going for the daily double,” I said.

“You’re not looking hard enough.” Velma pursed her lips at me as if to air-kiss. “We’re all just trying to get by, Victor. Doing the best to get what we want. Is that so bad?”

“When someone else pays the price.”

“Oh, Victor. Someone is always paying the price. Win a case, and someone else loses. Marry a man, and someone else is heartbroken. Become a saint, and someone else’s beatification is delayed. I didn’t invent the world, I’m just a little girl doing my best.”

And then she was off, out of the curtained cubicle down toward the dressing room, leaving me alone with the two manicurists. I was about to run after her, but what was the point? So I just stood there for a moment and tried to gather my thoughts.

Then one of the women motioned me to the chair.

I shook my head, but she took hold of the fabric of my suit and gently tugged. Next thing I knew, I was sitting in the chair as Minh slowly untied my shoe.