The Lost Years

70

From his interrogation at the prosecutor’s office on Thursday morning, Richard had gone directly home to his apartment in the Bronx and tried to concentrate on finalizing the lesson plans that he had been preparing for his fall semester classes.

It was a wasted afternoon. He had accomplished nothing. Finally, at four thirty, he’d telephoned Alvirah. The reception he received from her was uncharacteristically cool. “Hello, Richard. What can I do for you?”

“Look, Alvirah,” he said heatedly, “I’ve been dragged over the coals at the prosecutor’s office today because I gather you were able to overhear the message Lillian left on my cell phone the other night. I’ll tell you what I told those detectives. You can believe me or not believe me, but at least let me know how Mariah and Kathleen are doing. Mariah won’t talk to me and I’m worried sick about her.”

His voice passionate, he repeated every word of what he had told the prosecutors.

Alvirah’s tone softened a little. “Richard, you sound on the level, but I have to tell you that in my mind you’re not coming clean about your motive for trying to make a deal with Lillian for the parchment. On the other hand I’m beginning to form my own suspicions about someone else, but I’m not ready to discuss them yet because I may be wrong. From what Mariah tells me, there’s a good chance that tomorrow this will all be over. I’m not saying anything else now.”

“I certainly hope you’re right,” Richard said fervently. “Have you seen Mariah? Have you spoken to her? How is she?”

“I spoke to her a couple of times today. She’s just gotten the judge’s permission to visit her mother tonight.” Alvirah hesitated. “Richard…” Her voice trailed off.

“What is it, Alvirah?”

“Never mind. My question can wait for another day. Good-bye.”

What was that all about? Richard asked himself as he pushed the chair back from his desk and stood up. I’ll go out for a walk on the campus, he decided. Maybe I can clear my head.

But even a long walk on the shaded paths between the beautiful Gothic buildings on Rose Hill did not have its usual effect of helping him to think calmly. At three minutes of six, he was back in his apartment, a paper bag from the nearby deli under his arm. He turned on the television as he unwrapped the sandwich that was going to be his dinner.

The opening words of the CBS six o’clock evening news startled him: “Potential bombshell in the Jonathan Lyons murder case. An eyewitness may have seen the face of the killer. Now these messages.”

Sitting bolt upright, Richard waited with frantic impatience for the commercials to be over.

The two anchors, Chris Wragge and Dana Tyler, came back on screen. “A spokesperson for the Bergen County prosecutor’s office has confirmed that jewelry stolen during the burglary of the home of the next-door neighbor of murdered professor Jonathan Lyons has been recovered,” Wragge began. “They will neither confirm nor deny that Wally Gruber, a convicted felon who was arrested for the burglary, claims that while he was inside the neighbor’s home next door, he witnessed someone fleeing from the Lyons residence immediately after Professor Lyons was shot. He reportedly also says that he can clearly describe that person. Sources tell us that Gruber, who is now on Rikers Island after being arrested for an attempted burglary in New York, is being transported to New Jersey tomorrow morning. He will be taken to the prosecutor’s office in Hackensack to describe to their composite technician the face he claims he saw that Monday night, nearly two weeks ago.”

“Imagine if he’s telling the truth and comes up with a sketch of a face that someone does recognize,” Dana Tyler said. “That could lead to the charges against Kathleen Lyons being dropped.”

As she spoke, they replayed the tape of Kathleen’s arraignment in the courtroom from the other day, with Kathleen standing before the judge in bright orange jail garb.

So that’s what Alvirah meant when she said that by this time tomorrow, all this may be over, Richard thought. Kathleen could be free. He began to switch from channel to channel. They were all carrying the same story.

At six thirty he grabbed his car keys and went rushing out of the apartment.