The Lost Years

71

At six o’clock Alvirah and Willy were listening to the same CBS broadcast. Willy watched as Alvirah’s normally cheerful countenance took on a worried frown. After speaking to Mariah earlier, Alvirah had told him that the crook who stole that jewelry might have seen someone leaving Jonathan’s house after he was shot.

“Honey, I thought you told me this was a big secret,” Willy said. “How come it’s all over the news?”

“It’s hard to keep this kind of stuff quiet,” Alvirah said with a sigh. “There’s always somebody who tips off the press.” She pushed a stray lock of hair back behind her right ear. “Thank God Dale of London will be back next week,” she said. “Otherwise my roots will be so white I’ll have to wear a hood.”

“It’s hard to believe that Labor Day is this weekend already,” Willy commented as he gazed out over Central Park, its blanket of lush green leaves still thick on the trees. “Before you can blink an eye, winter will be here and they’ll all be gone.”

Alvirah could see that he was looking down at the park. Ignoring his observation about the changing seasons, as he had ignored hers about the white roots of her hair, she asked, “Willy, if you were the one running out of the house that night, what would you be thinking now?”

Willy turned from the window to give his full attention to his wife’s question. “If I had something like that to worry about, I’d try to figure which way to play it. I could say that the crook saw my picture with Jonathan and picked me out to blame.”

He sat down in his comfortable chair, deciding not to mention that he was getting hungry and they’d gone light on lunch. “After Jonathan was murdered, there was a big picture of him in some of the newspapers with the group that was with him on his last trip to Egypt,” he pointed out. “The article said they were his closest friends. If the cops were after me, I would say that it was easy for this guy to have seen me in that picture, then try to frame me so he could help himself.”

“That’s a possibility,” Alvirah agreed. “But suppose that sketch really is of the right person and it turns out that it is one of Jonathan’s friends? They’ve all given the prosecutor a story of where they were that night. Once somebody recognizes the sketch, the prosecutor will haul that guy in for more questioning two minutes later. What I’m thinking is, if the guy who killed Jonathan is watching the news right now, he’ll be scared to death about the sketch they’re going to do. Will he be scared enough to go on the run? Or will he try to bluff it? What would you do?”

Willy stood up. “If I were him, I’d think it over while I was having dinner. Let’s go, honey.”

“Well, I want you to have a good dinner and a good night’s sleep,” Alvirah said. “Because I can tell you right now, you’re going to have a busy day tomorrow.”