The Night Remembers

15

“I hope that’s warm enough,” Lisa Pennyfeather said fifteen minutes later.

“It’s fine,” I said.

“I hope I didn’t put too much lemon in it.”

“I’m sure it’ll be just right.”

Carolyn laughed, her gentle, beautiful face regal and sad. “This is what I call Mother’s ‘hostess anxiety.’ She can never relax whenever anybody outside the family is in the room. She just can’t sit still making sure everybody and everything’s taken care of properly.”

“She exaggerates,” Lisa Pennyfeather said fondly, putting her small hand on Carolyn’s shoulder.

“Probably not by much, though,” I said. “And speaking of that, why don’t you sit down?”

“Well,” said Lisa Pennyfeather, looking at her husband and son on the plump plaid couch. “Well, I guess I should, shouldn’t I?”

She sat down and lighted one of her improbable Luckies.

Roughsawn cedar boards gave the cabin’s interior the proper pioneer feel. Whittled-down ends gave all the boards an old-fashioned pegged look. Old brass and wrought-iron trim finished the motif. Shaggy throw rugs, wicker stands overflowing with magazines and board games, and a good deal of aged but comfortable furniture made me wish I lived here.

“This is a very nice place,” I said.

“We all like it,” Carolyn said. “Except David.” She sat on the arm of the armchair David filled. She poked him playfully. “You never have liked this place, have you? Not even when we were kids.” She looked at me and smiled. “He really is just as crabby as he seems, Mr. Walsh.”

After a few minutes of seeming relaxed, David appeared uncomfortable again. Not angry; melancholy. There was a sense of real gloom about him as soon as she’d mentioned the cabin.

George Pennyfeather, cleaning his eyeglasses with his tie, said, “I’m still very happy that Paul — Heckart — made us a present of this place that time. His interior decoration business had really taken off at that point, and he was feeling generous.”

“It was on our wedding anniversary,” Lisa Pennyfeather said to me. “He came over to our house with a cake and candles and then just handed us the keys. He used to let us use it all the time — and then he just gave it to us.”

David, still seeming uncomfortable with the drift of the conversation, said, “This is all nice and fine to sit here sipping our tea. But it still doesn’t answer the question of what he’s doing here in the first place.”

“David,” George said. “You don’t need to be rude.”

Prison had neither toughened him nor coarsened him, not in any obvious ways, anyway. He sat there in his yellow shirt and blue cardigan and tan slacks and gray slip-on Hush Puppies as quiet and polite as a seventh-grade English teacher during the principal’s visit to class. But of course all this could be deceptive. Many murderers are essentially shy people forced by their own desperation — perhaps by their very shyness — to strike back at a world that has always subtly punished them for not being more demonstrative.

“All right, since my family insists on courtesy, Mr. Walsh, why don’t we just let you tell us why you came out here?” David said.

“To help.”

“Sure,” David said.

“David,” Carolyn said. “There’s no reason to talk like that.” She nodded to me. “Anyway, as I told you, I hired Mr. Walsh.”

David glowered. “Well, I unhired him.”

“What?” Carolyn said.

“After you told me what you’d done, I took the liberty of phoning your bank and stopping payment on the check.”

Her cheeks were tinted with anger. “You had no right to do that. No right at all.”

He backed down some. “I’m sorry if I made you angry. I was only trying to help.”

I said, “I wonder if you’d go for a walk with me.” I was speaking to George.

He glanced at his wife. “Uh, well, of course.”

“I’m sure you two have things to talk about,” Lisa said. “And by the time you get back, I’ll have some sandwiches fixed for you.”

“See what I mean about ‘hostess anxiety,’ Mr. Walsh?” Carolyn smiled.

I smiled too. “She’s got it pretty bad. No doubt about that.”

“The worst part was the medical care. Or lack of it. I suffer from asthma, Mr. Walsh.”

“I hear it’s pretty bad. The care, I mean.”

“Sometimes I’d have to wait days. And even then you don’t always get to see a doctor. You see a nurse and if you come at the end of the day, it’s even worse. She’s worn-out or crabby and she makes you wish you hadn’t come in the first place.”

We were walking along the river. Out in the center, tugged by the currents below the choppy dark gray water, a rowboat was being pulled downstream. A tall man in green rubber fishing gear sat with one oar in the water, letting himself be dragged downstream until he found a suitable place to cast. On the far shore the birches looked almost pure white.

A dog trotted along behind us. George Pennyfeather had already said the mutt didn’t belong to him. It resembled some odd combination of Husky and Collie. He’d come up every few feet and lick my hand. His tongue was warm and familiar. I thought of our boys growing up, how they’d loved dogs. Now, neither one of them liked pets. They had wives who valued clean houses over companionship.

“I don’t imagine any of it was much fun, prison.”

“I became religious. That helped a great deal.”

I shrugged. “I suppose I would, too.”

“The worst part was missing Lisa. That was the absolute worst part. I missed the children, of course, too. But Lisa... well, I’ve always been one of those men who needed a mother as well as a wife. And Lisa was always willing to be both.”

We walked up a narrowing trail. He went ahead. He spoke to me over his shoulder. “Passing the time is the hardest part. I didn’t get involved in any of the politics and I learned not to make myself available to anybody for anything. That’s the fastest way to get used in prison — sexually or any other way. To make yourself available in some way.” He turned and glanced ahead at the leaf-covered hill we were cresting. Then he smiled back at me. “It’s a good thing I was the meek CPA type. It prepared me for surviving prison. I knew how to keep my mouth shut.”

When we reached the top of the hill we stood looking down at the water bashing the rocky cliff we stood on.

I said, “Lisa still insists you were innocent.”

He looked at me almost apologetically. “I know this will probably hurt your feelings, Mr. Walsh, but I was and am innocent. Just as I’m innocent of killing the Czmek woman, though my lawyer was informed that the police will charge me with her murder sometime today.”

“That’s why you came out here?”

“Yes.”

“Running?”

“Not exactly.” He tilted his head to stare down at the hard smashing water. “I just wanted some time with my family. If we’d stayed home there would have been reporters and neighbors and relatives. You know.”

“Last night you said you didn’t know the Czmek woman.”

“Yes.”

“Carolyn tells a different story.”

“I know.”

“I doubt she’s lying.”

“No,” he said. “No, she’s not. I’m the one who’s lying.”

“I see.”

“I don’t think you do, Mr. Walsh.”

“No?”

“No. You see, once I said I knew the Czmek woman, then there would be nobody else to suspect of the murder except me. I didn’t want to help the police any more than I needed to. No offense.”

“Carolyn followed you.”

“Yes, she told me.”

“Would you tell me why you saw the Czmek woman?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know.”

“What?”

“I really don’t. Know, I mean.”

“But Carolyn—”

“Oh, I understand why she thinks what she does. If you’d followed me that day you’d have had the same impression she did. Meeting this strange woman in the park. Arguing with her. And this only a few days after I left prison.” He shook his trim little head. No matter how old he got, he would always look like the precocious eight-year-old who knew how to act around grown-ups. “But I’d never seen the Czmek woman before.”

“Then why did you meet her?”

“Because she called me and told me she could supply me with the evidence I needed to prove myself innocent of killing Karl.”

“Did she say what this evidence was?”

“No.”

“Or where she got it?”

“No.”

“She wanted money?”

He smiled. “Oh, of course.”

“How much?”

“Ten thousand dollars. Cash.”

“Did you bring it that day?”

He raised his head to follow the flight of blackbirds against the gray sky. They were headed south. Far behind the others was a tiny fluttering bird that threatened to drop from the sky. From here you couldn’t tell if it had been injured in some way or if the freezing November air currents were simply too much for it. I looked away in case it fell from the sky. I felt helpless enough already with Faith. I didn’t need some little bird to remind me again of how powerless we are to help one another.

“Oh, yes, I brought it that day. Wouldn’t you if you’d been given a chance to prove you were innocent?”

“Yes, I guess I would.”

“Fortunately, Lisa and I come from very wealthy families. Within reason, money’s never been a problem for us, or for Lisa while I was in prison.”

“So you gave it to her?”

“No. There wasn’t time.”

“Not time?”

He shook his head.

“She saw somebody and got scared.”

“Where?”

“I’m not sure. In the park, I think. Near us. She got very frightened. She said she’d call me later and just took off.”

“You didn’t get any kind of look at this person who frightened her?”

“None.”

“Did she have time to show you any of the evidence she was going to offer you?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“So then she just took off?”

“Yes.”

“How long did you stay there?”

“Ten minutes. I was stunned. I’d gotten my hopes so high. So had Lisa. We’d let ourselves believe that everything was going to be all right and then — that’s why Lisa hired you right after this. To help us.”

“Did you see the woman again?”

“No,” he said.

“Or hear from her?”

“No. The next time I saw her was in the back yard.”

“Did you try to contact her?”

“No.”

“How about your family?”

“My family?”

“Did any of them try to reach her?”

He turned to me, disturbed. “What is it you’re trying to suggest here, Mr. Walsh?”

“I’m merely looking at all the angles.”

“All what angles?”

“The police could certainly make the case that one of your family, disappointed that the Czmek woman didn’t come through with the evidence, got angry and killed her.”

“They don’t even know about her.”

“Lisa did. And Carolyn took her name from the car.”

“No, it’s not possible.”

“Then that would leave you.”

He sighed. “Yes, I suppose it would. And I’ll tell you something.”

“What?”

“If they’re going to blame any of the Pennyfeathers, I would prefer it be me.”

“That’s very honorable, but the police will keep looking until they get the right one.”

He smiled again, showing for the first time a vague bitterness. “The way you kept looking into my case, Mr. Walsh?”

I said nothing. There was nothing to say.

“Are you getting cold, Mr. Walsh?”

“Yes.”

“Then why don’t we go back. Did you find out what you wanted?”

“Yes.”

“It was the Czmek woman you wanted to talk to me about?”

“Right. And turning yourself in.”

“I knew you’d come to that.”

“It’s the best thing for you, Mr. Pennyfeather. Staying out here at the cabin sounds very nice, but it’s certainly not going to look very good for you.”

“I suppose not. It’s just—” He shook off the thought. “I seem to have developed this aversion to correctional institutions. I’m not even sure I could enter the police department without making a total fool of myself. Every night since I’ve been home, I’ve had nightmares about being locked up again. The noise. The smells. The violence. They’re terrible nightmares, Mr. Walsh.”

“I’ll be glad to go to the station with you. If you think that would help.”

“Oh, that’s all right. I appreciate the offer, though.”

I watched the dog who’d tagged along lift his leg and send a seemingly endless stream of yellow urine into the grasping roots of a giant oak tree. Steam rose.

I said, looking back at George Pennyfeather, “I meant that. About me going with you to the station.”

“Oh, I’m sure you did.”

“You just tell me when.”

He stared at me. “Are you going to keep working for my wife and daughter?”

“If you’d like me to.”

“I would indeed.”

“Then I will.”

“What if you find out that you put the wrong man in prison?”

I stared back at him. “I’m not sure how I’d handle that. There really wouldn’t be any way to say I was sorry.”

He laughed softly and then put a small hand against my arm. “Carolyn said she trusted you, and by God if I don’t, too, Mr. Walsh. Now that’s a big surprise.”

We walked back to the cabin.