City Dark(68)

“She needed a lawyer, first,” Wilomena said, interrupting.

Aideen’s fingertips were tingling. “She needed a lawyer?”

“That’s what she told me. This guy, Joe? As far as I know, he’s the person she wanted to connect with. I don’t know what she planned on after that. Pick up the pieces somewhere else. Staten Island, maybe, whatever was over there.”

“Right,” Aideen said, as if confirming it aloud helped her put it together. “So Lois knew her son Joe was an attorney, and she needed his help. It would have been hard for her to approach him. I have an idea of how long she was away from her sons. And how she left them.”

“She never said nothing to me about that,” Wilomena said, as if warding off another person’s problem. “Chitchat, that’s all we had. I don’t know if she ever found him, or if he found her. I hope he didn’t do that shit to her, though.”

“Me too.” Aideen was sweating with the sun on her back, but a welcome breeze swept in from the ocean and lifted her hair. She was hesitant to ask the next thing. “So if police wanted to know about this, would you talk to them?”

Wilomena frowned. “The one lady cop. Spanish lady. I guess I’d talk to her. You know who she is.”

“I do.”

Wilomena looked satisfied for a moment, then scrunched up her face. “How the hell’d you find me, anyway? I know what goes in those reports. ‘No fixed address.’ That’s what they write. I’ve seen that shit. You found me anyway.”

“Finding people, I learned from my husband,” Aideen said. “It’s harder to do it without a badge, though.” There was a gleam in her eye—part pride, part fresh ache—and for a flash she thought she saw it reflected in the other woman’s. “Take care out here, Wilomena. Thank you again.”





CHAPTER 55


Tuesday, August 29, 2017

Anna M. Kross Center, Rikers Island

East River in the Bronx

9:45 a.m.

“You ever walk through a crowd,” Joe mused, “like anywhere in this town, and even though there are hundreds of people, you see how one person is looking at you?” Seated across from Aideen in an attorney interview room, he seemed subdued and unusually sad.

“I’m not that perceptive,” she said. “I can imagine that, though, sure.”

“I can’t remember where I was.” He scratched the back of his neck where the jumpsuit collar was itching him. “I was probably half-drunk. I know I saw her, though. I’m positive.”

“Tell me what you remember.”

“I just told you, I don’t remember where I was.”

“That’s not what I asked you,” she said patiently. “Just tell me what comes to mind.”

“There was no expression,” he said after a few seconds. His eyes dimmed. “She wasn’t afraid. She wasn’t hopeful. She wasn’t . . . expectant. She was just watching me. Like clocking me.”

“Okay.”

“It was dusk, or just after dark. Everything was a mess, like trash every . . .” He trailed off and snapped his eyes to Aideen’s. “Yes, trash! I remember now. It was right after the Fourth of July, because the whole boardwalk was a mess.”

“Ah, so it was Coney Island. Makes sense. It looks like that’s where she took up residence.”

“Yeah, it was on the boardwalk,” Joe said. “I walked there from the boat, right next to Calvert Vaux Park. It’s a good half-hour walk. I probably walked down to Surf Avenue and hung a left, east to where the beach bars are. I can see it now. Things were slow at work because of the holiday. I’d been half in the bag all week, to tell you the truth.” He paused, and Aideen fanned herself with a manila envelope. There was AC running, but the air in the room was hot and thick. Murmurings of attorney-client conversations droned nearby.

“Tell me more,” she said. “Close your eyes if you have to. Tell me what you saw.”

“It was just a moment.” He shook his head. “She was looking at me, though, from the beach side, near one of the bathhouses—you know, those brick buildings you walk through to get onto the beach. I was still walking east, toward the aquarium. There were plenty of people out: families, kids, the usual weirdos. Then there she was, following me with her eyes. Like a cat.”

“Was she standing? Sitting?”

“She was standing.” His eyes went dim again, like he was hypnotized. “Just by herself. She had a long dress on, kind of like in the newspaper photo you found.” His brow knitted. “There’s something else I noticed. She was smoking a cigarette.”

“Okay.”

“I can see it now, in her right hand, between the first two fingers. And she was . . . tapping on the butt with her thumb.” He made the motion himself, then swallowed hard and looked at Aideen with eyes raw. “Lois smoked like that. All the time. That tapping. It was like a nervous tic. I didn’t recognize her, though. I mean, even seeing that, it didn’t register.”

“It did though,” she said. “You remember it, so it registered somewhere. It just had to be drawn to the surface, like something in a well. I have moments where I remember things about Ben that way. Little things, like how he twirled his cell phone or flicked beer bottle caps into the trash. They sneak up on you.”