My Name Is Venus Black(68)

All these years—except for once when the water heater broke, and a few times when she had to retrieve some gardening tools—she has lived as though the lower part of the house doesn’t exist.

But tomorrow it will exist, won’t it? The forthcoming sale makes it so. She’ll unlock and open the door at the end of the kitchen, descend the basement steps, and finally come face-to-face with what she let happen.





Since Tony is hungry and wired and it’s still way too early for bed, he gets directions from the desk clerk to a nearby Denny’s. Afterward, he is driving back to the hotel when he spots a hair salon that looks cheap. He can’t explain why, but he has the sudden urge to lose his pony. Maybe it’s because he wants to look as clean-cut and as innocent as possible when he’s arrested.

The salon looks closed, but there’s one light on and he can see a woman still in there, talking on the phone. He knocks until she opens the door. “We’re closed,” she says.

“But it’s just a quick thing,” Tony says. “And I bet it would be fun for you to cut off this pony.” He turns his head to show it to her. “I’d tip you really, really well.” He is suddenly desperate to get this done, afraid if he waits another hour he’ll lose his courage.

“Well, I’d get in trouble….”

“Who’s gonna know?” says Tony. He winks at her. “You’d be doing me such a huge favor.”

She finally relents. While Tony loses several years’ worth of his hair, he wonders if this girl could be a source. She says her name is Pamela. She looks too young to be familiar with the case, but he decides to give it a go, because aren’t hairstylists famous for gossip?

When she’s cut off the pony but hasn’t started styling yet, Tony takes a stab. “Remember that case where the stepdaughter shot the stepfather, oh, maybe six years ago?”



“Of course. You’re talking about Venus Black?”

Tony’s blood rushes to his face. So lucky so quickly! “Yeah. That one. I’m looking for her mother, actually. Used to go to high school with her,” he adds, guessing they’re probably near the same age.

“Oh,” says Pamela, grinning. “It’s like that, like maybe you were high school sweethearts?”

“Something like that,” he answers.

“She might still be around,” she says. “I know because I have a friend who used to live nearby and she kept seeing the mom out front, pulling weeds in the rockery. Can you imagine staying after what happened in that house?”

“No,” says Tony, “I can’t.”

To hide his excitement, he compliments Pamela on how well she is doing with his hair. He’d bet his whole wallet that the mother is going by Inez Black.

Now all he needs is an address and phone number. Then he remembers that he doesn’t really want to find her. Why would he be in a hurry to find the key to his family’s undoing?

When Tony gets back to his hotel room, he reluctantly opens a drawer in the bedside table. He’s almost disappointed that there’s a phone book. There’s also a listing for “I. Black.” No address, just a number.

His hands feel sweaty on the phone. He dials the number, feeling like he might throw up. Let it be Ida. Or Inga. Or…It rings four times. Then a machine picks up. “This is Inez; please leave a message.”

Now he knows it’s her for sure. Inez Miller went back to Inez Black.

After talking to Pamela, he realizes there’s a good chance Inez stayed in the house on Rockefeller. When he calls Marco to tell him the news, his brother suggests the obvious. “Why don’t you just assume that she stayed in the house? Call first thing in the morning, pretending to be an interested buyer. It could be the perfect excuse to meet her—if it’s her.”



After he hangs up with Marco, Tony feels kind of sick inside. When he sees his reflection in the hotel window, he’s stunned by the transformation. He knows he looks good—but is this really him? He tries to imagine Tessa’s shock and surprise. He guesses she will love it, since he’s always suspected she wished he were a bit more traditional. None of her friends’ dads have ponies, tattoos, or play with needle guns all day.

He imagines home, thinks of the dishwasher humming and Tessa getting Leo ready for bed. Oh dear God. That world, that predictable, wonderful world of normal problems and family stuff and worrying about Tessa going on dates—and not going on dates—he was about to blow it all apart.

Unless. Unless he meets the mother and she is obviously not a good person—say, a drug addict or someone who looks like she’s hiding a criminal record. It feels cruel to hope for such a thing to be true, but Tony can’t help himself. If she’s a bad-enough character, maybe they could apply to be the foster parents of Leo.

But right now what he needs is to hear the voice of innocence, to know that somewhere in the world life still works the way it should. It’s kind of late, but Tessa will still be up. He sits on the hotel bed by the phone and reads the directions for long-distance calls. She answers on the third ring.

“Hey, sweetie. How’s it going?”

“Dad! It’s going good. I’m so glad you called!” she says, clearly elated to hear from him. “How’s the conference?”