Lost(38)

“What kind of offer?”

“I let the best snitches know that I’d give them a walk on their next crack-possession charge if they came up with the name.”

“And did they?”

“The next day I had Ronald Jerris in custody for robbery and assault. It was his fifth arrest that year.”

Marie thought about it and said, “An offer to ignore possession of crack? I’d never be allowed to do that at home.”

“I’m not supposed to do it here either. But letting a brutal robber get away with beating a teenage girl isn’t right. Given the choice between what’s legal and what’s right, I chose right.”

“And now you get free sandwiches.”

“Which I’d like to pay for, but it would hurt his pride. But better than a free lunch is that his daughter is entering her third year at the University of Central Florida.”

We finished our sandwiches and got on our way. As I drove, Marie sat in the passenger seat and took in all the sights of South Florida. “What city is this?” she asked at one point.

“It’s called Coral Springs. This is where people who work in Miami live. At least, people who work in public service.”

Marie turned to me. “Are we going to your house?”

“I thought you might like to eat a home-cooked meal and see what an average American family made up of only adults is like.” I was taking a risk; I wasn’t sure how she’d react to this.

She gave me a broad smile and said, “Will your mom and sister be there?”

“They’re busy making our dinner as we speak.”

All Marie said was “Excellent.”





CHAPTER 55





I TOOK MARIE to my house, despite the fact that I had some concerns. My mom had been pretty good since the incident at the doctor’s office a few days ago, but the likelihood of her having an episode increased as time went on, and I was afraid we were due for a bad night.

My apprehension grew as I turned into my driveway and parked the Explorer. I didn’t know whether I should warn Marie or just roll the dice and see what happened. “Marie, I probably need to tell you something,” I said.

She turned in the seat to give me her full attention. “Of course.”

I thought about how to phrase it, but there’d be no point in telling her if my mom was doing well. Finally, I chickened out and said, “I’m really glad you got a chance to come to Florida. My mom and sister are going to love you.”

I appreciated the smile she gave me.

I felt like I was about to make entry on a search warrant as we ambled up the walkway. As soon as the door opened and I caught a whiff of the Italian food, I felt better.

My little sister popped out of the kitchen immediately, walked right up to Marie, and extended her hand. “You must be Marie. I’m sorry you have to put up with my bonehead brother. He said you took great care of him in Amsterdam, so we hope to do the same for you.”

I stepped next to my sister and gave her a hug. My primary purpose was to gauge the amount of alcohol on her breath. It was tolerable.

Lila took Marie by the arm and walked her toward the kitchen. Lila casually looked over her shoulder and winked at me. That meant everything was okay. At least for now.

I don’t know why, but my mom had become something of a gourmet cook since her diagnosis of dementia. As kids, Lila and I got only the basics. We were well fed, but no one would’ve considered our house a culinary mecca. Now something had clicked, and my mom seemed to understand much more about seasoning; she’d begun making astonishing dishes. I’d asked the doctor about it. He’d just shrugged and said, “I wish I could tell you if it was related to the dementia. The truth is, we have very little idea of what things are triggered by this disease.”

Tonight, I was happy and relieved to see that Mom was as gracious and charming as she normally was. Or at least, as she used to be. She ushered the three of us out to the patio, where she had a pitcher of mojitos ready. We settled in for a drink, Marie sitting between me and my sister, and my mom said, “I tried a new lasagna recipe tonight, and we’ll start with a salad of arugula, strawberries, and walnuts.”

I clapped my hands and said, “That sounds delicious.”

My mom touched my arm and said, “Thanks, Chuck.”

My heart skipped a beat.

After my mom had wandered back into the kitchen, Marie leaned over and asked, “Why did she call you Chuck? Is that your middle name?”

I decided it was time to explain things. I wasn’t embarrassed; I just never knew how to tell people that my mom sometimes lived in a different time and place.





CHAPTER 56



Amsterdam


HANNA GREETE HAD raced around Amsterdam for several days taking care of various tasks so that she could leave for the United States with a clear schedule. She’d planned to fly to Miami to be at the dock when the Scandinavian Queen arrived, but now she had to waste time meeting with her Russian contact Alexi at his favorite little pub in the Oost District.

At least in a pub she’d only have to put up with alcohol, not the constant odor of pot.

She tried to be friendly as well as professional when dealing with the Russians, as there was no way to completely avoid them in this business. Today, though, she didn’t have the patience for pretense, and as soon as she sat at the small table and faced Alexi, she got right to the point. “I hope this is important. I have never been busier in my whole life,” she said.