There was no harmless way to hold her head. Two degrees of tilt in either direction brought on more painful throbbing. Mallory sat on the sofa, facing away from Charles Butler’s front windows. Her sensitivity to sunlight was another unfamiliar symptom.
Riker, the wise man of hangovers, looked deep into her reddened eyes, then turned back to Charles. „Naw, she’s not sick. This is fixable.“
The two men walked off toward the kitchen and left her in merciful silence. She bowed her head over the thick text of legalese in her lap.
On the street just outside the window, a cat’s sudden scream elongated into a howl of agony, and Mallory’s fragile nerve endings thrummed in a sympathetic vibration – not to be confused with sympathy. She even took some satisfaction in the animal’s obvious pain as she wished it a quick and violent death, then resumed reading Oliver Tree’s last will and testament.
Riker’s voice carried down the hall from the kitchen. „I need a raw egg, club soda and Tabasco sauce.“
She barely heard Charles’s response. „You’re sure this won’t kill her?“
When Riker returned to the living room, he was carrying a glass of suspicious dark slime topped with frothy bubbles. „Charles is making you a cappuccino chaser.“
„I’m not drinking that,“ said Mallory.
„Yeah, you will.“ He handed her the glass. „Drink it down in one gulp. It’ll put you out of your misery. Then we won’t have to shoot you.“
She tipped back the glass and all but inhaled the contents to get this over with quickly. The taste and the mucous texture were equally vile. This was gross betrayal. She glared at Riker, her poisoner.
„Okay, kid.“ He sloughed off his coat and tossed it on a chair near the door. „The next time you tie one on, take an aspirin before you go to bed. Drink lots of water too. Half the pain is dehydration.“
Her wounded eyes were riveted to the brown spot on the lapel of his coat – fresh aggravation. How long had that coffee stain been setting in?
She held up the pages of the will. „How did you get this away from the lawyer?“
„I thought that might cheer you up.“ Riker sat down beside her and rummaged through his suit pockets. „I dropped by the executor’s office. Man, that place even smells like money. So I asked the secretary for the name of her boss’s cruise ship. I was gonna cable some questions on the will.“
He pulled out a mess of cards and crumpled sheets of paper. „Then the secretary, what’s her name – “ He held out a business card at arm’s length, rather than put on his reading glasses. „Gina. She tells me she’s on a waiting list for the police academy. Nice kid – loves cops. Well, Gina asks me what I think of her chances for acceptance. So I say the odds get better if I write her a recommendation. Then she tells me her boss was never on a cruise ship.“
„He’s been hiding from the police?“
„More like he’s hiding the platform and the crossbows. After the archery stunt at the parade, he thought we might take another look at Oliver’s death – maybe impound the props before the auction.“ He pointed to the paperwork in her lap. „Cut to page thirty-two.“
Mallory flipped through the sheets until she found the list of items to be auctioned for charity. All the magic props were listed by category. She ran one finger down the first column of the inventory.
„Let me save you some time,“ said Riker. „The platform isn’t on that list. But Gina says it’s the big-ticket item for the auction. The bidding starts at one o’clock this afternoon. The lawyer wants to unload all the magic props before the media hype dies down.“
He handed her the business card, and she read the address line penciled on the back. It was more than thirty blocks from her next appointment in Times Square. „What’s the going rate for a magic trick that bombed?“
„Quite a bundle,“ said Riker. „And the lawyer gets a cut of the action. The heavyweight bidder is a Hollywood producer. He wants to make a movie out of Oliver Tree’s fatal flop.“
„Who else was invited?“
„A lot of magicians in town for the festival. That’s why nobody gets to look inside the platform till they lay down the cash. The lawyer’s afraid they’ll rip him off.“
Mallory checked her pocket watch. It was close to the time of her meeting with Mr. Halpern. She wondered how long it would take to work through Rabbi Kaplan’s instructions for dealing with an elderly Holocaust survivor. Since she didn’t intend to miss the auction, she also computed the penalties for hurrying the old man’s interview along.
What was the worst thing the rabbi could do to her?
„Riker, did the secretary say anything about Oliver’s nephew? He’s not on the list of bequests.“ And neither was the platform mentioned in this section.
„Yeah, she did.“ He looked down at an open notebook. „Richard Tree is a grandnephew, the grandson of Oliver’s half brother. He’s the old man’s only living relative.“
„But the chief beneficiary is a local hospital.“
„Yeah, Gina says Oliver spent all his Sundays there. He did magic shows for sick kids. So the nephew doesn’t inherit squat, but he has a huge trust fund.“
„So he does benefit.“
„By the death? Not a dime. His trust was activated years ago. The kid has to take a drug test to get his allotment checks. Hasn’t passed one yet. That’s why he took the crossbow job for a hundred bucks. There’s a pile of money in the trust, but he can’t stay clean long enough to collect.“
„With the old man dead, it’s easier to break the trust.“
„Wrong again,“ said Riker. „Oliver didn’t have much use for his nephew, but he didn’t want the kid to die from an overdose of money. So the old man hired the best lawyer in Manhattan to make an unbreakable trust. Oliver’s attorney is the mother of all sharks. Remember that when you meet him. You can’t bullshit this bastard.“
Mallory held up a crisp twenty-dollar bill. Riker nodded, and the bet was made.
„Okay, next interview.“ Riker turned back pages in his notebook. „I talked to the guy who managed Oliver’s company after the old man retired. He says Oliver still did some work on the side. He owned an old theater uptown. The renovation was kind of a hobby. That’s where he built the platform a couple of years ago.“
She drummed her fingers on the ream of paper. „This will is dated eight months ago. So why isn’t the platform mentioned?“
Riker shrugged. „Old guy, bad memory.“
„Maybe he gave it away before he died. Remember the dinner party, Riker? Those gifts to his old friends? One of them got the platform and Oliver’s plans for the Lost Illusion. That man knew how to sabotage the trick.“
„It’s a good theory, but – “
„It gets better. I went over Max Candle’s platform last night. The loops for the handcuffs are set high on the posts. Same position for both platforms.“
„So?“
„The trick was originally designed for a taller man. Max Candle was six feet tall. Oliver was seven inches shorter. Prado and Futura are both about the same – “
Charles returned with a tray of coffee mugs. He set it down on the low table in front of her, and the aroma of cappuccino did not make her nauseous. Riker’s hangover remedy had actually worked. „Thanks, Charles. How bad is the damage on the post? Do I need a carpenter to – “
„The post isn’t broken,“ said Charles, and he appeared to be sorry about that.
„Of course it is,“ she said – she insisted. „I broke it last night.“
„Are you quite sure you broke it?“
„What the hell is that supposed to mean?“ Did he think that she imagined it?
Riker was squinting at Charles. „Would I want to know what this is about? Did I miss a good party?“ He turned to Mallory. „You never take me anywhere.“
„That’s enough,“ said Mallory. „I did shoot the rat, I did not shoot the balloon, I did break the post.“ She hoped they both understood that it would be a big mistake to challenge any of this. „Malakhai must’ve fixed it.“ He had obviously been visiting the cellar while she was sleeping through the alarm this morning.
So it was not the passport he wanted. Malakhai was still searching for something.
The young messenger’s bicycle basket was loaded with packages as he rushed down the mighty artery of Broadway, ignoring the traffic light and aiming his front wheel at a crowd of pedestrians in the crosswalk at 42nd Street. He screamed out a warning to those who were foolish enough to block his way: „No insurance! No insurance!“
Mallory pulled Mr. Halpern back, and the rest of the crowd divided to clear a path for the bicycle. The messenger whizzed through the crush of bodies on either side of him. Jeers and raised fingers suggested that the rider should commit an unnatural sex act upon himself at the first opportunity.
Mr. Halpern shook his head and smiled as he stared at the back of the departing bicyclist. „That’s New York.“ He said this as if it might be a good explanation for a near-death experience. And it probably was.
The night of the poker game, the old man had carried a homburg. Today he wore a deerstalker with fur flaps to protect his ears from the cold. „On my lunch hour, I always take a stroll around Times Square, no matter what the weather. Anything to get out of the office.“
Mallory strained to hear his weak voice. The nervous streets of flashing electronic signs, fast-walking pedestrians and vehicles converged on them from all directions. Broadway merged its cars and tour buses with Seventh Avenue traffic, and all the cross streets contributed more hustle to the flow.
„It’s changed so much,“ said Mr. Halpern. „It’s like watching a child grow.“ He pointed to the Disney store. Flights of cheerful cartoon characters had displaced hookers, peepshows and adult bookstores. Mickey Mouse reigned over Times Square. „My great-grandchildren love the – “ And now he stopped, perhaps recalling newspaper headlines to the effect that Detective Mallory was not a friend of the cartoon world.
A car honked to break a city ordinance against unnecessary noise. And now the warm scent of roasted chestnuts turned Mallory’s head. A sidewalk vendor had illegally set up his cart, despite the fact that the mayor had recently driven small entrepreneurs from the square. In the absence of a police presence, there were a lot of violations going down today. And that was odd – not a single uniformed officer in sight.
She focused on the old man again, walking alongside him, taking his measurements. According to the rabbi, Mr. Halpern was Malakhai’s age, but he seemed decades older. Was he ill, or only tired?
„I can read your mind, Detective Mallory. Why do I still work? It’s almost indecent, isn’t it? I should yield to the young – my replacements.“
„Not if you don’t want to.“ She was following the rabbi’s protocol to the letter. This was the warm-up, the casual conversation, an utter waste of her time.
„Oh, but I wanted to retire,“ said Mr. Halpern. „When my son took over the family business, I wanted to make an art studio in my garage. At last, I would have the time to work on my drawings. I’d waited so many years for the chance. But my boy had other plans. Now he keeps an office for me. I sit there every day and do work of no importance. He pretends I’m needed. I pretend not to notice that I’m in his way. Such loving lies we tell each other.“
„Why don’t you tell him what you want?“ At best, this old man would only have a few years left to draw his pictures.
„I did tell him. I said I wanted to retire. But my son knows I love him very much. He was sure I must be lying to him.“ Mr. Halpern shrugged. „So to prove his love is greater, he told the bigger lie. He said he couldn’t run the business without me. Well, he’s my son. How can I accuse him of lying?“ He raised his eyebrows to ask if she saw the humor in this.
Yes, she did. And thanks to Rabbi Kaplan, who had invented the concept of irony, Mallory had even predicted the punch line.
She pulled out her pocket watch and frowned at the time. Well, this little warm-up chat was definitely over. „The rabbi said you had a story about Malakhai?“
„Oh, yes.“ He looked at the watch in her hand, nodding his understanding that she had more important business elsewhere.
„You spoke to him at the rabbi’s house the other night.“ She kept the watch open in her hand, a visual prompt to make him talk faster.
„Yes, I was surprised by how well he looked – how young. Only his hair had grown old.“
„How old was he the first time you met him?“
„In the camp? He was about my age, maybe seventeen. I was unloading mailbags from the train. That was my – “
„This was a concentration camp?“
„Yes, but there were no ovens, no gas chambers in this place. It was a transit camp, a limbo station on the way to worse places. It was prison, but there was food enough. And that day there was music. There was always music when we had visitors from the outside. That was the day the Red Cross inspection team arrived. While they were touring the camp, the train came in with new prisoners to be processed. Later, the list of names would be called out for boarding. When the train pulled out again – “
He winced at some old memory and looked down at the pavement. „Well, you never wanted to be on the outward-bound trains. My parents, my whole family had gone down that track to Auschwitz. Not one of them ever came back. Not one cousin, an aunt or an uncle. And I knew my name would be on that list one day.“ He paused again. „But I’m rambling – sorry.“ He leaned down, the better to see the face of her pocket watch.
Mallory snapped it shut and put it away. „I have time,“ she said. „All the time you need.“
The old man nodded and took a package of cigarettes from his coat pocket. He held them up to ask if she objected. She didn’t.
„Louisa had been in the camp for about a month. I didn’t know her name then. I never spoke to her. But I saw her every day when she was led to the commandant’s office. Her eyes were always in a faraway trance – a walking dreamer. I thought she had lost her mind.“
He stabbed the air with one finger as if marking a moment in time. „But that day was different. Louisa stood on the bandstand and played her violin to entertain the visitors. The Red Cross team had come to inspect the camp. The commandant was anxious to show them how well treated we were. The camps down the track – what went on there… It was the worst-kept secret on earth. The prisoners all knew about the death camps. And the Red Cross people – they knew. Yet they came to photograph the transit camp, to show this to the outside world.“
He held an unlit cigarette as he dug into another pocket for his matches. „I was standing by the train with my cart, waiting for the mail car to open. Malakhai just appeared by my side – a young boy, straight and tall. His eyes were the same dark blue. Odd that his eyes never changed. His long hair was the color of lions. Such a handsome boy, but so strange and out of place. It was a warm day, but his shirt collar was buttoned up and his sleeves were pulled down. I knew he hadn’t gotten off the train with the others. Not a prisoner, not a soldier either. Later, I decided he must have come in with the people from the Red Cross.“
Mr. Halpern’s wooden match made a false strike on the side of a small box. „After the mail was unloaded, the boy walked along with me and helped to push the cart. No guard ever looked his way. They only recognized fear and covert acts. Nothing else got their attention. As the cart rolled along, Malakhai never took his eyes off the bandstand. It was maybe ten feet high, a stage on four thick legs, and guards were posted at the foot of the stairs. The lines of prisoners from the train moved around it like a living river.“
Mallory was aware of someone standing close to them. She turned to see a small bearded man wearing a ski cap and pretending sudden interest in a shopwindow. Was he hiding something?
She turned her attention back to Mr. Halpern’s story.
„There were three musicians on the bandstand. The cellist and the oboe player were middle-aged women. Louisa was only a schoolgirl. Long red hair and light blue eyes. She had milk-white skin like yours. I can still see her face in every detail. But her expression is what I will remember till I die. I don’t think she knew what was happening. She seemed so lost in her music, dreaming or insane.“
The old man was seeing it all over again in that middle ground of vision, looking back at time. „The prisoners marched past the bandstand. A soldier called out names for the death train. And the music was Mozart.“ He waved the wooden match in the air, a tiny baton conducting a memory.
„I was distracted, listening for my name on the list. I wasn’t called that day. When I turned to the young stranger, he was gone. I looked up at the bandstand, and Louisa had also vanished. The two older women were still playing their instruments. The guards stationed at the foot of the stairs didn’t seem to notice that one musician was missing. No one was aware of the escape, though it happened in front of hundreds of people. No one saw it.“
„Do you remember anything else going on?“
„You mean a diversion?“ He put the unlit cigarette in his mouth. „Yes, I figured that out afterward. I remember a commotion somewhere beyond the lines of prisoners. I didn’t see what it was – I was so intent on the list of names. Louisa must’ve jumped into his arms while the guards were distracted.“
Mallory nodded. „If the diversion was on the ground, the guards wouldn’t have any reason to look up.“ Most people went through their days without ever looking any higher than their own heads.
The cigarette dangled between his dry lips. „The train was loaded, ready to pull out. The last time I saw the boy and girl, they were hiding in the brush by the side of the tracks – too close. I wanted to warn them that the soldiers would see them when they secured the train. And then I realized that Louisa and Malakhai meant to climb aboard.“
Mallory was watching the other man, the smaller figure with the ski cap. He was hovering closer now, holding a valise in his arms, cradling it like a baby, as he skated back and forth on his sneakers. A pickpocket looking for a likely mark? No, that didn’t fit with the valise. She looked around the square. Why were there no cops?
„I wanted to stop them, to warn them,“ said Mr. Halpern. „It was insanity to board the death train. When they climbed into the mail car, I was so frightened for them. Then I looked away. I didn’t want to draw attention to them with my own fear. The search of the mail car only took a few minutes. Not a big security problem. Who would willingly get on board? That way down the rail was death and worse things.“
He struck another match absently. It failed to light. „The soldiers checked inside the mail car, but they never found the boy and girl. The train rolled out.“
„So Louisa and Malakhai hid in the mail sacks?“
„That’s what I thought when I made my own escape. There were always ten or twelve mailbags on that car. Only one was unloaded at the transit camp. All the sacks were large enough to hide a body, and most of them were never full. I figured the train would make a number of stops before it entered Germany. Until that moment, I never thought of escaping death that way – on a train to an extermination camp.“
Mallory was distracted again. The bearded man with the ski cap slid back into her field of vision, still clutching his valise. He was waiting for something or someone.
Mr. Halpern pulled another match from the box. The unlit cigarette moved in the corner of his mouth as he spoke. „Twenty years later, I saw them again on the stage – right here in New York. Louisa was long dead by then, and her ghost was part of a magic act. I could hear Malakhai speaking to her, but I couldn’t see her – only the objects she carried. And then he sent her out into the audience, this poor dead girl. I felt a rush of air near my chair. I could smell a woman’s perfume – the scent of a flower.“
„A gardenia?“
„Yes, perhaps a gardenia. And then, I swear Louisa brushed my cheek with her hand. After the performance, I wanted to go backstage, to ask him then – how did they make their escape? But I was in tears. I couldn’t speak.“
Mallory had lost track of the odd little man in the ski cap. He had melded back into the crowd. „But didn’t you say you escaped?“
„Not the way they did, though I thought so at the time. I made the run myself on the next train. Once the guards knew Louisa was gone, the camp would lock down. I’d never get the chance again. I walked along the rails with my cart. I paid no attention to the guards, and so I was invisible to them – just as Malakhai had been. I waited for the steam of the engine to cover me, and then I boarded the mail car. There were no names on the sacks, only numbers. There was no way to tell when or where the next mail drop would be. They searched the car before the train pulled out. The butt of a rifle missed my head by an inch when a soldier jammed it into my sack.
You begin to see the problem? How did they miss two people in different mailbags?“
He struck the match; it flamed in the wind and died. He pulled out another. „I hid in there for hours and hours. I was afraid the train would never stop before we entered Germany. When it finally did stop, the mail car wouldn’t open from the inside – there was no latch. Can you imagine that moment? I gave myself up for dead and crawled back into that canvas bag, my shroud.“
„Then the door was pulled open. Only one sack was unloaded, and I was in it. A stroke of luck, one chance in a pile of ten mailbags to escape from the train. I was thrown onto the back end of a supply truck. Once it was on the road, I crawled out of the sack and jumped off. I was free.“
He struck another match, and Mallory cupped her hands around it to shelter the flame from the wind.
„But you see, don’t you? That couldn’t have been the way Malakhai and Louisa escaped. You can see the odds against it.“ He bowed to the glow of the match and lit his cigarette. „But I think I’ve figured it out – the only way it could’ve happened.“
He turned to exhale the smoke away from her, and a look of extreme horror flooded his eyes. Mallory stepped to the side and saw the gun rising in the hand of the little man with the ski cap. The spray gun was firing a black stream of paint at Mr. Halpern. And now there was also surprise on the face of the smaller man. He was trying to stuff his spray gun into the valise as he ran.
Mallory didn’t have to chase him far. He was laughing when she brought him down, unafraid, even proud – until the pain set in.
„You’re breaking my arm,“ he screamed, as she ungently pulled it back to handcuff him.
A group of people gathered around them, some for the show, and others were probably hoping to catch her in an act of police brutality. Never a willing crowd pleaser, Mallory elected not to break the little man’s bones.
„Thanks,“ said a woman in street clothes, kneeling on the ground beside her. A man joined them, flashing his identification and badge for Mallory as he crouched over the prisoner. „We’ll take over now.“
She looked past these two to see the others approach, at least ten cops in plainclothes, coming out from under cover, pinning badges to their coats as they ran. Turning around, she saw more of them coming from across the square.
So this had been a stakeout. That would explain the lack of uniforms. All of them had known what the little freak was planning. They had probably been watching him while he shot the old man with the spray gun – and they let it happen. An attempted assault was no substitute for the real thing.
She walked away from the cluster of spectators and plainclothes cops. Mr. Halpern was alone, standing apart from the crowd. His face was splattered, and his coat dripped black paint on the ground. Taking the old man’s arm, she led him along the sidewalk. Mallory saw every approaching pedestrian as a potential criminal who might jostle him, and she held Mr. Halpern’s arm a little tighter.
The small room was at the end of the hall, far from the traffic of office workers in this firm which bore the Halpern name. The walls were decorated with a collection of drawings by Paul Klee and Max Ernst. The desktop was clear of paperwork, and the Times crossword puzzle had already been completed and discarded in the wastepaper basket.
„I’m sorry this happened.“ Mallory set a cup of tea on the desk blotter in front of Mr. Halpern. His face was still spotted with red blotches from scrubbing off the paint splatters. His coat had taken the worst of the assault, and only a few spots were visible on his pale gray suit.
Again, she said, „I’m sorry,“ knowing there were not sorries enough to cover this kind of damage. She could not forget the look in his eyes when the spray gun fired. She should have been able to protect him.
Another screwup.
He reached over and rested his hand on hers. „Not your fault.“ His skin was cool and dry, and his thin hand was like a delicate covering of wrapping paper. She wondered how much time he would have left to draw his pictures.
In the hall outside the office door, Mr. Halpern’s son was speaking with a uniformed officer.
„Detective Mallory, tell me about this little fellow with the paint gun,“ said the elder Mr. Halpern. „Was it my fur hat that made him angry? One of the animal-rights people spat on me a few months back.“
„No, he was one of the antismoking people.“ And now Mallory was envisioning tomorrow’s headline: ‘Puppy-shooting Cop Assaults Political Activist.’ „Your cigarette set him off. His father died of a heart attack, and he blames it on secondhand smoke.“
„But – out of doors?“
„The freak always works on the street. Easier to hit and run. He’s done this to a lot of people, usually women. He’s never splattered anyone big enough to put a fist through his face. Detective Rodriguez said you must have turned around at the wrong time. He usually gets his victims in the back. Then he lectures them on smoking and runs away before they find out they’ve been hit.“
„So the other officers knew who he was before – “
„Times Square is his favorite spot.“ And now she confirmed the old man’s suspicion. „The arresting officers were waiting for him this time.“
Fifteen cops had been assigned to one vandal. God forbid the spray gun should splatter an out-of-towner and upset the mayor’s tourism promotion. Meanwhile, she had to cheat and lie to get a fraction of that manpower on a homicide case.
She turned to look at the officer waiting in the hallway. „When you’re ready, that cop will drive you home to Scarsdale.“
„No, Detective Mallory. I’m fine, thank you. My son wouldn’t understand if I – “
„He will when I get through with him.“ Did the old man’s face tense up slightly? In a softer voice, more reassuring, she said, „Any kind of assault leaves people a little shaky, even if it’s just a shouting match on the street. I’ll explain that to your son. He’ll understand.“
„Is there time for the rest of the story? I want to tell you my theory – how Louisa and Malakhai got away.“
„Sure.“ She had given up the idea of getting to the auction in time for the opening bids. So far, this had not been a profitable day.
„I told you, the first time I saw Malakhai, his shirt was buttoned up and the sleeves rolled down. I think the clothes covered up – “
„A German uniform?“
„Yes, yes.“ He smiled and slapped his hand on the desk. „Malakhai’s clothes were hiding a uniform.“ He seemed so pleased with her, as if she were his promising student. Or perhaps he was only gratified that she had been paying attention. That would be a rare event on any day spent in this office, this nicely decorated holding cell.
„That was the surest way to evade the soldiers checking the cars and jamming the sacks with their rifle butts,“ said Mr. Halpern. „Malakhai must have been the soldier who searched the mail car before the train pulled out.“
„Good idea,“ said Mallory. „So you think Malakhai was in the German Army?“
„Oh, no. It was definitely a disguise. He only said a few words to me that day. He had a child’s grasp of the language, and the accent was no good at all. I’m German-born. I promise you, he was not.“ He leaned toward her in the spirit of collaboration. „I believe he knew what was going to happen when the train made the next stop to drop off mail.“
Mallory nodded. „He probably cased the whole route.“
„So the train stopped. The car door opened for the mail drop, and Malakhai was standing there in a German uniform. He was the soldier who unloaded the mail sack with Louisa inside. As I said, he had a poor command of the German language. Yet there he was, a young boy carrying an escaped prisoner in his arms – surrounded by all those soldiers. It’s always been much more than a puzzle to me. This was a love story.“
Mr. Halpern sat back in his chair, frowning now. „Ah, but I’ll never know if I got it right.“
„You didn’t ask him? That night at Rabbi Kaplan’s house – “
„Malakhai didn’t remember how he stole Louisa from the camp. He said I had waited too long to ask. He has strokes, small ones that destroy his memories. It’s been going on for about a year. He said they happen all the time. Bits and pieces of his life are missing every other morning. So I’ll never know how he did his best trick – if I got it right or not.“
„It works for me.“ Mallory turned to the door, where the uniformed officer was waiting to carry Mr. Halpern home.
„Will I have to testify against the little man with the paint gun?“
„No, I don’t think so,“ she said. „The arresting officers have more than enough complaints to nail the freak. He’s criminally nuts.“
„That’s your perception today, Detective. Things change – and so quickly. A few years from now, when you think back on this business with the paint gun – you’ll remember me as the criminal who smoked a cigarette.“ He smiled as he patted her hand. „Not your fault. Things change.“
She motioned for the officer to come in. „He’ll take you home now. Maybe you should stay there? Just draw your pictures and forget about this place. You don’t want to be here anyway.“
„Ah, but my son.“ His sweet smile reminded her that there were loving lies to be maintained. Every day he would return to do work of no consequence. Father and son would go on pretending that he was needed here.
And now the younger Mr. Halpern was entering the old man’s office.
„Things change,“ said Mallory.