No Time To Wave Goodbye Part 8

But although his mouth moved, his eyes looked dead, like posthumous portraits from the 1800s. Would anyone sympathize with a young man who seemed to have no feelings at all? Ben was buried under mattress after mattress of coincidence. There was no way for him to be himself. But perhaps if he were to be the real Ben, he would be like Eliza, a writhing, desperate thing no amount of Valium could bring even close to down out of the tree she had clawed her way up.

Candy would have to pa.s.s the room where Charley Seven wept in his wife's arms. He would give his own life, he swore to G.o.d. He would give his right arm. And Pat? Pat had walked every floor of the eleven floors in the hotel, opened every door in the kitchen and the pantry. He walked as he had two decades ago, determined to prove that lightning didn't strike twice ... when it did, all the time. Blue pouches hung from Pat's eyes and his hands and suit stank of the cigarettes he'd given up so long ago.

No.

Candy bent forward over her knees and began to cry. "Please," she said to Humbly. "Please let me be a police officer."

Humbly saw the dark-haired, smaller woman running toward them and almost got up to get between her and Chief Bliss.

"Ma'am," he said, throwing out a hand. "Please wait there ..." but by then, Candy had heard Beth's voice.

"I found you!" Beth said. "Oh honey." Beth sat down and all but pulled Candy into her arms like a child. "Eliza needs you." She held out her hand to Humbly. "I'm Beth Cappadora, Vincent and Ben's mother."

"Who would think this could happen twice in someone's life?" Humbly asked.

"No one," Beth said. "No one on earth."

Humbly's partner came back just then. "Humbly," Melissa Rafferty said. "It's freaky but there are no reported stolens of black or dark Toyota SUVs ..."

"Doesn't mean there aren't any. People might be out of town. Not know their car's gone yet," Humbly said.

"We have a gang of uniforms checking where the newly purchased are with their purchasers. There are about forty zillion of them," said the small, bright-haired officer. "But here's the thing, Humbly. We called all the rental agencies and one at the San Francisco airport has been expecting a return for three days. The kid who rented it thought the driver's license was phony but he rented it anyway because the lady was adopting a baby ... and he kind of liked her ..."

"What was the lady's name?"

"Patricia Fellows."

"Did you run her ...?" Humbly began.

"I know who Patricia Fellows is," Beth said.

"Me, too," Candy said. "Can we go to a computer?" With a few strokes, she summoned up a photo that had the ink-block print quality of black-and-white photography of thirty or fifty years ago. "Patricia Fellows is dead. She died in Riverton, on the West Side of Chicago, forty years ago."

"I was a little kid then," Beth said. "It happened right near the part of the city where I lived when I was small, before we moved to Chester. It was the most horrifying thing that ever happened. People didn't kill children then. It wasn't part of the news every day ... no one's boyfriend got hopped up and just ..."

"Slaughtered some baby or some teenager. Everybody our age knows about the Fellows sisters," Candy said. "But not everyone knows that I didn't grow up in Chicago like Beth and Pat Cappadora did. I've been there so long they probably a.s.sume I did."

"What happened to them?" Humbly asked. "The sisters?"

"They were kidnapped and murdered. It can't be a mistake."

"Candy," Beth asked, "why would they use that name?"

Candy said, "Oh, Bethie. I can only think of one reason. It could be to telegraph to us that this is personal."

CHAPTER NINE.

If the rental car took one more minute to come, Kerry would scream. Not that she had any confidence that she could make her way to LAX in time if it did: The Los Angeles freeway system fulfilled every exaggerated horror story she'd ever heard about it. But Kerry felt more confident taking a car of her own than a cab.

In fact, for the three days since Baby Stella was taken, Kerry had longed for a car anyway, simply to be able to flee the atmosphere of mourning and tension in the penthouse suites. Once, she'd gone down to the pool and dived in but when she surfaced, a reporter was there, asking, "Is there any news of Baby Stella, Kerry? Are the police questioning your brother and his wife? Were they on the verge of a divorce?"

And before she could stop herself, Kerry answered, "That's crazy!"

The police weren't, in fact, "talking" to Ben and Eliza. After a cursory chat with Ben and Eliza, no one seemed to suspect anyone within the family. But the interview circle was widening like sound waves from a tower, to old friends and the people who'd been filmed for the movie, to Vincent's ex-girlfriends.

And then George arrived, just this morning, overnight on the redeye from O'Hare.

When the whole atmosphere ignited, when Ben went nuts for no reason at all, and Beth ran from the room, Kerry had no idea that her mother would hop into a cab and head straight to the airport. Kerry hadn't even seen it-had only heard the few things Pop told her. Kerry was asleep, which was how she coped when she couldn't cope, and the rest of them were sitting with Detective Rafferty, George Karras burst into the living room-thankfully without the annoying wife, Elena, he'd married a few years after Cecilia Lockhart died. Eliza was lying on the bed with Beth, half-asleep, but she jumped up and, with Ben, rushed to George, who enveloped them in a huge embrace. In bits and pieces, Vincent told Kerry what happened next.

George said, "This isn't all so bad as it seems, Sam. The guy down there said they didn't look like drug people or, you know, anyone who wants to hurt Stella. The airlines have these people's picture...."

"Dad, I never got it," Ben said. "How you could love someone so much in just six months."

"That's how I loved you," George said. "Oh, my boy. My son. Oh, Sam, try not to give up. It looks like they have people here ... top notch."

Pat stood up. "Do you want coffee?" he asked the room at large. And everyone nodded. Pat said, "Eliza, you drink like what Bethie does. Vanilla something large with skim. And Candy, a gallon of black with nothing, right? And George ..."

"Sure, Pat, I'll have a large one with milk ..."

"And about eight sugars. It's been twenty years, George. I know how you take your coffee."

Then Ben said, "Shut up."

"What?" Pat asked slowly, his voice hoa.r.s.e. "What? I ... didn't hear you, son."

"I said shut up. Don't interrupt my dad and talk to him like he's sc.u.m. You interrupt him. You act like you let him come to your fancy house and eat your fancy food because you're such a nice guy ..."

"Sam, all I meant was, I know how he takes his coffee. I've known George a long-"

"That's not what you meant. You always have that sneer, like, in your voice when you talk to him."

Vincent got up and said, "Stop. Stop. Pop. Sam. Stop. n.o.body has slept. Everybody's scared to death."

"You should be scared to death," Ben said. "Vincent, you should be scared to shut your eyes in case you die and there really is a h.e.l.l. I let you talk me into doing this movie and you know why? Because I figured, he's a loser. He's been a loser all his life. I got a wife I'm crazy about. I got a life. I'm having a baby. What's he got? He's making Internet cartoons and he's almost thirty, so I think, maybe this will do him good. Make him act not so much like an a.s.shole. But what happens instead ... to me? To Eliza and Candy and your own dear, dear parents? What happens is what always happens when you touch it ..."

"Oh Ben," Vincent moaned. "Don't. Oh, don't do this. I know I deserve it. But I would never, I swear to G.o.d, I would never hurt Stella or Liza or you. You're my brother, Ben ..."

"Which is that it turns to s.h.i.+t. Everything you touch. Vincent. You and your big hood friends. Your Cosa Nostra bulls.h.i.+t. Every thing. Every person. It all turns to s.h.i.+t. So go away. All of you. Go away and leave me with my father. Give us our privacy," Ben said, taking Eliza's arm.

Vincent said, "I'm sorry! Just listen, please. I'll do anything ..."

"Don't you think you've done enough for one lousy lifetime?" Ben asked.

"What happened then?" Kerry asked Vincent later.

"And then Ma slapped Ben," Vincent said.

"No she didn't," said Kerry. "No way."

"She said she couldn't hear him whip me like that. Because it wasn't just now. It wasn't just Stella. She said ..." Kerry grabbed her brother's arm.

"What, Vincent? What?"

"She said that ... I would die for Stella. Or Ben. And that I thought it was all my fault. As long as I could remember."

"What else?"

"Ma said that what I tried to do was good ..."

"Did Pop try to help?"

"Everyone tried. George did. Candy did. But Ben just held the door open and I ran out and Pop ran after me. Ma tried to go back but Ben wouldn't look at her and neither would Eliza. And he shut the door." Vincent stopped, his breath ragged, not caring that Kerry saw the tears that dripped off his chin. "It's worse, though."

How could it be worse? Kerry thought. The mockery of March sunlight made sequential pools on the bedroom carpet. "I guess Candy got up and followed Mom."

"She left Eliza?" Kerry gasped.

"She came out and I heard her say, 'Sam, you're going to use words that can't be taken back. That is your mother. And you need her now. And I need her now. You know what you said isn't true. Nothing that happened here was anyone's doing except someone who knows too much about your family. We need to be together on this.' But Ben just sat there. Candy finally said, 'Okay, I'm going, too, pal.' The door was open and I heard Eliza start to cry and say, 'Mommy! Auntie!' And Ben tried to calm her down. He said, 'Your mom can stay.' But Candy kept going."

"Where's Ma?"

"I can't find her, Bear. She ran and Pop and I can't find her. She took her big backpack and ... crazy stuff like all the iPhones she got."

"Vincent, did you ask downstairs?" Kerry asked, but had pulled a rugby s.h.i.+rt on over her sweats and strappy T-s.h.i.+rt before he could answer.

Mrs. Cappadora had taken a cab to meet a relative, said the doorman.

"Where?" Kerry asked.

"She said the airport," the guy in the black uniform with red piping told Kerry. He was British and a flirt.

"How soon can I get a rental?" Kerry asked.

That was forty-five minutes ago. Now, she stalked back into the scented cool air of the Paloma with her hands grasping the roots of her long auburn hair. "The car that you ordered for me hasn't come! My mom needs me. Can you please call them back?"

"Josh, I'm taking my lunch," said the doorman, pulling off his hat. "Here, I'll run you up there ..." He took the keys to one of the Paloma vans and hopped in.

"You don't have to do that, and all I have is a credit card," Kerry protested.

"No worries. You've been through enough, you lot."

And so they careered through back roads and down canyons and on and off the freeway, the Brit, who called himself Craig, madly trying to interest Kerry in something other than his driving prowess, while she tried to think of what airline they'd taken out here, five days and a lifetime ago. "United," she said suddenly. "United."

"You go in and I'll park," he said.

"How will I know you?" Kerry asked.

"Me, I'll be the one wearing the black uniform with the bra.s.s b.u.t.tons."

"I'm sorry," Kerry said. "Of course. Of course. I'm so grateful." She ran through the automatic doors and sprinted for the United counter but, before she could engage the attention of the woman herding the departing pa.s.sengers into the line, she saw Beth, about to put her bag onto the conveyor belt at the security line.

"Mom!" Kerry cried. "Mom!" Kerry began to push past the others in the lines leading to the screening machines.

"Where is your boarding pa.s.s, ma'am?" said a brusque woman who, until Kerry slid under the rope, appeared to have been asleep. "You get back here."

"That's my mother," Kerry said. "I have to stop her!"

"I don't care who she is. I need to see your boarding pa.s.s."

"I don't have a boarding pa.s.s. I'm not boarding!"

"Then you need to get out of this line before I call security," the uniformed woman said, her voice rising.

Kerry yelled, "My mom is out of her mind!"

Everyone stopped then.

Beth slowly removed her bag from the belt and walked back. In instants, mother and daughter were surrounded by security, who whisked them into a gla.s.s-walled office. A man with a gold bar ID badge asked Beth's permission to search her bag. Out tumbled her wallet, her Carolina Herrera dress, and eight iPhones. "What are these?" he asked "They're from the Oscars," Beth explained. The fellow glanced at Kerry.

"They really are from the Oscars," Kerry said. "This isn't what it looks like."

"It never is," the man told them.

"It really isn't. My brother won an Oscar for Best Doc.u.mentary Film and the same night my baby niece was kidnapped ..."

"Let me see your ID," the man said, suddenly gentle.

"Look there," Kerry said. "Look at your newspaper." Behind him on the desk was a copy of the Los Angeles Times with the headline SEARCH FOR OSCAR BABY ENTERS THIRD DAY and a picture of Eliza and Beth with Stella. There was also a blowup of the security-camera picture of the couple at the elevator.

"That's you?" the man asked, pointing to the photo of Beth's face. Beth nodded. "Why were you getting on the plane to Chicago?"

"Mom, it's a good question," Kerry interrupted. "Were you going to leave Candy and Ben and Vincent and me? Like you did before? Duck out on us? Because it hurts too much?" Kerry began to cry. "It hurts me too, Mom. It's killing Candy. Don't you care? Or is it all about you?" Beth shook her head and let Kerry embrace her.

The security officer held out the newspaper for his colleague to see. "Let's get you two back," he said.

"I'm sorry, Ker," Beth said to her daughter. "It's so bad now. Candy is me now but I'm still me too."

"Wait," Kerry said. "Let me see the newspaper." She hadn't even looked at one. She'd avoided the coverage on TV. For the first time, Kerry took time to study the photo the police had isolated from the hotel video footage. She said, "Mom. Mom. I think ... no, I'm sure that was the lady who came to our house."

"What lady?" Beth asked.