I'm Glad I Did Page 17

  First I called Luke to run the idea by him. Then I called Rosetta, who was her usual warm and fuzzy self. “What do you want, girl?” she grunted. I asked her to pick up the demo at the Good Music office, just to give it a listen, to see how her mother had brought life to a song. She was guarded until I told her that there would be no hugging involved. Then I decided to take a lunch break at The Turf bar.

  I’d been chomping on my sandwich for about five minutes when Nick slid onto the seat next to me. I don’t think I’d ever been as happy to see him. I needed company, an ear. I felt as if my thoughts were driving holes in my brain. I needed to hear someone else’s voice.

  “Please talk to me,” I said. “I’m obsessing about Dulcie again. I’m driving myself crazy.”

  “I’ve been thinking about her, too,” Nick confessed. “She’d been through so much, and she was still such a sweet person. She was so alive … it’s hard to believe that she’s gone. It breaks my heart.”

  He ordered roast beef on a bun and a Coke.

  “It breaks my heart, too,” I answered. “What’s worse is that I really believed she had a good chance for a comeback.”

  “I know,” Nick confirmed. “She sounded fantastic on that song of yours she recorded.”

  “Yeah, she did,” I said. “I mean, that’s what gave me the idea …” All at once, I felt a stab in my gut. I wasn’t sure why, but I knew I had to get off the subject of Dulcie. “I don’t think I can talk about it anymore,” I told Nick. “You know everything that’s going on in the building. Fill me in on some juicy gossip.”

  He was happy to oblige. In the next five minutes, I found out who was delivering payola money to which disc jockey, who was cheating on their wives—and the only gossip that truly interested me—who was getting their songs recorded and by whom. But all the time he was talking, I felt a silent alarm going off in my brain. Something was wrong.

  Right after lunch, I sneaked down from Good Music to room 717. Luke had almost finished packing. Gone were the stacks of papers and piles of folders; almost everything was in boxes now. He was starting to take the pictures off the walls … and then he’d be done.

  “Luke, did you ever play Dulcie’s demo for Nick?” I asked, not bothering to sit.

  “No.” He shook his head. “I never played it for anyone. Why do you ask?”

  That’s when it hit me. In that instant I knew what I did and didn’t want to know. If Luke hadn’t played it for Nick, and I hadn’t played it for Nick, there was only one other place he could have heard it: Dulcie’s apartment. But he had told me that he’d never been there.

  “Why would he do that?” I asked Luke, once I’d spelled everything out for him. “Why would he lie?”

  “Maybe he just misspoke,” Luke countered. His green eyes got that distant look they always did when he was thinking deeply about something, weighing all the various outcomes. “Maybe he didn’t want you to know he’d been there for his own reasons. There are so many maybes.”

  “Yeah, there are.” I met his gaze. “But maybe the only one that matters is he lied.”

  “JJ,” Luke said in a soft voice, “are you sure you’re not jumping on this because you don’t want Bernie to be guilty?”

  “I’m sure,” I answered. “Luke … I can’t explain it. I have this feeling inside. Like I’m connected to Dulcie, and she’s telling me what to do. I’m going to McGrath, and I’m going to tell him what I know and what I think.”

  Luke stepped toward me, taking my hands. “I’m sure the New York City police department will be eager to discuss the vibrations you feel from beyond the grave,” he commented dryly, raising his eyebrows.

  I had to smile even though I didn’t want to. At least he smiled back. That smile was worth any grief. “You’re probably right, Sherlock, but I’m going to tell them anyway.”

  He let go of my hands and kissed me on the lips. “I know you will, Watson. Just call me when you do. I’ll be wrapping up here. I can’t wait to hear how they respond to your theory. My advice: just go easy on the Dulcie communication part.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  After work I took the stairs down from Good Music instead of the elevator, then hopped on the subway to police headquarters—all the way downtown. By the time I arrived forty minutes later, I was hot and tired. And surprised at how crummy the place was, on par with Luke’s apartment. The main floor was grimy and chaotic: sweaty cops bringing in sweatier criminals and booking them. People shuffled in, milling around, looking for jailed relatives. And there were some real nutcases: some yelling about their innocence, some screaming they didn’t belong there, others screaming for no reason at all. I couldn’t conceive of the kind of person who’d actually want to work here.

  Luckily, the wait was short. I was ushered into Frank McGrath’s office after only a few minutes. I didn’t even let him get through the usual pleasantries before I launched into the story of my lunch with Nick, and the slip he’d made in regard to Dulcie and visiting her apartment.

  “Only three people had the demo,” I finished. “Luke, me, and Dulcie, and neither Luke nor I played it for him. The only place he could have heard it was Dulcie’s apartment on the afternoon or night of her death. You need to at least question him.”

  He leaned back in his chair and motioned toward one across from the desk. “Justice, you sure you don’t want to sit?”

  “No, thank you.”

  “Listen, sweetheart,” McGrath said with poorly disguised sarcasm, “I’m sure your mom has told you we’re understaffed and need help. So I really appreciate your trying to assist us in this investigation. But right now we have a suspect who is very viable. We’re very busy and focused on checking into his involvement in this case.”

  “You’re talking about my Uncle Bernie, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, at this moment, Bernie Rubin is our prime suspect. But we will definitely look into this Nick person, the elevator operator.” He sat up and straightened a pile of papers, then reached for a notebook.

  I knew I was being “yessed.” I could tell by the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes. Shut the little girl up, and get her out of here so she won’t bother us anymore.

  “Please, Detective McGrath,” I begged. “Please take this as seriously as if a person over twenty-one was telling you this. My uncle may not be guilty.”

  McGrath stifled a grin. But he clicked open a pen and leaned over his notebook. “Okay, JJ. I’ll run a make on your suspect. Now, what’s Nick’s last name?”

  I felt my heart stop. I didn’t know Nick’s last name. He was just Nick. “Um, I … I, I’ll find that out for you and call you,” I stammered.

  “You do that,” McGrath said, letting the grin escape. His lips curved into a gentle smile. “And then you get back to me.”

  I think I managed to escape his office without tripping over my big feet because they were planted firmly in my mouth. What kind of Watson was I? And what kind of advocate for Bernie? My face felt hot, and I knew I was probably bright red. I didn’t know what to do. I just knew I had to tell Janny what I’d learned and what I’d done before I screwed up anymore.

  I found a pay phone and called her office. She was still in court. I left word with her secretary that I had something important to discuss with Janny, along with Luke’s office number. Then, I called Luke and told him exactly how I’d made a total fool of myself. At least I hadn’t mentioned trying to communicate with Dulcie through her vocal performance.

  “Do you know Nick’s last name?” I asked.

  “What kind of question is that, Watson?”

  “Well, Sherlock, it seems they need that to run a make on him, and I don’t know it.”

  “Well, er … why don’t you come over to the office?”

  I had to laugh. “You don’t either. Are we lame or what, Sherlock? Can you guess?”

  “I never guess,” Luke stated with a fairly spot-on Holmes-like British accent. “It is a shocking habit—destructive to the logical facul
ty.”

  “I get it, wise guy. You know your Sherlock quotes, but you don’t know Nick’s last name. I’m on my way.”

  • • •

  ANOTHER FORTY MINUTES OF being jammed in a stuffy subway car, and I was back at the Brill Building, none the wiser or happier. It was almost eight o’clock. I was exhausted. The last bit of sunlight was fading from the city streets. I marched through the lobby, planning to take the stairs to Luke’s office—but all at once, Nick’s elevator door opened.

  “Hey, kiddo,” he called. “Your chariot awaits.”

  What was I going to say? That I’d rather climb seven flights of stairs than ride in an elevator with him? I managed a smile and nodded.

  “Going to Luke’s,” I said casually, stepping inside.

  “Your personal express, kiddo.” Nick smiled. “I think you two might have the building to yourself.”

  I knew I should be making conversation as I always did, but the words caught in my throat. My pulse began to race. The elevator had never felt so small or confining, not even in the mornings when we were all jammed together like cattle. I swallowed, staring at the dial. Only two more floors to go …

  The car suddenly lurched. He’d stopped. Between the sixth and seventh floors.

  “Whoops,” I said. “What’s wrong?”

  Nick leaned against the elevator wall and stared at me intently. “I made a mistake, didn’t I?” It was a rhetorical question.

  “What do you mean?” I asked. I tried to sound cheery and unaware, even though I was sure he could hear my heart thumping.

  “I saw it in your eyes, kiddo. When I told you I heard the demo. She told me she had the only copy besides yours, so you knew I was there the night she died.”

  I felt myself backing up against the opposite wall, but there was nowhere to go. I had to see this conversation through to its end, whatever that would mean. Best just to take charge, to put him at ease. He knew he was doomed; there was nothing he could do now.

  “Yes, I knew,” I said.

  “I didn’t kill her,” Nick told me in a choked voice. “Please believe me. I went to see her because I couldn’t hold my feelings in any longer. I did so much for her. I kept everything that went on between her and your uncle a secret, even though it tore me up. I even covered for Bernie when the cops came sniffing around.” He snorted in disgust. “He’s a dog, kiddo, when it comes to the ladies. He doesn’t care about anyone but himself. But I’m different. I really cared about Dulcie, and I thought maybe she’d come to care for me, too.” His eyes were pleading with me. His voice sounded desperate.

  “So what happened?” I asked, my heart pounding.

  “I can’t tell you,” he said.

  “Listen, Nick, my mom’s a lawyer.” My speech sounded fast and high-pitched in my ears, but I plowed forward. “She’ll help you, I promise. You’ll be okay, but you have to tell the truth. Can you just take me to seven now?”

  Nick didn’t seem to hear me. “They think Bernie did it. It’s all over the building. He’ll never get convicted of something he didn’t do. He’s too smart for that.” His eyes locked with mine. “It’ll all be fine, but I can’t have you telling anybody anything. You’ve got to give me your word that you won’t. Make me believe you, kiddo, please.”

  I knew that if I promised him, my face would give me away. There was no way I wasn’t going to the police. He would know. This was bad. I could feel panic rising in both of us. I knew I had to get out of that elevator box. I didn’t know what he would do, but I did know he was cornered—and when someone is cornered, they don’t necessarily behave true to form.

  Maybe that explained what happened next. Because something inside me snapped.

  I’ve been a klutz my whole life, except for my fingers. I was always the last one chosen for every team I ever wanted to be on. But when Nick stepped toward me, I sidestepped him and lunged for the crank that operated the elevator. He tried to pull me away, but I stomped on his instep with my heel—a trick Janny had taught me as soon as I was old enough to wear heels—and managed to stop the car approximately on the seventh floor. I tried to pull the door open, but Nick grabbed my arm.

  “Stop it, JJ,” he hissed. “I need to talk to you.”

  I did the only thing I could think of to make him let go. I bit his hand. It was a horrible, weird feeling to clamp down on human flesh. But the moment he cried out and released my arm, I pulled the door open. I was nowhere near level with the seventh floor, maybe two feet too high, but I jumped down and fell like the lummox I truly was.

  The next thing I knew, I found myself breathing heavily into Nick’s face, our noses only inches apart.

  The last time I had been in this position, Jeff’s face had been the one hovering over mine—another wrestling victory of his, while my parents stood by, not interfering on principle. Jeff’s expression had been one of smug satisfaction. Nick’s was one of panic. He’d pinned my arms. I could smell his lunch and coffee on his breath. “Please, JJ,” he croaked. “You’re gonna get me in trouble.”

  I guess it was a good thing that our parents never interfered in our fights. Who would have ever guessed it, but the course in Brazilian judo finally paid off—six years after the fact. The one move I’d mastered, the upward lift escape, came back to me. It shot from the recesses of my memory straight into my arms and legs. With a loud grunt, I sent Nick flying off me. I scrambled to my feet and stumbled across the hall, diving into Luke’s office a second before Nick came careening through the door after me.

  Luke was almost six feet tall, in perfect condition, while Nick was barely five six. His only exercise in years had been pulling open an elevator door. It was no contest. Luke grabbed him, pinned his arms to his side, pushed him into a chair and held him there.

  “Tell me what’s going on,” Luke commanded. He wasn’t even breathing heavily. In truth, he was terrifying. And I’d never been more relieved to be terrified in my life as I cowered behind him. His voice had so much authority that Nick stopped struggling. “Now!”

  Nick nodded and blurted out what he had told me. And then he crumbled. He actually dissolved into tears, crying for Dulcie, for what had happened to her and for himself.

  Steeling my nerves, I climbed out from behind Luke and kneeled in front of Nick. “Look, you have to come clean,” I said. “Tell us what happened that night.”

  He wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his uniform. “I’ve played it over in my head so many times. It’s like a movie I can’t stop watching.”

  “Play it for us now, Nick,” Luke encouraged him, his voice gentle now. “We can’t help you until we know what went down. And I promise we will help.”

  Nick mustered what little self-possession he had left. “It took me all day to get up the courage to go to her apartment,” he explained. “But I had to find out what she was feeling toward me. She was so kind and so beautiful. When I got there, she was cleaning broken dishes off the floor and playing the demo. She was really upset. So I took my time and helped her reset the table, and then I told her. I told her how I felt about her, that I loved her and I knew she had never been treated the way she deserved to be. That I would be kind to her and never take advantage of her.” He sniffed. “And her words … I’ll never forget. ‘Just what I need,’ she said, ‘another white man to take care of me.’ ”

  I shook my head. The connection I’d felt, that belief that Dulcie was right there with me, had never felt stronger. Nick was indeed the projector, rolling the film for us.

  “But I wasn’t just another anything,” Nick went on. “I was someone who loved her. She told me I’d better go. She was expecting someone for dinner. I guess I raised my voice. I told her how much I loved her. And then she shouted something back at me. Something almost exactly like what my mother said when she left. Like … word for word. ‘I can’t help how I feel. Don’t try and make me feel guilty.’ ”

  I winced at his pain. Luke did, too. It was impossible not to feel for him. He was so lonely, so los
t. He’d suffered more than anybody should suffer.

  Nick’s were eyes glassy now, staring at nothing. “I guess I went a little nuts. I grabbed her. I wanted to shake some sense into her. I was wrong, I know I was wrong, and then she pulled away and backed up. The window was wide open, ’cause it was so hot that night. When she turned, she slid on a record sleeve that was on the floor. She lost her footing, tripped, and the next thing I knew, she was out the window. It was a nightmare. I just ran to escape it …” He bowed his head, finished.

  Luke’s hand touched my shoulder. I clasped it, drawing strength from it, and let it go. “Nick, my mom is the best criminal attorney in New York,” I told him. “She’s been through this hundreds of times. She won’t let anything bad happen to you. I promise.”

  Nick looked up. “I don’t know if I care what happens to me now. It almost feels good to have it all out,” he whispered. “I don’t want to go to prison, but I hate myself so much, I don’t want to be free either.”

  “Don’t say that,” Luke said. “Please don’t say you hate yourself. I see the pain you’re in. And I forgive you. Please listen to this with your heart as well as your head. After she died, I learned that Dulcie was my mother. If I can find a way to grieve for her and for you, then you can do it, too.”

  Nick closed his eyes. “My God, Luke? Your mother … I … I’m so, so sorry … I …” He began to weep.

  Now Luke put his arms around Nick, not to restrain him but to console him.

  In that moment I knew that my feelings for Luke were more than I’d given them credit for. I hadn’t just fallen for a crush. This wasn’t just my first summer fling. He was a boy I could really love. The man I could love, no matter what the future had in store. His words had been spot-on, but not about me, about him. Something like a miracle.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Once we called Janny and Nick turned himself into the police, things got a lot more complicated very quickly, much more than I’d hoped or imagined. It turned out that Janny just couldn’t step in and represent Nick. Also, Luke and I had to be far more involved than I’d assumed. Janny always did everything by the book, and the legal maneuvering was tricky, even though the truth was clear. First, Luke and I had to tell McGrath, on the record and with Janny present, what we knew about Nick’s involvement with Dulcie’s death. Only then, once Bernie was cleared by the information we gave the police—and both Bernie and Nick had waived confidentiality—could she step in and represent Nick.