“I wish you’d stay out of it.”
“You always wish that,” I said.
Mark did call late the following night and again two nights after that. When he called a third time, on February tenth, what he said sent me out in search of the most recent issue of Newsweek.
Pat Harvey’s lusterless eyes stared out at America from the magazine’s cover. A headline in bold, black letters read THE MURDER OF THE DRUG CZAR’S DAUGHTER, the “exclusive” inside a rehashing of her press conference, her charges of conspiracy, and the cases of the other teenagers who had vanished and been found decomposed in Virginia woods. Though I had declined to be interviewed for the story, the magazine had found a file photograph of me climbing the steps of Richmond’s John Marshall Court House.
The caption read, “Chief Medical Examiner releases findings under threat of court order.”
“It just goes with the turf. I’m fine,” I reassured Mark when I called him back.
Even when my mother rang me up later that same night, I remained calm until she said, “There’s someone here who’s dying to talk to you, Kay ” My niece, Lucy, had always had a special talent for doing me in.
“How come you got in trouble?” she asked.
“I didn’t get in trouble.”
“The story says you did, that someone threatened you.”
“It’s too complicated to explain, Lucy.”
“It’s really awesome,” she said, unfazed. “I’m going to take the magazine to school tomorrow and show it to everybody.”
Great, I thought.
“Mrs. Barrows,” she went on, referring to her homeroom teacher, “has already asked if you can come for career day in April.. ” I had not seen Lucy in a year. It did not seem possible she was already a sophomore in high school, and though I knew she had contact lenses and a driver’s license, I still envisioned her as a pudgy, needy child wanting to be tucked into bed, an enfant terrible who, for some strange reason, had bonded to me before she could crawl. I would never forget flying to Miami the Christmas after she was born and staying with my sister for a week. Lucy’s every conscious minute, it seemed, was spent watching me, eyes following my every move like two luminous moons. She would smile when I changed her diapers and howl the instant I walked out of the room.
“Would you like to spend a week with me this summer?”
I asked.
Lucy hesitated, then said disappointedly, “I guess that means you can’t come for career day.”
“We’ll see, all right?”
“I don’t know if I can come this summer.”
Her tone had turned petulant. “I’ve got a job and might not be able to get away.”
“It’s wonderful you have a job.”
“Yeah. In a computer store. I’m going to save enough to get a car. I want a sports car, a convertible, and you can find some of the old ones pretty cheap.”
“Those are death traps,” I said before I could stop myself. “Please don’t get something like that, Lucy. Why don’t you come see me in Richmond? We’ll go around and shop for cars, something nice and safe.”
She had dug a hole, and as usual, I had fallen in it. She was an expert at manipulation, and it didn’t require a psychiatrist to figure out why. Lucy was the victim of chronic neglect by her mother, my sister.
“You are a bright young lady with a mind of your own,” I said, changing tactics. “I know you’ll make a good decision about what to do with your time and money, Lucy. But if you can fit me in this summer, maybe we can go somewhere. The beach or mountains, wherever you’d like. You’ve never been to England, have you?”
“No. ”
“Well, then, that’s a thought.”
“Really?” she asked suspiciously.
“Really. I haven’t been in years,” I said, warming up to the idea. “I think it’s time for you to see Oxford and Cambridge, the museums in London. I’ll arrange a tour of Scotland Yard, if you’d like, and if we could manage to get away as early as June, we might be able to get tickets for Wimbledon.”