Cop Town (20 page)

She said, “They’re all just really tough. They walk around in armor.”

Liesbeth noted, “I imagine they have to.”

“No, that’s not what she means.” Oma crossed her hands in her lap. “Sometimes, women with a little bit of power can be much harder than
men. Especially on other women. They have to distance themselves from the weakness of their sex. Yes?”

Kate looked at her mother. She generally disagreed with whatever Oma said.

For once, Liesbeth didn’t offer her opinion. She held the shaker between both hands as she mixed the martinis. Ice clanked against the stainless steel. Her sleeve had fallen down. Kate saw the tattoo on the outer side of her left forearm. The letter
A
followed by five numbers.

Oma asked, “Are you attempting to punish the ice?”

Liesbeth stilled the shaker. She put two glasses on the coffee table and filled each one. “Kaitlin, did you eat all of the olives?”

“Of course she did. She loves olives.” Oma offered Kate’s empty glass to fill. “I told Margot Kleinman that my granddaughter was a police officer. You would think I had told her you were an astronaut.” She raised her glass to Kate. “It’s wonderful you’ve found a way to help people, darling.”

Reluctantly, Kate picked up her glass. She met her grandmother’s gaze, then her mother’s, then downed half the drink.

“That’s lovely,” Oma said, meaning the martini. She told Kate, “It’s very important for your life to have meaning. Even on the days it makes you unhappy, you still need a purpose.”

Liesbeth sat on the couch. She stroked Kate’s hair behind her ear, then rested her hand on Kate’s shoulder. “It’s nice that you’re wearing your pearls.”

Kate stared at the cigarette smoldering in the ashtray. She was probably six or seven the first time she’d noticed her mother’s tattoo. She was in the bathtub getting her ears scrubbed.
“What’s that?”
Kate had asked.
“Nothing
, schatje.
Hold still.”

“Darling?” Oma asked. “Are you tired? Should we leave you alone?”

“No.” Kate rubbed her mother’s hand. “Please don’t.”

“Will you tell us about your day?” Oma waited expectantly. “Was it so terrible?”

Kate smiled at her grandmother. Oma’s dress was long-sleeved, covering
the tattoo that was on the inside of her left arm. Same letter, different numbers. As with Liesbeth, she’d been sent to Auschwitz, but when the Nazis had discovered that Oma was a professor, they’d sent her to Mauthausen, a so-called “bone-grinder” camp designed to work intellectuals to death.

Liesbeth said, “You’re very distracted. Did something bad happen today?”

Kate held on to her mother’s hand. “Nothing happened,” she lied. And then she figured that since she was lying, she should put her heart into it. “Work wasn’t that bad. My feet don’t hurt any more than when I’ve danced all night. And this”—she indicated her forehead—“is because I’ve apparently forgotten how to look where I’m going when I wear a hat.”

Oma leaned back, smiling. “I suppose the worst part is having to get out of bed before ten. I can’t imagine.”

“
Moeder
, you’re always up before I am.” Liesbeth seemed more relieved than Oma. She took one last smoke before extinguishing her cigarette. “I know because half the coffee is always gone.”

“It’s very good coffee. How can I stop myself?”

Kate wasn’t sure if it was the Valium or the heating pad, but she finally felt her muscles begin to unknot. The room had taken on a lightness that hadn’t been there before. She tried to think of something else to tell. “I think the most galling part is that I never realized how smart I am about things that have absolutely no consequence in the real world.”

Neither her mother nor her grandmother objected to the observation.

“I’m not used to feeling so stupid.” That, Kate understood, was the rock she had been forced to push uphill all day. People had talked to her like she was an idiot because in many ways she
was
an idiot. “I don’t know how to talk to strangers. I don’t know how to stand up for myself. Apparently, I don’t know how to run. I even had to be told how to go to the bathroom.”

Both looked confused.

Kate couldn’t find a way to make it sound funny, so she chose not to explain. “There are just all sorts of practical things that I’ve never had to
deal with. I’ve never felt so out of place.” Kate drank her martini, so she didn’t see the look exchanged between her mother and grandmother. “The least you could do is pretend to be surprised by this revelation.”

The look was exchanged again.

“Of course you’ll learn,” Oma soothed. “This job—it’s good to help people, yes? To give back?”

Kate nodded, though she couldn’t think of one damn thing she’d done all day that contributed to the well-being of anyone, least of all herself. “You’re right. Of course you’re right.”

Oma said, “I remember that nice police captain who spoke to us when the Temple was bombed.” She put down her drink. “We were all very worried, of course. We’d never met a police officer here except to ask directions. He was very serious. One of our crowd, surprisingly. When was that? Fifty-six?”

“Fifty-eight.” Kate had been eight years old when the Temple on Peachtree Street was nearly destroyed. They lived close enough that they heard the dynamite explode.

“Those fools thought we’d be there on a Sunday,” Liesbeth said. “But maybe they weren’t so stupid. They got away with it.”

Oma was never one to dwell on the negative. “The point I am making is that the police were very helpful. They made us feel safe again.” She smiled so sweetly that Kate felt her heart breaking in two. “And now you are making people feel safe, Kaitlin. What a gift you’re giving the world.”

Kate knew there was a prostitute on Cheshire Bridge Road who would certainly disagree, but she smiled for her grandmother’s sake.

Liesbeth asked, “It makes things easier for you, yes?”

She meant after Patrick. Kate supposed what she had done today was better than staying in bed all day and crying over something that would never change. Sitting right in front of her were two sterling examples of women with the strength to carry on past unspeakable tragedies.

And the tragedies did go unspoken. Neither her mother nor grandmother ever talked about what had happened to them during the war. They refused to dwell on their losses. Kate knew facts, but not details.
Oma had lost her mother and father, a brother, her husband, and a son. Liesbeth had lost her family, too. She was barely a teenager when she was transported to the camps. Each had assumed the other was dead until the Red Cross managed to reunite them after the liberation.

And here they sat trying to comfort Kate as if her aching body and bruised ego were of any consequence.

Kate told her mother, “Yes. You were right. It’s good to have something to do.”

“Something
useful
.” Oma raised her glass in another toast. “I’m very proud of you, darling. This is unconventional, what you’re doing, of course, but always know that your family is very proud of you. You’ve made us very happy.”

“You have,” Liesbeth agreed. “Though we would’ve been equally as proud had you kept that last job as a secretary.”

“Hoe kom je erbij,”
Oma muttered. “She was an awful secretary.”

“She wasn’t that bad.”

“Ze is te slim voor dat soort werk.”

“Moeder.”

The two women switched to their native tongue. Kate tuned them out. She understood only half of what they were saying. As with most Americans, Dutch sounded to her more like a disease of the throat than an actual language.

Kate leaned forward so that she could dry her feet. Her back twinged with the movement. Her vision swam. Suddenly, she was so tired that she could barely stay upright. The clock over the fireplace showed it was almost eleven o’clock. The thought of driving home was too much. Kate could stay and sleep in her old room. Mary Jane would have her uniforms ready. She could use her mother’s makeup. Or, if she was lucky, Maggie would open her locker and Kate could retrieve her purse.

Her purse. It was only through divine intervention that Kate had been able to drive her car tonight. Years ago, Patrick had stuck a magnetic key box under the wheel well or she’d still be sitting in the parking lot off Central Avenue. Kate would have to get a combination lock. She would pay for it because it didn’t seem right not to. They probably had
some locks at the pro shop inside the tennis club. She could borrow one from her father until she had time to go.

With a start, Kate realized that she was really returning to work tomorrow. She wasn’t going to quit after her first day. How had that happened? Certainly through no conscious effort of her own. Her grandmother wasn’t a quitter. Her mother had never given up. Their blood flowed in Kate’s veins. Compared to what they had survived, the Atlanta Police Department was a walk in the park.

She could do this.

She
had
to do this.

As if on cue, Mary Jane came into the room with Kate’s uniforms neatly folded in her arms. “I got the stain outta the one, but you can probably see where I had to stitch the tear in the sleeve.”

Kate began, “I’m so sorry that I …” Her voice trailed off.

Philip Van Zandt was standing behind Mary Jane. He was wearing a charcoal-gray Hickey Freeman suit with a light purple shirt. The hair on his chest showed beneath his unbuttoned collar. His pants were closely tailored to his body. The legs gently flared out below his knees.

He said, “Good evening again, Mrs. Herschel. Mrs. De Vries.” He was showing off. He pronounced Oma’s name like he were riding a bike along the Herengracht. “I’m afraid I gave Mary Jane a fright knocking on the basement door.”

Kate knew exactly why he was knocking on that particular door. All her friends knew she had moved downstairs when she turned fourteen because her parents could no longer endure Kate’s giggly slumber parties. Besides that, her car was in the driveway and almost every light was on in the house.

“All right.” Mary Jane had never been one for tension. She put the uniforms on the sideboard. “I’ll be off now.”

Kate said, “I’m so sorry I kept you up this late.”

Mary Jane waved away her concern, but Kate felt awful as she watched the old woman shuffle toward the back stairs.

Philip gave the maid a slight bow as she passed him. “Ladies, my apologies for coming so late unannounced, but my mother was at the
club tonight and it seems she may have picked up your lipstick by mistake.”

He held a tube of lipstick in his hand. The item was the sort of thing you’d find in a corner store. All the women knew this. Philip knew this. Yet he pretended he was performing a remarkable act of chivalry.

Oma was always game for deception. “Yes, that belongs to me. Thank you, Philip. You’re so thoughtful to return it.”

Liesbeth wasn’t so easy. “I forgot to ask your mother how your wife is doing. I believe she’s studying in Israel?” She turned to Kate. “Philip is married now.”

“Yes, I know,” Kate said, just like she knew if she tried to stand up, the heating pad would pull her back to the couch like a slingshot.

“Israel,” Oma echoed wistfully. “Philip, have you seen Dr. Herschel’s stamps from the Hapoel Games?”

His smile said the mere thought delighted him. “I haven’t had the pleasure.”

“If you could?” Oma held out her hand. Philip helped her stand. While his back was turned, Kate yanked the heating pad out from under her dress. The noise was awful, like a sash being pulled through a belt loop.

Philip turned toward her. He looked at the heating pad on the couch. He looked at Kate.

Kate looked at the floor.

Oma said, “I’ll find the stamps. Liesbeth, get some fresh ice from the kitchen.”

Unusually, Kate took her mother’s view. “It’s very late, Oma. I think Philip must have work in the morning.”

He held open his arms. “I have the whole day off.”

“Really?” she asked, because what was he doing here? It was one thing to share a harmless flirtation, but this was taking it a step too far. “Maybe you should spend the time writing a letter to your wife.”

“I’ve already written two. I told her all about seeing you today.”

“You saw each other?” Liesbeth’s voice went up suspiciously. “When was this?”

“At the hospital,” Kate answered, then because she didn’t want to tell her mother that another police officer had been shot, she lied, “Philip was giving me information about a case.”

Philip winked at Kate. “Your daughter is quite the detective.”

“She tends to figure things out quickly.” Liesbeth held a fresh cigarette between her fingers.

Philip leaned down with a light. “I’ll have a gin and tonic, Kaitlin. Extra ice.”

“Lieverd?”
Oma called from the hallway. “Can you help me in the study, please?”

Liesbeth stabbed her cigarette into the ashtray. “Your father will check on you before he comes to bed.”

“Thank you,” Kate said, though they both knew that her father was likely asleep by now. “Philip won’t be staying long.”

“I’m sure.”

“Good evening, Mrs. Herschel.” Philip bowed as she left, the same as he had with Mary Jane. He told Kate, “Such a lovely woman.”

Kate warned, “You shouldn’t vex her.”

“The tactic seems to be working well for me with her daughter.”

“It’s really not.” Kate grabbed the ice bucket as she headed toward the kitchen. She pushed through the swinging door. She leaned against the counter. Her hands were shaky, but not because of Philip. She was exhausted. It was late. And he was married.

“I should look at that bruise.” Philip stood a few feet away. The kitchen door swung silently behind him. He certainly liked to make an entrance. “How did it happen?”

For a change, she told the truth. “I ran directly into a wall.”

He didn’t laugh. “Did you lose consciousness?”

“No.”

“See stars?”

Kate crossed her arms over her chest. “What’s the point of this?”

“I’m a doctor. This is an exam. Did you see stars?”

She relented. “Yes.”

“Feel dizzy?”