If I aint in trouble what the fuck you want from me?
A great manicure, for one thing. I wasnt kidding about that. This new guy means a lot to me. She met RaShelles eyes. For another, I want to ask you about Blowfish.
For a few moments, RaShelle didnt move. Ann didnt either. With Anns left hand still in hers, RaShelle skimmed a look over to the other women. A nonstop conversation, none of it audible, was going on around the shampooing, snipping, and braiding.
RaShelle flung the cotton ball into the trash. She dunked Anns left hand in the bowl and lifted her right one out. Blowfish. She patted Anns hand with a towel, picked up a tool, and began work on her cuticles. This could hurt, even if the manicurist liked you. Ann steeled herself, but the process was expert and painless.
Blowfish, RaShelle said again. You know what that is?
The fish itself? Its also called a puffer fish, I think.
He call himself that cause you dont know what you doing when you try to eat it, that fish gonna kill you. Other thing about it, though, blowfish be puffing itself up real big, to scare all the other fish. But see she reached for a small scissor if that puffing thing really working for you, what you need the poison for?
Youre not seeing him anymore, are you?
Shouldnt of never been seeing him. That dont mean Im gonna rat him out.
Im not asking you to. I need you to corroborate his statement.
Do what to it?
Im sorry. Tell me whether its true.
Blowfish said it, chances is pretty good it aint.
He said you and he were down by the river a few weeks ago, and that you saw a white man get out of a limo and meet with Kong. Could you describe the man? Would you recognize him if I showed you a photo?
RaShelle gave her a scornful look. Aint no point. What color you want?
Ann tapped a bottle of cherry red. What do you mean, no point? You wouldnt recognize him, or you wont look at the photo?
RaShelle lifted the tiny brush from the bottle. I mean, aint no point because there aint no man. I aint never been to the river with Blowfish.
He said he was getting next to his woman.
RaShelle painted with deft strokes and didnt answer.
I wonder, Ann said. If youre not seeing him anymore, maybe its another woman he was trying to get next to?
He try to get next to every woman he see. But dont make no difference. Latin Kings owns that park down by the river. Blowfish, oh, he such a big man, he have to go up in they face when they move in here. Now he got beef with the Latin Kings. He aint been across that bridge in two years. Where you want the lightning bolt?
Here, said Ann, though it really didnt matter. The lightning bolt had already hit her.
Sutton Place
Mr. Morgenstern. So glad to find you here.
The jeweler, alone in his office, looked up at the sound of the buzzer. After a moment he stood and approached the door, but didnt open it. Instead he spoke through the intercom as Ann had, his words metallic when he said, Im leaving soon; Friday we have a short day. Everyones gone already. What do you want? You dont have to show the badge around, I know who you are.
Id like to speak to you.
Im busy. Im working.
So am I. And I have to tell you, Im in a really bad mood.
For a moment that was it, the two of them facing each other through the thick wire glass in the steel door. Like the prison, when she went to see Joe. Except here the lock, and the buzzer to call for help, were on the inside.
Morgenstern frowned, but he threw the bolt and let her in.
I thought you were suspended or something like that. He pushed the door shut behind her. I read it in the paper.
Limited duty. Limited to this case, she said briskly. I need you to confirm something.
I made my statement already.
You made more than one.
The first one, I was wrong.
No. Walter Glybenhall paid you to say you hadnt made that jewelry, the bling we found. But first holding up her hand to silence his protest, first he paid you to say you did.
What are you talking about? I saw the pieces, they looked like mine, so I said they were. Then I looked some more, and they werent.
Ann surveyed the room, taking in the safe, the photos on the walls, the jewelers tables with their mounted magnifiers and delicate tools. Steel mullions on the windows cut the sun into squares and laid it on the floor.
I dont know much about jewelry. She turned back to the jeweler. Especially things like this. But Im told youre very good at what you do.
He replied with a cautious My customers are satisfied.
Dont be modest. She pointed to a photo, a gold-toothed hip-hop hopeful with what looked like fifteen chunky rings on his ten fingers. I understand youre very hot.
People are starting to come to me.
Thats what Ive heard. They say when people cant afford Jacob the Jeweler, they go to Levi Morgenstern.
Afford? Morgenstern looked affronted. Affording Jacob, this isnt the question. People like magpies, who see only glitter, who dont understand quality, these people go to Jacob, and welcome. Morgensterns customers appreciate art.
Or, if they dont appreciate art, Ann said, I guess they can get imitations. I know lots of people walk around flashing bling they say is Jacob the Jeweler, and no one can tell the difference.
Ha! The man doesnt have an artist bone in his body. Him, anyone can copy.
Come on, Mr. Morgenstern. A few diamonds, a little platinum, I bet a lot of people can make something that looks like a Morgenstern, too.
Looks like, maybe. From across the room! The kind of work I do, no one does it anymore, so precise, so fine. A lost art, Im telling you. I learned from my father, he learned in Antwerp from his uncle. My customers, they recognize the kind of quality you only get from Morgenstern.
Really? And yet you couldnt recognize your own pieces when I brought them here.
He frowned. Please, dont insult me. Youre setting me a trap. Those pieces
Never mind. My forensic people can, Im sure.
Youre sure what?
They can tell a real Morgenstern. Especially with all that precise, fine work to look for. Of course, once Forensics starts looking at those pieces, itll be too late.
What does this mean, too late? His innocent delivery was contradicted by the faint sheen of sweat on his face.
If they can prove those pieces are yours, and that you made them for Kong, I wont need your statement. And if Id thought of this back when Forensics was speaking to me, I wouldnt need it, either. This is a homicide investigation, and the citys been pretty embarrassed by whats happened so far. They might go after people they think are responsible. She left that vague, a cloud in the air. If I dont need you, I cant protect you. Look, Mr. Morgenstern: youre not the only one. A lot of people lied about a lot of things. The ones who dont get in trouble will be the ones who cooperate now.
A pause. I think you should leave.
When they were reduced to kicking you out, you had them. However much Walter Glybenhall paid you, she persisted quietly, its not worth jail time.
His eyes searched the room again, all corners, the desks, the windows. Nothing had changed since Ann arrived. She waited, motionless, with an unaccustomed patience that was nevertheless unnervingly familiar. Because its Joes, she realized. Its how Joe would do this.
No, Morgenstern said, gazing down, speaking to the floor, its not worth it. The guilt isnt worth it either. And to set the record straight, he didnt pay me. I dont want you should think Id lie to the authorities for money.
Then why?
The jeweler shrugged his shoulders. He owns this building.
Glybenhall?
Who else?
He would have evicted you?
Not only. He was going to put it around, Levi Morgenstern is a dead-beat. Doesnt pay his rent, demands constant repairs on top of it, hires illegals and has them sleeping in the workroom, believe me you dont want him for a tenant.
Put it around? He couldnt have gotten to every commercial landlord in New York.
He doesnt have to. In my business, you dont have an address on Forty-seventh Street, you dont exist. This block, its the whole show. These buildings, maybe eight men own them all.
Friends of his?
Friends? Six of the eight are Jews. After they shake on a deal, Walter Glybenhall Im sure washes his hands. But still.
You think they would have believed him about you?
Believe, dont believe, so what? What he would want, it would be clear: Dont rent to Morgenstern. Why, they wouldnt care. Walter Glybenhall asks you a favor, you do it and he owes you. If you dont, he hates you. To be hated by Walter Glybenhall, this is something no one can afford.
And thats why you did him the favor he asked you?
Morgenstern nodded glumly.
Gently, Ann asked, Can you tell me what happened?
The jeweler sank onto the edge of his desk as though pressed there by a weight. He called me. Walter Glybenhall calling Levi Morgenstern! I thought hed seen maybe one of my pieces, not the bling-blings but a ring, a brooch, a refined piece like my father used to make. For his wife or, you know, one of his young ladies.
But that wasnt it?
What hed seen, hed seen the chain and the ring for Mr. Kong. He asked, Morgenstern, did you make them? Yes, Mr. Glybenhall, I did. The police will be asking you about them, he says. You can say you made them. I can say? I ask. What else would I say? That you didnt make them, says he. Which you will, when you hear from me. I said I didnt understand, and he explained.
He explained why?
No. He explained it would be a good idea for me to do like he was telling me.
Did he give you a reason?
A reason to do it, he gave me. A reason he wanted it? Why would he have to? Hes Walter Glybenhall.
You didnt know there was a homicide involved?
Know? In my wildest dreams, I didnt guess! I thought, insurance fraud. Usually, when people ask a jeweler to lie, its insurance fraud.
That happens a lot?
It happens sometimes. Quickly, he added, Never before did I agree.
I believe you.
He nodded, sighing. This, I didnt understand, this pretending my pieces are copies. But men like Walter Glybenhall, they live in a different world. Whatever scheme he was scheming, saving an insurance company money didnt seem worth risking my business to do.
So when we brought you the pieces
I told the truth. Theyre mine. Whether Glybenhall tells me to say it or doesnt, its still true. So that was easy. Then I thought, maybe he wont call again, maybe its a joke or a bad dream or whatever hes doing he can do it without Morgenstern. But in a couple of days he called. Morgenstern, tomorrow morning youll get in touch with Inspector Montgomery. Youll tell her those pieces are copies. He sighed again. So I did.
He used my name?
I had it anyway, you left me your card. But he gave it to me, to make sure. He didnt want I should call the wrong person.
No, Im sure he didnt.
Morgenstern shrugged. I can get back to work now?
I want to thank you, Mr. Morgenstern. Theres one more thing Im going to need a signed statement, Ann said.
I cant come to your office now, its almost Shabbos. Can it be Monday?
Well, we could type up something here, if youd sign it.
Now?
Please. Since wed get thrown out of my office if we showed up there anyway. Just something short. Saying Walter Glybenhall asked you to lie. That he threatened you. That you made all those pieces for Kong, and none of them are fakes. That will do until we get a formal statement.
For a moment she thought he hadnt heard her. Then he rose slowly and walked to a desk, where he clicked a computer screen on.
Just to say what happened? he asked.
Yes, please.
All right. But its not exactly what you said.
Whats not?
I didnt make all those pieces for Mr. Kong.
Wait what have we just been talking about? You said they were your pieces.
I made them, Inspector. And the first two you brought me, those were Mr. Kongs. But the chain with the big K on it, I made that for Mr. Glybenhall.
Sutton Place
Ann walked slowly along Sixth Avenue in the purple light, cell phone in hand. Joe would be home by now. She pictured him in the garden, cutting blossoms, feeding roots. Tamping dirt around a three-leafed twig because in his mind he could see the tree it would become. Hed hear the phone, wipe his hands as he headed to the house to answer.
She didnt call.
In Bryant Park she slumped into a chair near the café. Perfect circles and shapeless blotches from a days worth of coffee cups alternated across the tabletop, disparate expressions of the same mistake.
How could she call?
Now that she saw. Now that she knew the mistake, and whose it was.
Chairs rattled as an elderly couple shifted them to sit side by side. The woman brushed a flower petal from the mans jacket; the man pointed to something, someone, passing by on the sidewalk, and they both softly laughed.
Ann stood abruptly, cast around as though picking a direction all directions were wrong, though and without reason chose to wander through the park. It was that time of evening when pale colors, whites and faint blues, loomed like materializing ghosts. The ornate blossoms of peonies released an achingly sweet scent as she passed. Joe had peonies in the rear of his garden. The sound of the stream came back to her, the rumble and hiss shed heard while she balanced on the rock shed nearly fallen from. The stream and the garden: everything in the garden rooted and remaining, while the stream raced heedlessly ahead, cutting a gorge deeper and deeper with each rushing minute.