For years, I thought I was infertile.” I finished but wondered, at this point, did it really matter what Peter Miceli thought? Ray was dead and one of Peter’s minions had probably killed him.
Peter watched me, his eyes narrow and dark. He took his hand from my knee and leaned back on his seat. He interlaced his fingers and let his hands hang down between his knees. Looking out the window, he suddenly exclaimed, “That’s the most ridiculous story I ever heard!”
He was right. It was a ridiculous story, the kind that fell into the “truth is stranger than fiction” category. I let the tears behind my eyes slip out. It was almost as if Peter wanted someone to blame, and Ray was the most convenient person around.
“Is that the best you can come up with?” he bellowed. He threw his hands up. “That your husband had a vasectomy and didn’t tell you?” He looked at me directly. “That is ridiculous!”
“It’s not ridiculous, Peter. It’s the truth,” I said. I asked the next question, born of a courage I didn’t know I had. “Is that why you killed him, Peter?”
He looked at me with a pained expression, but didn’t answer me. He hit a buzzer on a panel next to his seat. “Where the fuck are we, Franco?”
Franco’s disembodied voice flowed through the speaker with such clarity it was almost as if he were sitting beside me and not behind four inches of Plexiglas. “Thirty-second and Madison, Mr. Miceli.”
He looked at me. “Where are you going?”
“I can get out here.”
“That’s not what I asked you.”
“Grand Central,” I whispered.
“Grand Central, Franco,” he yelled into the speaker. He took his finger off the button and looked at me. “I have to go back home to go to church. Do you go to church, Alison?”
“Sometimes.” Hardly ever.
He pulled a cigar out of his jacket pocket and stuck it in his mouth. “Mind if I smoke?”
“Go ahead.”
“They talk a lot about life after death at church. Do you believe in that?” he asked, pulling out a lighter and taking a few long drags on the cigar to get it lit.
“I’d like to.” It would make the thought of my departed parents that much easier to accept.
“You should,” he said quietly, puffing on the cigar. He took it out of his mouth and blew on the glowing tip to make it light. “Believing that makes things a lot easier.” He looked out the window as we approached the Forty-second Street entrance to Grand Central, the beautifully etched doors beckoning to me, the inside of the building a sanctuary. If I could just get out of the car.
I wiped my hands over my eyes to clear my vision. I looked at him as we sat, idling, in front of Grand Central. He looked at me sadly, his eyes conveying some kind of conflict.
“If you just tell me that you killed him, Peter, we can all move on,” I said. “Just tell me.”
“I didn’t kill him,” he said softly.
“Okay, then, one of your people—”
“I didn’t kill him!” His rage in full view, I concluded that this conversation should end and wisely didn’t say anything else.
He pushed a button and the door locks popped up. I put my hand on the handle.
“Wait,” he said, and leaned over again. He was calmer than just moments before. He grabbed me and embraced me, putting his lips to my neck. “It’s okay that he’s gone, you know,” he whispered into my hair.
I didn’t want to know what that meant, but I felt more confident than ever that I had stared into the face of Ray’s murderer.
Chapter 14
I leapt from the car and onto the street, half falling, half running to the doors of the transportation hub. As soon as I was inside, I realized that I had left all of my luggage in Peter’s car: my overnight bag with my clothes, my garment bag with my matron of honor dress, and all of my makeup. Fortunately, my purse was strapped crosswise over my chest and I had money and my cell phone. I turned and saw that the limo was gone, so I took a few deep breaths and collected myself. I smoothed my hair down and walked back outside onto the street, busy even for a Sunday morning.
I looked around, afraid I was making a spectacle of myself, but nobody gave me a second glance. I was just another New Yorker on the street.
My legs were like rubber as I