Joseph Kanon - Alibi

I stood in the doorway to the sitting room, surprised to see Inspector Cavallini on the couch. At this hour his presence was beyond the call of any duty. Was he waiting for me, the body already found, questions raised?

“I thought someone should be here,” he said, answering whatever he saw in my face. “So Signora Miller would not be alone.” Courtly to women, a man who visited Maestre. A brandy snifter was on the table near the couch.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” I said. “Any news?”

“Nothing,” my mother said. “Something terrible’s happened.”

“Signora, we don’t know that,” he said gently.

“Of course it has. What else could it be? What’s awful is not to know.”

Cavallini looked at me with an open palm of resignation. “I’ve sent a man to Dr. Maglione’s house. He will call if-”

“He comes home? He won’t. Something’s happened,” my mother said.

“No word at the hospitals? Anywhere?”

“No. So a great mystery. But, let us hope, with a simple explanation. The best thing now would be to sleep,” he said, turning to my mother.

“Sleep,” she said. Her face was pale but not splotched with tears, just in retreat, her eyes distant, the way they had been after my father died, days of it, not crying, away by herself. “I don’t see what we’re waiting for. Why can’t you trace his movements? He left the house, we know that. For Mimi’s. Unless he forgot and came here.”

“No, I was here. Until we went to Mimi’s.”

“But darling, I called. There was no one here.”

Inspector Cavallini looked up from his brandy.

“Oh, that was you?” I said quickly. “Somebody called, but I didn’t answer.”

“Darling, you might have picked up. It rang and rang. I mean, even in the shower-”

“I was busy,” I said, my voice a little clipped, nervous.

But Inspector Cavallini took it for embarrassment, his eyes amused over the glass.

“Busy?” my mother said.

“Signorina Grassini was here as well, perhaps?” Cavallini said.

“Yes.”

“Well, I still don’t-oh, darling.” She stopped, flustered. “Really.”

“Getting ready for the ball,” Cavallini said, having fun with it.

“Yes. Anyway, he didn’t come here.”

“Well, he must have gone somewhere,” my mother said. “Somebody must have seen him. You have to ask.”

“Signora, at three in the morning who should I ask?” Cavallini said. “You understand, my hands are tied in this. What is there to investigate? We tell everyone to listen for the accidents, a sickness, but that’s all we can do. It is not a crime to miss a party. Even such a party.”

“What do I do?” my mother said. “Officially. Do I fill out a form?”

“Not tonight,” Cavallini said, putting his empty brandy glass on the table. “Tomorrow I will make more inquiries. So we see. And you, signora, please, some rest. If I need you to help me.”

“Help? How?”

“You are his fiancee, yes? So who knows him better?”

“Yes,” my mother said vaguely.

“Till tomorrow, then,” he said, taking my mother’s hand. “Make yourself easy.”

“Thank you. I’ve kept you so late.”

He made a small “it’s nothing” gesture.

“I’ll see you out,” I said, leading him to the stairs.

“You have some pills for her? To sleep? Tomorrow will not be pleasant.”

“What do you mean?” I said. We were walking down the stairs, then through the hallway where Gianni and I had fought. Without thinking, I glanced up at one of the sconces, as if it might be dripping blood, but everything was in shadow, kept dim by night-lights.

“She’s right. A man like that-why would he run away? He wouldn’t. So why is he missing?” He left it open, a question that answered itself.

“Let’s hope not,” I said, opening the door for him, reaching up to the old handle, then quickly dropping my hand, moving the raw knuckles behind me.

“Yes, we can hope. Meanwhile, some sleep, I think. You too.” He turned in the doorway. “The maid? She doesn’t answer the phone?”

My hand went farther back, as if it were moving on its own.

“Yes. Oh, you mean tonight. They all went to Mimi’s to help.”

“So you were alone in the house.”

“Well, not alone.”

“I meant you and Signorina Grassini.”

“Yes, why?”

“I’m sorry to ask before, in front of your mother. I know how it is. An opportunity, yes? How do you say, the mice play when the cat’s away?”

“Yes.”

He shook his head, amused, then patted my arm. “To be such an age.”

I leaned against the door after I’d locked it, looking down the hall, my forehead sweaty. One slip was all it took. I needed to go through everything tomorrow with Claudia. Exact times. When she had left her hotel, how long it had taken to get here. The rest was safe, playing while the cat was away.

“You don’t have to wait up,” my mother said.

“He’s right, you know. There’s nothing we can do tonight. You should get some sleep.”

“I know. I just want to sit for a bit.” She was picking at her gown, the black velvet skirt now flecked with ash. “I’m frightened.”

“I know.”

“He could be hurt. Dead.”

“Yes.”

She looked up. “Well, that’s a change anyway. Cavallini-the man’s impossible. Every time I say something, he just tut-tuts and pours another brandy.”

“I said could be.”

“And now I’m supposed to help. How? I don’t know where Gianni goes, what he does. It’s funny, isn’t it? You know somebody, and then something like this happens and you don’t. I mean, I know him, who he is, but the details-” Her voice trailed off.

I reached into my pocket, pulling out the necklace, and handed it to her.

“Here. Before it gets lost.”

“Yes,” she said, looking at it. “You know, I never thought. What a night for a robbery. Everyone at Mimi’s. No one home. Perfect, wouldn’t it be?” She paused, her eyes still on the necklace. “You’re serious about this girl?”

“Yes.”

She sighed. “Not the best time to talk, is it? I can’t think about anything.”

“I know.”

“Of course, it doesn’t matter what I say, really.” She reached out her hand to cover mine. “You know that I’m always-”

I leaned over and kissed her forehead. “It can wait. Get some sleep, huh?”

“But, Adam, if it’s-I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“You’ll be fine. You’re always fine.”

“I’m not always fine, you know,” she said, looking down at her lap. “Not always.”

I stood there for a minute, uneasy, not knowing what to say. Then she patted my hand. “Well, look at the time. Off to bed.”

“Do you want a pill?”

“No, I don’t want to miss anything,” she said, without irony.

“All right,” I said, flustered. “I’m going to have a bath.”

“Darling, you’ll wake the maids.”

“A short bath.” I leaned over to kiss her forehead again. “Don’t sit up too long.” As I left, I lifted my head toward her. “That’s some dress.”

A faint smile, acknowledging the gesture. “It was all right in the end, wasn’t it?”

“Mimi couldn’t take her eyes off it.”

She nodded, a wry grimace. “Hm. But I didn’t wear it for her.”

“No,” I said, meaning, “I know, I’m sorry,” whatever she wanted it to mean, more an embrace than a word.

There was enough hot water for a soak, and everything that had happened began to drain away as my head grew logy with steam. Every part of me ached with a different exhaustion-my shoulders from rowing and lugging the tarp, my legs from the party, my back just from being on edge. But it was going to be all right. My mother would be all right too, though she couldn’t know that now. I washed away sweat, whatever else my skin had picked up. Clean. While the cat was away. Who was to say otherwise?