Chapter 1
Michael and I rode the old elevator to the fifth floor of the prewar building. “You get a lot of Christmas cards,” I said, looking at the colorful collection of envelopes he was opening.
“Hanukkah cards, please,” he said.
“Excuse me,” I said.
He handed me an ornate card featuring a blue dreidel accented with silver markings. “Cassie, look at this one,” Michael said. “It’s strange.” I looked at it briefly.
“What’s strange about it?” I asked. I followed him into his apartment and we sat at the kitchen table.
“I don’t know anyone by that name,” he said. “Except…”
I could see he was getting agitated. “What is it, Michael?”
“The name. It’s what I used to call my imaginary sister, Kristen Simone. But she doesn’t exist. I made her up.”
I opened the card and looked at the signature again. It was signed in an old-fashioned cursive: Kristen Simone.
Our eyes met over the card. “Then who do you think this is this from?” I asked.
The envelope had no return address and the cancellation was smeared so it was impossible to tell where it had been processed. We studied the handwriting.
“I got nothing,” he said. “Just the heebie-jeebies.”
“Can you ask your mom?” I said. “Maybe you have a relative named Kristen that you’ve forgotten.”
“It’s kind of a delicate subject with her,” he said. “I went through a period when I insisted that Kris come everywhere with me, and my parents eventually made me go to a therapist because they thought I was obsessed and that it was abnormal.”
“What did the therapist think?” I asked.
“He told them to sign me up for sports. So I started wrestling.” He crossed his arms and studied the card sitting on the coffee table.
“What aren’t you telling me?” I asked.
“The therapist told me that I was homosexual. I had no idea what that meant. He said that if I wanted to survive, I should take up a nice sport and try to fit in.” He shook his head violently. “I was only eight. I didn’t have any idea what he was talking about…but he scared the crap out of me, so I agreed to it. He also told me that if I had an imaginary friend at my age, I’d probably be diagnosed as schizophrenic and institutionalized by the time I was twenty.”
“Holy crap. Did you tell anyone about this?” I asked.
He shook his head.
“Small town psychiatry at its finest,” I said. “Does anybody else know about Kristen?”
“Of course. Do you think I let her go so easily?” He smiled. “When I went to college, and I finally came out, I used to call myself Kristen. One weekend, I came home with a boyfriend intending to break the news to my parents. For a joke, I had a t-shirt made with the name Kristen on it.”
“Ooooh,” I laughed. “How did that go over?”
“Not so well,” he said. “The joke was on me, actually. When I got to the house, I found my father hanging in the attic. My mother hadn’t gotten home from work yet. So I had to tell her.”
“Oh, my God, Michael,” I said. “I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah,” he said. “I think he knew the ‘big news’ I was coming home to share, and he wasn’t interested in hearing it. And there I was, wearing that damned shirt. My boyfriend took off. Left me there to deal with it all. What a mess. So, no, I can’t ask my mother about Kristen.”
“Who would be so cruel as to send you this card? Not that guy?”
“No, if he’s even still around, which I doubt, why would he do something like that? No, I can’t see why anyone would,” he said.
“All right, let’s be logical about this. As far as you know, the only people who know about Kristen are who? You, your mother, the therapist, the bad boyfriend, and who else?” I asked.
“There are the guys from my dorm at college, but they all called me Kris, not Kristen. I doubt any of them knew the Kristen connection. So, I don’t know,” he said.
“Will you ask your mom about it when you go home for the holiday?” I asked.
“I don’t think I can,” he said. “She’s come a long way since then, but the holidays are a difficult time and we tread lightly around them.”
“I see. I didn’t realize that your dad had committed suicide. You told me he died of a heart attack. Don’t get me wrong, I completely understand why you’d prefer not to talk about it,” I said. We sat quietly for a minute, each in our own thoughts.
“My mother left us the week before Christmas, when I was around eight, so my father tends to downplay the holidays as well,” I said. “You know, why bother with all the commercial crap? We like to celebrate the Fourth of July more. We go all out: sparklers, flags, Statue of Liberty hats, hot dogs on the grill. Very wholesome.”
“That’s a good idea. My mom is a good Passover Seder kind of person,” he said. “We stick with the big Jewish food holidays, stay away from the gift-related celebrations. Those seem more American, anyway, you know?”
I nodded. “I’m sorry, Michael,” I said. I touched his arm.
His face lit up. “You know, it would really help if you came home with me for a few days,” he said. “You could drive. We could go get chowder at Legal Seafood. And see the Christmas lights everywhere. What do you say?”
“I’m not sure,” I said.
“What are you doing for the holidays?” he asked. “Your dad’s still not talking to you?”
“No. Radio silence.” I paused. “Maybe I’ll go get a cat.”
“That’s a long time to be mad,” he said. “You guys were so close.”
“I know,” I said. “Maybe I should get two cats.”
“No, you are not getting two cats,” he said. “Your dad will come around. And who knows, that cop friend of yours might show up again. You never know. The holidays have a way of softening people up. So you don’t want to become a cat lady. Not just yet. Give it another six months or so.”
“I’ll take it under advisement,” I said.
“Or how about a dog?” he asked. “What’s wrong with a dog? It’s a good way to meet men, walking a dog.”
“But then you have to walk them, in all kinds of weather, and pick up their poop—while it’s still warm” I said. “I’m not sure that I’m constitutionally able to do that.”
“Maybe we can rent one for a weekend as a trial and see how you like it,” he said.
“Why don’t you get one, if it’s such a good idea?” I asked.
“They don’t allow pets in this building,” he said. “Otherwise I would. I love dogs.”
I glared at him. “Sounds fishy to me,” I said.
“Fish are boring,” he said. “You can’t pet a fish.”
I groaned. “All right, enough with the animals. Let’s plan this little adventure of ours. Where exactly does your mom live? And is there room for me, or should I stay in a hotel?”
“We could share a room and really freak her out,” he said. “No, I’m just kidding. There’s plenty of room. She still has my room. It’s more like a shrine, actually, with all my trophies on the shelves. And there’s a guest room, with its own bathroom. There’s even a pull-out bed in the family room. So you’ll have plenty of options.”
“When do we leave?” I asked. “You’d better call and tell her to expect one more for dinner.”
“She’ll be thrilled. She’s bored with me,” he said. “Said she always wanted a daughter.”
“Should we bring Kristen?” I asked.
He frowned.
“Too soon?” I asked.
Michael went to the refrigerator and pulled out two bottles of spring water. He handed one to me and returned to his seat.
“So, you never did tell me what happened with that cop, what was his name?” Michael asked.
“You know his name,” I said. “It’s Friday. Tyler Friday.”
“So, what happened with you guys?” he asked. “You seemed to really have something going on there.”
“I thought there was, but then, I had an unexpected visitor during our last evening together that kind of put the kibosh on things,” I said. He gestured for me to keep talking. “Okay, well, I never really shared this with you, or anyone, but I kind of have a….husband, that I never actually divorced.”
Michael choked. “A what?” he said.
“You heard me,” I replied. “I never thought about him as my husband, really, mostly because I didn’t think the marriage was legit. But he believes we’re really legally married, and he showed up out of the blue, with roses, of course, one night when Ty was at my place. You should’ve seen the look on Ty’s face.”
“Disappointed?” Michael asked.
“No—he just shut down. Like, that was the end before it even began. He didn’t even want to know what the story was—he practically ran out of the house. In fact, I had to ask him to stay, mostly because I didn’t really want to be alone with my ex. Or, well, he’s not really my ex, not yet. I’m not sure—like I said, I don’t think the marriage was legal. So that complicates things with Ty. Once Yurgos left, I tried to explain the situation to Ty. That I thought the marriage was actually invalid, but he completely shut me down and was gone as soon as I said, okay then, thanks for staying. And I haven’t heard from him since.”
“Oh, that’s probably not good,” Michael said.
“No, I would guess that doesn’t bode well for our relationship or whatever it was going to be,” I said. “I thought at least he’d come around to talk some more about Neville’s case—you know, he was full of questions about the art smuggling ring and what I knew about it—but I haven’t heard a peep out of him.”
“Maybe he’s been busy.”
“Uh-huh. But it’s been a couple of months, so, I’m not holding my breath about it,” I said.
“Huh,” he said.
“Exactly,” I said. We sat in silence for a few minutes. “So, I bet you’re looking forward to getting back to work soon.”
“I am,” he said, glad for the change of subject. “I really missed being in the classroom this semester. And although I ended up getting a lot of writing done, I much prefer being around students to being alone.”
“I know, you’re a people person,” I said. “Not like me.”
“Maybe it’s because of being an only child,” he said. “I just always wanted to have siblings, and I was so happy when I went to nursery school and there were all those other kids to play with—I didn’t want to go home at the end of the day. I remember that my mother was embarrassed.”
“I’m an only child, too, and I was just the opposite. I wanted to stay home and be by myself. I didn’t want to have to share the books and toys with any of the other kids, because I was used to having everything when I wanted it, for as long as I wanted it—I didn’t know how to share with anybody else,” I said. “And, truthfully, I didn’t want to have to share. I told my parents that I would prefer to be home schooled. But they said no, that I had to go to school.”
“All the more reason why you shouldn’t get cats,” Michael said. “You’ll never get along with them.”
“I can get along with people, if I want to,” I said.
“Really?” He looked skeptical.
“How about you? Getting any action lately?” I asked.
“No—I need to get back to a real gym,” he said. “And no, you can’t join me. You’ll cramp my style.”
I picked up the card again. “Maybe I can ask Detective Friday if he can check this for DNA or fingerprints.”
“Sure—you can bring him a little bit of Christmas cheer at the same time,” he said. “Go for it.”
“You don’t mind?” I asked.
“No, I’m happy to get that out of here,” he said. “Take the envelope, too.” He reached into the fridge and brought out a wine bottle wrapped in a cheerful red foil. “Bring some bubbly to the good officer. Maybe that will help mend your fence with him. It’s worth a try, right?”
“Why not?” I asked. “I’ll stop by and see him and then pick you up at around ten o’clock tomorrow, okay?”
“Perfect,” he said.
“And let me know if your mom would prefer to have you all to herself,” I said. “It’s okay with me. I don’t want to impose.”
“Yes, I know, I know. Now get out of here. And make sure you put on a little makeup before you go and talk to the good detective. Let him see what he’s been missing.”
I blushed and gave him a kiss on the cheek, took the card and the wine, and headed home to pack.