And not even ten minutes ago, Linda thought, I imagined her in Bali, sitting next to Daddy on matching chaises, a table of drinks between them. But she didn’t want to feel sorry for Julie Saxony. She didn’t want to feel anything for her. She didn’t want her dead. She just wanted her never to have existed.
I know she’s not in Bali, Rachel had said. I met her. Linda looked at her mother. She was shaky and pale, upset. But she didn’t seem surprised. Then again, she had known about Julie, possibly all day. It was the call from the reporter that had jarred her. Linda would handle the reporter. She always did.
Michelle chose that time to enter the kitchen, oblivious as ever. She didn’t look like someone who had just weathered a migraine, or whatever excuse she had used this time.
“Do we have a minyan? Because I really need to get on the road.” Then, when everyone glared at her, “What?”
March 22, 2012
Julie’s sister, Andrea Norr, did not seem particularly surprised to see Sandy’s car bouncing up her driveway. Resigned, perhaps, like someone who knew a mistake had been made in her favor but had always believed it would catch up to her eventually. Maybe even a little relieved. She walked alongside his car the final ten yards or so, invited him in, made him more bad tea.
“So she told Susie, that little bubblehead? I thought Julie was tighter with a secret.”
Sandy felt a knee-jerk instinct to defend both women. “I think your sister chose a good confidante. Susan Borden didn’t tell the police about the missing money, or even the argument with the daughter. She sat on a significant lead, believing she was honoring Julie’s wishes, that she would put your interests ahead of hers when it came down to it.”
Andrea made a face, the kind of face Sandy wanted to make with every sip of her tea. “If that’s the case, it was out of guilt, not love.”
“Guilt over what?”
“She left me, Mr. Sanchez. We ran away from home together. It was an adventure. And she left me-in the Rexall, in our apartment on Biddle. You know what she called me, when I told her I didn’t approve of Felix? She called me the little old biddy of Biddle Street. She chose her meal ticket over her sister.”
“What I keep hearing is that she really loved him.”
“So what?” A flare of temper. “I was blood. He was some stupid married man who was never going to marry her, never. Okay-so secrets are coming out, right? Susie told my secret. Now I’ll tell Julie’s. She thought, sometimes, about going to the cops, saying that Felix didn’t run away. That he feared for his life. That Bambi had him taken out, because he was going to leave her and she didn’t think she could get by on the alimony.”
“That doesn’t sound like your sister.”
Andrea’s laughter wasn’t cruel, not exactly, but a laugh at one’s expense always feels cruel and she was definitely laughing at Sandy.
“You think you know Julie better than I do? Another man blinded by a pair of big”-she paused in a practiced way-“blue eyes.”
“I’ve learned a lot about her. Other people, her friends, thought well of her.”
“Did they? Well, here’s my tip. When you want to measure the worth of a person, ask the family first. And don’t forget that Felix, the man she loved, didn’t care for her at all. He put us both at risk, asking that we get him out of town. Yes, Tubman knew and the lawyer, Bert, he knew, too, that Felix was going. They knew the how, and they probably could guess the when. Before he left, Felix moved money around, he signed a power of attorney. Julie was too stupid to ask for anything.”
“But you weren’t.”
“I literally bought the farm! Oh, hell, not even I find that funny. Anyway, I had the discipline to wait three years before I spent what he gave me. Someone had to.”
“Wait?”
“Have discipline. That bail bondsman ran all over town, making wink-wink, nudge-nudge jokes about getting stuck with the bond. Always the jolly fat guy.”
“Your sister had discipline. She didn’t tell anyone anything for ten years, as far as we know. And Bert Gelman had discipline.”
“Well, Bert would have been disbarred, right? If he helped someone flee.” She sighed. “There’s one more piece of the story. I know you think Julie was protecting me. But it was mutual. Julie was too stupid to ask for anything. But she wasn’t too stupid not to take what was right in front of her.”
“What do you mean?”
“That night, Felix gave her a suitcase. A small one, like a cosmetic bag. He told her to take it to ‘the place.’ I don’t think she ever did. She hated Bambi that much, she wouldn’t share whatever Felix left behind.”
Sandy was jolted. It was like finding out that a woman you admired had a bad habit, or an ugly laugh, or made fun of cripples. He was disappointed in Julie, and maybe Susie, too, for not telling him this part.
“What was in the suitcase?” he asked. He was pretty sure he knew the answer.
“Money for Felix’s family.”
“You can’t put enough money in a suitcase for a family to live very long.”
“No. But I think there was information, too, about accounts, and how to access them. All I remember is that he said it would take care of everything and she should take it to the place, whatever that was. But she didn’t. I mean-it’s obvious, she didn’t, right?”
“Not to me. It’s not like your sister lived like someone who had that kind of money.” Even as he defended her, he was remembering his own random curiosity about Julie’s ability to make the leap from grubby coffee shop to showplace inn.
“No, but neither did Bambi Brewer-I knew the stable owner who got stiffed for the daughters’ lessons. And that was only six months or so after Felix disappeared. I mean, Bambi might have been reckless, but she couldn’t have run through it that fast. So you have to ask yourself where the money went. My sister didn’t care about having the money, or using it. She cared only that Bambi never have it. See, that’s my real beef with Felix Brewer. He made my sister mean. He strung her along, used her to get away, left her thinking ‘if only.’ He was yammering about being with her right up until the moment he left. You want to take someone’s life away from them, then put them in the ‘if only’ camp. My sister pinned all her hopes on Felix Brewer. When he didn’t ask her to come with him, he broke her heart. I mean, why not take her with him? All the way to-well, I don’t have to tell you that part. Where we took him. But up until the very last moment, when he said good-bye to her, she thought he was going to ask her to come along. She had a passport with her. Got it just in case. She went to Bert, asked him to help her expedite it. I guess he thought, ‘What could it hurt?’ Well, it hurt a lot. When Felix left-literally left Julie holding the bag-huh, I did it again. Another stupid joke.” She broke off, slumped back in her chair as if all that talk had left her winded.
“You were saying?”
“Felix. He broke her heart. So she lashed out. You know, that’s another reason, I think, that we ended up on the outs. Because I was there, I knew. She had a little overnight bag. On the trip up, she said to me, ‘Where do you think we’re going? South America? Oh, I hope I can learn Spanish.’ My stupid baby sister, may she rest in peace. She had never been on a plane before, either, and she was excited about that. I knew and she couldn’t bear it. That was the beginning of the end for us. She tried to play it proud on the drive back, but I wasn’t fooled.”
“Where was the place?”