His voice was gentle, caring. "I'm so very, very sorry, Mal. I'm here for you and your mother. I'll do anything to help you both. All you have to do is ask me. Anything at all, Mal."
Eventually I managed to sit up. Gently, I extricated myself from my mother's arms. She lay back against the sofa; her face was haggard.
David rose, came and sat in a chair near me. "Take your time, Mal, we're in no hurry."
I looked at him, tried to speak, but I couldn't say anything. I began to weep once more. Wrapping my arms around my body, hugging myself, I moved backward and forward on the sofa, making low, keening noises. I was distraught, I was in an agony of mind, soul, and body. Every part of me felt as if it had been bludgeoned.
Finally I stopped moving and leaned back, closing my eyes. But the tears kept coming, seeping out from underneath my lids.
Opening my eyes at last, I gazed at David helplessly. He gave me his handkerchief.
After I wiped my eyes, I said in a shaky voice, "I want to see my family."
"Of course, and you shall," David said. "The detectives are ready to take you to Bellevue, Mal. We'll all come. Your mother and Sarah and I. We'll be with you."
I could only nod my understanding.
David said, "Can I get you anything? Anything to drink? Brandy, maybe?"
I shook my head. "Just water, please."
My mother stood up shakily. "I'll get it, I need a glass myself."
Sarah said, "I'll come with you, Auntie Jess."
David took hold of my hand, held it tightly in his, wanting to comfort me. His light gray eyes were full of sympathy, and his tactfulness and concern were palpable. I was thankful he was here. I had grown to know him quite well since he'd married my mother, and he was kind and considerate. He was also quick, efficient, and smart, and as a criminal lawyer he knew how to properly and effectively deal with the police.
After a second, he said, "I need to talk to the detectives, Mal. I didn't learn much from them on the phone. My fault, I didn't give them a chance to fill me in. Your mother and I just raced around here within minutes of receiving their call."
He started to get up, but I wouldn't let go of his hand.
Puzzled, he looked at me closely. "What is it, Mal?" he asked.
"Can you bring them over here? I want to hear what they have to say."
Nodding, he rose and strode across the floor. He stood talking to Johnson and DeMarco for a few minutes, and then the three of them came back and sat down near me.
Detective Johnson said, "We don't know what happened, Mrs. Keswick." He threw David a quick glance, and went on in a low voice. "It could have been a crime of opportunity, such as robbery, we're just not sure. And we won't be able to give you any real answers until we've done a proper investigation."
David said, "You told me you found the car on Park Avenue at One Hundred Nineteenth Street. At the traffic light there."
"Yes," Johnson said.
"Was the family in the car?"
Johnson said, "Yes. Mr. Keswick was in the front seat, the driver's seat, and he'd fallen across the passenger seat. His door was open, and his legs were out of the car, as if he'd been trying to get out. One back door was also open, and the children were on the backseat together, with the dog."
I pushed myself to my feet. On shaking legs I half walked, half staggered out of the living room. I managed to get to my bathroom. Closing and locking the door, I knelt on the floor and vomited into the toilet, retching until there was nothing left inside me. Then I fell over on my side and curled into a ball, sobbing my heart out. I was in shock, disbelieving. This couldn't be happening, it couldn't. This morning I had been talking and laughing with Andrew on the phone, and now…
"Mal, Mal, are you all right?" Sarah called, knocking on the bathroom door. "We're concerned about you."
"Give me a minute." I dragged myself to my feet, splashed cold water on my face, and looked at myself in the mirror. The face staring back did not look like mine. It was stark, the cheekbones sticking out like blades, and it was as white as chalk under all the freckles. I felt stunned, dazed, and my glazed eyes reflected this.
Not me, that's not me. But then, I would never be me again.
There were two medical examiners waiting for us at Bellevue Hospital, where the New York City Morgue was located. I followed them into the morgue, accompanied by Detectives Johnson and DeMarco as well as David Nelson.
I had protested to Detective DeMarco, begging him to let me go in alone except for the two doctors. It was Johnson who had explained the law; the police officers who were the first to arrive on the scene of a crime must be present at the identification of the body or bodies. It was mandatory.
David had insisted on coming in with me, and I hadn't had the strength to argue. In any case, the medical examiners seemed to think his presence was essential.
When they pulled out Andrew's body and showed it to me, I gasped and cried out in anguish, then pressed my hands to my mouth. I felt my legs buckle, but David was there, standing right behind me, and he put his arm around my waist, held me upright.
Oh, Andrew, my darling, my heart cried out.
My eyes were streaming as they led me to the next two compartments, pulled out the slabs, and showed me Lissa and then Jamie. My children, my darling babies. I could barely see their faces for my blinding tears. They were so still, so quiet, so cold. All I wanted was to keep them warm, to keep them safe. Oh, my poor babies.
Looking at one of the medical examiners, I gasped through my tears, "They didn't suffer, did they?"
He shook his head. "No, Mrs. Keswick. None of them suffered. Death was instantaneous."
Detective Johnson was edging me away, edging David and me away from my children.
"I want to stay with them," I whispered. "Please let me stay."
"We can't, Mrs. Keswick," Johnson said. "You can be with them tomorrow at the funeral parlor, after we've released them." Then he added, very quietly, "Your dog's here. Normally it would have gone to an animal hospital, but it was required for evidence."
"She," I said. "She's a she, not an it."
"You must have a vet, don't you?" Johnson said. "We'll need the name and address. The dog can go there tomorrow."
All I could do was nod. I was sobbing uncontrollably.
One of the doctors took me to Trixy, showed her to me. I bent over her and touched the top of her furry head, and my tears fell down on my hands.
Trixy. My little Trixola.
I was still weeping when David guided me out into the corridor. He led me down to the waiting room, but I could barely walk; waves of shock and heartbreak were washing over me.
As we went into the waiting room, my mother stood up and so did Sarah. They both hurried over.
"Oh, Mom, oh, Momma," I wept. "It is them. They're dead. Whatever am I going to do without them?"
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
" Park and One Hundred Nineteenth Street is a very bad area, Mrs. Keswick; there's drug dealing on the street, prostitution. So, what do you think your husband was doing up there on Sunday afternoon?" Detective Johnson asked.
I stared at him, clenching my hands in my lap, endeavoring to control their constant trembling. "I know what he was doing up there," I said quietly. "He was on his way home with our children. He was coming from Connecticut."
"Where in Connecticut?" DeMarco inquired, shifting slightly in his chair, leaning back in it. There was a sympathetic look in his eyes.
" Sharon," I said. "We have a house there."
Detective Johnson frowned. "And did he usually drive through the heart of Harlem?"
I nodded. "Yes. Andrew always takes-" I stopped, steadied myself, and went on, "Andrew always took Route 684, which leads into the Saw Mill River Parkway and then the Henry Hudson Parkway. That's an absolutely straight line from Sharon to Manhattan. And by going through Harlem he came out at the top of Park Avenue."