“Margit?” Jennifer asked, terrified by the sight of her friend.
“Hello, Jennifer,” Margit said, but she did not speak. Yet Jennifer knew just what she was saying, knew what she wanted.
“Let me hold you, please,” Jennifer asked, stepping toward her.
Margit shook her head. “I’m sorry, Jenny, but you can’t, not now.”
“Margit, what happened?”
“David
David poisoned me.”
“Oh no. Oh God, no!”
“It’s all right, Jennifer. It’s all right.” She kept smiling.
“But why? Because of that woman?”
“It was more than that. I had money. My family’s money, and he wanted it. Jenny, he’s a very unhappy man.”
“Margit, this isn’t possible. I’m not seeing you. I can’t be.” She tried to turn away but was frightened now to look away from the misty figure of Margit Engle.
“I’ve seen your brother Danny, Jenny. We’ve talked, and he wants you to know he loves you very much and that you can’t blame yourself for what happened to him. He is very happy.”
“You saw Danny?” Jennifer exclaimed. She began to smile. “Let me talk to him, please. Let me come close to you, Margit.”
“It’s not time, not yet. But I’ve come to warn you.”
“Warn me?”
“Be careful, Jenny. Someone wants to hurt you.”
“Who?”
“A woman. She was once your friend, Jenny. In another time, she was once your friend.”
“Who, Margit?” Jennifer whispered.
Margit shook her head, whispered that she couldn’t, and then her image began to fade from sight. Jennifer did not cry out to hold her on earth. She watched the image dissolve and then disappear. And then Jennifer realized it was daylight, and she was standing in the bright sun. Margit was gone.
She turned from the window and walked back into her bedroom. The sun filled that room, too, spreading light across the unmade bed. Jennifer glanced at the digital clock. It read 11:47. She had been talking to Margit for over five hours.
Book Two
Each of us is responsible for everything to everyone else.
“It is absolutely necessary that the soul should be healed and purified, and if this does not take place during its life on earth, it must be accomplished in future lives.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
TOM GRABBED JENNIFER WHEN she came up out of the subway at Columbus Circle.
“We’ve got to talk,” he told her, seizing her wrist.
“You’ve heard?” she asked.
“About Margit? Yes. David phoned me yesterday. Where were you? I’ve been calling.”
“At home.”
“You didn’t pick up. I went to Brooklyn; you didn’t answer. “
“I didn’t want to talk to you.”
“Jesus Christ, Jenny, what’s happening? Why did you sneak out of my place?”
They were standing at the top of the subway escalator and morning-rush-hour commuters were pushing past, glancing at the obviously angry couple but keeping their distance.
“You were calling the police when you thought I was asleep.”
“I was not,” he said outraged. “I was calling your office. Talking to What’s-his-name
Handingham.”
“Come on,” Jennifer said, taking his hand. “Let’s get a cup of coffee.”
“Margit and I talked for over five hours,” Jennifer explained to Tom, “and when I called David back, it was almost noon. The police were still there. Margit’s body was on the floor of her bedroom, where she told me she had died, and everyone was waiting for the coroner to come. Tom, I’m telling you: David killed her!”
Tom put down his pastry and stared at her.
“Jennifer, she died of an overdose. The coroner found evidence in her body. David told me. Besides, she died at approximately five o’clock yesterday morning. How could you have seen her? What are you talking about anyway?”
“She had traces of Valium in her stomach. Of course! David got that for her, but he wasn’t stupid enough to poison her with it. He’s a doctor; he’s smarter than that.”
“Well then, how did he kill her? How did Margit say she died?” He was treating her as if she were a child who needed to be humored. She kept her voice slow and steady. “He killed Margit with lidocaine. It’s used in emergency situations to slow down the heartbeat where there’s been a coronary seizure.”
“I know what lidocaine is. But how do you know?”
“I don’t. I don’t know any of this. But Margit does—or did. She was a nurse before she married David. That’s how they met. She told me about the lidocaine.” Jennifer leaned over the restaurant table and continued in a whisper: “It comes in a disposable syringe called a Flex-O-Jet. There’s one gram of lidocaine in twenty-five cc’s of fluid. When a person has a seizure in a hospital, they inject it directly into a bag of sugar and water that the patient is getting intravenously. You never inject lidocaine directly into the vein in a concentrated form. But that’s what David did. She had fallen asleep in bed, and David came into the bedroom, injected the lidocaine, and then pulled her onto the floor, so it would look as if she was trying to reach the door.”
“And Margit told you all this?”
Jennifer nodded. “When we talked, she was in her afterlife—that’s a nonphysical reality we all enter following death. All souls or spirits go there between incarnations.”
The waiter returned to refill their coffee cups, and they both fell silent until he stepped away. Then Tom spoke without looking up. “I think maybe you should talk to someone, Jennifer.”
“I agree.” Jennifer sighed, feeling relieved. “Do you know the detective on the case? What precinct is it, anyway?”
“Jen, I’m not talking about cops. I’m talking about a doctor. A shrink.”
Jennifer stared at him. “Tom, we’re talking about a murderer.”
“Sure—who was also her husband, and your doctor, and a physician on the staff of New York Hospital. Honey, you’ve been under a lot of stress. And I haven’t helped matters with my behavior about getting married. I was thinking that maybe we should fly down to the Caribbean for a few days and let all this blow over. My case against the dealers will go down soon. I’ll have time off. And you can get a long rest.” He spoke as if he had decided to take over her life.
Jennifer stopped listening. Tom didn’t believe her, but how could he? She had been on an immense journey in the last few days, and she had left him far behind. She could barely believe it ail herself—but when she doubted, she remembered Margit and the envelope of light around her, and she believed again.
Tom was watching her. “Jenny, you’re not well,” he said softly. “You have to understand that. It’s not a sign of weakness. I know you. I know how you never want to be caught with your guard down, but all of us have some bad patches. You’re going to be okay.”
“I’m okay!”
“No, Jenny, you’re not,” he answered patiently. “You’re going through something, I don’t know what. I wish to God I did, but, honey, I love you, and I’m going to take care of you, regardless of what you say. Okay?” He smiled, trying to dull the hard edge of his pronouncement.