“And what happened?”
“Sometime that night…two nights ago, I guess. It seems like it was years ago. But sometime that night she passed away on the beach. And I just didn’t think that she could go like that. So quickly. The police don’t suspect anything, but I know it must have happened for a reason.”
She leaned in closer.
“I don’t know what happened.” She shrugged and smiled. “But I think it’s just a part of your job you aren’t used to yet. This is what it’s like. You have to get used to that. It’s natural. It’s something that just…happens.”
“You think so?”
“You can’t fix it by reporting on her. Right?”
“No.”
She walked forward to his desk and picked up the wrapper.
“You have to deal with this in other ways. Ones with less fat content.” She tilted her head and laughed a little. It sounded different than he’d expected. It rang more. “I know what you should do. You should come out and have fun. Just have a few drinks, take it easy. It’s the neighborly thing to do.”
“I’ve never known any of my neighbors before you.”
“Then that’s your problem.”
“Right.”
“So just don’t worry about it. Right?”
“Right.”
She crossed the room and he watched her from the bed. She walked like she was testing out her hips. They worked. She found the measuring cup she’d dropped on the floor and picked it up. She put the handle in her front pocket, the cup sticking out.
“I’ll talk to you later.”
Before she walked toward the door, she stopped in front of him and crouched down. She leaned in close and took the knot of his tie in her hands. She took the back tail with one hand and the front in the other. She pulled on them hard and whispered to him.
“I’m good at knots.”
She walked out the door and shut it behind her. He stood in front of the mirror. The tie was almost strangling him. This was what it was like to have a new jacket. He took it and threw it on the floor. He loosened the tie enough to pull it straight over his head. He didn’t even bother to untie it.
CHAPTER 17
“Jacob, did you receive my letter on the e-mail? The one about 3-D newspapers? I think I might have sent it wrong.”
Lying to Gary was hard. Jake shifted the camera and all the gear over his shoulder: the lenses, the tripod, the case, and the camera. It was heavy. But Gary wasn’t allowed to carry it after his accident. He looked up at Jake, nodding his head like they’d already reached an agreement. They hadn’t.
“I didn’t get that e-mail. It’s just with everything that happened, it’s been a really busy time. So I didn’t get a chance to reply about the 3-D glasses.”
He’d told Gary about Charlotte before he picked him up. On the phone, Gary had been quiet. He seemed silenced by the idea of Charlotte passing away so quickly, and he remained quiet as they drove to the Palmstead to shoot its banquet space. But once they parked, he wasn’t quiet anymore.
“Well, Jacob, I understand with busy times, but it’s something you should think about. 3-D, Jacob. People are always saying this and that about bringing newspapers into the digital age. This would be perfect! A 3-D newspaper. Comics, Sports, Lifestyles-all in 3-D! Technology!”
“Slow down,” Jake said. Gary breathed.
“It’s perfect though, isn’t it?”
They reached the entry to the banquet space. Jake adjusted the gear and found a free hand. Somehow. He opened the heavy door.
“Gary, I think that when people say newspapers should use technology, they’re talking about the internet.”
“When you come over to see the photos I developed, I’ll show you my old 3-D glasses. Can you do 3-D pictures on the internet?”
He didn’t answer. Jerry Rubenstein was gesturing to them from the corner of the room. It was a large space with wood detailing on the wall, and a formal stage with rich curtains stood in front. Jerry seemed like another decoration. Luxurious. The inside of a portrait, he was Palmstead’s portly king. He needed a drumstick in his hand. Instead he had a leash. The dog barked as they walked closer.
“Jake,” Jerry shouted, “Coconut remembers you!”
Gary whispered.
“That dog’s name is Coconut?”
They stepped over the hardwood floor, their shoes squeaking and clicking. The space was nicer than Giordano’s-both on the outside and inside. It was obvious that the only reason Rothschild hadn’t rented it for his own banquet was because the room belonged to the competition. The hall was full of extras. Extra lighting. Extra windows. And Rubenstein had extra chins. They reached him and Jake shook his hand. Coconut stayed calm.
“Jerry,” Jake said, “this is Gary Novak. He’s my photographer. He’ll be taking some shots of the space.”
“It’s wonderful to meet you.”
“It’s a beautiful space!” Gary shouted. “And this dog. It’s a Labrador?”
“No, he is actually a Schnoodle.”
“Are the two similar?”
“Not really.” He shook Gary’s hand. “No, not at all.”
Jake got out his notebook.
“What’s a Schnoodle?”
“Ah, it is a wonderful breed. A delicate cross between a schnauzer and a poodle. Very easy to train. And very nice, aren’t we?”
Coconut barked on cue. Gary seemed to consider leaning down to pet her, but instead he pushed his cane forward slowly. The dog approached it tentatively before stepping away.
“I should have dipped it in bacon!” Gary said. “I bet they do that in Ethiopia, for hunting.”
“I’m sure,” Jake said and unloaded the camera. “This is our room to shoot. I might ask Mr. Rubenstein a few questions about the space.”
He set the rest of the gear in front of Gary and led Jerry to another side of the room. While he walked, Jerry held his arm out halfway, letting the dog lead him on the leash. Jake leaned in closely.
“Gary’s a good photographer. He obviously doesn’t have dogs. And apparently he’s never even seen a Labrador.”
“I can’t hold that against a man like him. I wish I could photograph so well.”
“Have you seen his work?”
“Marvelous shots of palm trees.”
“I see.”
Jake looked around the room and listened as the smallest sounds echoed.
“This is a great space. Aged beautifully. I was at Giordano’s the other night and it was fine on the inside. But this is beautiful on the inside and out.”
“So, you were at Giordano’s were you? I’m guessing Simeon Rothschild invited you.”
“Yes.” He didn’t want Jerry to know that he’d been on a date with Mel. He might think she had compromised his reporting. Jerry didn’t seem to care either way.
“Funny that. Simeon used to invite me. I noticed because this year was the first I didn’t receive an invitation to celebrate ‘his life and charity.’ I can’t say I was offended. Or that I was surprised. He’s beginning to think he’ll never overtake Palmstead.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. He’s been trying to march past us for years. But he hasn’t had luck. Has he Coconut?”
The dog sniffed Jake’s shoes excitedly.
“I see,” Jake said. He wrote it all down. “Well, you missed a hell of an event. I couldn’t believe it. Halfway through, some environmentalist maniac jumped on a table. He held a protest during the banquet. We thought he might have a gun, or a bomb or something. He left peacefully, but it was quite a show.”
“It makes sense.” Jerry tugged Coconut closer. “The Development Proposition is coming to a vote so soon. The environmentalists are targeting Simeon every chance they get. They think he’s first in line to benefit. If people vote ‘Yes’ on the Proposition and allow development in the wetlands, he’ll jump on it. He’s had his eye on it for a long time.”
“Do you think he’d develop there?”
“I have no doubt he’d love to. It’s a real fight.”