‘That’s good. You’re going to let Ronald confront David.’
‘Not David. Margaret. Ronald’s finally going to confront his mother.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘Call it prophecy.’
Ronald took that moment to emerge. The pupils of his eyes were reduced to a pair of black dots, but he was still in control. That, too, was predictable. For all his talk of wretched excess, Ronald Portola was a young man who kept a close watch on his best interests.
Margaret Portola’s eyes flew up like yanked window shades when Adele and I followed Ronald into her front parlor. She was sitting on a pale yellow sofa, a sectional that effectively partitioned a corner of the room. David was sitting off to the side, slouched in a leather chair with one leg thrown over the arm. Quicker than his mother, he knew exactly why we were there. His eyes flickered for a moment, then grew resigned as his sullen expression vanished. He’d been waiting a long time for his punishment, trying and convicting himself over and over again. When finally pressed, he’d offer no resistance.
‘I’ve told them everything about Mynka,’ Ronald announced as he took a step toward his mother. ‘The before, the after, the event itself.’
Margaret’s lower jaw bobbed up and down as she struggled to frame a response. In an instant, her world had come crashing down, all her fears realized. Still, she made a stab at gaining control of the situation.
‘Get out of my house,’ she said to me and Adele, ‘before I call my lawyer.’
I ignored the remark as I dropped to one knee beside David’s chair, leaving Adele to follow Ronald as he drifted in his mother’s general direction. Given Margaret’s volatility and Ronald’s determination to provoke her, Adele was prepared to intervene if Margaret became violent.
‘You’re not listening to me,’ Ronald continued. ‘I told them how Toad became pregnant and how Jerk was the father. I told them about Aslan and the abortion you wanted Toad to get. I told them how you beat Toad and locked her in the cold room.’
By then, Ronald was close enough to capture Margaret’s full attention. I watched her closely as she met her son’s eyes. Despite her rage, the sadist at her core was still weighing costs and benefits.
‘I don’t know what lies you told these officers,’ she said, ‘but you might want to consider that whatever you said amounts to no more than the word of a convicted pervert.’
Still on his game, Ronald didn’t hunch his shoulders or curl his hands into fists. I leaned toward David, gave him a little nudge, then whispered in his ear. ‘Your brother’s playing her like a violin.’ When David looked at me, I winked.
‘I told them about the checks you wrote,’ Ronald continued as if his mother hadn’t spoken, ‘and how you cashed them to pay Aslan off. I told them about Aslan and Konstantine wrapping Toad’s body in plastic and carrying Toad out to the van.’
‘Stop calling her Toad.’
Ronald raised a finger to his lips. ‘And I told them how you murdered Toad in the kitchen.’
Margaret’s jaw dropped and her eyes literally bulged from her skull. She looked at Adele, who had her arms folded across her chest, then at me, then at Ronald’s finger as it described a leisurely semi-circle, only coming to rest when it pointed directly at the kettle and ladle resting by the fireplace.
‘I told them how you picked up that ladle, raised it high above her head, then brought it down. I told them how upset you were by the blood that spattered on your dress and how you made me scrub the kitchen afterwards. I told them everything.’
Her timing impeccable, Adele stepped forward and took a pair of handcuffs from the pocket of her jacket. ‘I’m placing you under arrest,’ she said to Margaret, somehow failing to mention exactly what for. ‘You have the right to remain silent. If you waive that right, anything you say can be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you. Now, turn around and place your hands behind your back.’
‘I didn’t kill anyone,’ Margaret said. ‘You can’t do this to me.’
‘Listen carefully, Mrs Portola. I’m an investigator with the office of the Queens District Attorney and I have peace officer status throughout the state of New York. If you don’t allow yourself to be handcuffed, I’m authorized to employ all necessary force to make you comply.’
Margaret’s eyes jumped from Adele to Ronald and back again. She had no idea what to do. I again whispered in David’s ear.
‘You understand, David, that you also have the right to remain silent. If you say the wrong thing, it’ll definitely come back to haunt you later on.’
I watched Margaret’s body describe a series of small, involuntary jerks. Maybe submission wasn’t her game, but no good would come of fighting cops. Adele waited patiently until Margaret’s wrists were crossed behind her back, then slipped on the cuffs.
‘I swear I didn’t do it,’ Margaret said. ‘I didn’t kill anyone. You’ve got to believe me. He’s lying. I swear it.’
‘Then what about those checks you cashed?’ Adele asked. ‘Are you telling me you didn’t write them?’
The questions caught Margaret off-guard and she hesitated as she framed a reply. Finally, she said, ‘I had business dealings with.?.?.’
‘Stop right there. How do you expect me to believe that you didn’t kill Mynka Chechowski when you start out with a lie? See, I know those checks are in addition to the checks you cut for Domestic Solutions. And the amount? Twenty-four thousand dollars in a little more than a month? You’re not paying that much for any housekeeper.’
‘I swear to you,’ Margaret said. ‘I didn’t kill her.’
‘Then why did you write those checks?’
Margaret was over-matched. Silence was her best move, as it usually is for anyone accused of a crime. But Margaret was a rich and pampered civilian, accustomed to having her way, a woman who now believed herself about to be charged with murder. That transition, from supreme mistress of her safe little world to involuntary ward of the state, had blown apart the little dots that connected her universe. Their place had been filled by an irresistible urge to shake off the nightmare, to crawl out from under.
‘I did what any mother would do,’ she finally claimed. ‘I protected my child.’
‘Which child?’
Margaret didn’t hesitate. ‘David,’ she said, ‘you have to tell them the truth.’
David Portola rose to his feet. Short and slightly built, he looked younger than his years. Nevertheless, he clearly wasn’t afraid.
‘Call me by my name,’ he demanded.
‘For God’s sake, this is no time to play around.’
‘Call me by my name.’
‘David, please, you know I didn’t do it.’
‘Call me by my name.’
Margaret’s body shook, literally, a shiver that seemed to run up from her toes. Then, despite the cuffs, she lowered her head and charged Ronald, only to be brought up short when Adele kicked her legs out from under her. For a moment, she lay sprawled on the carpet, seeming almost helpless, and I thought she was done early. But she finally rose to her knees, blood dripping from her nose, her features distorted by rage.
‘Alright,’ she screamed. ‘Jerk, Jerk, Jerk, Jerk, Jerk. Tell them what happened, Jerk. Tell them what you did.’
David was smiling when he turned to look into my eyes. ‘I loved her and I killed her,’ he explained. Then he repeated himself, as if bewildered by a truth he’d just discovered. ‘I loved her and I killed her.’
THIRTY-FOUR
I remember the rest of that evening as a succession of isolated scenes. First, the shock on Margaret Portola’s face — and the look of utter rapture on Ronald’s — when Adele enumerated the charges she intended to file against the woman: two counts of involuntary servitude; two counts of extortion; four counts of assault; one count of obstruction of justice; one count of tampering with evidence; one count of conspiracy.