Page 113 of The Happy Month
“I was trapped. I lost my family in the war. I didn’t know many people in the U.S. I had my daughter to think of. I thought Vera would help me escape him. I thought the same about Shirley. He made sure I couldn’t get away. He made sure no one would help me.”
I started to say she could have called the police, but that was barely true today. It wouldn’t have helped her in 1949. I didn’t know what to say. I was out of questions and I had the answer I’d come for.
I thanked them and said good-bye. Before I was out the door Manny said something I didn’t quite catch. I turned to wait for him to say it again, but Gigi said, “He says good-bye.”
Walking out of the house, I crossed the street to my Jeep. I wasn’t sure what to do. An elderly man was being abused. I knew I should do something about that. But then, he’d also brutally raped and murdered two women, not to mention abusing his wife for decades. I wasn’t sure hedeserved compassion. The only thing I was sure of was that it wasn’t up to me.
I turned to go back to the house. It would be better for Gigi if I convinced her to turn him in. They’d take him away and then she wouldn’t be tempted?—
A gunshot rang out from inside the house. I was sure she’d just killed him. I stopped in my tracks. I was frozen. I should call?—
And then there was another shot. I couldn’t breathe for a moment. I was sure she’d just shot herself too. Could I be wrong? Could it have taken two shots to kill her husband? But he could barely move. She couldn’t have missed… No, she’d just killed them both.
I looked around the neighborhood. It was quiet. No one was coming out of their house. No one seemed to be home. Slowly, I walked back to my Jeep. I got in, took off my sling, and drove away.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
August 22, 1996
Thursday
About a week later, well after I put my invoice in the mail, I called Sheila Karpinski.
“I know who killed Vera,” I said. I’d already let her sons know, but I felt I ought to talk to her myself.
“I know. I’m so glad.” I could hear her lighting a cigarette as she said that.
“It was a man named Manny Marker.”
“Do you know why he did it? Edwin wasn’t clear.”
I knew why he wasn’t clear. Sheila seemed to have gone to great lengths not to see her brother’s sexuality. Could I talk about his fiancée being killed over an affair she’d had with another woman? Would that tip Sheila off? Did I want to be the one who’d tipped her off? It didn’t feel like my business.
I sidestepped the question by saying, “She wasn’t the only woman Marker killed. He killed another woman in the sixties.”
“Oh dear, Edwin didn’t tell me that. How horrible. You are turning him into the police?”
Just a day after my trip to Eagle Rock there was a newspaper article about an elderly couple involved in a murder-suicide. The wife had stolen a gun from the neighbors and used it to kill her terminally ill husband and herself.
“I’m afraid he passed away.”
“So that poor girl won’t get any justice.”
“Not in a traditional sense, no.” I decided to move off this topic. “Now you have something to tell Patrick.”
“Yes. Manny Marker killed Vera.”
Unfortunately, I think he already knew that, and I wasn’t sure saying the guy’s name was going do anything but terrify him. “You know, I think Patrick will still feel responsible. You might want to just tell him it wasn’t his fault. And now you know that for certain.”
“Yes, we do know for certain. Thank you. I appreciate what you’ve done for my family.”
Of course, I understood how Patrick felt. From what I’d pieced together, Vera and Gigi had meant to go away that weekend but didn’t. That led to Vera’s death. Patrick’s guilt came from the fact that he hadn’t, and probably couldn’t have, saved Vera. I knew what that felt like. There were people in my life, those I’d loved, liked, even disliked, who I wish I’d been able to save. I suppose the grown-up thing to say is that we can’t save others, we can barely save ourselves. But that doesn’t help with the guilt.
Later that afternoon, Ronnie came home unexpectedly.
“What are you doing home?” I asked. “Did the bottom fall out of the real estate business?”
“You wish,” he teased back. “I have something I want to show you.”
