A Measure of Blood (2 page)

“Will you hang on over at your place? I'll want to talk to you.”

“I will be there.”

“Hi Matthew. How about you sit on the sofa with me? I'm a detective and I think you can be very helpful.”

Matt came to him and slid up on the sofa. His face was tight. His hands were clenched tight. Christie wanted to hug him, to break through, and it was hard to hold back, but he needed to get the boy's trust first. “Your next-door neighbor seems pretty nice. Is she?” he began with Matt.

“Yes.”

“Do you like staying with her?”

“It's okay.”

Christie looked to Colleen Greer with a silent question: Am I gentle enough?

“Are you hanging in there all right?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. You said a man came into your apartment this morning? Did you see him come in?”

“No. I was in my room.”

“How did you know someone was there?”

“I could hear voices a little bit.”

“Ah, good, okay. Is that when you came out of your room?”

“No. I was just playing a game on my TV. I didn't know anything was wrong.”

“You kept playing? A video game?”

The boy winced and looked down. “Yes,” he said in a low voice.

“Well, that's okay. You didn't know anything was wrong. Did you see the man later?”

“No. Well, I saw him just like from the back. My mother was yelling at me. She said to leave, run, and so I did.”

“You were afraid of him?”

He hesitated. “I guess.”

“Did you hear what he was saying?”

“No. But … he bothered my mother before. So I think it was the same thing.”

“You saw him before?”

“Yes.”

“You're sure it was the same guy?”

“I
think
so.”

“How many times before?”

“Um … one time is all I know.”

“Is that why you told Detective Greer the man said he was your father? Because that's what he said the other time?”

Matthew nodded.

“Do you know who he is? His name?”

“No.”

“Do you remember when that was? That you saw him?”

“At the grocery store. He yelled at my mom.”

“When? Can you remember?”

“I don't know.”

“Long ago?”

“It was … it was nice weather out.”

“This summer maybe?”

“I think I still had school.”

“June?” He looked up at Greer. Some guesswork needed here. “What did this man say exactly? Can you remember?”

“Stuff like why didn't she tell him and he had a right to see me because I was his son.”

“Was he angry when he said it?”

“Um … yeah, I guess.”

“Tell me. Angry and what? Something else?”

“Surprised, like.”

“Surprised. Was he looking for you, waiting for your mother, or was it—do you think it was an accidental meeting?”

Before he could revise the question, Matt answered, “He was surprised. Like shocked.”

“Did your mom ever talk about him before?”

“No. Only after. She said he wasn't my father.”

“Can you think of anything else?”

“She told him to do math.”

“Uh-huh.” Christie looked at Colleen. “Anything else?”

“She told him I wasn't even eight years old.”

“Uh-huh. You seem to have a very good memory. Anything else that could help us?”

Matt shook his head. But then he said, “I think he had a reddish car. Dark red. I think it's called maroon.”

“He was in a car? Driving?”

“He was leaning on it.”

“Did you ever see him in the car?”

“No.”

“Where did all this happen?”

“At the store.”

“Do you happen to remember which store?” Christie saw suddenly that the boy was trying not to cry. “You're doing really well. You're helping us a lot. Do you want to take a break?”

“No. It was a grocery store. A big one. It's called … it's something fancier than our Giant Eagle here—”

“Whole Foods?” Colleen interrupted.

“No. The next one near it.”

“Market District,” she said calmly.

Matthew's face registered that that was correct.

Christie asked, “You never saw this man before or after?”

Matthew shook his head.

“Can you tell me what happened this morning? After you ran out?”

“I only ran out because my mother said to run.”

“I know. That's okay. Did you happen to hear anything?”

“No. Just some kind of arguing and when I opened the door from my room, she said I should leave.”

“How did she say it? Calmly or—”

“ ‘Run, Matt, go, leave!' stuff like that. She said I should go to a neighbor, but I didn't.”

“Why?”

“I didn't feel like it.” His face began to collapse.

“Okay. That's all right.”

“Because I wanted to help. I took the phone on the way out.”

“Where did you go?”

“Just down the steps. When I got outside, I called 911. I said, ‘A man is bothering my mother.' Some lady said okay and she asked for our address. But it didn't feel like she was going to do anything. So, so I snuck back.”

“Same way?”

“No, I came around the front.”

“Were you afraid to come back?”

“Yeah. But I … didn't know what else to do.”

“Did you see him again? When you came back?”

“No. He was gone.”

Though it was excruciating to wait out the boy's struggle, to wait for what would come next, Christie allowed a silence to intervene.

After a while Matthew said, “She was on the floor and there was blood everywhere. I tried to talk to her, but she couldn't hear. Right away I called 911 again, because I knew the lady who answered didn't care when I called before. I asked for an ambulance.”

Colleen took a step away. She was near tears.

“You didn't do anything wrong, Matt. It seems like you did just about everything right, okay?”

“Then I ran next door. Mrs. Panikkar didn't understand why I wanted her husband until I dragged her. Then she ran back to her place and I could hear her calling him in her language.”

“That was a sensible thing to try,” Christie said. “Wasn't it?”

Colleen, her voice raspy, said, “I think it was very smart.”

Matthew twitched and looked down.

“Something else you want to say?”

“No,” the boy said. “Yes. Was he my father?”

“I don't know. Your mother told you he wasn't?”

“Yes.”

“Did she tell you anything else about your father? Where he was, anything?”

“Just away. He couldn't be with us.”

“Is that … all?”

“She said he was a good person. She said he was smart. But we couldn't all be together.”

“Matt. Tell me everything you can about the people in your mother's life. Tell us the names of relatives.”

“We don't have any.”

“None? Grandmother, uncle?”

“She said it was just the two of us.”

Christie looked at Colleen, wondering if he could just keep at the boy. She seemed to nod. “Can you tell me who her friends were? Women friends, work friends, everybody you can think of. And anybody she was dating.”

“She didn't go for dates.”

“Okay. Other friends?”

“Sasha. Her friend Sasha.”

Christie asked, “Did she keep phone numbers somewhere?”

“Near the phone.”

“Good place. Who else was close to the two of you—other friends? Men friends especially. Take your time.”

“I guess Sasha's boyfriend, Mikhail.” He appeared to think of answers. “And Jason. He owns the coffee shop where she works. And the guy from the gallery where she works. Ben.”

“How many jobs did she have?”

“Three.”

“Can you explain how that worked?”

“Monday, Wednesday, Friday she had school.”

“This was in the grade schools,” Colleen told Christie. “That was her main job, teaching painting. Right, Matt?”

“Yeah.”

“Other jobs were … what?”

“She worked in the coffee shop sometimes on other days.”

“This would be on Tuesdays and Thursdays and Saturdays?”

“I think. When she wasn't needed at the gallery.”

“That's a lot of work.”

“Yeah.”

“Where did you stay when she was working? With Oopale?”

“Sometimes. Or Jade, my friend. Or Grady. He's my other friend.”

“Well, I'm glad you have these good friends. Hang tight, okay?” Christie said. “I'll check back with you.”

Matt frowned and gave only the slightest nod.

Christie told Colleen, “Would you send in Oopale next and tell Dr. Panikkar he's on deck?”

They all walked to the door of Holtzman's apartment and Christie watched Colleen touching the boy's shoulder and talking to him as she walked him back down the hall. The techs had just arrived and were getting out of the elevator. Three methods of access: the utility stairway—the one Matt had apparently used—the front stairway, and the elevator. Christie began to lead the two men from the mobile crime unit down the hall to the Brown apartment. He kept his voice low and instructed the men not to open the door while Matt was still in sight. Then he told them what he needed in the way of photos and prints and the usual scouring for trace evidence. They opened the apartment door. Both techs stepped wide over the blood.

Moments later Colleen emerged from the Panikkars' door with Oopale. Christie told her, “I need you to go in there. Find that phone list. Call Sasha. Break the news. Bring her in. And anyone else you can get.”

“Should we put anything out about the maroon car?”

He thought about it. “Too flimsy.”

She mock-saluted him and stepped over the blood.

Oopale stood in the hallway waiting to be called to help Christie. She looked away from the open doorway. She was lovely and graceful.

“Come,” he said.

Even though she still wore jeans, she moved as smoothly as if she wore a sari.

“Matt has been pretty clear on what happened. I won't keep you long. I think he probably needs you.”

They entered Holtzman's apartment and sat. “Tell me everything you know about Maggie, her friends, her patterns.”

Oopale brought her hands in prayer position to her mouth. “I don't know a lot. She worked a good number of hours. But she tried for the most part to be home when Matt was home.”

“Did she have friends over?”

“I think, occasionally, a woman friend. I met her friend at the christening. Sasha. She was named the godmother of Matthew.”

“Ah, good. Were there any
relatives
at the christening?”

She didn't have to think about it. “No, no, there weren't. Just local friends. I thought how different it was from Indian culture, where you can't get rid of family no matter what.”

Christie smiled. “How about men who could have possibly been the father?”

Puzzlement crossed her face. “Nobody acted that way. Just, you know, friendliness. Modest gifts. It wasn't so much a real christening in the Christian sense as I understand it. Just little speeches and good wishes for Matt.”

“What about dates? Men in Maggie Brown's life?”

“I didn't see any. I wondered if she was lonely. But many people are.”

Christie stood and ran his hands through his hair. “Let me think.”

“I'm wondering,” Oopale said, “what will happen with Matt. Who will take him? I'm worried.”

Christie turned to her. “You and me both. There's no evidence of a relative so far. Are you putting in a bid?”

“My parents wouldn't allow it, I'm sure. People would think he was mine and illegitimate. And it would be a huge responsibility.”

“Definitely that.”

“But if he goes to Child Services—”

“You know about all that?”

“I've interned there.”

“Oh!”

“I know some of the people. Some are good. Some aren't. The red tape is terrible.”

“That's for sure. But … but maybe you could help me through some of that tape tomorrow.”

“I'm really not there anymore. Now I work with old folks. What could I—”

“Maybe this Sasha … Do you think she might make a claim? As godmother?”

Oopale began to seem as distressed as he was. “I don't know. I don't know.”

But an idea, a good one, had been creeping up on Christie and now it revealed itself. “Look. I have an idea of something that might work. Can you keep him the rest of today? If I don't call Child Services right away, will you … support me in that, ease me through the system? It's Sunday, you know him, he wants to be with you, he knows you … Can you say all that?”

“Yes. Okay, yes. But after that, as soon as they get word, they're going to jump in.”

“Right. Tell me about him. Is he generally well behaved?”

“More or less. He's rather addicted to computer and video games. And to sugar. A lot of parents don't let their kids have either, but Mrs. Brown didn't stop him.”

“Oh. Would you say she was a bad mother?”

“No. She loved him. She was just … overwhelmed. So she let him make the rules sometimes.”

“She didn't take charge?”

“Exactly. He was stronger than she was.”

“Okay. I'm getting a picture. I've only met Matt today. Was he ever a happy child?”

Oopale paused. “Sometimes. More often nervous. Sometimes sad.”

“Sad?”

“Not secure. Lonely. He asked a lot of questions about fathers. It was clear he wanted one.”

When Oopale left, Christie took a call from his wife. He summarized quickly, then said, “Either the guy who did it is the father, and a nut, or the father is out there somewhere, nobody knows where or who he is. The mother told the kid the father was a fine guy and that he was just not available.”