Sweet Karoline (3 page)

Chapter
3

I returned to the present with Detective Byrne's prompting. I noticed that he was staring at me curiously. He cleared his throat.

"
Ms. Williams." His accent mingled with the throaty southern syllables to produce a voice that was commanding even in soft tones. "Can you show us where it happened?"

I
took a moment to understand what he meant by 'it'. I mumbled something like 'sure, come this way,' or some other expected comment. We crossed through the living room to the center balcony. I stood against the wall, far from the edge, terrified I would see 'it' again if I looked over. Ethan and Officer Peters put on gloves and leaned over the wall, up on tiptoes, as though they too would hurl themselves into space.

She
looks like a jigsaw puzzle with a couple of pieces gone
. The line from the song zigzagged through my head.

Ethan
looked around and back at me, his eyes searching and quizzical, and at first I was afraid that I'd sung out loud.

"
How did she make it over?" he asked, his voice catching in his throat, as though every time he looked at me he wanted to sob or cough. "This wall is pretty high and she's awfully short."

I
responded first to his use of the present tense for Karoline, then to the curiosity and suspicion that infused his words. My heart ached. My eyes filled with tears. Self-preservation and fear prevented me from breaking down and telling him everything. I forced my Ice Queen voice to reply.

"
How would I know that?"

"
Thought you might've guessed. Or maybe there was a step stool here and you moved it. Just one of those automatic things, ya know?"

His
deep blue eyes looked straight into mine. Where mine were icy and swirled with layers and depths that hid my feelings, his were soft and bright and forthright. He would never be able to hide any emotion. I don't know if that was the moment when I realized he was achingly, strikingly ugly. So ugly that the attractive parts of him—his eyes, his large lanky frame and thick curly, salt-and-pepper hair—acted as lightning rods of appreciation.

I
do know that Officer Peters scarcely registered with me, so perhaps it wasn't until later that I noticed the juxtaposition of Ethan's appearance.

He
is tall and wide-shouldered, narrow at the waist. But his nose is crooked, slightly off-center. His face is hound dog shape. His ragged thick eyebrows furl unexpectedly. His hair, a deep rich black with strands of silver, often pokes straight up from his head. Ironically, he has the same problem that I have. People pay unwanted attention, albeit for different reasons.

"
No. No step stool. No guess. I really don't know."

I
continued to stand by the wall, but my knees were suddenly very weak. I could feel my body shake from the inside. My face must have gone very pale, because Ethan was immediately at my side. He held my elbow and directed me into the apartment.

When
I shied away from the couch, he left me sitting at the dining room table with a cold glass of water nearby. I put my head down on the cool surface, my mind swirling. The voices of several dozen dinner parties echoed from the wood.

"Religion has always caused more problems than it has solved," Daniel declared, swirling his wine and taking a large swallow. "Think of all the warfare that would have been avoided without religion."

"
You're just quoting John Lennon," Vicki sniped at him, a good-natured grin on her face.

"
No, seriously, think about it. Starting with the Crusades and up to the present, most wars have been among people of different religious beliefs."

"
I think war is just built into the male psyche," I said.

I
was being half playful, half serious, but the four men sitting around the table sat up straighter in their chairs and stared at me.

"
I really believe you'll find any excuse to pummel one another. Look at male children. They start off right from birth wanting to play guns and whack each other over the head. Religion doesn't really have anything to do with it."

"
Give me a break!" Joseph guffawed. "Males are no more warlike than females. Maybe we're a little more physical, but women find devious ways to annihilate one another. Females are just as likely to set off a nuclear device as males. They might not be as likely to go into all out hand-to-hand combat, but they would find a way to express their aggressive side if males weren't there to do it for them."

"
But getting back to religion…"

And
so the debates would rage. Half or even wholly drunk, we'd express opinions and ideas that had little to do with fact and more to do with our own experiences or grievances. It was usually Karoline who would take us off into a different direction each time.

"
Only people in our positions can afford to debate whether religion causes war. The poor and the disenfranchised are usually the ones who suffer from it or are entered into it through no other choice. We can sit back all we want and fling our words around…"

Off
we would go into what the world should be doing about the poor. It didn't matter whether or not we knew much about the topic. Any thought or comment was savored like a candy, tossed around in our mouths and then flung back out in a different shape. Sometimes we'd get loud and obnoxious or even allow the debate to deteriorate into an argument. But Karoline would always put us back on track. She'd remind us that the debate was about the issue, not the people involved. She'd offer an opinion based on fact or a recent news item that would put the argument in perspective. Properly chastised, we would sail off into intellectual sparring once more.

Giulio
also referred to her as 'capo tosta'—hard headed. Her arguments were always so fierce and strong.

If
only he had seen how her head had hit the pavement, splitting open like an egg, spewing red and white and grey yolk all over the sidewalk.

It seemed to me at that moment, my head bent over the table, that Karoline was always the anchor. I would surely sail off course forever now. Especially because I was solely responsible for Karoline not being here any longer. I was unable at that moment to see how I could have done it, to understand the reasons behind that savage unthinking act that had resulted in her crumpled body lying beneath our balcony. I really had proven to have the dangerous soul that Karoline had protected me from. If only she'd protected herself instead.

Ethan
came back into the room and gently touched my hand. It was a gesture that I found reassuring, yet I jumped back from the heat of his skin and glared at him.

"
I didn't mean to startle you, Ms. Williams. I just want you to know that we are finished here for the moment. I'll be down at the…with your friend. Officer Peters has some questions for you and then I'll be back upstairs. Are you comfortable enough?"

The
compassion in his voice threatened to break the dam of my emotion. I wanted to fling myself at his feet and sob and beg forgiveness. Instead I merely nodded, keeping the tears away by biting the inside of my lip. Immediately, the little blond policewoman was there, her pen at the ready. I allowed my fear to flow into resentment of this officious person at my side and her annoying questions. A hot rush of adrenaline caused my limbs to tremble.

I
pressed my fingers against my thighs under the table and tried to concentrate.
Karoline's full name; Karolina Maria Mikulski. Date of birth; June 30, 1950. She'll be thirty-two next month, I almost said. We're getting to be old maids, Karoline would have joked, but she would have meant it, too, being proud of our single state. A woman of the eighties thinks ba-king and fuc-king are two cities in China… Her next of kin? Oh God, what will Halina do? Halina Mikulski, her mom, she lives in Bell Canyon. No, her dad died years ago. Yes, she has two older brothers. How will Halina be told? Oh my God, what will she do when the police come to her door? Religion? Really, why do you need to know that? Karoline was agnostic. Her mom would say Roman Catholic, I suppose. Height, weight. She works for Stewart and Stewart. She's a legal secretary, an executive assistant for Daniel Stewart. She's very smart. What will Daniel do without her? What will
I
do without her?

To
this day I have no idea how I responded to Officer Peters, whether I said all of this aloud or whether I kept most of it to myself. I must have given a few right answers because somewhere in the middle of the interrogation, Halina was on the telephone. She sobbed and asked me over and over how this could have happened.

Officer
Peters still sat at the table writing in her notebook. She attempted to appear as though she were not listening.

"
She was so happy. Wasn't she happy, Anne?"

My
head filled with a cloud of anger and guilt. I hated Halina at that moment. I hated that she had known me since I was a gangly little girl. Halina thought she understood me better than my own mother did. I hated that Halina seemed to always wish that I had been her daughter and not Karoline. Of course Karoline was happy, I wanted to shout at her. Of course she hadn't wanted to actually die. She didn't choose death. I chose that for her.

Naturally
I shouted none of these things. Instead I gave sympathetic responses. Halina continued her litany for what seemed an eternity. Was it an accident maybe? She couldn't have jumped on purpose, could she have? If she did, was Karoline so unhappy? Did I not see any signs? Why didn't she, her own mother, see any signs? Where was I when it happened?

I
provided reassuring answers. Words that Halina would expect and need. I couldn't remove her sorrow, though I fervently wished I could turn back time and put Karoline on the telephone.

I
recall Officer Peters' look when I replaced the receiver. I gathered the Ice Queen within me and forced her to give the bitchiest response to those raised eyebrows.

"
That was not very pleasant," I told the officer. "I certainly don't appreciate your being here and listening to every word."

I
began to rub the table top, noticing some spots like fingerprints on the shiny wood. I got up and looked under the sink for the cleaner and polishing cloth.
Karoline will not be happy about this
, I thought, wondering who the hell had spilled something. I shook a little of the liquid cleaner onto the surface and began to rub it in large, light circles. Just the way Karoline demands it. "You can't be rough and sloppy when you want to clean something properly, especially wood," she always says. "You have to concentrate even though it is a menial task that doesn't engage certain parts of your brain…"

"
Ma'am," the police officer said, quite loudly, staring at me oddly.

I
remember that I smiled at her. I think I said something like, "Yes? Is there anything further that I can do for you?" I do know that I made my voice purr, as though I were talking to a particularly dense client or some ignorant man whose eyes were permanently glued to my tits.

I
had to maintain the anger. It was the only way I could survive. Inside, my heart knocked on the door of reality, threatening to open everything to the world. I tamped down the tears. Stomped on the terror. I couldn't call Karoline to help me, speak for me, or tell me what to do. That side of Karoline had been lost to me for some time. Now she was gone forever.

Only
Ice Queen Anne, the one I had nurtured for those times of self-preservation, could be with me now. No matter how ugly or horrid she sounded, she was here.

Officer
Peters asked the same question that Halina had posed. "How do you know it was suicide, not a terrible accident?"

I
stared at her, trying to work out the scenario I had rehearsed, but somehow the words would not come. Finally I said the only thing I could muster.

"
Well it's not like we put Christmas lights out on our balcony."

The
woman appeared to be confused and who could blame her?

"
In other words, it's not as if she would be up on the balcony wall taking down Christmas lights or anything."

Again
there was a pause as she scribbled in her notebook.

"
I understand," she answered.

"
Do you? And besides, am I the one who said the word suicide?"

"
As a matter of fact, the call to 911 stated that someone had just committed suicide."

"
What other conclusion could there be? As I said, I don't think Karoline was trying to put up decorations in May and I sure as hell know she wasn't taking any down."

"
Where were you when the accident or suicide happened?"

This
time, I tried not to pause. "I was asleep in bed, where most people are at that time of night."