“You’re awfully curious,” Enid said.
“I’m interested.”
“Some secrets are best left at that—as secrets.”
“Billy Litchfield died because of it.”
“Yes, my dear,” Enid said, patting her hand. “And until just now, when you showed me the box, I never imagined that Billy Litchfield would have been involved in selling the cross. It wasn’t in his character.”
“He was desperate,” Annalisa said. “His building was going co-op, and he didn’t have the money to buy it. He was convinced he would have to leave New York.”
“Ah, New York,” Enid said, taking another sip of water. “New York has always been a difficult place. Ultimately, the city is bigger than all of us. I’ve lived here for over seventy years, and I’ve seen it happen again and again. The city moves on, but somehow the person does not, and they get run over in the process. That, I’m afraid, is what must have happened to Billy.” Enid leaned back in her chair. “I’m tired, my dear,” she said. “I’m getting old myself.”
“No,” Annalisa said. “It wasn’t New York. Paul was responsible. Sandy Brewer showed him the cross one evening. Paul thought Sandy was going to fire him because he lost twenty-six million dollars on the morning of the Internet Debacle. So Paul sent an e-mail to the Times.”
“Aha,” Enid said. And then, with a wave, as if she wished to sweep it all away, added, “There you go. Everything always works out for the best.”
“Does it?” Annalisa said. “I still need to know how Mrs. Houghton got the cross.” She looked directly into Enid’s eyes, her gaze not wavering. Louise, Enid remembered, could do that, too—stare a person down until she got exactly what she wanted. “Enid,” she said softly. “You owe me.”
“Do I?” Enid gave a little laugh. “I suppose I do. Otherwise, who knows what would have happened to the apartment? Very well, my dear. If you want the truth so much, you’ll have it. Louise didn’t take the cross from the Met. She took it from my stepmother, Flossie Davis. Flossie took the cross because she was silly and stupid and thought it was pretty. Louise saw her take it and made Flossie give it to her. Louise, I’m sure, intended to return it to the museum, but Flossie had a bit of dirt on Louise. She was quite sure that Louise killed her husband.”
Annalisa stood up. “I thought you said he’d died from a staph infection.”
Enid sighed. “That was how I remembered it. But after Billy died, I had a chat with Flossie. And then I went to the library. There’s no doubt Randolf Houghton did return to One Fifth with some kind of infection. But the next day, he rapidly went downhill and died twelve hours later. The cause of death was never determined conclusively—but that wasn’t unusual in those days. They didn’t have all the tests and medical equipment they do now. The assumption was that the infection had killed him. But Flossie never believed it. Apparently, one of the maids told Flossie that right before Randolf died, he lost his voice and couldn’t speak. It’s one of the symptoms of belladonna poisoning. Very old-fashioned.”
“So Louise was a murderer?” Annalisa said.
“Mostly, Louise was a passionate gardener,” Enid replied carefully. “She once had a greenhouse on her terrace but took it down after Randolf died. Flossie insists she was growing belladonna. If she were, she would have needed a greenhouse to do it in. The plant can’t survive in direct sunlight.”
“Ah,” Annalisa said, nodding. “And I suppose you wanted me to do the same thing to Paul.”
“Absolutely not,” Enid said. “Although it’s crossed my mind that ultimately Randolf’s death was for a good cause. Louise did so much for the city. But she never would have gotten away with it today. And of course, your husband is still alive. I know you wouldn’t do anything to hurt him.”
“No, I wouldn’t,” Annalisa said. “Paul is quite harmless now.”
“That’s good, dear,” Enid said, standing up. “And now that you know everything, I really must run. Schiffer and I are going to switch apartments this week, and I must start packing.”
“Of course,” Annalisa said. She took Enid’s arm and escorted her down the two flights of steps. At the front door, she paused. “There is still one thing you haven’t told me,” she said. “Why did Mrs. Houghton do it?”
Enid emitted a cackle. “Why do you think? Her husband wanted to sell the apartment.” She paused. “Now you must tell me something as well.
How did you do it?”
“I didn’t,” Annalisa said. “I only begged Paul not to go.”
“Of course,” Enid said. “And isn’t that a typical man? They never listen.”
An hour later, Philip found his aunt in her kitchen, precariously balanced on top of a stepstool, taking things out of the top shelf of a cabinet. “Nini,” Philip said sharply, “what are you doing? The movers will pack everything up.” He took her hand and helped her down. “It’s the day before my wedding. What if you fell? What if you broke your hip?”
“What if I did?” she asked, affectionately patting his cheek. Thinking of Annalisa, she said, “It would all continue. It always does, one way or another.”
The morning of Philip and Schiffer’s wedding day was hazy and hot. The clouds were expected to burn off, but there might be thunderstorms later in the day. In the overheated kitchen of the Gooches’ apartment, Mindy Gooch was going over a catalog for Sub-Zero refrigerators with James. “I know it’s only a country house, but we might as well get the best. We can afford it. And then we won’t have to worry about replacing it for at least twenty years.” She looked up at James and smiled. “In twenty years, we’ll be in our mid-sixties. We’ll have been married for almost forty years. Won’t that be amazing?”
“Yes,” James said with what had become a nearly permanent jumpiness. Mindy had yet to say a word about Lola, but she didn’t have to. The fact that she’d messengered those columns was enough. They would never talk about it, James thought, the way they never talked about anything that was wrong in their marriage. Of course, Mindy didn’t have to do that, either, not when she wrote about their marriage in her blog.
“What do you think?” Mindy asked now. “The forty-or the sixty-inch? I say sixty, even though it’s three thousand dollars more. Sam will be having friends up to the country, and we’ll need lots of room for food.”
“Sounds great,” James said.