Because Renata Kolshak had booked early, she was passenger number fifty. As he proceeded through the manifest, Mr. Tamazaki marked a few lines with a red pencil, for later reconsideration, but when he reached passenger number 943, he was all but certain that he had found his man. The name Douglas T. Atherton struck him as being familiar, but he couldn’t say why. The passenger’s home address was also of interest: Charleston, Illinois, which turned out to be about twelve miles east of Mattoon, where Lucas Drackman had attended and graduated from a private military academy.
A quick check of the case file confirmed that the provost of the military school at that time had been Douglas T. Atherton.
The hour was not so late that a phone call would be ill advised. Daring to identify himself as “with the Daily News,” Mr. Tamazaki asked to speak to the provost and was told that he should call back during school hours. He took the further risk of saying that he had an important question to ask, that it involved a capital crime, and that he needed only two minutes of Mr. Atherton’s time, whereupon he was transferred to the line at the provost’s on-campus house.
“I assure you, Mr. Tamazaki, I wasn’t traveling alone in the Caribbean in October of 1961, or at any other time, for that matter,” the provost said. “Ever since my marriage, nineteen years ago, I have never vacationed without my wife.” He couldn’t quite keep the note of regret out of his voice. “Furthermore, I would never take a two-week cruise during the school year. I’d consider it a dereliction of duty, considering what some of these hellions might likely get up to in my absence.” Evidently, the provost didn’t know that the mother of a former student had gone missing from a cruise ship two and a half years after that student’s graduation. “You must be seeking another Douglas Atherton.”
Mr. Tamazaki believed the provost. It seemed entirely within Lucas Drackman’s character to have fun with the alias that he used to commit murder, a puerile joke that would amuse no one but him and those of his co-conspirators who were equally immature.
Using the provost’s name—which had been supported with false ID—wouldn’t convict Lucas Drackman. It didn’t qualify as evidence admissible in court, because as yet no link existed to prove who had booked the cruise in that name. If anything could be learned about who rented the post-office box in Charleston to which the cruise line sent the ticket, the case against Drackman might be advanced.
When Mr. Yoshioka was informed, both he and Mr. Tamazaki thought that this discovery seemed promising and that with luck justice might find its way to young Mr. Drackman, the Cassidy twins, Aaron Kolshak, and anyone else associated with them—which might include my father. If that were to happen, they would cease to pose any threat to me or my mother or Mr. Yoshioka.
In retrospect, the argument could be made that Mr. Tamazaki’s discovery marked the moment when the storm began to form that, not long thereafter, would change all our lives, and not for the better.
50
Tuesday, July 4, we had a picnic dinner in the park. Fireworks at first dark, the sky painted with cascading colors.
Mother and Grandpa Teddy set off together Wednesday morning. Woolworth’s had offered her a longer shift than she had been getting, and although she was frustrated not to be able to find a singing gig, she needed those extra hours. Grandpa still performed five nights a week at the hotel, but he had taken on two more afternoons at the department store. Until school started in the autumn, I would be on my own every weekday.
That morning, I sat on the porch steps, hoping Malcolm would see me and take it as an invitation to come over and rock the living room again. I had neglected to find out which of the houses across the street was the Pomerantz residence. If he came over, I couldn’t pour out to him everything that I’d been hiding from my mother. In fact, I didn’t dare tell him any of it. But neither The Star Beast nor any other book would fade my worry back to mere concern. Neither would practicing the piano alone. At least with Malcolm, as well as he played and as smart as he talked, I’d be too distracted to continue imagining one death scenario after another.
When the woman strode along the public sidewalk from my left, through a dappling of sunlight and tree shadows, I didn’t initially pay much attention to her, preoccupied as I was with all the dreadful events that I could imagine forthcoming. I was vaguely aware that she dressed pretty much like Grandma Anita had dressed for work in the monsignor’s office: sensible black shoes with a low heel, dark-gray suit with a mid-calf skirt and hip-length jacket, white blouse. When she turned onto our front walk, I saw she also wore a black straw hat with soft crown, straight brim, and three blue feathers. I knew her.
I started to get to my feet. “Miss Pearl.”
“Stay where you are, Ducks. I don’t expect you to dance with me. I’ll just share that step with you.”
I hadn’t seen her since June of the previous year, the day after my mother packed my father’s belongings and locked him out of the apartment. Miss Pearl had been among the crowd in the Abigail Louise Thomas Room, listening to Mom sing while I played the piano. I’d only ever seen her twice before; I couldn’t count the two times she’d been there in the dark after a dream, because once she’d been just a voice and the other time a voice and a silhouette.
Scented faintly with rose perfume, she sat down and put her large black handbag between us. She was still tall and pretty and mahogany, but not as glamorous as she had been when dressed all in flamingo-pink.
“How have you been, Ducks?”
“Not so good.”
“Yes, I see you’re just as glum as that day I first saw you on the stoop at your old apartment building. You looked like the king of grump that day, like you must’ve been sitting on nails and chewing thumbtacks. You remember what you were so down about?”
“I guess because … Tilton was never going to let me take lessons and be a piano man.”
“And how did that work out for you?”
“Pretty good, I guess.”
“You guess? Don’t give me no guess. You’re already a piano man before you’re even a man.”
“Thank you for the piano, Miss Pearl.”
“You see? If you get in a mood and scowl at the world, the world will just scowl back at you. Vicious circle. No point to it. Is this the sunniest of sunny days or isn’t it?”
“What?”
“You’ve got eyes, child. Look around, look around!”
“Sure, it’s sunny.”
“Then you be sunny, too, and things will turn out better than if you aren’t.”