Act of God

building and front door, maybe.” Bernstein thought about it. “Beats me. Why?”
    “Somebody searched her apartment, really tore it apart.”
    “Maybe a burglar. They read the...”
    “Read what, Mr. Bernstein?”
    He pursed his lips. “I was going to say they read the death notices, you know? Break in when they think there’s nobody home.”
    “Except we don’t know Darbra’s dead, do we?”
    “No. We don’t.”
    “And there hasn’t been anything in the papers about her disappearance.”
    “Right.”
    “And whoever it was didn’t break in. They used a key.” Bernstein looked at me, through me. “I told you, I don’t know anything about her keys.”
    “You read about the guy killed in her building?”
    “Enough people get killed in this city, you don’t keep track of them.”
    “This is kind of a special guy. He’s the one Darbra went to New Jersey with.”
    “ New Jersey .”
    “On her vacation.”
    “She never said anything to me about it.”
    “Not even about the boyfriend?”
    “Especially about him, whoever he is.”
    “Or was.”
    Bernstein just looked at me this time.
    “A Detective Sergeant Cross didn’t get in touch with you?”
    He chewed on the inside of his cheek. “Yeah. She got in touch.”
    “So you knew about Rush Teagle being killed.”
    “I heard from this Cross that a guy Darbra knew got killed. That’s it.”
    “Cross ask you about where you were?”
    “Yeah, she did.”
    “What’d you tell her?”
    Bernstein flushed, his voice with an edge on it. “Ask this Cross, you know her so well.”
    I didn’t want to lose him just yet. “I stopped by Mrs. Rivkind’s house a few hours ago.”
    He seemed to defuse. “She back yet?”
    “No. Do you know where she went?”
    He waited a moment. “Pearl and Larry, they went away for a couple days, clear the head about Abe.”
    “Any idea why she waited this long?”
    “This long?”
    “Given that her husband died over three weeks ago?”
    “I don’t like your attitude. Pearl’s got the right to grieve the way she wants to. We all do.”
    I remembered how Bernstein had used anger the last time to deflect me from asking him about Abraham Rivkind and Darbra Proft.
    “One last question.”
    “Good.”
    “You think there was anything between your partner and Darbra.”
    He lurched forward in his chair. “Get out.”
    “This isn’t just a missing-person case, Mr. Bernstein. It never has been. If you know something that could help the Police with who killed Abraham Rivkind or Rush Teagle, you’d best tell somebody soon.”
    He started to rise, struggling with both his weight and his attitude. “Get the hell out of my store!”
    My store.

    “Mr. Cuddy?”
    I turned in the corridor. Joel Bernstein had trailed me to office door, then slammed it behind me. Beverly Swindell was wearing a rust-colored skirt and a maize blouse that day. She had a sheaf of green and white computer printouts in her hand and a worried look on her face, darkening it to a less milky shade of brown.
    I said, “Don’t worry. I’m leaving quietly.”
    Swindell cradled the printouts under an arm. “Why are you here at all?”
    “Some things have happened.”
    She seemed to gird herself. “Now what?”
    I looked back at Bernstein’s door. “Your boss told me to get out of his store.”
    “Joel’s still very upset. We all are.” Swindell stopped. “Is there something you need from me?”
    “It might help.”
    The bookkeeper shifted the printouts. “These can wait.”
    “Your office?”
    She shook her head.

    Grgo Radja said, “This table okay for you, Mrs. Swindell?”
    “It’s fine, thank you.”
    “And the gentleman?”
    Radja had seated us while giving Swindell the impression he’d never met me before.
    I played along. “Fine, thanks.”
    The restaurateur took her order for coffee and mine for iced tea. He bowed very slightly, the lapels on his double-breasted suit, blue this time, spiraling a little as he did.
    Swindell said, “It feels comfortable being here, even though the place is empty this time of day.”
    “Mrs. Rivkind told me her husband used to eat here a lot.”
    “Yes.” Swindell put her elbows on the table, letting her palms lay on top of them. “Abe used to take all of us out to dinner here, sometimes in a group, sometimes just individually, find out how we were doing, did we have any sugges tions for running the store better that we might not want to put into writing or say in front of somebody