Here She Lies

didn’t know whether to laugh or shout or walk away. “No, I didn’t actually catch him in the act, but I did find evidence.” And then before I knew it, I was telling him my story. It poured out in minutes and afterward I felt naked and there was Clark Hazmat, nodding at me sympathetically with the saddest look on his face. I felt so foolish, so exposed, and now to make matters worse my eyes started to tear, though I was able to hold myself back from really crying.
    He gave my arm a warm squeeze. “Well, I never woulda guessed it of Mr. Goodman. But proof’s proof, right?”
    “It’s all right there on paper.” I found a tissue in my purse and wiped my eyes before my mascara had a chance to run. Then I lifted my wrist to somewhat dramatically consult the time. “I really have to get going. If you ever decide to work in a physical therapy clinic, I’ll be happy to give you a recommendation.” I had to brace myself to avoid visibly cringing when I said that, but I had to find a way out of this conversation and my orientation was starting in half an hour.
    In a flash he handed me a neon orange business card reading C LARK H AZMAT , P RIVATE C ITIZEN and his phone number.
    “Get it? ‘Private Citizen.’ That’s my personal touch.”
    I smiled genuinely, because in some counterintuitive way I really did like Clark. Sort of. He then gave me a pen and another one of his cards, blank side facing up.
    “Put your info right here for me. Now that I’m out, I told myself I was going to stay connected to good people.”
    What could I do? I wrote down my new cell number.
    “Thanks, Miss M. Let’s stay in touch. Everybody needs a few friends — am I right?”
    “Absolutely.”
    He hugged me and I kind of hugged him back, then made my way to the down escalator. As I zigzagged my way to the first-floor lobby and back onto the street, I felt increasingly disturbed to have revealed myself to Clark. He was a convicted felon ; he’d done jail time for hacking information that was none of his business. What had I been thinking? Walking west, in the direction of the hospital, I dialed Detective Lazare.
    “I’m in Manhattan and I just ran into an inmate from the prison: Clark Hazmat. Is he on your list?”
    “Hold on. I’ll check.”
    In the minutes it took me to walk west on Fifty-eighth Street to Ninth Avenue, where I could see the hospital entrance down the block, the detective was back on the line.
    “Yup, he’s on the list and he’s cleared. No connection to Zara Moklas or Thomas Soiffer. Our people talked to him, but don’t worry — he doesn’t know why.”
    “It’s just that he was right there when I came out of the store — like he was waiting for me.”
    “We’ll check him out a little more if you want.”
    “Thank you,” I said. And then, “Detective Lazare... the window... were there fingerprints?”
    “Only from the guys who installed it and the people who put in the alarm system. No Thomas Soiffer, or Clark Hazmat, if that puts your mind at rest.”
    My mind at rest. A contradiction in terms.
    “Yes,” I answered, “it does.”
    “So you’re in Manhattan...”
    “The orientation for my new job is today. I told you about it.”
    “I remember. It’s just that I thought I saw you in town this morning with your baby.”
    As soon as he said it, Julie and Lexy appeared in my mind: walking down Main Street, Lexy with one chubby leg thrown over the side of her poppy red stroller, a plastic shopping bag hanging off one handle. It made me so happy to see them even if it was only a fantasy.
    “That was Julie,” I said. “She’s watching Lexy while I’m here.”
    “So, you’re going through with it.”
    “Are you married, Detective?”
    After a pause, he answered, “Yes.”
    “How long?”
    “Thirty years.”
    “Congratulations. I hope by now you’ve both aired all your secrets.”
    “Not everyone has secrets, Annie.”
    “I have to go.”
    “By the way, speaking of secrets, Clark Hazmat isn’t his real name. It’s Jesus-Ramon Hazamattian.”
    “Yikes.”
    “At least he didn’t change it to Clark Kent. Hazmat’s not so bad. Probably thought it up after a long road trip with a few bridge and tunnel crossings.”
    I thought of the ubiquitous highway signs declaring N O H AZMATS. Hazmat : hazardous material. It was the perfect name for Clark.
    “So will you call me if I do need to worry about him?” I asked.
    “Yes, I’ll call you.”
    “Any news about Thomas