Rachel Alexander 09 - Without a Word

then tossed his striped scarf over one shoulder. “I’m off. Did I mention that I have to audition to play the guy with psoriasis? Plum roles like this don’t just get handed out. One has to work for them.”
    He started to walk away. “Don’t forget to keep me posted,” he said, his back to me, wiggling the fingers of his right hand in the air. I was about to get up when I heard another voice, the stoop turning into Grand Central Station.
    “Rachel?”
    “Yes?”
    “Nina. You left your card under my door. I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to call you. Things just kept coming up.” She sat down next to me, a tall, horse-faced woman with big teeth and bad skin.
    “I knew it was you because of him. I saw Leon walking him last night and so I said, ‘Oh, you got another dog,’ and he said he hadn’t, that the dog was yours. When he mentioned your name I had this gigantic guilt attack that I hadn’t called, but Leon said you were away so of course I waited.“
    “I was hoping you could tell me something about Sally.” It was stale by now, no longer needed, but again, I didn’t want to say so. It would make more sense to listen for a couple of minutes than to reveal the truth.
    “Why is he doing this?” A conspiratorial whisper. “She’s dead.”
    “What makes you say that?” Glad she hadn’t called before I’d gone to Florida.
    “It’s the only thing that makes sense,” she said, taking out a cigarette, holding the pack out to me, then lighting hers, blowing a stream of smoke straight out in front of her. “She had everything, a guy who adored her, the freedom not to work but to go to school, an adorable kid.” Nina shrugged. “Why would she have left of her own volition?”
    “You’re saying she was happy? She never complained about anything?”
    “Happy? Who’s happy? You tell me who you know that’s happy.” Angry now. “That’s a reason to toss away a good deal like Leon? The man would have killed for her, he was that devoted.”
    “But—”
    “Me, I wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.” She took another puff of her cigarette and tossed it toward the gutter.
    “A lot of people would be happy with what she had. Shit, with less than she had.”
    “Did you tell her that?”
    Nina sighed and ran her hands through her aubergine hair. “She expected too much from people, too much from life.”
    “You told her that, too?”
    She adjusted herself on the step, then changed her mind and stood.
    “She took offense?”
    “I couldn’t say. I got a new job around then and Sally decided to take an extra course.”
    “So you were both short on time?”
    “Exactly.”
    “Was this around the time Sally disappeared?”
    “You’re not—”
    “No, no, no. Of course not.”
    “I was only trying to help her see how lucky she was. Isn’t that what friends do?”
    I nodded and thanked her for her help.
    “How long will you keep trying?” she asked. “The police...“ She didn’t finish, just stood there shaking her head, her lips pruned up, a line between her eyes.
    “Until Leon tells me to stop,” I told her.
    “Are you married?” she asked, bending toward me and whispering.
    “No,” I said.
    Pointing at me now. “See. Exactly my point.”
    It was two o’clock. Bechman’s office would be open already, the waiting room full of children. I wanted to get there later, after the kids had left but while Ms. Peach was still there. I folded the copy of Madison’s drawing, tucked it back into my tote and headed home to formulate a plan for getting what I was after.
    But on the way, as I was passing the Bleecker Street playground, a little kid coming down the slide on his belly, going face-first into the sand, too stunned to cry once he landed, it occurred to me that not every idea was a good one. Ms. Peach? What did I think she would do, let me see the original files, see if the doctor had changed his note-taking style, see if perhaps there were notes removed before Leon was given the copy of Madison’s records I now had in my bag? I had no legal standing, not even a PI license. But what good would that do in this case? Even if I were related to Madison, all I’d be entitled to is exactly what I had—a copy of Madison’s medical records, not a look-see at the original file.
    I could take Dashiell with me. I could bully my way in, have Dashiell keep her in one place, find the file and check it out. I could take a gun, too, a baseball bat, a meat cleaver. What was I