The Murder of an Angel Page 4

  I burst into tears.

  Oh, man, I was not ready for that.

  Dr. Robosson looked terribly worried as she passed me the tissue box. I pulled out a wad and sobbed into them. When I’d pretty much cried myself out, Dr. Robosson said, “Tandy? What’s happened? What’s hurting you?”

  For some reason, I found this hilarious, and so a couple more of my precious forty-five minutes were spent dissolved in hysterical laughter. Oh my God. It felt so good to laugh.

  Dr. Robosson waited me out, and when I was truly ready to begin my session, I said, “Nothing is hurting me, Dr. Robosson. It’s just that I’m so relieved to see you.”

  Her face relaxed. She smiled and leaned back in her chair. “I missed you, too.”

  I laughed again. Look, I know I was somewhat hysterical. And then I blurted, “Dr. Robosson, the new apartment is wonderful. I have a beautiful room, and our lawyer tracked down a lot of our old furniture and bought it back for us.”

  “That must feel pretty good,” said my doctor.

  I nodded, and she asked me what else was on my mind. It felt great just sitting across from her familiar face and nurturing presence.

  I said, “That first morning, when I went back to school, C.P. was on the front steps, almost like she was waiting for me to show up.”

  “I see. Tell me more about that.”

  “It was horrible. She attacked me from the first word, as if she was the one who was betrayed. I stood up for myself, believe me, but it was a ridiculous fight. And then Hugo punched C.P. in the stomach.”

  “Oh. What happened then?”

  “The headmaster stepped in and told Hugo he had to apologize to C.P. in front of the whole student body.”

  “Oh, wow. How did that go?”

  “Amazing. He made his apology and then absolutely tore her down, and got everyone in the school on his side in the process. He finished to standing applause. For an apology!”

  Dr. Robosson laughed appreciatively and said, “You seem very proud of him.”

  “I am. I love my little brother so much, and I’m even a little jealous of how he takes on a world in which he can hardly control a thing. And he just kills it.”

  Dr. Robosson smiled. “It’s safe to say your days of having the emotional range of a robot are over.”

  I grinned.

  Dr. Robosson shot a glance at the little red clock on her side table and said, “Our session is almost up. Shall we meet again, same time next week?”

  “Oh, Dr. Robosson, I have to tell you this one more thing. I went to Angel Pharmaceuticals with my lawyer today. And we stood up to my uncle Peter and his gang of legal thugs. We said either he had to stop shipping the pills or I’d sue him for the damages. Big-time.”

  “Tandy. You waited until this minute to tell me that?”

  “I’m wondering if my parents would be furious with me. Or if they’d be proud,” I said.

  She said, “They’d be proud. But those are both big subjects. Let’s spend some time on this next week, okay? And try to remember your dreams.”

  I found Leo watching birds with a pair of binoculars. He opened the car door, and I got into the backseat knowing that my frontal attack on Angel Pharma was all I’d be thinking about until I saw Dr. Robosson again.

  When I walked into the apartment that late afternoon, it was as though I had stepped into the path of a cyclone, one of those twisters that sound like a runaway freight train headed right at you.

  It was insane.

  Everyone was in the living room. Even my mother’s prized sculpture, Robert, had been pulled with his recliner up to the television.

  Matthew was lying on the sofa, feet pointed at the football game. He had jacked up the sound to headache-loud. Judging by the number of bottle caps on the coffee table and beer bottles on the floor, Matty and Robert had been partying for a long while.

  Jacob was yelling something to Matthew that I couldn’t make out.

  Hugo was curled up in the Pork Chair, hugging his knees, and from the way his chest was heaving, I knew he was crying his heart out.

  Harry was twenty feet away, playing his piano as if he was the only one in the room. I didn’t recognize the tune, but it was something military, with menacing thrumming and sharp notes cutting through the sound of cheering fans from the TV.

  I yelled, “What’s going on?”

  Uncle Jacob held up a newspaper, one of the New York City daily tabloids. The headline took up half the page.

  ANGEL IS DEVIL IN DISGUISE

  “Have you seen this?” Jacob shouted. He shook the paper, and the inside pages broke loose and fluttered onto the floor—all but the front page, which Jacob gripped tightly in both hands.

  I said, “No, what is it?”

  I eased the front page out of Jacob’s grasp and scrutinized the photo. It was Matty’s Tesla, and it looked like it had rear-ended a van. Matty was being helped out of his car by two uniformed cops. Blood was running down his face.

  Now I looked at Matty in the flesh. Both of his eyes were black and blue, and some of his hair had been shaved, with stitches visible in his scalp.

  There was pounding on the ceiling: our upstairs neighbor registering a complaint. By then, Jacob had clearly overshot his limit. He bellowed at my twin, “Stop!”

  The piano cut out instantly.

  Jacob found the remote under the pile of Cheetos bags and switched off the TV.

  “Sit up,” he said to Matthew. “Right now.”

  “Christ,” said Matty. “I’m watching the game.”

  And now we were all watching him. He had a ferocious “don’t even think of messing with me” look on his face that I’d seen many times before—usually when he was running with a ball under his arm and was returning a kickoff through enemy lines.

  But that expression crumpled as Matty sat up abruptly and put his feet on the floor.

  “I got cut from the team, all right? I’m out of a job. I didn’t want to tell anyone until I got a new deal.”

  Hugo got out of the chair, climbed onto the couch, and threw his arms around Matty’s neck.

  “They’re crazy!” Hugo cried. “They can’t fire you, Matty. They need you.”

  Matthew said, “Sorry, buddy. I violated my contract. People get cut from ball clubs all the time. It’s just the first time for me.” He lowered his eyes to the floor. His wretched form radiated shame and misery.

  Would our family’s pain ever stop?

  The sudden silence seemed to have a vibration of its own. Since I’d walked into the apartment, the sun had dropped below the horizon. Without the TV on, the apartment was nearly dark. And now the vignette on the red sofa had the look of a surrealist painting.

  The three of them were a study in pain.

  Hugo stood on the sofa, bouncing with a nervous energy and listening intently. Jacob sat in the chair, leaning toward Matty. He still held the paper in his hand.

  Jake said, “Matthew, don’t you think you owe us an explanation?”

  Matty’s voice cracked when he said, “There’s no one to blame but me.”

  He dropped his head into his hands and began to cry. This was freaking heartrending. Matty hadn’t cried when our parents died. He hadn’t cried when his girlfriend was horribly killed or when he was charged with her murder.

  I don’t remember ever seeing Matthew cry.

  Jacob went over to the sofa and put his arm around Matty’s shoulder. He said, “Take it easy. Just talk to us.”

  “Don’t be nice to me, okay?” Matty said.

  He broke into a new round of sobbing, and then, when he’d caught his breath, he said, “What happened was—I got loaded. I was leaving a club in Brooklyn. There were girls. They’re always around me, you know, Jake? They climbed into the car without asking, and sure, I thought, why the hell not?

  “And then one of them was kissing my ear, and the music was blasting and I was drinking Stoli out of the bottle and I lost control of the car and I ran into a parked van.

  “It added up to nothing. Nothing. No one was hurt. Not badly. One of the girls has a broken arm. She’s seventeen. I didn’t check her ID when she got into my car, you know?

  “I bailed myself out this morning and then… and then I got cut from the team, and because of that, my reality show was canceled. And so that you know everything, I also lost my savings,” he said. “All of it. I made a risky investment. That’s why I got loaded in the first place.”

  I expected Jacob to ask about the injured girl, to say something about the DWI or the legal implications of the accident, but he said, “You mean you’re broke?”

  “Yeah. Except for the pittance from Gram Hilda’s estate. I can’t live on that—I’m officially busted.”

  “You can forget that ‘pittance,’ too, now,” Jacob said in disgust. “There was one condition on your inheritance. One. ‘Don’t disgrace the family name.’ And here it all is. Drunk driving, teenage girl injured, fired from the team, and who knows what kind of lawsuits are coming.

  “This whole mess is now global entertainment news. TMZ to the moon. You’ll be getting a notice from the trustee, if you haven’t already. Check your e-mail.”

  “I lost my phone.”

  Harry laughed at that one. He’d lost a lot of phones himself. But Hugo, Jacob, and I stared at Matthew in disbelief. I was shocked that his fantastic, enviable life had fallen apart in just one day. What had made him so reckless? I’d already surmised that his anger problem was caused by the drugs, but maybe they’d affected his judgment in the long term, too. How would we ever know?

  Jacob had worked himself into a fury all over again.

  Standing over my oldest brother, he said, “Okay, Matthew. I want you to listen carefully. Unlike your siblings, you’re an adult. You’re
going to have to pull yourself out of this mess. It’s the only way you’ll recover your reputation and self-esteem. There will be no freeloading; you’ll find no safety net here.”

  Hugo got between Matthew and Jacob and shouted at Jacob. “He’s our brother first, last, and always, Jake! Don’t you dare talk to him that way or I’ll punch you in the nose.”

  Matthew stood up and, looking more like a homeless man than a celebrated all-star athlete, headed to the doorway.

  “There won’t be any more trouble, Jake,” he said. “Bye, kids.”

  Hugo cried out, “Matty, don’t go!”

  But the door closed, leaving only the memories of the terrible scene still hanging in the air around us.

  “He’s family,” Harry said to Jacob. “We take care of our own.” I agreed with Harry and Hugo.

  Jacob said, “He’s been looking for a way to crash, and now he’s done it in every sense of the word. I won’t have him bringing down the three of you.”

  “We can take care of ourselves,” I spat.

  “When you’re twenty-one, you can take care of yourself. For now, you have me,” Jacob returned.

  I tossed my head as if I still had long hair, then spun around and headed up the stairs to my room with Hugo on my heels. Harry went back to the piano and ran the scales listlessly in the dark.

  So much for a pleasant family evening.

  I wondered if there would ever be peace and harmony in the house of Angels again.

  About an hour after Matthew left our apartment, Jacob knocked on our bedroom doors and summoned us to dinner.

  It was a tense, overcooked meal of chicken, string beans, and potatoes that was interrupted several times by texts and phone calls to Jacob, which he took out of earshot.

  “Hey,” said Hugo as Jacob began clearing the table. “I’m not done with my pudding.”

  “Sorry,” said Jacob. “And I’m sorry I yelled, but Matthew is almost twenty-five. He must account for his actions. And he will. The girl in the car with him, Sandra Rendell, is filing a lawsuit. He has a DWI, and it’s not his first. Matthew’s insurance will pay for the cars, but not for the fear and emotional trauma he caused a number of people, some of whom are opportunists. And since Matthew is broke, I honestly don’t know what he’s going to do.”

  My heart was banging almost louder than the dishes and cutlery Jacob was taking to the kitchen. I wished I could close my eyes, click my heels, and go back to our wonderful homecoming birthday party with cake and gag gifts and singing.

  Nice thought, but no. I was still at the horrid dinner table. Sometimes there’s nothing you can do about timing.

  “Jacob, I need to have a family discussion on a different subject entirely.”

  Jacob sat back down at the dining table, which had been bought new and had no memories attached. But I would say there were enough memories among those of us at the table to populate a war museum.

  My brothers and Jacob turned to me, and out came my opening line.

  “I hired Philippe to represent me against Angel Pharmaceuticals and Uncle Peter, personally, for damages because of the pills. Me and anyone else in this family who wants to join me.”

  “I’ll back you up,” said Harry. “I don’t know if I’m damaged, but I’m not what anyone calls normal.”

  “Sign me up, too,” said Hugo uneasily. “I know I’m a little messed up in my head.”

  That broke my heart.

  “Phil says you have a case?” Jacob asked me.

  “He does.”

  I sounded completely sane to my own ears when I said, “I’ve always known I was meant to do something important with my life, and now I know what it is. I have to put Angel Pharmaceuticals out of business.

  “And you, Uncle Jake, more than anyone else, know why.”

  I was in my new room, which reminded me so much of the old one. Same blue walls, my desk under the window, and lights from the city and the traffic below casting rays and moving shadows on the ceiling.

  I should have felt comforted by the familiarity and safety of home, but I couldn’t sleep.

  I thought of the elderly couple Jacob had taken me to meet in France, sweet people whose children had taken Angel Pharma pills at the behest of my uncle Peter.

  I remembered the photo of the three boys, who had been cheerful and ordinary in the best possible way, until their parents had been seduced by promises that their children could be extraordinary—talented, brilliant, athletic geniuses. All they had to do was take the pills, keep records, and send the reports to Peter Angel.

  That was ten years ago. Those boys were long dead.

  But I knew their names.

  I knew how to find their parents again.

  I thought about the time my brothers and I had gone to see Peter at the factory in Hell’s Kitchen. We had seen forklifts moving wooden crates into position for shipping. We had read the names stenciled on the crates: STRONG AS OX. MORE BEAUTIFUL THAN PEONY. VERY SMART CHILDREN. NO WORRIES.

  These were the same pills we had taken, but they had been renamed for the Chinese markets.

  The memory of that enormous warehouse filled with millions of pills sent rage ripping through me again. If I didn’t stop Peter, I was as complicit and as responsible as he was.

  I was so fiercely engaged in my own thoughts that my phone buzzed several times before I realized it.

  I grabbed my phone and said hello.

  “Tandy. It’s Katherine.”

  My God. My God.

  Hearing her voice was so shocking, but also delicious and amazing. It was as if I had stepped out of my body into lightness and something like hope. For so long, I’d thought Katherine was dead. Then, only three months ago, she had astonishingly found me in Paris.

  How had she come back to life? It was impossible—and yet it was true. It was her voice, her face, and she was completely material. My sister, Katherine, who had been dead for six years, was alive.

  The experience of walking with her for an unforgettable hour had been surreal. I couldn’t stop staring at her. I had known all the details of her death, and I had mourned her for so long that of course I doubted my sanity.

  But I wasn’t crazy. Katherine, my wonderful big sister, hadn’t come out of the shadows just to say hello. She had come to warn me that my life and the lives of our brothers were in danger. And she had made me promise to forget about her, saying, “Your safety and mine depend on keeping our meeting a secret.”

  Still, I’d told Harry. I’d told Jacob.

  And then I’d tried to forget my only sister.

  That had been excruciating, but never mind. She was calling me. I screamed her name, then belatedly covered my mouth. It was a big apartment, but it wasn’t soundproof.

  “Tandy, Tandy, how are you?”

  “No, you first,” I said. “Tell me about you!”

  “I suppose that’s fair, Tandoo. After all, I’m calling you. But I can only say that I am happy. So please tell me about you. I’m dying to hear some news.”

  I told Katherine I had checked out of Waterside, and, ignoring the C.P. drama, I gave her some of the brighter notes of my return to big-city life. But in the end, my new lifetime occupation jumped out of my mouth.

  “I’m taking Peter to court. I’m going to stop him from pushing the damned pills, Katherine. I’m going to shut him down. And I’m going to make him pay.”

  There was a long silence. I could almost hear her thoughts wafting toward me over thousands of miles of ocean, though I had no idea where she really lived.

  “Katherine?”

  “Tandy. I’m here.”

  Her voice had lost its shimmer. I held the phone with both hands.

  “What’s wrong, Kath? You agree, don’t you? In fact, I was thinking maybe you could give a deposition.”

  “Tandy, no. You have to stop. Did you forget everything I told you? You don’t want to go against Peter. It’s dangerous for every single one of us.”

  There was a crackle on the line, and then a beep that told me we had been disconnected. Fear for her safety swamped me. I did every kind of search and operator-assisted redial, and when I couldn’t reach Katherine, I put my phone on my chest and turned off the lights.