tone softened. “Look, Mrs. Kiss, this is an open and shut suicide. We’re just as anxious as you to close the files on it. This is a big city with a lot of crime, and we don’t have the time to waste with scandals. All I want is information for the files, period. That’s my job. The faster I clean this up, the better I like it. This is no federal case. Plenty of guys kick themselves off. But these people are here, and since they’re here they’re a part of the case, and if they’re a part of the case, their statements belong in the file. Period.”
She looked toward me.
I said, “Sergeant Wagner isn’t one to blow up scandal.” I had my moment to warn her, and I warned her. “For instance, the Sergeant has certain notes that your husband has written. Two notes. One is general, one is personal. Your husband didn’t seal them, and we certainly can understand that, in his state of mind. The sergeant has read them both, but I’m certain he’ll only make public the general note. Am I right, Sergeant?”
“Damn right you’re right.”
Behind the sergeant’s back, Willie grinned and nodded. At least Willie understood. Willie had not majored in psychology for nothing.
Valerie Kiss said, “Then all of you may tell the sergeant whatever he wishes to know,” And she was back on the brandy.
“Okay, you three,” Wagner said. “One of my cops will take you down to the station house, and you’ll swear out your statements there.”
“No,” said Valerie Kiss.
Wagner said, “What’s now?”
“He stays.” She pointed to me.
“Why him?”
“I . . . I need somebody.”
It was a small compliment but it would help with the fee.
“Look, Lenny, I mean Sergeant Wagner,” I said. “We’ll all go together to make our statements. As long as Mrs. Kiss wants me here, I can’t see any objection to Miss Trent and Mr. Winkle also staying. We all may be able to help you, right here, right now, just in conversation, to fill in the blanks. Unless Mrs. Kiss has objection.”
“No objection,” she said and finished the brandy. She held the glass out to me. I took it, poured more brandy into it, and brought it back to her.
“Okay,” said Wagner. “So what’s the story?”
“All right, Mrs. Kiss?” I said.
“I . . . I’m depending on you,” she said.
Quickly I gave him Part One, and just as quickly Willie filled him in on Part Two. Valerie lay back with her eyes closed. Marla lit a cigarette and smoked. “Okay,” Wagner said, “that’s the background. It explains the personal note.” He opened the maroon folder and Valerie opened her eyes. He took out an envelope, seemed undecided as to what to do with it, then gave it to me. Written by hand was the scrawl: “To Whom It May Concern.” I handed it to Valerie Kiss. She handed me her glass. She opened the envelope and read the note. I drank her brandy. Then she returned the note and the envelope to me. I returned the empty glass to her and read the note:
To Whom It May Concern: I have taken my life because my life is no longer worth living. It is my wish that I be cremated at once, as soon as the authorities release what may be left of my body. I wish my ashes to be flown over the Atlantic and dropped into the sea. I wish this can be done on Sunday, a church day, a day of rest for mortals. May God forgive me and have mercy on my soul. Jonathan Kiss.
I gave the note to Marla. She read it and handed it up to Willie. Willie read it and gave it to Wagner. Wagner put it back into the folder and drew out a second envelope. This was a larger envelope, business size, and it was bulky. The routine was now set. He handed the envelope to me. I lay back the flap and withdrew the contents. There were sixty crisp one-hundred-dollar bills, and a lengthy letter. Now I looked at the envelope. He had written: “To My Wife.” I gave the envelope to Valerie, she gave it to Marla, Marla gave it to Willie, Willie gave it to Wagner, Wagner put it into the maroon folder. Then I gave the money to Valerie.
“What do I do with it?” she said.
“You keep it,” Wagner said.
She placed it on the nighttable. She held out her glass to me. I took it, filled it, drank off a third, gave it to her. Her fingers touched mine as she took it. I could have sworn I felt a pressure, but I’m a morbid type. I looked at her. Her lips quivered tight together, as though in a kiss, and then they lapped at the edge of the glass.
“You keep the money,” Wagner said. “The letter will explain.”
Sardonically Willie said, “You mean you’re not going to impound it?”
“Only the written material, and that temporary,” Wagner said. “And the pictures.”
Marla looked up. “There are pictures?” she inquired innocently.
“We’ll come to that,” Wagner said.
They were engaged with one another, as I looked toward Valerie. The glass was away from her lips, not far, and the huge brandy-gleaming brown eyes were on me. She had a full mouth, very red. Once again the glistening lips came forward, puckered, pouting, subtly quivering and then Wagner said, “Well, read it already.” I unfolded the sheet of paper and I sneaked a glance at Valerie. Her lips were back to the edge of the glass but her eyes, up tilted, were on me. I read the letter but I was not interested. I was interested in Valerie Kiss. I felt that she was interested in me. That was very sick and I knew it was very sick but it could have been healthy if she had a purpose. Maybe she had a purpose. I read the letter.
My lovely wife, you are a cheap, contemptible whore. I loved you. I no longer love you. I detest you. I had contemplated murdering you, but what sense? You would be dead but I would be alive to suffer the torment of your guilt, and the guilt of my murdering you. I have thought about it for a long time, and this way is better. I am killing myself, but you have killed me. I am leaving you everything; let’s see if you can enjoy it. Let us see if you can live with horror, with the horror of knowing that you have murdered me, and let us see how long you can live with that horror. Yes, I am cruel, but no more cruel than you. I have implanted a cancer, let us see how long you can live with it. Within minutes from my writing this, I shall have flung myself out of the window. You have killed me. You live with that. I leave you torture, and I leave you my money, so that you can live with your torture. Let us see how long you can live with it. Let us see how long before you are old and ugly with guilt. Better you than me. Enjoy. I dare you. You are a cheat and a murderer now. Enjoy. I dare you. I know you. I know your mind. I am dead, but you have made me dead, and now yours will be a creeping deadness. I curse you with my last breath of life, and you will remember my curses. I know you, and the cancer is now in you. Enjoy. I dare you. Wherever I am, I await you, and when you come, I shall denounce you, and spit upon you. The money for my funeral arrangements is here contained, together with some pictures which, I trust, may amuse you more than they amused me. I remain always and forever in your memory, Jon.
This had been a smart man, a terrible man, terribly smart. A cheating wife is entitled to knuckles if she is caught, as is a cheating husband, if he is caught. But this was not knuckles, there was no comparison: this was purgatory. A cheating wife does not deserve the curse of purgatory, nor a cheating husband. Love is not forever and love can end, love can even be divided.
She
