Live Wire
Page 48
“I promise.”
Karl Snow rubbed his face with both hands. “Suzze wanted to know about Alista’s death.”
Myron waited for him to say more. When he didn’t, he asked, “What did she want to know?”
“She wanted to know if Gabriel Wire killed my daughter.”
“What did you say?”
“I told her that after meeting privately with Mr. Wire, I no longer believed that he was culpable. I told her that, in the end, it was a tragic accident and that I was satisfied with that result. I also told her that the settlement is confidential, so that was really all I could say.”
Myron just stared at him. Karl Snow had said it all in a practiced monotone. Myron waited for Snow to meet his eye. He didn’t. Instead Snow shook his head and said softly, “I can’t believe she’s dead.”
Myron didn’t know whether he was talking about Suzze or Alista. Karl Snow blinked, looked off toward Kimberly. The sight seemed to give him strength. “Have you ever lost a child, Mr. Bolitar?”
“No.”
“I’ll spare you the clichés. In fact, I’ll spare you altogether. I know how people view me: the unfeeling father who took a big payday in exchange for letting his daughter’s killer go free.”
“And that wasn’t the case?”
“Sometimes you have to love a child privately. And sometimes you have to grieve privately.”
Myron was not sure what that meant, so he waited.
“Eat some of the ice cream,” Karl said, “or Kimberly will notice. That girl has eyes in the back of her head.”
Myron reached for the spoon and tried the whipped cream with the first layer of what looked like cookies ’n’ cream. Manna.
“Good?”
“Manna,” Myron said.
He smiled again, but there was no joy in it. “Kimberly invented the Melter.”
“She’s a genius.”
“She’s a good daughter. And she loves this place. I messed up with Alista. I won’t make that mistake again.”
“Is that what you told Suzze?”
“In part. I tried to make her understand my position at the time.”
“Which was?”
“Alista loved HorsePower—and like every teenage girl, she was totally gaga over Gabriel Wire.” Something crossed his face. He looked away, lost. “Alista’s birthday was coming up. Sweet sixteen. I didn’t have the money to throw her a big party, but I knew that HorsePower was going to play a concert at Madison Square Garden. I guess they didn’t play many concerts—I never really followed them—but I knew that there was this Ticketmaster on the basement level of this Marshalls Department Store on Route Four. So I woke up at, like, five in the morning and got on line. You should have seen it. No one else there was over thirty, and I’m standing there, waiting for two hours, to buy tickets to the concert. When I got to the window, the woman started typing into the computer and first she tells me that it’s sold out and then, well, then she says, ‘No, wait, I have only two left,’ ” and I was never so happy to buy something in my life. Like it was kismet, you know? Like it was supposed to happen.”
Myron nodded as noncommittally as he could.
“So I get home and Alista’s birthday is still a week away so I figure I’m going to wait. I tell Kimberly about them. And we’re both dying. I mean, those tickets are burning a hole in my pocket. You ever have that? Where you buy someone something so special that you just can’t wait to give it?”
“Sure,” Myron said softly.
“So that’s how it is with me and Kimberly. We end up driving to Alista’s high school. We park there and I get Kimberly out and into her chair and Alista comes out and we’re just smiling like two cats that ate the canary. Alista makes a face at us, the way teenage girls do, and she says, ‘What?’ ” and I just held up the tickets and Alista”—he stopped, his world rolling back all those years—“she just screamed and threw her arms around my neck and squeezed so hard . . .”
His voice faded away. He pulled a napkin from the dispenser, started to go for his eyes, decided against it. He stared down at the table.
“So anyway, Alista took her best friend to the concert. They were supposed to go back to the friend’s house afterward. For a sleepover. But they didn’t. You know the rest.”
“I’m sorry.”
Karl Snow shook his head. “A long time ago.”
“And you don’t blame Gabriel Wire?”
“Blame?” He stopped and thought about that. “The truth is, I didn’t supervise Alista enough after her mother died. So part of it, I mean, when I really look at it closely, the roadie who spotted Alista in the crowd? He was a stranger. The security guy who let her backstage? He was a stranger. Gabriel Wire—he was a stranger too. I was her father—and I didn’t look out for her. Why should I have expected them to?”
Karl Snow blinked and flicked a look to the right.
“And that’s what you told Suzze?”
“I told her there was no proof that Gabriel Wire did anything wrong that night—at least, nothing the police could prove. They made that very clear to me. Yes, Alista had been in Wire’s hotel suite. Yes, she did fall from his balcony—and yes, she did fall thirtyt-wo floors. But to get from A to B, to get from those facts to indicting a powerful celebrity, not to mention securing a conviction . . .” He shrugged. “I had another daughter to worry about. I had no money. Do you know how hard it is to raise a handicapped child? How expensive? And SnowCap is a small chain now. How do you think I got the initial seed money?”
Myron was trying hard to understand, but his voice had more edge than he’d wanted. “From your daughter’s killer?”
“You don’t get it. Alista was dead. Dead is dead. There was nothing I could do for her anymore.”
“But there was something you could still do for Kimberly.”
“Yes. But it really isn’t as cold as that. Suppose I didn’t take the money. Now Wire gets away with it—and Kimberly is still in a bad way. This way, at the very least, Kimberly would be taken care of.”
“No offense, but that does sound awfully cold.”
“I suppose to an outsider it does, doesn’t it? I’m a father. And a father really has only one job. Protect your child. That’s it. And once I failed at that, once I let my daughter go off to that concert and I didn’t check up on her. . . . Nothing can ever make up for that.” He stopped, wiped a tear from his eye. “Anyway, you wanted to know what Suzze wanted. She wanted to know if I thought Gabriel Wire killed Alista.”
Karl Snow rubbed his face with both hands. “Suzze wanted to know about Alista’s death.”
Myron waited for him to say more. When he didn’t, he asked, “What did she want to know?”
“She wanted to know if Gabriel Wire killed my daughter.”
“What did you say?”
“I told her that after meeting privately with Mr. Wire, I no longer believed that he was culpable. I told her that, in the end, it was a tragic accident and that I was satisfied with that result. I also told her that the settlement is confidential, so that was really all I could say.”
Myron just stared at him. Karl Snow had said it all in a practiced monotone. Myron waited for Snow to meet his eye. He didn’t. Instead Snow shook his head and said softly, “I can’t believe she’s dead.”
Myron didn’t know whether he was talking about Suzze or Alista. Karl Snow blinked, looked off toward Kimberly. The sight seemed to give him strength. “Have you ever lost a child, Mr. Bolitar?”
“No.”
“I’ll spare you the clichés. In fact, I’ll spare you altogether. I know how people view me: the unfeeling father who took a big payday in exchange for letting his daughter’s killer go free.”
“And that wasn’t the case?”
“Sometimes you have to love a child privately. And sometimes you have to grieve privately.”
Myron was not sure what that meant, so he waited.
“Eat some of the ice cream,” Karl said, “or Kimberly will notice. That girl has eyes in the back of her head.”
Myron reached for the spoon and tried the whipped cream with the first layer of what looked like cookies ’n’ cream. Manna.
“Good?”
“Manna,” Myron said.
He smiled again, but there was no joy in it. “Kimberly invented the Melter.”
“She’s a genius.”
“She’s a good daughter. And she loves this place. I messed up with Alista. I won’t make that mistake again.”
“Is that what you told Suzze?”
“In part. I tried to make her understand my position at the time.”
“Which was?”
“Alista loved HorsePower—and like every teenage girl, she was totally gaga over Gabriel Wire.” Something crossed his face. He looked away, lost. “Alista’s birthday was coming up. Sweet sixteen. I didn’t have the money to throw her a big party, but I knew that HorsePower was going to play a concert at Madison Square Garden. I guess they didn’t play many concerts—I never really followed them—but I knew that there was this Ticketmaster on the basement level of this Marshalls Department Store on Route Four. So I woke up at, like, five in the morning and got on line. You should have seen it. No one else there was over thirty, and I’m standing there, waiting for two hours, to buy tickets to the concert. When I got to the window, the woman started typing into the computer and first she tells me that it’s sold out and then, well, then she says, ‘No, wait, I have only two left,’ ” and I was never so happy to buy something in my life. Like it was kismet, you know? Like it was supposed to happen.”
Myron nodded as noncommittally as he could.
“So I get home and Alista’s birthday is still a week away so I figure I’m going to wait. I tell Kimberly about them. And we’re both dying. I mean, those tickets are burning a hole in my pocket. You ever have that? Where you buy someone something so special that you just can’t wait to give it?”
“Sure,” Myron said softly.
“So that’s how it is with me and Kimberly. We end up driving to Alista’s high school. We park there and I get Kimberly out and into her chair and Alista comes out and we’re just smiling like two cats that ate the canary. Alista makes a face at us, the way teenage girls do, and she says, ‘What?’ ” and I just held up the tickets and Alista”—he stopped, his world rolling back all those years—“she just screamed and threw her arms around my neck and squeezed so hard . . .”
His voice faded away. He pulled a napkin from the dispenser, started to go for his eyes, decided against it. He stared down at the table.
“So anyway, Alista took her best friend to the concert. They were supposed to go back to the friend’s house afterward. For a sleepover. But they didn’t. You know the rest.”
“I’m sorry.”
Karl Snow shook his head. “A long time ago.”
“And you don’t blame Gabriel Wire?”
“Blame?” He stopped and thought about that. “The truth is, I didn’t supervise Alista enough after her mother died. So part of it, I mean, when I really look at it closely, the roadie who spotted Alista in the crowd? He was a stranger. The security guy who let her backstage? He was a stranger. Gabriel Wire—he was a stranger too. I was her father—and I didn’t look out for her. Why should I have expected them to?”
Karl Snow blinked and flicked a look to the right.
“And that’s what you told Suzze?”
“I told her there was no proof that Gabriel Wire did anything wrong that night—at least, nothing the police could prove. They made that very clear to me. Yes, Alista had been in Wire’s hotel suite. Yes, she did fall from his balcony—and yes, she did fall thirtyt-wo floors. But to get from A to B, to get from those facts to indicting a powerful celebrity, not to mention securing a conviction . . .” He shrugged. “I had another daughter to worry about. I had no money. Do you know how hard it is to raise a handicapped child? How expensive? And SnowCap is a small chain now. How do you think I got the initial seed money?”
Myron was trying hard to understand, but his voice had more edge than he’d wanted. “From your daughter’s killer?”
“You don’t get it. Alista was dead. Dead is dead. There was nothing I could do for her anymore.”
“But there was something you could still do for Kimberly.”
“Yes. But it really isn’t as cold as that. Suppose I didn’t take the money. Now Wire gets away with it—and Kimberly is still in a bad way. This way, at the very least, Kimberly would be taken care of.”
“No offense, but that does sound awfully cold.”
“I suppose to an outsider it does, doesn’t it? I’m a father. And a father really has only one job. Protect your child. That’s it. And once I failed at that, once I let my daughter go off to that concert and I didn’t check up on her. . . . Nothing can ever make up for that.” He stopped, wiped a tear from his eye. “Anyway, you wanted to know what Suzze wanted. She wanted to know if I thought Gabriel Wire killed Alista.”
