“You’re not wrong,” Craig said, shaking his head and lowering his eyes, as if to acknowledge Joe’s points. “If you talk to Aideen, you tell her that, so she understands. Make it clear.”
“That’s the thing,” Joe said. “I don’t know if I can make it clear. Because Hathorne scares me more than any wise guy I ever knew, Craig. He really does.”
CHAPTER 37
Thursday, August 3, 2017
FDR Boardwalk
Midland Beach, Staten Island
12:58 p.m.
“Please, sit down,” Joe said to Robbie, motioning to the empty park bench next to his. It was brutally hot on the boardwalk, but a reliable breeze flowed in from the ocean. A few kids were making sandcastles and playing at the water’s edge, their calls bright on the salty air. Robbie hesitated for a moment, as if deciding whether to just walk away, then sat down.
“Okay, I’m seated. What is it you want with me?”
“I don’t know,” Joe said, now staring at his hands. “I really don’t know, but . . .” He trailed off.
“That girl, the one I saw at your place a few weeks back—they’re looking at you for that, aren’t they?”
“Of course they are,” Joe said, shaking his head. He wore torn khaki shorts, an old T-shirt, and boat shoes. Robbie had on slacks and a button-down shirt, but he looked far less overheated than Joe, who was sweating profusely. “I’m afraid, Robbie. I really am.”
“So, what, you want to run?”
“No, I don’t want to run. That’s not what I’m afraid of.” He forced himself to look squarely at his brother. “I’m afraid of what I can’t remember. I’m not just talking about Halle. I’m talking about Lois too. That’s what I’m here about.”
“Lois,” Robbie said, almost wistful. “You know, you don’t help yourself when you refer to her that way. She was our mother. You won’t call her that, though. Even when we were kids. You made that decision right after it happened. Uncle Mike never corrected you. Maybe he should have, but you were his favorite. Like you were everyone’s favorite.”
“She forfeited that right. Anyway, you ditched Uncle Mike and me. You were never a part of that family, not really.” Joe clamped down on whatever he might say next. He had not come out here to antagonize his brother or rehash old hurts, as easy as that was to do. For once, Robbie didn’t fire back.
“Whatever. It’s about appearances. You’re a suspect in her murder, but you can’t bring yourself to call her what she was to us. Yeah, I know what she did. Doesn’t fuckin’ matter. Smarten up, man.”
“I’m trying,” Joe said. “That’s why I’m here.” This was harder than he thought, humbling himself to Robbie. Well, in some fucked-up way, maybe it’s his turn. “Did she ever reach out to you? Our mother?”
“No,” Robbie said. He looked away, out over the water. The “no” was definitive. Flat.
“Think, please. Has anyone approached you? Or seemed like they’ve been watching you, maybe? Any strange messages? Anything, in the last month or two?”
“I told you. No. What is this, a spy movie? No one’s watching me.”
“She was around Coney Island for a few weeks before they found her, but . . .” Joe trailed off.
“But what?”
“I remember the DA telling me about a witness. A homeless woman who knew Lois, for a while. She told a cop that Lois wanted to get over here. To Staten Island.”
Robbie let out a little chortle. “Yeah, well, she didn’t look me up.”
“Not that you know of,” Joe said. He felt like he was lecturing Robbie. “That’s why I’m asking these—”
“I know why you’re asking. You can stop. I just don’t know, no more than I know where she was all the goddamn years before that.” He smirked. “You know, it’s kind of funny—you don’t seem to care about those years, just the last few weeks before she was capped.”
“I cared at first.”
“Yeah, funny way of showing it. You had her relegated to a first-name basis before that first summer was up.”
“Jesus, that was a defense mechanism. Come on.” He knew he shouldn’t say the next thing, but out it came anyway. “You know, I get the feeling sometimes that it wasn’t the same for you. The abandonment, I mean.”
Robbie made a tsk sound.
“You’re oh so wise. Look where it’s gotten you.”