The officers tell us that Pfeff’s status is now Missing, Presumed Dead. Given that he was last seen swimming in open water, they explain that they can “presume death” without waiting any longer.
Tipper says the family has already had a memorial.
The police say that often happens. Families need closure. Communities need to grieve.
“We should have gone,” says Penny, sounding upset. “You didn’t tell us about it.”
“We couldn’t go,” says Harris sharply.
“Yardley went,” I say. “She told me about it, after.”
“We could have gotten to Philadelphia.” Penny is a wonderful actress.
“Not without a tremendous hassle,” Harris says. “And the Pfeffermans wouldn’t have wanted us. They wouldn’t like the reminder.”
“I sent flowers,” says Tipper. “Don’t worry.”
When the officers are gone, Harris asks to see me in his study.
78.
THE STUDY IS a large room at the back of the ground floor, decorated with manly objects I suppose could be described as trophies: those original New Yorker cartoons in frames, a taxidermied swordfish, shelves and shelves of books. Harris sits behind the desk and I take a seat opposite him.
“Now that the boy has been declared dead,” my father says, “I want to tell you that I ran out of sleeping pills a few weeks back.”
I stare at him and try not to move my face.
Can he possibly know I took them? Did he count how many he had in the bottle?
He continues. “I ran out of sleeping pills, and before your mother got me some more, I had a few sleepless nights. Do you see where I am going?”
I shake my head.
“Well. One night, I found myself awake around two a.m. I couldn’t get back to sleep. I tossed and turned for a good long while, read my book and so on, but then I gave up. I thought I’d heat some warm milk, maybe make some cocoa to help me sleep.”
He stops talking and lights a cigarette, leaning back in his chair. “I looked in on you girls,” he continues. “I do that when I can’t sleep. I have, ever since you were babies. I like knowing you’re all safe and sound in your beds. Now, sometimes this summer you all have been out late, over at Goose with the boys. I get it. I don’t worry about you. But at this point, it’s about two-thirty in the morning and I’m expecting you’re asleep. But you are not. Not you, not Bess, not Penny. Hm. I begin to be a little concerned. So I go downstairs, pour myself a glass of bourbon, and step onto the porch.”
My hands feel cold. My throat is closed.
He takes a drag on his cigarette and ashes it carefully into an ivory dish. “I gave up on the hot cocoa, you see, because I was curious. I walked out of the yard, and when I passed the turnoff to the dock, there was movement on the water. What do you think I saw?”
“I don’t know.”
“Guzzler, rowing out to sea. You and Penny at the oars. Bess hanging over the edge with her fingers in the water. I watched until the boat was out of sight. And I thought, Why are they rowing? I didn’t put it past you silly things to take the boat out in the middle of the night. I was a boy, once. But just the three of you? Without Major, George, or Lor? And why not use the motor? What could be such a secret that you’d row that far out? It’s not easy work.”
He taps his fingers on the wood of his desk, looks out the window and then at me. “So I went back to the house,” he continues. “I got one of the heavy flashlights we keep in the mudroom and I went down to the dock to see what you had been doing. The dogs came with me.” Another drag on the cigarette. “And a funny thing, Carrie. Right away, we all four noticed a strong smell at the end of the dock. Dogs were sniffing around. And do you know what the smell was?”
“No.”
“Bleach. How is that? I wondered. What are my girls doing with bleach in the middle of the night?”
My hands will not stop shaking. I twist my fingers together and breathe slowly.
“The dock looked wet, I noticed,” Harris goes on. “And when I looked around a little further, I noticed that board. You know, the warped one I pulled up?”
I do not answer.
He speaks very, very slowly. “Do you know the board I’m talking about, Carrie?”
“Yes, I do.”
“All right, then. That board smelled of bleach even more than the rest of the dock did. I picked it up and it was soaking wet. I shone my flashlight on the length of it. And then I shone my flashlight on the nails. And do you know what?”