The Chief recoils. “This isn’t about race,” he says. He sits with his discomfort and checks himself. Did Falco actually see Cruz or was there some other Black kid driving a white Jeep? Did Falco notice Cruz primarily because he was Black? Was it easier for the Nantucket community to say that Cruz DeSantis did a bad thing because he was Black? The Chief will not lead a department where Black citizens are treated differently than white. He has learned, however, that racism is systemic. It’s often so deeply buried that you can’t even see it, but it’s there.
“I like you, Ed. I count you as a friend. I would never take advantage of that friendship. But my son didn’t hit Vivi. He’s the kind of kid who would have confessed right away and presented his wrists for the cuffs. He loved Vivi Howe so much that he would never forgive himself. Now, I know there’s something unresolved between him and Leo Quinboro. I can see that on his face without even asking. But what I don’t see is guilt over killing a woman. He has been very patient while you check his car. He’s been riding his old bike to work without complaint—because he trusts the system. But I’m not going to stand by and let you make him a scapegoat because you need a conviction in this case. Cruz didn’t hit her, Ed.”
These words land, and in that instant, the Chief knows in his heart that Cruz DeSantis didn’t hit the woman. Someone else hit her and ran, probably only a few seconds before Cruz found her.
“I’ll release the car this afternoon,” the Chief says.
“Thank you, Ed,” Joe says, and the men shake hands.
Vivi
Vivi is relaxing on the velvet chaise when Martha enters through the green door, holding her clipboard. “There are some lovely posts on your memorial Facebook page,” she says. “Would you like to take a look?”
“Are they all lovely?” Vivi asks. If there’s one thing she’s learned about Facebook, it’s that people think it’s just fine to post things that they would never dream of saying to someone’s face. In recent years, Vivi had become something of an online manners stickler: If you don’t have something nice to say, keep scrolling!
“Well,” Martha says.
Vivi’s interest is piqued. She takes the clipboard.
Vivian Howe Memorial Facebook page
Please share your thoughts and memories of Vivian Howe below. We encourage you all to stay positive! Vivian’s family and close friends will look at this page as a way to seek solace from her readers. Thank you.
This past winter, I was diagnosed with stage two triple-positive intraductal carcinoma and underwent eighteen rounds of chemotherapy at MD Anderson in Houston. I brought a Vivian Howe novel to each of my three-hour appointments. My chemo nurses always asked how I was enjoying the book and this gave us something to chat about other than my cancer. I will always be grateful to Vivian Howe for being “with” me in my darkest hours.—Crista J., Katy, TX
VIVIAN HOWE IS A QUEEN! REST IN PEACE, VIVI!—Megan R., Wiscasset, ME
I don’t even want to read Golden Girl because when I do, I won’t have any more Vivi to read and that’s when the loss of her will sink in. Is anyone else feeling that way?—Lloret A., Bowmore, Scotland
Reply: Me too!—Taffy H., Kalamazoo, MI
Reply: Me too! —Beth H., Sharon, MA
“So far so good,” Vivi says.
Hello! While I’m sad about the loss of one of my favorite authors, I would also like to offer a suggestion. Please will someone go back into Ms. Howe’s novels and fix the copyediting mistakes? On page 201, line 21 of The Photographer it says “Truman” where it should say “Davis.” Also, I’ve long been shocked that the copyeditor let the interrobangs stay throughout Ms. Howe’s work. For those of you who don’t know, an interrobang is an unorthodox combination of question mark and exclamation point. How did this happen?!!!??? （You can see from my example how unseemly this looks.） Thank you, and my sympathies to the family.—Pauline F., Homestead, FL
Reply: “Interrobang” sounds like what happens when one of my kids knocks on the door while I’m having sex with my husband. （Sorry, couldn’t resist. I like to think this is a Vivi-type joke.）—Kerry H., Grand Island, NE
“She’s right,” Vivi says. “That is the kind of joke I would make.”
Martha says nothing.
Hello, I’m new to Facebook as of right this minute. I was wondering if anyone knows how to get ahold of someone in Vivi’s family? I’m not some weirdo stalker, I promise. I went to Parma High School with Vivi from 1983 to 1987. She was my girlfriend for eleven months. I haven’t seen her since August of ’87 but I heard from the sister of my former bandmate that she passed away suddenly and I’d like to express my condolences and share my memories with the family. I also just found out that she’s a writer, and kind of famous. （I don’t read much.） I went on Amazon and read the description of her book that’s coming out next month and I would like to talk to her family about that as well. So if anyone here can help, I’d appreciate it. I don’t have a Facebook page （this is my coworker’s page I’m writing from now） but my name is Brett Caspian and I’m the GM of the Holiday Inn by the University of Tennessee in Knoxville. You can call the front desk and ask for me. I’m sorry about Vivi. She was a special girl.