Chapter 5 Northern Cardinal #2
“Well, there are degrees. An obscure trial versus a national magazine.”
“The trial is more notorious than the magazine at this point. It’s captured a lot of attention. One of the reporters I met
at the arraignment was from Quebec,” I told him.
“Then I want to review the quotes before you use any of them.”
“You know I can’t do that. Maybe you don’t know, but that’s not how it works.
You can review the quotes for accuracy if you want, but I’m not going to change the substance.
” I went on, “Frankly, Mr. Vogel, the cat is out of the bag at this point. The only thing you can really do is tell your side of it.”
And yet again, it worked, even on a lawyer, like peanut butter and jelly.
“Well, I thought this man had died accidentally. That wasn’t Felicity’s fault. The most she could be charged with was not
reporting a death, not a felony, not really even a crime, moving or concealing a dead body, yes, a crime, but she might not
even have been charged, her motive being the motive of fearfulness . . .” Vogel’s English was getting more and more formal;
that is, it was deteriorating. “But then, after he was found and the other murder, ah, death, occurred, her problems were
snowballing . . .” He spoke about the legal implications of motive, how even killing someone by accident is not a crime in
most jurisdictions unless negligence is involved, but of all the motives, money was the worst one.
I asked for more coffee, to buy time. Vogel kept consulting his watch. There was no oh, honey, I’m a sexy conservative anymore . . . he was scared. His wife evidently would be due home soon.
“I only have a few more questions,” I reassured him, then asked how he and Felicity got started and more importantly, why.
“Oh, I met her at this place where there were nude dancers and these sorts of hostesses, where I went with men I knew.”
That place was, of course, Ophelia. What was up with men? What is the allure, I wanted to shout at him, and why do you think it’s okay?
But then he went on, “It wasn’t just sex.
” Of course it wasn’t, and there it was again.
If I had a nickel for every time a guy said that, as well .
. . “She was different. She was beautiful but also just so very smart and . . . an active listener.” He explained what he meant.
In a marriage, no matter how much love is there, there are also other matters of consequence: money, children, family members, careers, tension, anxiety, boredom.
The love that first combusted flickered, sank.
You were lovers, yes, still, but also partners, relatives, best friends.
That was if you were lucky, and Finn said he had been lucky with Briony.
But with Felicity, the focus was on him. She relaxed him. She asked questions. She even offered insights, whatever thorny
issue was at hand for him in the context of his work environment, like a professor’s repeated refusal to see that unwanted
flirting was just as serious when the instructor was a woman; she asked how he was sleeping; she bought his favorite tea;
she taught him to tie a double Windsor knot, which made him the envy of his colleagues.
I might have wanted to screech, but I moderated my voice and said, “What you’re telling me is like some cliché from an old
movie, like the whore with the heart of gold . . . who understands when the wife is too busy . . .”
“It’s not just that. You know, writing is your gift. It’s your talent. Her talent was men.”
“How long did this go on, with her?”
“Six months? Eight months? I can’t remember exactly. It was summer at the beginning.”
As I left the house, Finn Vogel abruptly switched off all the Christmas lights, as well as all the lights inside.
How long after the holidays did people leave those decorations up, anyhow?
I always thought it was kind of sinister, seeing houses where Rudolph was still prancing across the lawn in February.
Finn Vogel didn’t need his lights on; it was still daylight, a gloomy daylight—hell is murky—but it reminded me of the way little kids cover their own eyes and then think you can’t see them.
Once again, I began to tell myself how grateful I was that I had decided never to have children.
For the first time, however, I wasn’t sure that I was telling myself the truth.
Whether or not I ever had children, I suddenly realized I wanted to love someone enough to mingle our genes.
The next guy on Ross’s list was, I recalled, the shortstop, an avid athlete. I’d looked him up on his Facebook. With his mop
of still-thick silvered red hair and sprinkling of freckles, he could have played Huck Finn grown up. Pregnant wife named
Allegra. Golden retriever named Forbes. His legend proclaimed, THERE IS A LOT OF LIFE IN ECONOMICS AND A LOT OF ECONOMICS
IN LIFE. A live wire!
He answered his phone, and I told him my business. “It’s about a woman who’s charged with murder who was an escort. I think
you knew her in that context.”
“This is a mistake. I have no idea who this woman is. I never met her. How did you get my name?”
I explained that I asked around, and the information came from another instructor at the university. I couldn’t say who it
was because I’d made a promise.
“Well, that’s the rumor mill for you. People start to believe things that aren’t true. Felicity Wild must have a grudge against
me because otherwise why would she betray me?”
“Wait, wait. Let’s start over. I never said her name, but you do know her name? If you’ve never met her, how could she betray
you?”
“I’m not going to dignify this,” the guy said, and the phone went dead.
Call back, I told myself. Call back if you have even one teaspoonful of guts. I called back.
“Don’t call here again!” he yelled. “This is considered harassment! I could sue you for this!”
“Just settle down a moment. We can speak off the record.”
“Listen, you dumb bitch! If you call back again, the next call you get will be from my lawyer.”
“I know this is upsetting. I’m not going to necessarily write about you in specific. I won’t say anything you don’t want me to say. I’m just trying to understand what people are saying about this. People you know.”
“If I hear about this from any people I know, there will be consequences!”
He hung up.
Did I need permission to recount this exchange? Would it be nasty to do that, for no good reason? On the other hand, one way
to avoid being asked about patronizing an escort would be to not do it. Why did people think that it was not their own fault
that what they did caused their public humiliation but was the fault of the press for reporting it?
Needing a palate cleanser, I called Felicity’s fifth-grade teacher, who’d also been my fifth-grade teacher.
“She was very sweet and very smart, always the little helper,” said Fatima Sharma, who promptly reminded me that I no longer
needed to call her “Ms. Sharma.” She said, “I had to push her out the door to go home after school.” To Ms. Sharma, this fact
probably went to Felicity’s avid and giving nature, but I made a note to myself: What did it really mean when a ten-year-old
little girl didn’t want to go home? Her track coach told me that there might have been athletes who had more natural ability,
but Felicity anchored her team all the way to state in the two-hundred-meter relay because of her zeal to win. Her coach from
the National Science Bee, who was out of the country until March, wrote in an email, I got this news in Turkey! We are so very shocked and concerned. Did you know that Ruth Wild has resigned? Have you spoken
to her?
I was almost grateful that I couldn’t find Ruth to ask her about the supernova created by the collapse of her shining-star
child.