Silent Mercy [Fairstein, Linda] (fb2) читать постранично, страница - 71

you kidding, Coop? I don’t want to smell any java for a month. I’m just going to stretch out right here and sleep for the next twenty-four. Will I be in your way?”

“No more than usual.”

“All copacetic with Mercer?”

“Oh, yeah. He’s on top of everything,” I said. “So I’m going to shut off the phone, if that’s okay with you. Luc’s flying up from the city. I thought I’d go down to Larsen’s Fish Market and pick up some lobster for the three of us. Put my Iron Chef to the test.”

“Luc? Coming here?” Mike asked. “I almost forgot about your romantic weekend plans. Sorry to let something like murder almost interfere.”

“How about if I put something on your cheek so it doesn’t swell? Or get a doc up here to check your leg?”

“How about you just get on with it and let me sleep? Stop yammering.”

He rolled over on his side and closed his eyes.

“Want anything special with dinner?”

“Just shut-eye. Do what you gotta do, Coop.”

I took the SUV to the airport, and was waiting at the gate when Luc came down the steps of the blue-and-white helicopter, ducking beneath the rotors and waving to me.

We kissed and embraced and kissed again. I was safe on my own island sanctuary, where my personal peace and happiness were always so richly and easily restored.

On the way to Menemsha to pick up dinner that came fresh out of local waters, I started to tell Luc the awful story. By the time we got back to the house, I was still only halfway through the week’s events.

We set the groceries down on the kitchen table and I went in to check on Mike.

The living room was empty. I ran upstairs but the guest rooms were deserted too. I came down to tell Luc, who had found Mike’s handwritten note on my bed.

“Don’t worry, Coop. Commissioner Scully called. Wants me back immediately to give the whole story to Public Info. Called a cab to take me to the ferry. Car rental to the city. You know how I hate those little planes,” I read aloud.

Beneath his signature was a PS: “Have a good time with Luc. Chow down some of that lobster for me too. You might be the best partner I’ve ever had. Ever. But don’t push your luck. I’ll probably forget I ever said that by Monday.”

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

NEW York’s history, like most other cities, can be explored through its architecture, as well as through the stories of its residents. From the original settlement of New Amsterdam on the southern “toe” of Manhattan, up to the northern border at Spuyten Duyvil — where the Hudson and Harlem Rivers meet to separate the island from America — the narrow streets and grand avenues are generously dotted with a vast array of religious institutions. Houses of worship of every denomination, some of them centuries old, speak to the freedoms for which many immigrants sought passage to America.

I have always loved to visit these sanctuaries of the spirit, to study their differences, and just as often to discover the profound similarities among so many of the beliefs of their flocks. Many of those buildings with simple exteriors have jewel-like interior space. Some constructed more than a century ago to inspire awe still cause the soul to soar today.

As always, great friends led me to many of the more hidden treasures of my beloved city. A conversation with Alan Levine opened the door to the Jewish Theological Seminary and a private tutorial with Rabbi Marc Wolf. A delicious dinner at Rao’s with the inimitable Frank Pellegrino enlightened me about the old St. Patrick’s Cathedral. A book signing with a new acquaintance who writes a fine crime novel herself, Hilary Davidson, surprised me with information about a gift to the people of New York from the one-time king of France.

And then there is the unique moment when someone makes an introduction that is as memorable personally as it is useful professionally. A casual lunch with my good friend Susan Reed ended with her insistence that I meet the Rev. Dr. Serene Jones, a brilliant scholar and the first woman appointed to the presidency of the 174-year-old Union Theological Seminary. Let me first assure you that Serene Jones is not a character in this book. The thoughts and words and familial relationships described by my fictional Faith Grant come entirely from my imagination. But I had the pleasure and honor of spending hours with the Rev. Dr. Jones, exploring the treasures (what exquisite libraries both seminaries have!) of Union, and scratching the surface of some of the most fascinating issues in modern theology. I also commend to you her writings, including the books Trauma + Grace: Theology in a Ruptured World and Feminist Theory and Christian Theology. My admiration and respect for Serene Jones is beyond measure.

The New York Times is a constant source of information for me on an endless variety of subjects. I am especially grateful to David Dunlap, R. M. Schneiderman, Anne Barnard, and Anne Midgette for such intriguing articles, each of which contained fascinating facts that found their way into this crime caper. The Vineyard Gazette is a great newspaper. Holly Nadler’s story, which appeared in the Gazette, is an excerpt from her book Vineyard Supernatural, and Mike Seccombe’s piece “On the Midnight Run to America” was equally riveting. Two books that provided rich background detail were John Tayman’s heartbreaking true tale The Colony and I. Thomas Buckley’s Island of Hope. The deposition transcript in the case of Rosado vs. Bridgeport Roman Catholic Diocesan Corp. was as helpful as it is shocking.

Whether for business or pleasure, you keenly want my friend Esther Newberg on your side and at your back. I’ve been fortunate to have her there for a very long time, and it has been more fun than one could imagine. With her come the great crew at ICM, including Kari Stuart and Lyle Morgan, and now that I’m totally bicoastal, in the talented hands of Mark Gordon.

My team at Dutton is the classiest act in publishing. The support and enthusiasm starts at the top with my publisher, Brian Tart. Ben Sevier’s skill as an editor makes it a joy to work with him. Christine Ball is always a few steps ahead of me, a master at PR and marketing, aided by Jamie McDonald. Carrie Swetonic, Jessica Horvath, Susan Schwartz, Dick Heffernan, and the rest of the Dutton family have given me a truly happy home. On the road, it’s Tammy Richards who keeps the ink flowing. My thanks to all, and to David Shelley and the UK group at Little, Brown. They’ve been with me from the start.

My family and friends have done it again. I owe them all my love and gratitude. And to my husband, Justin Feldman, words are inadequate to express how very much it means to me that you battle so valiantly to savor the joy of our life together.