The first thing Diane did when she arrived home was to hurry into the atelier.
She removed the half-finished portrait on the easel and replaced it with a blank canvas. She began to sketch the face of the man who had tried to kill her, but her hands were trembling so hard that she had to stop.
* * *
DRIVING TO DIANE STEVEN'S apartment, Detective Earl Greenburg complained, "This is the part of the job I hate most." Robert Praegitzer said, "It's better that we tell them than have them hear about it on the evening news." He looked at Greenburg. "You going to tell her?" Earl Greenburg nodded unhappily. He found himself remembering the story of the detective who had gone to inform a Mrs. Adams, the wife of a patrolman, that her husband had been killed.
She's very sensitive, the chief had cautioned the detective. You'll have to break the news carefully.
Don't worry. I can handle it.
The detective had knocked on the door of the Adams home, and when it was opened by Adams's wife, the" detective had asked, Are you the widow Adams?
* * *
DIANE WAS STARTLED by the sound of the doorbell. She went to the intercom. "Who is it?" "Detective Earl Greenburg. I'd like to speak to you, Mrs. Stevens." It's about the carjacking, Diane thought. The police got here fast.
She pressed the buzzer and Greenburg entered the hallway and walked to her door.
"Hello."
"Mrs. Stevens?" "Yes. Thank you for coming so quickly. I started to draw a sketch of the man, but I? She took a deep breath. "He was swarthy, with deep-set light brown eyes and a little mole on his cheek. His gun had a silencer on it, and-" Greenburg was looking at her in confusion. "I'm sorry. I don't understand what-" "The carjacker. I called 911 and-" She saw the expression on the detective's face. "This isn't about the carjacking, is it?" "No, ma'am, it's not." Greenburg paused a moment. "May I come in?
"Please."
Greenburg walked into the apartment.
She was looking at him, frowning. "What is it? Is something wrong?" The words would not seem to come. "Yes. I'm sorry. I-I'm afraid I have some bad news. It's about your husband." "What's happened?" Her voice was shaky.
"He's had an accident." Diane felt a sudden chill. "What kind of accident?" Greenburg took a deep breath. "He was killed last night, Mrs. Stevens. We found his body under a bridge along the East River this morning." Diane stared at him for a long moment, then slowly shook her head. "You have the wrong person, Lieutenant. My husband is at work, in his laboratory." This was going to be even more difficult than he had anticipated. "Mrs. Stevens, did your husband come home last night?" "No, but Richard frequently works all night. He's a scientist." She was becoming more and more agitated.
"Mrs. Stevens, were you aware that your husband was involved with the Mafia?" Diane blanched. "The Mafia? Are you insane?" "We found-" Diane was beginning to hyperventilate. "Let me see your identification." "Certainly." Detective Greenburg pulled out his ID card and showed it to her.
Diane glanced at it, handed it back, and then slapped Greenburg hard across his face. "Does the city pay you to go around trying to scare honest citizens? My husband is not dead!
He's at work." She was shouting.
Greenburg looked into her eyes and saw the shock and denial there. "Mrs.
Stevens, would you like me to send someone over to look after you and-?" "You're the one who needs someone to look after you. Now get out of here." "Mrs. Stevens-" "Now!" Greenburg took out a business card and put it on a table. "In case you need to talk to me, here's my number." As he walked out the door, Greenburg thought, Well, I handled that brilliantly.
I might as well have said, "Are you the widow Stevens?"
* * *
WHEN DETECTIVE EARL Greenburg left, Diane locked the front door and took a deep, shivering breath. The idiot! Coming to the wrong apartment and trying to scare me. I should report him. She looked at her watch. Richard will be coming home soon. It's time to start getting dinner ready. She was making paella, his favorite dish. She went into the kitchen and started to prepare it.
* * *
BECAUSE OF THE secrecy of Richard's work, Diane never disturbed him at the laboratory, and if he did not call her, she knew it was a signal that he was going to be late. At eight o'clock, the paella was ready. She tasted it and smiled, satisfied. It was made just the way Richard liked it. At ten o'clock, when he still had not arrived, Diane put the paella in the refrigerator and stuck a Post-it note on the refrigerator door: Darling, supper is in the fridge. Come and wake me up. Richard would be hungry when he came home.
Diane felt suddenly drained. She undressed, put on a nightgown, brushed her teeth, and got into bed.
In a few minutes, she fell sound asleep.
* * *
AT THREE O'CLOCK in the morning, she woke up screaming.
Chapter Two
IT WAS DAWN before Diane could stop trembling. The chill she felt was bone deep.
Richard was dead. She would never see him again, hear his voice, feel him hold her close.
And it's my fault. I should never have gone into that courtroom. Oh, Richard, forgive me?please forgive me?I don't think I can go on without you. You were my life, my reason to live, and now I have none.
She wanted to curl up into a tiny ball.
She wanted to disappear.
She wanted to die.
She lay there, desolate, thinking about the past, how Richard had transformed her life?
* * *
DIANE WEST HAD grown up in Sands Point, New York, an area of quiet affluence.