Verismo Bliss - Chapter 22 (Final Chapter)

22.

The postcard portrayed the city skyline at night, with Chicago written in yellow across the sky. What was it about cities at night that were so attractive? Was it like the stars of the heavens brought to earth?
Harry flipped the card over, and read: Harry, you’re the only person I can think of to write to. Hope you don’t mind? And don’t worry, I’ve forgiven you for letting me down at the birth! I’m trying to find her. Here, in Chicago. My Jemma. America is cool. I might live here with her. When I find her. You can come visit. Wish you were here! (Isn’t that what tourists used to say???) Gwen xxx
Harry imagined her composing the letter in the hotel room. It would be a posh hotel room; the sort Harry only saw from outside. She might have gone against her father’s wishes, but she’d have gone with his money. The writing was slanted, scruffy, like she’d written it quickly, pouring the words out as they came into her head. Still, she’d thought of him. Harry liked that. He liked that she had found a passion now and knew jealousy: her daughter in another’s arms, suckling at another’s breast.
He took the card and pinned it up next to the Golden Gate. They were the only real bits of colour in his office.
There was a knock at the door. He shouted for them to come in and stepped back behind the desk.
‘Harry.’
She didn’t look much different from the last time he’d seen her. Not that it had been that long ago – it just seemed it. Maybe a little thinner. Maybe a little less sparkle in the eyes.
‘Ramona.’
‘How you been?’
He shrugged. ‘Take the weight off your feet; we can talk about the good old days.’
She smiled sadly and stepped towards the desk, but didn’t sit down. She smelt of spring. Outside it was autumn. ‘I can’t stay long. I’m on my way to the airport. I’m taking that trip to La Paz at last. I felt I should try and find out where I came from, see if it could show me which way to head in the future. I just thought…well,’ she said, suddenly looking shy. She picked up a pen from his desk and gazed it at like it was a treasure. ‘I just wanted to say goodbye; who knows if we’ll see each other again, or when. I know it’s not like we’ve really seen each other...since…’
The unspoken words hung like a black cloud in the room.
Ramona stared at the pen. Harry looked behind her, to the Golden Gate Bridge and the Chicago skyline.
‘Harry, what did you see?’
‘Where?’
‘You know where.’
‘Nothing.’
‘Nothing?’
They were looking at each other now.
‘Do you think I’d be alive now if I’d found something out?’ he said.
‘Maybe he paid you off,’ she said angrily. She bit her lower lip, and then said, ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean that. I don’t think you’re that sort of man.’
‘When you grow up you’ll find out all men are like that. Women too. Maybe I did take my 30 pieces, what of it? A man has to live.’
She shook her head. ‘Don’t say it.’
There was a few seconds of silence, punctuated by sirens and car horns.
‘You’ve got a plane to catch.’
She nodded. ‘I bought you the paper. Take a look at page 20. Maybe some good news.’
She dropped the newspaper on the desk and moved to the door.
‘Ramona,’ he said, causing her to pause at the door and turn, her face expectant. ‘Did you kill Gloria Isles?’
Her face hardened: ‘Harry, you keep your secrets and I’ll keep mine.’
He listened to her stiletto feet going down the stairs and then looked out the window. Carr was waiting for her. He looked concerned when he saw her face, but she rushed past him and got in the car. He glanced up at Harry, got in the car and drove her away.
Harry picked up his smart from the desk and scrolled through to photographs. He looked at the naked body of Ramona Noche and then pressed the delete icon.
He sat down and picked up the paper, skimmed to page 20 and easily found the article Ramona wanted him to read. It was only a small piece. It was about Raf-Med – the company that had found the cure for male fertility, which would be available to the public within the year, once full trials had taken place. Apparently a new report was coming out which explicitly refuted Raf-Med’s claims that Zehigh wasn’t addictive. The report would say it was actually highly addictive. The reporter commentated that at least if sunny days became a little less sunny for Raf-Med in the short term, their long term future was assured due to the fertility cure.
Harry didn’t think the story was worth Ramona dropping it off on the way to Heathrow. Still, there was another story he was following. He skimmed the paper, half scared, half curious, to see if there was anything there. Yes, he found it, just another small piece tucked away on page 5. The search for a missing girl continued. A recent sighting had proved to be a false lead. The girl’s name was Nadine Morrison. She was 18.
Harry put down the paper and gazed out at the sky. It was a crisp blue colour, like the blue icing on a birthday cake.
He thought he could smell vanilla.
He had felt the rage that Oliver had felt. The only difference was that Oliver had taken Bliss voluntarily, to cover up his devastating love for Gwen.
Navaho. The girl with the heart of a poet.
He told himself he hadn’t killed her, that she was dead already, tied to a tree, and that he had just slashed at her dead body. They had taken her the night she had warmed him with her body, just as they had taken a sample of his blood. It was insurance right there. Had they kept her alive? Only deciding to kill her when necessary? They had killed a girl just to protect their interests. So he told himself. He didn’t want to believe he had killed her. But he knew he had killed her the moment he had met her, just as surely as if he had put the knife to her throat himself. It was death by association.
Maybe he wasn’t cut out for this work.
There was a knock at the door. A man popped his head into the office. ‘Excuse me, sorry, do you take divorce work?’
Harry hated divorce work. A phrase came into his head, which he thought was biblical: do not despise the day of small things. No, he wouldn’t ever despise the day of small things again.
‘Sure, come in, pull up a pew.’

The End