Stanley shrugged. “She probably didn’t know they were bribes. She was kind of naïve. She thought it was all shipping fees.”
“What happened on the seventeenth?”
“Well, you have to go back a week or two earlier. That’s when Nicky went over the edge. We knew the situation was bad. Christine had been complaining to her father about Nicky’s behavior, but we didn’t know how bad it was. Vittie tried to put a lid on Nicky, but Nicky was a time bomb. Then on December tenth, Nicky hauled off and punched Christine in the face, and she marched out the door.
“She called her father that night all weepy and whiny and said she wasn’t going back. Vittie blew up at Nicky, but he couldn’t allow Christine to quit. She was our eyes and ears. Vittie pleaded with her and promised that he would straighten everything out, but Christine wouldn’t budge. No matter what, she wasn’t going back. Then Preston butted in and started threatening to go to the newspapers.” Stanley made a face and shook his head. “I told Vittie he never should have hired Preston to begin with. We didn’t need him; he didn’t do a damn thing except piss people off.
“Well, it all came to a head on December seventeenth. Christine wouldn’t return to her job, and Preston was mouthing off, so Vittie and I decided to set things straight. We talked to Nicky. We told him he’d never get another shipping contract unless he behaved. And he agreed. He said he’d treat her respectfully and leave her alone to do her job. ‘A perfect gentleman,’ he said.
“Vittie and I were satisfied. Then we had to convince Christine to go back to work. He called her and he was firm, but she was adamant. ‘Under no circumstances,’ she said. It shocked the hell out of Vittie; his daughter had never defied him before. She said she didn’t trust Nicky and didn’t want to talk about it anymore. Vittie got angry, said some things, and Christine hung up on him. It was late in the evening, and Vittie turned to me and said, ‘That impudent little bitch. After everything I’ve done for her and her husband. They’ll not turn their backs on me. I’m going to go over there and lay down the law.’”
From behind the mirror, Mimi’s hand shot up to her mouth. “Oh my God,” she whispered. “Vittie killed his own daughter.”
“Vittie didn’t go to the house to hurt anyone,” Stanley said. “He loved his daughter. He only wanted to be firm, to tell her that he needed her to go back to work. He was exercising his parental rights and demanding obedience from his daughter. What’s wrong with that? But he was worried about Preston. Preston was a big guy with a hot temper, and Vittie was worried that he might get physical. So he did something stupid. He had a silver pistol—you saw it the other night. He took it to scare Preston in case Preston got out of line.”
Stanley took a sip of water. “The way I understand it, things got out of hand. There was a lot of screaming and crying. Vittie was insisting, Christine was resisting and finally Preston asked him to leave. He told Vittie to get out. Vittie said something about no young punk was going to tell him what to do. Preston tried to push Vittie out of the house, and Vittie pulled the gun. They wrestled and the gun went off. It was an accident. The bullet hit Christine in the neck. She immediately fell to the floor. It had severed an artery. There was no hope for her. Preston was kneeling over her, crying and screaming, ‘What did you do?’ Vittie panicked. He shot Preston.
“He called me, told me what happened and said we have to hide the bodies or something. I came up with the idea of burning the house down and destroying all the evidence.” Stanley shrugged. “I thought it was a good plan; it should have worked. I didn’t expect the fire department to get there that fast. They doused the fire before it got to the back of the house.” Stanley spread his hands. “That’s the whole story. It was never meant to happen. But it did, and by then it was too late.”
EPILOGUE
Five copies of the Sunday Tribune lay on the coffee table in the Gold apartment. The forty-eight-point headline read: ZIELINSKI, THIRTEEN OTHERS INDICTED. The sub-headline read: CONGRESSMAN CHARGED WITH DOUBLE MURDER. Beneath the headlines was the following byline: “Exclusive to the “Tribune, Miriam Gold, Staff Reporter.”
“Pulitzer stuff,” Nathan said. “Your series will run all week in the Trib and be syndicated nationally. I always knew you’d be a famous writer!”
“Cut it out,” she said.
Ruth picked up the paper and shook her head. “I still can’t believe that Vittie killed his daughter.”
“According to Stanley, it was an accident,” Mimi said. “Vittie loved Chrissie; I know he did.”
“Damn shame,” Ruth said. “At least they’ll all stand trial for what they did.”
Mimi’s lips were quivering. “It won’t bring her back, Mom.”
Ruth put her arm around Mimi. “But they’ll all get what’s coming to them.”
“All but Maximilian,” Eli said. “He never gets what’s coming to him. He gave the prosecutors all the evidence they’ll need to convict Vittie and the crooked contractors. He detailed twenty years of criminal conduct, and for that he gets a sweet deal.”
“Just like he did in Germany,” Mimi said.
Eli nodded. “In exchange for his cooperation and testimony at the defendants’ trials, he’ll get a substantial reduction in sentence. I suppose there’s a possibility that he’ll die in prison, but I’d never bet against Maximilian. That snake has a way of reappearing.”
“Attorney Berman said there will be significant jail time. I think the world is rid of Maximilian Poleski. Eli, you kept your final promise. After all those years, you brought him to justice.”
Grandma came out of the kitchen with a plate of baked goods. “Enough talk about those nasty criminals. I baked a cake and some cookies to celebrate Mimi’s exclusive series. Our star reporter.”
“What do you have there?” Eli said with a smile. “Is that what I think it is?”
Grandma nodded. “Babka.”
Eli raised his eyebrows. “With raspberries?”
“And a little whiskey.”
Eli and Mimi locked eyes. “A bisselah?” she said.
“Aye,” Eli said, and they each took a pinch off the bottom of the cake.
* * *
During coffee and cake, Mimi said to Eli, “So I suppose you’ll be giving up your apartment now and returning to Washington?”
“I’m afraid so, but not without some regret. During the last year, I’ve really come to enjoy living here in Albany Park, and especially in your building. You, your mother and your grandmother are special people to me, but I have to get back. Washington’s been my home since 1949.”
“We’ll miss you. I’ll miss you, Eli. I’ll miss our talks. I’ll miss your wisdom. You’ve been a good friend and a comfort to me.”
“Oh, you’ll not be rid of me so easily. I’ll have to return from time to time for the trials. And later this spring, you, your mother and your grandmother will come to Washington as our guests.”
“We will?”
“You most certainly will; I insist. The director would like to thank you personally and present you with official recognition for your exceptional service. I wouldn’t be surprised if the ceremony took place at the White House.”