Death on a Silver Platter by Ellen Hart Page A

mirror. I wasn’t a young woman anymore. I don’t know why that came as such a shock. Maybe because, with Carl, I always felt young. The same young woman who’d fallen in love with him all those years ago. I tipped my head back slightly and watched the rain beat against the windshield. I assumed he’d let me know when he wanted to go back.
    When he finally did speak, it was as if his voice came from a distance. I looked over and realized for the first time that he’d been crying. His head was bent, tears streaming down his cheeks, his straight blond hair falling over his forehead, his big beautiful hands resting in his lap. I closed my eyes and turned away because the sight of him was breaking my heart.
    “When I was a child,” he began, “I wasn’t afraid of anything. As I got older, I saw that life could hurt me. No matter how strong I was, how hard I fought, I might not always win. But losing is a far cry from total ruin, Pearl. A very far cry.”
    Surely it wasn’t that bad, I thought. Surely something could be done to set matters right.
    He continued: “In a strange sort of way, there’s a certain solace in finally knowing the worst life can throw at you.”
    I was torn. Should I tell him I’d seen the note he’d been sent? Ask him who sent it? Ask him to explain what it meant? Would he think I was prying into his personal affairs? At this moment, did it matter? Without thinking, I reached over and touched his arm. I wanted to comfort him.
    He put his hand over mine and I felt the tenderness in the gesture.
    Carl said: “They say that touch is our first language. And that it’s the last sense to leave us.”
    He held my eyes. I couldn’t look away.
    “I’ve never stopped loving you. If only I’d married you instead of Millie—” He drew his hand away. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “I didn’t mean that. It sounds like I’m blaming you for my problems. I’m not, Pearl. I’d never do that.”
    I asked him what was wrong, pleaded with him to tell me.
    He wouldn’t answer. Instead, he sat back, his eyes following the rivulets of rain as they trickled down the glass.
    After a few more minutes of silence, I simply couldn’t take it any longer. I said, “I saw the note, Carl. The one the waiter gave you. I followed you to your office. I knew something was wrong. Something’s been wrong all evening.”
    “You were watching me?”
    I told him I was concerned.
    “Oh, God,” he said, pressing his hands to his face. “I could have dropped dead in front of Millie and she wouldn’t have noticed.”
    “You were waiting for that envelope, weren’t you. That’s why you seemed so nervous. After you left, I went in your office and took the note out of the trash. I looked at it, Carl. It was a letter, a symbol. But I don’t understand.” I couldn’t read his expression. “Are you angry? Say something.”
    “Pearl, let’s keep driving. We’ll go back to the Cities. Get on a plane and head south to the Keys, or west to Aspen. Anywhere, just to get away from this god-awful place. Let’s do it now. No bags. Just the clothes on our backs. Screw caution. Screw responsibility. For once, let’s live just for us.”
    “Are you asking me to leave my husband?”
    “Why not? You love me. Tell me that isn’t true and I’ll stop.”
    I couldn’t deny what he already knew.
    “We’ll build a new life together. I’ll love you so hard and so strong you’ll never have a moment’s regret. I’m a millionaire, Pearl. Anything’s possible. We could buy a yacht and sail around the world. Live like nomads. No ties. No pressure. Just sun and sea breezes. Just pleasure, Pearl. A dream life.”
    “But your children,” I said. “And Sophie? How could we leave them?”
    “God.” That’s when he broke down, started to cry. After a moment, he said, “We’ll bring them with us.”
    “Tonight?”
    “No, no,” he said, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiping his eyes. “I’ll hire