Mistaken Identity

“I thought you might come, when it was over. I didn’t know you’d get here before I left. I was hoping you wouldn’t.” Winslow turned slightly, and Be

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“South.” Winslow eased his glasses up his long nose with an index finger, its nail dirty.

“Is that all you’re taking?” She was thinking of the clippings, and the note from her mother. Had he even noticed it was gone?

“I must keep packing, if you don’t mind. My books.” He walked to the bookshelf and ran his fingertips over the books’ spines. He stopped when he got to one, tapped it thoughtfully, and slid it off the shelf. Then he went to the box and eased the book into it, spine up. “I must take as many of my books with me as possible.”

“Is this a vacation or what?”

“No, I just came off one of those, though it wasn’t much of a respite, was it?” Winslow smiled tightly, though his voice remained curiously humorless. “You won the case.”

“Yes, I did. How did you know that?”

“I was there.”

“Where?” Be

Winslow returned to the bookshelf, the second shelf this time, and after a brief examination, selected a volume and walked back to the cardboard box with it. “That’s why I put Alice onto you,” he said, without looking up from his task. “I knew you’d win.”

“How did you know that? I didn’t know I’d win.”

“Oh, I know all about you. You and Alice. I take care of you both.”

“You do?” Be

“I take care of my girls. I step in when I’m needed.”

His girls? Be

“Yes, quite right.” Winslow peered at the shelf and slid out a book, then put it back. “No, not Robert Pe

“My mother left you.”

“A long time ago.” Winslow picked a book off the shelf, rubbed nonexistent dust from the cloth cover with his fingertips, then brought the volume back to the box. “Only room for one more.”

“Why would she do that?”

“Seemed to think I wouldn’t make a good father. Always told me that.” He snorted softly, his head bent as he wedged the book into the box. He had a growing bald spot and his hair, once blond, had thi

“Was she right?”

“Ask her.”

The statement, coldly delivered, struck bone. “You know I can’t do that,” Be

“No, and so you’ll never know. It’s a lot more complicated than you think, not that it matters now.” Winslow straightened up, went back to the bookshelf, and removed one more book. He seemed to know which one he wanted, and he placed it in the box with an attention Be

“I think it matters. I want to know. How could my mother give up a child? How did she do it, even, and how could you let her? Why didn’t you fight for us, or at least take Alice?”

“You’ve made a success of yourself, and Alice is out of jail. All’s well that ends well. Help me with these books, would you? Pick the box up from your side and put it on the couch.” As if he hadn’t heard her, Winslow bent over and lifted the box, but Be

“Stop and answer me,” she said. The heavy box pulled at her shoulders, but she was strengthened by a bitterness she didn’t know she harbored. “Why didn’t you take Alice? Why didn’t you try to see us?”

“Give me my books.” Winslow stretched out his arms, callused palms up.

“Answer me first.”

“Give me my books.” His voice went stern and hard. “My books!”

“Here.” Be

When Winslow straightened, his face was red with effort. “You’re angry.”

“An understatement.”

“You expect me to justify myself,” he said, though his tone remained harsh. “You think I don’t care for you, or Alice.”

“Right. It’s a matter of fact, as the lawyers say. You weren’t there for us and you didn’t try to be.”

“You didn’t need me. You were doing fine. You never gave anyone any trouble. But Alice I had to watch more closely. She would fall in with the wrong men. I had to step in. When I was needed, I was there.”

“What do you mean?”

“When she was sixteen, there was a young man… well, I stepped in. I took care of her. She never knew it was me, I wasn’t looking for credit. I saw the situation that arose, and I dealt with it.”

“How?” Be

“The details aren’t your concern. I dealt with the situations that arose. When her most recent situation arose, I dealt with that, too.”

“What recent situation?” Be

“With that detective, that Della Porta. He was bad for Alice. A hypocrite, a thief. The worst of a bad lot.” Winslow shook his head righteously, but Be

“What are you saying?”

“I saw that Alice was falling in with Mr. Della Porta and those others. You were right about them. You figured it out. They were selling cocaine and they involved Alice in their dirty business. They corrupted her.”

Be

“I went to try to convince Mr. Della Porta to let Alice alone. He wouldn’t listen. He refused to let her go. He called me names. He called Alice filthy names, too. Filthy. He said she did horrible things, things I knew no daughter of mine could ever do.”

Be

“So I shot him. I didn’t plan to. There was no other way. He would have ruined her. He’d choke the life from her if I let him. Like a weed.”

Be

“Don’t let it upset you, child. He was destroying Alice. I had to take care of her. I’m her father.”

Be

“For Alice, I did it for Alice. To save her.”

“Save her? You put her on the hook.”

Winslow’s upper lip twitched slightly. “I didn’t know she’d be charged with the murder.”

Be

“That’s why I showed myself. Told her to call you. I knew you’d prove her i

“But what if I hadn’t?” Be

Winslow looked at her without batting an eye. “If you hadn’t won, I would have come forward. They wouldn’t have sent Alice to jail then.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? They wouldn’t have believed you. I barely believe you!”

“Oh, they would have believed me. I kept the gun. The murder weapon.”

The statement shocked Be

Winslow closed the box and looked to the window. “Too bad it’s dark outside, I’d show you my garden. The foxglove is in and the rudbeckia just blooming. It took decades to make that garden. It needed to be weeded, tended. Gardens, they need tending.”