Lover Child by Stephen Kronwith

Author:Stephen Kronwith
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Stephen Kronwith

Chapter 22

Thursday, January 9

Huntington, NY

7:10 PM

The door to Aaron Queen’s home had been left ajar to accommodate guests, so Joe, Helen, Papà and I entered. We found the son in the living room, sitting on one of those small wooden boxes. When he saw us enter, the man rose. There were currently only two other couples present.

Queen seemed to be in his mid-forties. He was slightly balding, and, it appeared, had inherited his mother’s bubbly personality. He greeted us, not knowing who we were, with a verve belying the occasion. I assumed this was his way of coping. On the other end of the spectrum, I, on my Mamma’s passing, had not been in the mood for any companionship, and my funereal mood lasted weeks.

Joe made the introductions.

“Mr. Queen, I’m Dr. Peck. This is my fiancé Angelica, my office manager Helen and our and your mother’s friend, Sammy Vivino. We’re so sorry for your loss.” And though Joe certainly was sorry, more so than the son probably appreciated, I still found the words, rote spoken by almost every mourner in the history of civilization, banally routine. Yeah, I’m just a joy to be around on all occasions, right? Hope Joe knows what he’s getting into with all my moods and often contrary opinions. But I put on my game face, or at least what I assumed was a proper mien for a respectful mourner, and the son thanked us all for coming.

“Yes, Doctor Peck. I’m sorry I didn’t get back to you and,” he turned to Helen, “answer your voicemails until late last night. It was obviously all a shock, and then came the added tasks of dealing with the police, the medical examiner, identifying mom’s body... and then, the funeral arrangements.”

“Please, Mr. Queen. There’s no need to apologize.” Joe quickly said. “You had a lot thrown at you all at once. We’re grateful you got back early enough so we could come and pay our respects. Except for Angelica, we all knew and loved your mother. I’ve told them and I’ll tell you—she was my favorite patient, and I was really looking forward to helping her regain her sight. Thought she was, too, which is why I find this all so inexplicable.”

The son nodded. “You and me, both, Doctor.” Then he turned to Papà. “So, you’re Sammy. My mother spoke of you often. You’ll be happy to know you were often a great comfort to her,”—that’s a way of putting it, I thought—“and she always spoke highly of your friendship, especially during those first dark months of the whole Madoff business. As I learned from her suicide note, that son-of-a-bitch is partially responsible for her death. He should burn in Hell!”

Sammy nodded. “Thank you for saying so, Mr. Queen. I was very fond of your mother. I just can’t believe she would have taken her life. You say she explained it in a note?”

I was surprised. Though certainly not an expert on police procedure, I would have thought the note would remain in evidence until the investigation was.

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