Monkey See, Monkey Die Read online

  As I stepped onto the massive porch, I noticed that the three white wicker chairs grouped around a small round table looked brand new, as if no one had even sat in them yet. I also got a better look at the baskets of brightly colored flowers hanging from the eaves. While from afar they looked as if they were made of straw, they turned out to be plastic.

  At least the flowers are real, I thought. But when I reached up and touched the petals, I discovered that they, too, were fake.

  I rang the bell and listened to it echo through the house, a sign that the interior was likely to be on as large a scale as the exterior. Somehow, the sound struck me as lonely, as if there was too much room inside for too few people.

  I expected a relative to answer the door, a member of either Ben’s or Erin’s family who had rushed over as soon as the bad news spread. Instead, Ben himself answered.

  He looked pretty much the way I remembered him, with a few years tacked on. His black hair, once shaggy, was now neatly trimmed, and tiny laugh lines were carved into the tanned skin around his eyes. His build was still lean, although the barest beginnings of a potbelly protruded through his beige knit polo shirt.

  He stared at me for what seemed like an awfully long time, his forehead creased and his eyes clouded with confusion. I could practically hear the wheels turning in his head.

  I was about to tell him my name and remind him that we’d gone to vet school together when he gasped, “Jessie? Jessie Popper?”

  “That’s right, Ben. I’m surprised you recognize me after all these years.”

  “You’ve hardly changed! Boy, it is good to see a familiar face.” He hesitated, then leaned forward and hugged me.

  I hugged him back, expecting that we’d both let go after a second or two. Instead, he tightened his grip and buried his face in my shoulder. As his own shoulders began to shake, I realized he was sobbing.

  “Oh, Ben!” I cried, letting the tears I’d been fighting to hold back fall too. “I’m so sorry!”

  “God, Jessie,” he wailed. “How could this happen? It doesn’t make any sense! I—I just can’t seem to process it.”

  Since I had nothing wise to say—and in fact felt exactly the same way—I simply hugged him tighter. “I’m so, so sorry,” I whispered.

  When he finally pulled away, he avoided looking me in the eye. “Anyway,” he mumbled, “why don’t you come in?”

  Sniffing loudly, he rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. I was tempted to pull a tissue out of my purse and hand it to him, but I was afraid of embarrassing him even further.

  I stepped inside, noting that just as I expected, everything inside the house was on as grand a scale as it was on the outside. The foyer was tremendous, with an ornate chandelier hanging from a high ceiling and a gleaming black-and-white marble floor. A sleek, narrow table made of dark, lustrous wood lined one wall, teetering on elaborately carved legs. Perched in the center was a huge bouquet of pastel-colored flowers.

  Probably silk, I figured. But still fake.

  Through a high, elegant archway, I could see the living room, so expansive that it dwarfed the foyer. I expected to see a crowd of relatives and friends gathered there. But there was no one occupying the pair of long snow-white couches that sat face-to-face, blending so well with the wall-to-wall carpeting that they were almost impossible to see.

  In fact, there were no signs of life, making me feel as if I was touring a model house. The huge fireplace was immaculate, a sign that it had never been used. Even more surprisingly, there was absolutely no clutter—no magazines, no photographs, not even any of the veterinary journals that at my place seemed to multiply when nobody was looking.

  My impression remained the same as when I’d studied the house from the outside. I saw few signs here of the Ben and Erin I’d known at school. In fact, the interior looked as if every inch had been designed by a decorator, one who didn’t have a clue about who her clients really were.

  I did spot one exception: a few animal-theme touches that seemed to have been added to the room’s sterile furnishings as an afterthought. Framed prints that from where I stood looked like etchings of lions and hippos and zebras hung on the wall behind the baby grand piano. A large ceramic tiger crouching next to the fireplace snarled menacingly. And the throw pillows on the couches, which at first glance appeared to be made of fabric with a leaf pattern, also had the faces of exotic animals hidden in the design.

  “We can sit in here,” Ben offered, leading me inside.

  Frankly, I was afraid to step on the white rugs, much less park my butt on those white cushions. This didn’t exactly impress me as a room made for hanging out with your feet on the couch and bowls of chips and dip on the glass-topped coffee table.

  “I’m really glad you came by, Jessie,” Ben said as he perched on one of the couches. Forcing a smile, he added, “Can I get you anything to drink? Or eat?”

  “I’m fine,” I assured him, gingerly lowering myself onto the couch opposite his. I realized I should have had the presence of mind to show up with an offering in hand, at the very least a tray of cookies or a basket of fruit. After all, that was common protocol in situations like this one. And given the fact that Ben seemed so completely alone in this big, empty house, I wished I’d done something that would make it feel more like a home.

  “The members of my family are going to be descending at any minute,” he said, almost as if he’d read my mind. “Erin’s family too. I’m actually glad to have a chance to catch my breath before this place becomes totally chaotic. I can’t begin to imagine what the next few days are going to be like.”

  “I’m sure it’ll be reassuring to have other people around,” I commented. “Where are all your relatives coming from?”

  “Erin’s parents live upstate, in a small town outside of Rochester,” he replied, his voice strained. “A bunch of her aunts and uncles are coming too. They’re all flying down this afternoon. Her sister got here about an hour ago. She lives close by, in Oyster Cove. She went out to get some food.

  “And my folks are driving down,” he continued. “In fact, they should be here any minute.”

  “It sounds as if they live pretty close,” I observed.

  “Westchester County. Bedford Hills, where I grew up.”

  I was surprised that he not only named one of the most exclusive suburban areas in the New York metropolitan area, but that he also singled out one of its wealthiest communities. I’d only driven through Bedford Hills a few times, but I remembered tremendous estates set amidst green rolling hills, barricaded with high fences designed to keep out the riffraff. I also seemed to recall that the upscale community’s residents included Martha Stewart, Ralph Lauren, and Chevy Chase.

  Realizing that Ben had grown up wealthy made my memories of his hang-loose persona in vet school seem even more incongruous.

  Then again, he wouldn’t have been the first young man to rebel against his parents’ values, I thought. Nor would he be the first to embrace them once he started making some money of his own.

  “This is quite a place you’ve got here,” I said, deliberately keeping my comments about his home sweet home ambiguous. I hoped that bringing up the topic would enable me to find out more about how he and Erin had come to live in such an unlikely setting.

  “Thanks,” he said, smiling sincerely for the first time since I’d walked in. “I love it. I—we—just moved in a few months ago.” With a little laugh, he added, “Believe it or not, I actually had to talk Erin into buying this place. She wasn’t convinced it was right for us. But I figured we might as well enjoy the fact that we’d both finally started making good money. We’ve got a built-in swimming pool with a Jacuzzi out back. A fitness room, too, right in the basement. It even has a sauna.”

  I was taken aback by his sudden show of pride in his real estate holdings. But I told myself that under circumstances like these, there was no telling how someone would react.

  “What have you been up to, career-wise?” I asked, figur
ing it wasn’t a bad idea to steer the conversation toward more neutral subjects.

  “I guess you didn’t know that Erin and I went into practice together a few years ago. Just a few miles away in Earlington.”

  “I remember that at our five-year reunion you and Erin were talking about the two of you setting up a practice together,” I said. “But I had no idea it was here on Long Island.”

  I mentally kicked myself for having been so wrapped up in my own life over the past few years that I hadn’t made a greater effort to keep track of which of my friends and acquaintances from vet school had moved to the New York area. If I’d reconnected with Erin sooner, maybe she would have confided in me about whatever was bothering her long before and none of this would have happened.

  “You know us Type A personalities,” Ben said with a chuckle. “Doing just one thing is never enough.”

  Funny, I thought, I don’t remember Ben being a Type A personality at all. In fact, I remember him as Type B—as in B for beer.

  During our first year at Cornell, he’d become famous as the guy who could always be counted on to order a keg for a T.G.I.F. celebration. And more often than not, his carousing had continued into the wee hours, long after the rest of us had gone home to bed so we could get up early Saturday morning to study.

  At least until he’d paired off with Erin. She had seemed to have a sobering effect on him—both literally and figuratively. While Ben had probably been attracted to her initially because of her beauty, it was almost as if the beauty of her spirit was so strong that even he had been affected by it.

  Still, the relationship had changed her too. Most noticeably, instead of the hippie-style clothing she had favored, she began dressing more conservatively, trading in her quirky ethnic clothing for tailored pants and crisp blouses. Both of them seemed to move away from the extremes, toward a more central and more comfortable place.

  “What else have you been up to?” I asked, genuinely curious.

  “Believe it or not, I am now the part owner of a chain of pet stores all over the New York metropolitan area,” Ben announced. I couldn’t tell if it was my imagination or if his chest actually puffed up.

  Aha, I thought. So that explains the sudden wealth. Ben moved beyond veterinary medicine, which most people pursue out of a love of animals, into the considerably more lucrative world of business.

  “Maybe you’ve seen them,” he went on proudly. “They’re called the Pet Empawrium. You know, spelled e-m-p-a-w-r-i-u-m. We sell everything from the pets to all the supplies an owner could possibly need. We have eleven stores in New York and New Jersey, including five here on Long Island.”

  “I’ve seen one,” I said. “In Pine Hollow, right?”

  “That’s right. That was the second one we opened. The first was in Burntwood.” The more he talked, the more excited he became. His eyes took on a shine, making him look more like the twenty-two-year-old I remembered from our first year of vet school than the man he was today. “It’s been a ton of work, keeping up with the practice during the week and then working on the business all weekend. During the start-up phase, Don and I were busy twenty-four/seven. That’s Donald Drayton, my business partner. We pretty much did everything ourselves, from putting up Sheetrock to stocking the shelves. But it’s been worth it. I mean, just look at this place! There’s no way I—we—would have been able to afford a house like this without the business!”

  “It sounds as if it’s been very . . . rewarding.”

  “Extremely. And I wasn’t planning to tell people about this,” he went on, “at least not yet, but a franchise company has approached us, asking if we’d be interested in—”

  “Hello?” a female voice called.

  A second or two later the front door slammed shut and a woman appeared in the doorway, lugging two grocery bags that looked ready to burst.

  “Kimberly! Let me help you with those.” Ben jumped up and rushed over to help. “Jessie, this is Erin’s sister, Kimberly. Kimberly, this is Jessie Popper, a friend of Erin’s and mine from vet school.”

  “Hello, Jessie,” Kimberly said, nodding in my direction.

  Now that Ben had identified her, I could see the resemblance. She had Erin’s brown eyes, and while she wore her hair cut above her shoulders, its coarse texture and its tendency to curl gave it the same wild look as her sister’s. Even though she was wearing loose-fitting khaki capris and her sleeveless pink blouse wasn’t tucked in, I could see she also had Erin’s slender frame, although she was considerably taller.

  “I’m so sorry about Erin,” I told her, once again struck by my helplessness. “I’m afraid we’d lost touch over the years.” I paused before adding, “But then she called me earlier today.”

  “What do you mean, she called you?” Ben froze, his arms still wrapped around the bags he’d taken from his sister-in-law.

  I glanced from one to the other, wondering how much to tell them.

  Ben was Erin’s husband, I reminded myself, and Kimberly was her sister. They both deserve to know the whole story.

  I took a deep breath.

  “Very early this morning,” I began uneasily, “around five-thirty, the phone rang. It was Erin. I was really caught off guard since she and I hadn’t talked since our last Cornell reunion, five years ago.”

  Ben and his sister-in-law exchanged surprised looks.

  “What did she say?” Kimberly asked, her eyes clouding.

  “She asked me to meet her as soon as I could. She said something was wrong and she wanted to talk to me about it.” I hesitated. “She sounded really upset. And she told me not to say anything to anybody. Ben, I was hoping you’d know what it was all about.”

  Kimberly and I both looked at him. I don’t know what I was expecting. A rush of words about something Erin had been worried about lately, perhaps, or some other explanation for the peculiar telephone call.

  Instead, Ben looked at me blankly. “Jessie, I have absolutely no idea what Erin might have been referring to.”

  “She wasn’t in any kind of trouble?” I asked.

  “Not at all. As a matter of fact, things were going really well.” He set the groceries down on the glass coffee table positioned between the two matching couches. “Not only has our practice been flourishing; she started doing some consulting at the New York Zoo a few months ago. She was really excited about that. She’s been working for a highly respected primatologist. Maybe you’ve even heard of her. Her name is Dr. Annalise Zacarias.”

  The name didn’t ring a bell. But I commented, “I had no idea she was even interested in exotics.”

  “The job was something she kind of fell into,” Ben explained. “Someone there gave her a call this winter, and she started going there two or three afternoons a week. The timing was great, too, since I’ve been so busy lately with the stores, I haven’t been around very much.”

  I couldn’t help wondering what effect their busy workload had had on their relationship. Choosing my words carefully, I observed, “It sounds pretty stressful. Both of you working so hard, I mean. I would think maintaining a schedule like that would put a real strain on any marriage. I mean, my boyfriend’s been in law school for the past year, and between him taking a full course load and me working crazy hours, we practically need to make an appointment to have dinner together. Not surprisingly, that’s created all kinds of tension between us.”

  Ben looked startled. “Not us! Things between Erin and me were perfect. Which makes what happened even more—”

  Before he had a chance to finish his sentence, his cell phone rang.

  “Sorry,” he said, grimacing. “I’d better take this. . . . Hello? Yes, I can hear you, Uncle Wayne. Where are you?”

  As he launched into a description of the best route from the airport to the house, I picked up one of the bags of groceries. “Let’s get these into the kitchen,” I whispered to Kimberly.

  I followed her toward the back of the house, braced for a kitchen that looked like something out of a d
esign magazine—one along the lines of Ostentatious Home or Better Mansions and Gardens. Yet I was still taken aback, not only by its size but also by how luxuriously it was appointed. It had a stove that looked big enough for a restaurant kitchen, three sinks, and two humongous Sub-Zero refrigerators with stainless steel doors. Granite counters that stretched on endlessly were dotted with so many small appliances that even my ever-growing collection suddenly seemed horribly inadequate.

  A pair of French doors behind the built-in breakfast nook opened onto the pool Ben had mentioned. It looked large enough to host the Olympics. Dotting the edges were several pieces of wrought-iron lawn furniture, round tables with umbrellas, and lounge chairs sporting canvas cushions in splashy colors. Two blue-and-white-striped cabanas stood off to one side—the perfect place for slipping into one’s two-hundred-dollar Burberry bikini.

  “Is there anything I can help you with?” I asked Kimberly as I set my grocery bag down next to a machine that apparently not only brewed coffee and espresso and steamed milk for cappuccino but also ground the coffee beans.

  “As a matter of fact, it would be great if you could give me a hand with putting all this food out.” She cast me a sad smile, then added, “As you can imagine, I’m not exactly at my best right now.”

  “I’d be happy to do whatever you need.”

  “The hordes of relatives are going to be arriving shortly. I should probably put all these cold cuts and salads I just bought on platters and leave them out so people can help themselves.”

  It was only when I went over to start unpacking the groceries that I saw that Kimberly’s eyes were rimmed in red and underscored by circles as dark as charcoal smudges. Still, I was surprised by how well she seemed to be holding up. She’d been amazingly organized, even remembering to pick up basics like mustard and mayonnaise in case there were none in the house.

  “It’s too bad you have to deal with feeding everybody,” I commented as I began pulling the lids off plastic deli containers and dumping their contents into the large glass bowls I’d pulled out of a cabinet.