say?"

"Not seriously, I don't mean that. Idoubt if they ever said two words to each other. But you know how young girlsare, dreaming about older men. He was the most successful man around, and Helenwas always very ambitious. It's funny, she blamed her father for being afailure, which he isn't. But when she finally got around to marrying she had topick Bert Haggerty, and he's a failure if there ever was one."

She was talking much more freely, but herloquacity tended to fly off in all directions. It was natural enough. Herdaughter's murder had dropped a depth charge into her life.

"Assume there is a connection,"I said, "between Helen's death and the Deloney shooting—do you have anynotion what it could be?"

"No, she must have been imagining things. She wasalways a great one for that."

"But she said she knew a witness who saw Deloneyshot by someone else?"

"She was talking foolishness."

"Why?"

"You mean why would she say suchthings to her father? To get under his skin. There was always bad blood betweenthem, from the time that Hoffman first raised his hand to her. Once they gotarguing, there wasn't anything she wouldn't say."

"Did she name the witness?"

"How could she? There was no suchperson. Her father challenged her to mention a name. She admitted that shecouldn't, that she was just talking."

"She admitted it?"

"She had to. Hoffman made her. Butshe never took back the hard words she spoke to him."

"Is it possible that Helen herselfwas the witness?"

"That's crazy and you know it. Howcould she be a witness to something that never happened?" But there was ashrill edge on her certitude.

"Deloney's dead, remember. So is she. It tends toconfirm the things she told her friends before she died."

"About Bridgeton, you mean?"

"Yes."

She lapsed into silence again. Below theharbor cities we entered the fog zone. I was afraid of running into a pileupand I slowed down. Mrs. Hoffman kept looking back as if she could feelBridgeton catching up.

"I hope Hoffman isn't drinking,"she said after a while. "It isn't good for his blood pressure. I'll blamemyself if anything happens to him."

"One of you had to come outhere."

"I suppose so. Anyway Bert is withhim and whatever else he may be Bert is no drunk."

"Helen's ex-husband is staying withher father?"

"Yes. He came over from Maple Parkthis morning and drove me to the airport. Bert's a good boy. I shouldn't callhim a boy, he's a grown man in his forties, but he always seems younger than heis."

"Does he teach at Maple Park?"

"That's right, only he hasn't got hisdegree. He's been working on it for years. He teaches journalism and English,and he helps put out the school paper. He used to be a newspaperman, that washow Helen met him."

"When she was nineteen?"

"You have a good memory. You andHoffman would get along. Hoffman's middle name is memory. There was a timebefore we got our wartime expansion when he knew every building in Bridgeton.Every factory, every warehouse, every residence. Pick any house on any streetand he could tell you who built it and who owned it. He could tell you wholived there and who used to live there and how many children they had and howmuch income and anything else you wanted to know about them. I'm notexaggerating, ask any of his fellow officers. They used to predict great thingsfor him, but he never made it higher than Lieutenant."

I wondered why the great things hadn'tmaterialized. She gave me a kind of answer, which I suspected was more of alegend than a fact:

"Helen got her memory from him. Theywere more alike than either of them admitted. And they were crazy about eachother, under all the trouble there was between them. It broke his heart whenHelen left home and never wrote. He never asked about her, either, but he did alot of brooding. He was never the same man again."

"Did she marry Bert Haggerty rightaway?"

"No, she kept him dangling for fiveor six years. He was away in the army part of that time. Bert did well in thewar—a lot of men did well in the war that never did so well before or since—andhe was full of confidence for a while. He was going to write a book, start hisown newspaper, take her to Europe on their honeymoon. They did get to Europe,on the G. I. Bill—I gave them part of the money to make the trip—but that wasall that ever came of his plans. He never could settle down to any one thing,and when he finally did it was too late. Last spring they came to the partingof the ways. I didn't like it, but I can hardly blame her. She always didbetter than he did, from the time that they were married. And one thing I'llsay for Helen, she always had class."

"I agree."

"But maybe she should have stuck withBert. Who knows? Maybe this wouldn't have happened. I sometimes think that anyman is better than no man at all."

Later, as we were entering Pacific Point,she said: "Why couldn't Helen marry an upstanding husband? It's funny. Shehad brains and looks and class, but she never could attract an upstandingman."

I could feel her eyes on my profile,trying to chart the lost continent of her daughter's life.

© Alexander Sviyash, 2009