Gone But Knot Forgotten Read Free

than eaten in front of someone else. She communicated through food. If any guest of Bubbie’s refused to eat, she coaxed, cajoled, and wheedled until he gave in. Just a small sliver. You need your strength. What. You don’t like my cooking? It worked every time.
    Nina slipped quietly out of the office and I waited until Abernathy had washed down the food with more wine.
    â€œWhat happened to Nathan?”
    He wiped his mouth with a cocktail napkin and once again his hand trembled. Maybe he suffered a neurological problem.
    â€œAbout two years after the boy’s death, Nathan disappeared. Must’ve been the guilt. He left behind a note saying he intended to go back out to sea, to the place where Jonah died and join his son. We never found his body.”
    I thought about all the episodes of Cold Case Files on TV. “What if he didn’t kill himself? What if he just wanted to run away?”
    â€œNaturally, we thought of that and hired detectives to search for him. But Nathan Oliver vanished. After seven years, without a trace, and on the strength of his suicide note, we had him declared legally dead.”
    â€œWhat about her parents?” Herschel and Lilly Gordon, both Holocaust survivors, had been older when Harriet and her brother, David, were born. They avoided mentioning the aunts, uncles, and cousins who died in the camps. And like most survivors, they were overprotective.
    â€œBoth dead. No other living relatives.”
    â€œWell, what about friends? A social life?” When we were teenagers, Harriet often spent the night at my house. She rummaged through my closet, changed into my torn jeans and leg warmers, and—unbeknownst to her parents—we hung out with our friends at the mall.
    Abernathy shook his head. “Harriet became a recluse. She seldom left her home and rarely received visitors.”
    My heart squeezed in pain at the thought of Harriet’s devastating losses and her self-imposed isolation.
    â€œDid she say why she chose me to be her executor?”
    Abernathy spread his hands and shrugged. “Up until he disappeared, Harriet made her husband, Nathan, the executor. Then she selected her father until his death ten years ago. After that, she named her college roommate, Isabel Casco. Two years ago, Harriet changed her will again and appointed you.”
    â€œYou said you handled her financial affairs. How could she lay in her house for ten months without anybody knowing? With no one to pay the bills, didn’t the overdue warnings from the utility companies raise a red flag?”
    â€œGood questions. All her household bills were sent directly to our office. We routinely sent out monthly payments. As far as we knew, nothing raised a flag.” Abernathy popped a small slice of baguette, topped with an olive tapenade, in his mouth. “You sure you won’t try one of these? You’re missing out.”
    Did nothing spoil this man’s appetite?
    I cleared my throat. “No, thanks. I hate to bring this up while you’re eating, but I can’t help wondering why the neighbors didn’t detect a foul odor coming from the house.”
    He put his small plate of tapas back on the table.
    Maybe he does have limits .
    â€œYeah, I wondered that too. But, as the coroner explained, Harriet’s house stood on a large lot. Any odor would dissipate long before reaching the surrounding homes. And her location inside the house, well, not much of the smell would’ve traveled outdoors.”
    â€œWhere was she?”
    â€œUpstairs off the master bedroom inside a windowless walk-in closet. The worst odor would’ve been pretty much confined.”
    My stomach lurched. I tried not to think about the poor cop who first entered Harriet’s closet. “Had anything been stolen? Could she have been killed by an intruder?”
    Abernathy shifted his weight forward and studied me intently. His frown deepened the creases between his