The Devil in Silver

In 1890 Vincent returned to Paris where he visited Theo, who had married a woman named Johanna. (The woman who would, really, take up the mantle of her husband and expose Vincent’s genius to the world.) There he also met Theo and Johanna’s first child, a son, named Vincent.

In May of 1890 Vincent left Paris. He went to Auvers to paint again.

On July 27, 1890, Vincent walked out into a field alone and shot himself in the chest with a revolver. (There have been rumors Vincent was shot by someone else and Vincent didn’t name names, allowed everyone to think his death was pure suicide. Is it true? The evidence is sketchy at best. But the bullet wound is no rumor, nor is its effect.) The bullet didn’t kill Vincent out in the field, so he dragged himself back to his home. A watch was kept as he lay in agonizing pain. Theo made it to town in time to see his brother still alive. On the morning of July 29, Vincent died of his wounds.

Of course now, over a century later, this end (and the death of Theo, from a complete breakdown six months later) is cast as some epic denouement. But imagine the article that might’ve run then. Or now. One that might’ve been creased and clipped by three (soon to be two) women late at night in the television lounge of Northwest. Maybe the headline would read this way: “Drifter Commits Suicide.”

But, really, something like that wouldn’t even be considered news.

31

PEPPER AND SUE fell asleep holding each other and stayed that way for another hour. Pepper woke first. To a familiar sound over his head. The faint creaking. Directly above their makeshift double bed. Over them.

Sue stretched next to him as she woke up. Even in the gray morning light she looked lovely to him. Who would’ve called either Pepper or Sue beautiful? Maybe his mother; her sister. Besides them? Just each other. Which was plenty right then.

“How long have you been awake?” Sue asked him.

“You hear that?” He pointed at the ceiling with his left hand.

She lay quietly. “I don’t know what I’m listening for.”

“Like a creaking sound. You don’t hear it?”

Sue shut her eyes. She pursed her lips tight so she wouldn’t breathe too loudly.

“I know that sound,” she said quietly.

As soon as she said that, the creaking stopped.

She opened her eyes. Pepper scanned the ceiling and she joined him. They lay there, vigilant, for quite a while. But the creaking didn’t return. Finally Pepper felt less fear and he remembered their talk from only hours ago. Pepper said, “What do you need, then?”

Sue looked at him, her mouth open with confusion.

“I was listening,” Pepper said. “What do you need now?”

Before she could even answer him, she just flushed with happiness that he’d asked the question. He’d heard her. She kissed him for that.

But, of course, that didn’t mean he could actually do anything. She wasn’t going to take him up on the offer of a prison break. Look how well the fugitive plan had worked out for her before. Anyway, she didn’t want to do that to Pepper. He’d come in to New Hyde with a local case, no need to leave with something federal. Besides, she didn’t really like being an outlaw. It was exhausting.

“I need my sister,” Sue said.

“So let’s get in touch with her.”

Sue said, “I’ve tried that. I called the number I had for her in Portland. Then I tried every number I could with my last name in the whole city. Do you know how many Hongs there are in Portland? Too many. But I never reached her. I think she must have left. And I don’t know where she might have moved to now.”

“Why would she leave?” Pepper asked. “Wasn’t she expecting you?”

“A year and a half ago. That’s when she expected me. She probably thinks I’m dead. Maybe she left Portland so she could forget me. If she did, I don’t blame her.”

And Sue really wouldn’t blame her sister. Sometimes hope just fades out. But that generosity, that pragmatism, didn’t make the next steps of Sue’s life any less frightening. The United States government would send her back to China, and maybe she’d find her aunt and uncle waiting at the airport. They’d see her, deep in a depression (compounded by great confusion if they didn’t supply her with her meds during the trip), and what would her aunt and uncle do for her? Think the United States has a bad way with the mentally ill? Holy shit, you better check out the rest of the world. Here’s what Sue could look forward to in China: arrive at the airport, likely be thrown into some kind of detention center, and someday she could look forward to dying. Any wonder the lady had turned tense?

Pepper was still focused on a solution. He said, “If she left Portland, where do you think she might go?”

“How would I know?”

“You know her. Think about her. Would she move east?”

She wanted to tear the lips off Pepper’s face right then, but she knew that anxiety, the anger, wasn’t about him. He was just talking things through. Why not humor him? “I think she’d stay out west. She liked it out there, except for the weather.”