by Elaine Macko
“You didn’t carry all that beer from Belgium to Boston and now here, did you?” my father, Harry Harris asked.
Gerard gave a hearty laugh. “Mais non! John and I stopped at your wonderful International Market store yesterday to purchase the beer, but the cookies, bien sûr, they are from Brussels from a store off of the Grand Place that has been making them for over a century.”
My grandmother squeezed through the group and took Gerard’s hand. “Last year you saved my granddaughter and her husband. I just wanted to say thank you. She means the world to me. And John, too.
“Thanks, Meme,” John said, giving my grandmother a hug. My husband was crazy about Meme.
“It was my pleasure, Meme, and your granddaughter is the one who discovered the identity of the murderer. She is quite a good detective.”
“And I hear they came up with a murder for your visit. A real doozy! Isn’t that a hoot. I’m pretty good at helping Alex, so if you need anything while you’re here, just ask. And Frances and Theresa like to help too. And our good friend Fred can drive the getaway car.”
“I will keep that in mind,” Gerard said kindly, giving me a wink.
My mother groaned in the background. “Don’t pay any attention to her, Gerard. And Mother, keep out of it.”
While the men went out to the yard where my father had the grill waiting, we women gathered in the kitchen, as always seemed to be the case. I don’t know if it was a woman thing or a New England thing, but the kitchen was just where life seemed to happen. At least in my family.
My mother and Marla took up positions at the counter, cutting up the ingredients for a tossed salad, while the rest of us took a seat around the large maple kitchen table.
“Where were you two yesterday?” my sister asked.
“I bet they were working the case,” Meme cackled. “And a gun shot. Just like the movies right here in our little town.”
“You are right, Meme,” Annie began before I could stop her. “Alex and I interviewed many people who may have had a motive for killing Mr. Spiegel. It is very exciting. I now understand my husband’s passion for his work. I think I will take more of an interest in what he does when we get home and perhaps he will let me help. And if not, I will still offer my opinion!”
I looked over at my mother. Her chopping had become more manic. Knowing her the way I do, she probably hoped with Annie visiting my sleuthing would be put on hold. Au contraire! I had found a true soul mate in Annie Willix.
“Why am I not surprised,” my mom said, as she whacked a head of lettuce with a cleaver that was probably better suited to a side of beef. “We’ve had blunt force trauma, poison, a stabbing. We’ve even had death by smoke, and our latest, a pickle. So it was only a matter of time before we had a gun. And of course my daughter just has to get involved. Again.” She gave a wedge of lettuce a fierce blow.
The room was silent and Annie gave me a look of apology.
“Mable, you sure know how to liven up a party. Don’t be such a worrywart. This time she’s got Annie to help her.”
“And me,” Shirley said, as she came into the kitchen. “Henry let me in.”
My mother gave a glance at tiny Annie, and then she looked at Shirley, who she knew carried a gun. My mother made the sign of the cross. “I give up. I really do.”
“I’m sorry that man was killed and his wife has my deepest sympathy, but do you know she had the nerve to come to our house yesterday afternoon,” Judith said, while she munched on a carrot stick.
“Alex, Mrs. Spiegel wants me to have a bat mitzvah. What the hell?” Millie said, with a shake of her head. “She said I should start by going to Shabbat prayer services, and she even found a synagogue nearby. She said it would be nice for me to meet my sister, Andrea, and I should go over to the hotel tomorrow and get acquainted. That lady was upsetting my grandmother and my mom finally had to ask her to leave.”
Judith reached over and gave Millie a hug. “Millie, she’s upset about her husband dying and she’s trying to make some sense out of all this. I promise you she is not your mother.”
“Then why do you have light hair and I have dark hair like her?”
“You have your father’s hair,” Judith said in a soothing voice.
“Millie, Annie and I talked with three other women yesterday who were also contacted by Mr. Spiegel. One of them looked a lot like Mrs. Spiegel and the other two not so much, but my point is, he was grasping at straws.”
“Okay, Alex, but the fact remains that their daughter, Andrea, is not their biological daughter, so something happened at the hospital. He didn’t make that up. Andrea is not his biological child.”
Marla looked over at Millie from her position at the counter where she was cutting up a cucumber. “Millie, you’re an adult. I don’t think Mrs. Spiegel has any legal right to have you take a DNA test. If I were you, I would ignore the entire thing and just forget about the Spiegels. I don’t know what that woman thinks she will accomplish. She has a daughter, a life. I say let it rest. She’ll be going back to Georgia or South Carolina or wherever soon enough.”
“But what about the Spiegels’ daughter,” Sam said. “What if she wants to know who her real mom is?”
“It’s like Marla just said, all the parties are adults. Would the courts be able to force anyone to have tests? Does it matter at this point?” Frances said in her wonderful British accent. She was the newest addition to my grandmother’s group. I had met her while working my first murder case. She had been the victim’s neighbor and had been devastated at the loss of her friend. I thought she would get along great with Meme and it would help her get over her grief. The pairing had worked beautifully.
“I have no idea,” Shirley said, “but what about inheritance. What if Mr. Spiegel is leaving a very large estate behind? Does their daughter Andrea have a legal right to anything or does it all go to his biological child? If one of the women or their families got wind of the fact that the man had a ton of money, well, that’s motive right there.”
“And does he have a ton of money?” my sister asked, first looking at Shirley and then me.
I shrugged and glanced at Shirley.
“I don’t have a clue. I can see what I can find out and get back to you.”
“This is a mess,” I said. Shirley was right. What were the legal implications for any inheritance?
“Maybe all the women can sign something saying they don’t want any part of anything from the Spiegels, let Andrea have it all, and forget any of this ever happened. Get back to their lives and leave it be.”
“If only it could be that simple, Meme. If it turns out there is money involved, we just might have a fight over who wants to be the Spiegels’ rightful heir,” I said. “And of course one of them may very well have killed the man.”
Millie crossed her arms. “Well, leave me out of it. I don’t want any of his money.”
“I say you all stay out of it. Let John and Gerard handle it.” My mother tossed some croutons into the salad bowl.
My grandmother clapped her hands together. “Let’s get a little action going. My money’s on Alex and Annie and Shirley.”
“Me, too,” both Theresa and Frances said.
“I can’t believe you’re betting on a murder.” My mother gave Meme a stern look.
“We’re not betting on a murder, Mable. The guy’s already dead. All I’m saying is that before any of this can be cleared up, the murderer needs to be found, and Alex will find that person before John and Gerard.”
The room went silent again. My mother stood at the counter looking at the table full of women, her eyes finally resting on me, and shaking her head.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” she said, and then thrust a knife into a tomato.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“Where to first?” Annie asked the minute the guys left the house.
I was so anxious for them to leave I actually told John to take Gerard to a donut shop for breakfast. Of course, I had my standar
ds. I didn’t just send them anywhere. I told them to go to Marzulla’s, the best Italian bakery ever. They also made delicious donuts and were indeed a hit with the local police force. Cops and donuts. I had to smile.
“I want to talk with the last family on the list, and then we can head out to Port Chester and see what Mr. Perry has to say about the fight. I asked Shirley to see if she could find out anything about him and she told me yesterday that there wasn’t much. He comes off as an arrogant twit on his Facebook page, and after he was fired he put out some nasty comments on Twitter. He didn’t mention Sheldon Spiegel by name, but Shirley said he made several references to an old guy not knowing anything about sub base course, whatever the heck that means.”
“It seems this man might still have issues with Mr. Spiegel,” Annie said.
“Maybe. I hope we can catch him at home. We got lucky on Saturday finding most people home, but today might be a different story.”
“Gerard hasn’t said much about the other women. It’s odd, no, that the police seem to be concentrating on the brother and this man in New York.”
“It is odd, and it makes me wonder if John knows something more that he’s not telling us, or if he just doesn’t think a switched baby is motive enough to kill.”
I finished tidying up the kitchen and then Annie and I headed out. I needed to make a couple of stops before we drove to the next family. One of them was getting gas. I don’t use my car much, but since Annie arrived, we had been driving quite a bit.
We stopped at a station not far from my home and while I filled my car, I couldn’t stop thinking about how I would feel if I had a child and found out it wasn’t really mine. Would it change anything? Of course, I didn’t have any children, but I had Kendall and Henry. I loved them both tremendously, and if my sister told me tomorrow that they had been switched, it wouldn’t change anything at all. I had spent last Saturday taking Kendall shopping and then out to lunch, and what a wonderful little girl she was. And Henry, well, Henry was something else. Wild and fun and full of life. No, if I found out they had been switched and had other biological parents it wouldn’t matter one little bit. I would fight anyone who tried to take them away. Maybe even kill, but I didn’t want to go there.
And that’s why I felt so strongly that this is what was behind the murder of Mr. Spiegel. Not some fight with a colleague, not some long ago problems with his brother, but someone’s fear that Mr. Spiegel would take their child. But these six women weren’t children anymore. I was about to abandon my theory, but the more I thought about it, it didn’t matter. To their parents they were children, and parents would fight no matter the age to protect their child. Look at my own mother. She never stopped worrying about me. Granted, I tended to get mixed up in some scary stuff, but my mother would worry about me and give me her two cent’s worth for the rest of my life. I was lucky.
“You are deep in thought, Alex,” Annie said when I got back into the car.
“Just thinking about possible motives and whether we are off base.”
Annie shook her head quickly. “No, I do not think so. When it comes to one’s child, no matter their age, if a parent feels that child, that relationship, is in jeopardy, it would be cause for something drastic. Even murder. We will keep looking and asking questions, but it will come back to this. I am sure.”
After a couple more errands we were finally on our way. I exited the turnpike in Norwalk and took the first left, following the instructions to the Newman home that Annie had brought up on her phone. I probably needed to upgrade my old flip phone to one of these smart things, but then how many times did I need directions to suspects’ homes. And besides, I always carried a map tucked behind my seat.
I pulled up in front of a townhouse and turned the car off.
“Okay. This is the last family on the list. Hopefully, they’ll be willing to give us an address for their daughter so we can speak with her, too, or maybe she lives here with them. Then we’ll move our investigation on to Mr. Spiegel’s brother and Mr. Perry.”
The brick pathway leading to the front door had a few loose bricks and I stubbed the toe of my shoe on one. The townhouse was a middle unit and the homes on either side were well taken care of, but the Newman family didn’t seem to be big on yard maintenance.
I rang the bell and heard it sound inside. A moment later footsteps sounded and then the door opened.
“Good morning. Are you Rhoda Newman?” I asked of a woman in a pair of black sweat pants and a baggy flannel shirt.
“Yes, I’m Rhoda. Can I help you?”
I explained why we were there and asked if Mr. Spiegel had been to see her.
“Yes. He came by last Monday evening. I had just gotten home from work.”
“Would it be possible if we asked you a few questions?”
“I’m not sure what I can tell you. Plus, I’m waiting for a repairman, which is why I’m not at work right now, and he should be here any minute.”
“It won’t take long. We’ve talked with all the other women involved, and the parents, and I’m trying to get some perspective on why this man came to my office and then got killed. I’ve helped the police before with a couple of murders in Indian Cove, and my husband is the detective on the case.” I stopped short because what else could I tell her. That I was there with the full blessing of one John Van der Burg? No, that might get back to him and then I’d really be in trouble.
“It would only take a moment,” I heard Annie say next to me. “There are so many people involved and everyone, all these young women, are, how do you say in English, freaking out, that perhaps their parents are not their parents. We are just trying to help bring some peace to all the families involved.”
Sounded good to me. Annie and I stood there watching Rhoda Newman. If she turned us away, maybe Shirley would be able to help track down the daughter.
Rhoda took a step back and looked at us. “Okay. I can understand the families wanting to find some closure to all this. Come in. I was just boiling some water for tea. I have instant coffee if you prefer.”
“No, tea is perfect and thank you so much.” I gave Annie a quick smile and we followed Rhoda Newman inside and down a narrow hallway to a kitchen that looked like it hadn’t been updated since the townhouse was built, probably back in the eighties.
“Would it be possible to speak with your husband and daughter as well?” I asked.
Rhoda stood at the counter, her back to us, putting more water into the kettle. At the mention of her husband and daughter I noticed her back go ramrod straight, and she held the kettle while the faucet poured water into the sink. She turned the water off and placed the kettle back on the stove and turned to look at us.
“I’m divorced. It was a long time ago. He died about four years back. Liver problems from all the drinking.”
“I’m very sorry. I didn’t know that. Do you think your daughter would be willing to speak with us?”
Rhoda took some mugs from a cupboard and then placed them in front of Annie and me, and then she sat down across from us.
“I’m sorry. That won’t be possible. Erika died when she was three.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Rhoda Newman was average looking in every way except for the pain in her eyes. While we waited for her to continue I silently cursed the Internet. It was really a marvel, but sometimes, like now, it failed miserably. Why hadn’t it spit out the information that both Mr. Newman and Erika Newman were dead.
Rhoda picked up a paper napkin and started to slowly tear it into shreds. “It was a long time ago, Erika’s death. It’s what broke us apart. They say when two people lose a child it either brings them closer or tears them apart. It did the latter for us. Ira blamed me. The doctors said it was inherited, but he didn’t want to hear any of that. He said it was my fault and that was the end of it. It wasn’t something he was ever going to forgive me for, so he left. He tried to make a new life for himself, but drinking got the best of him. He went through another divorc
e and never did have any more children.”
The kettle whistled and Rhoda Newman got up and poured hot water in the mugs and then placed a small box of teabags on the table.
“And you, Mrs. Newman?”
I didn’t really have to ask. The pain in her eyes told me everything. This woman was stuck in time. She had never moved on after the death of her child. She sat there quietly, with absolutely no makeup and her lifeless dark brown hair pushed over her ears. I could tell she must have been quite pretty thirty years ago, but a hard life had taken its toll.
“We moved here shortly after she died. Neither one of us could stand to be in the little house where we were living a happy life. Ira moved out about a year later and I just stayed here. I’m the benefits manager for a firm in Stamford. I go to work and I come home. That’s my life if you can call it a life.”
Annie reached over and touched Mrs. Newman’s hand. “How did your daughter die?” she asked softly.
“I was a wild thing. I grew up in a strict Jewish family, and then after junior college I went wild. I had quite a few boyfriends and I started doing drugs and drinking. Then I met Ira. He was a good guy. I settled down, though I still did the drugs for a while. Then I got pregnant. We were thrilled, but I knew nothing. My relationship with my mother was pretty much over because of my wild lifestyle. I went to a clinic a few times, but nothing like they do now with all the doctor visits and the care and vitamins and tests.
“Anyway, I had the baby. It was rough so they did a C-section. I was pretty sick for a couple of days afterward and Ira was so busy at work. It would have been nice to have had my parents with me, but a friend came to keep me company. Then Ira and I took Erika home. She was beautiful, tons of hair, and she slept well. I turned into a good mother. And then I noticed she didn’t seem to develop as quickly as the other babies. Her breathing was labored, she seemed lethargic. She was slow to learn things and she started to get sick a lot. We took her in for tests and she had something called Shone’s Complex. It had something to do with her heart. They said she was born with it and there was nothing to do and they weren’t sure what caused it. But Ira wouldn’t listen to anything they said. He blamed me and my lifestyle and nothing I could say or the doctors could say would change his opinion. Maybe if I had taken better care of myself they would have noticed it before she was born. Lots of people survive with it, but Erika wasn’t one of the lucky ones. She had several operations and we had hope.” Rhoda Newman took a deep breath and then let it out. “She kept getting sick all the time and then she died.”
