The Greeks of Beaubien Street

by Jenkins, Suzanne

  “When did Gretchen tell you about her plans for Friday night?” he asked, thinking about the security tapes they would need to get from the Fairlane which would clearly show Gretchen and Mike walking to a hotel room together.

  “She talked about it all week. I can’t remember exactly when she first told me that he knew someone in the modeling industry. He told her that’s what attracted him to her; he knew she would be perfect for this friend of his.”

  “Did she say what the friend’s name was?” Albert was forcing himself to ask as few questions as possible. He held his breath with each new revelation Ms. King would make.

  “It was weird. An Egyptian sounding name,” Ms. King said, “like Sue Odd.” Albert knew that name; Soud Allahem was a well-known madam in New York who ran a legit escort service in Detroit as a front. Albert was crestfallen. Had young Gretchen Parker fallen victim to that lowlife con artist? He felt sick. He said nothing about the name to Ms. King however. He had her words on the recording. That would be enough. He let her ramble on for another five minutes before he ended the interview.

  The other two women both said about the same thing Ms. King said, adding tidbits about places Mike took Gretchen and their observations of the relationship and the man. No one liked Mike Ahmed. Albert left the bank and headed to Dearborn Heights. He was slowly developing a profile of Gretchen Parker. She appeared to be a person with little common sense who’d been sheltered by her father and led to believe that there was little danger in the world.

  Albert found Leah, Gretchen’s friend, at her job as a nurse at the nicest nursing home he’d ever seen. The front entrance was full of potted plants and a small water fountain. Waiting for Leah, Albert looked around at the facility. Nicely dressed elderly men and women sat in a large glassed-in conservatory. There was a uniformed waitress serving coffee to a group at one table. Albert thought of his grandmother, imagining her sitting in this fancy place. He’d work extra hard to make it possible if she wanted it. He felt ashamed that she was living in the ‘hood in that tiny shack. Leah walked toward him and he gratefully put those thoughts aside. Dressed in a navy business suit, she surprised Albert who thought she would be in a nurse’s uniform. She stretched her hand out to shake his.

  “Come with me, Detective Wong. We can talk in my office.” He walked alongside her toward the back of the building. They entered through a door that had the sign Director of Nursing on it. She seemed a little young to have a job with so much responsibility. She pointed to a chair in front of her desk. “Have a seat,” she said.

  “Wow, I’m impressed,” he said to her, pointing to her door. “And I’m not easily impressed.” She shut the door behind him.

  “Don’t be,” she answered. “Getting here was taking the path of least resistance. I hired in as a staff nurse right out of nursing school five years ago. When the then-director left without giving notice, I was slipped into the position; they can’t go without a director, state law and all that. I knew the place inside out and took over with a little help from the owner. It has worked out well for me. I got a big raise, and except for employees who feel entitlement, it isn’t a difficult job.

  “So, Detective Wong. You are going to find out who killed my best friend, is that correct?” Without warning, Leah put her head down in her hands and started to weep. She didn’t apologize to him for the show of emotion. She didn’t ask him to come there, he was on her turf, and he could just deal with it. She stopped as abruptly as she started. “I am not sure how her death is going to finally become a reality for me. I go to the phone to call her at least five times a day, and then I remember: she’s gone. She was the love of my life.” Albert didn’t know what to make of that. Gretchen wasn’t a lesbian as far as he knew He waited for a minute and then asked her if she could tell him anything about Gretchen’s relationship with Mike Ahmed.

  “How much time do you have?” She asked. “He was a snake. I’m not a racist either. My last name is Hachem, in case you didn’t notice. My father is Syrian. No, it doesn’t have anything to do with him being Lebanese. Gretchen told me that he had been after her for the past month to go to his cousin the gynecologist to prove she was a virgin. She was twenty-six and still a virgin. I bet her father didn’t tell you that did he? Mike told her that it was important that she was untouched so that they could one day be married. I was certain that his cousin was no gynecologist and after having screaming hysterics, was able to convince her that she shouldn’t go, that Mike was not to be trusted. There isn’t anything in our culture that would require a gyn visit prior to marriage, okay? I guess he thought I was a dumbass too.

  “Did you know he was trying to get her to pose for a photographer? A friend of his was supposedly this big New York agent and Mike convinced Gretchen she would make a fortune modeling for her agency. Gretchen was five feet, three inches. Who was she going to model for? No, he was setting her up for something, I’m sure of it. She stopped confiding in me after I had the fit about the gyn guy. I could tell she was holding back. I’ll never forgive myself for criticizing her like that. It put a huge wedge in between us.” Leah started to cry again.

  “You have put some important puzzle pieces in their place, Leah. You’ve been very helpful.” Albert waited for a minute until she recovered before he asked another question. “Do you recall Gretchen telling you anything about what she was going to do last Friday, or this past weekend?”

  “She was being evasive when we talked in the morning. I wanted to see her after work for a drink. We used to meet at Miller’s on Michigan Avenue. It was sort of our hangout place. You could go there any time of the day or night and be comfortable. She and I had dinner there at least one night a week. Then I had the feeling that Mike didn’t want her to see me anymore. That he was jealous of me. That’s so common: some control freak boyfriend comes in and vetoes all the girlfriends. She was already isolated. Her father saw to that. Don’t let that creep kid you - he hated everyone who came into contact with his daughter. She spent much of her life fighting him off. I wish I had proof. She didn’t go on and on about it. But when we were kids, she mentioned it. He had come into her bedroom at night and got in bed with her. She used the expression lovey dovey. He ‘tried to get lovey dovey’ with her. When I asked her if she let him, she said no. ‘No way! That’s gross!’ She said she told her mother who then blew a gasket. Her parents didn’t sleep together, so Gretchen had to tell her about the creep getting into bed with her. The mother had no idea what he was up to at night. If Gretchen had been less confident, she may have succumbed to him.

  “She loved her father, don’t get me wrong. He was her champion as long as she did what he wanted. In a fantasy world, who knew what was possible in his mind? Oh God, it makes me furious just thinking about it.” She turned slightly in her chair to look out the window. The landscaping around the building was fabulous, the setting on a creek surrounded by rolling forest. It was a last stop for the wealthy and privileged. “My grandparents are in a Medicare nursing home,” she said. “Life isn’t fair, Detective Wong. I guess I don’t have to tell you that.” She reached out her hand to shake his, dismissing him. But he had one more question to ask.

  “Do you think Gretchen Parker agreed with your opinion of Mike Ahmed? Did she have doubts about him? Or did she trust him as she trusted her father?” This was important to know because he had to find whether she went willingly or was coerced. Leah Hachem didn’t understand why it would make a difference. The snake was either guilty or not. She thought about it for a few seconds.

  “She may have had doubts. It was why she didn’t talk to me about it anymore. She couldn’t fully defend him unless she believed in him.” Albert Wong shook his head in agreement with her. A young woman lost her life because she willingly went with someone who couldn’t be trusted. It was clear now that Mike Ahmed had something to do with it, either through luring Gretchen into a death trap or by placing her there.

  Leah Hachem walked Albert to his car, reminiscing about growing up wi
th Gretchen, but not telling him everything. She thought of the nights they fell asleep in each other’s arms when they were young. She waved goodbye to him, quickly turning away so he wouldn’t see she was weeping again.

  Albert needed to get back to the precinct to fill Jill in on all of this new information. Jill would have information he needed to hear as well. They would spend the next several hours catching up on what the other had gleaned for the day. It was one of the few enjoyable things about his job. Spending time with his intelligent and interesting partner and seeing events through her eyes made the horror and grisliness of murder and death tolerable.

  ~ ~ ~

  Mike Ahmed woke up in a sweat. The sun was streaming through the dirty window of the back bedroom of his house. For months he meant to get a bottle of window cleaner every time he went to the store and then he would forget. And every day he would wake and see the grime. He had a headache. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, sorry that he had wasted the day sleeping. He’d pay for it later. The visit by that chink cop started everything off on the wrong foot. How’d they get his address? That Parker fucker, probably. Soud was going to be livid when she found out that were connecting him to Gretchen. He was less than four degrees of separation from Soud. It wouldn’t take much for even the dumbest cop to figure it out.

  He’d had nothing to do with Gretchen’s death. He simply escorted her downtown. She came willingly. At least to the Fairlane. Going into the city drugged wasn’t her idea, but he didn’t see how else it could be accomplished. Soud did the dirty work; she administered the drugs, set up the clients, pulled the strings. She had a working relationship with several employees of both hotels. How else would he get by both desks with an unconscious woman thrown over his shoulder?

  He had liked Gretchen. She was uncomplicated. The women in his circle were manipulators - passive aggressive, high maintenance bitches. He wasn’t smart enough to compete with them. Gretchen had trusted him. She asked him outright if she was safe with him. That was a tough one. He hated lying to her. Lying to make himself seem more important was okay; that was painless. But telling her that crap about modeling when he knew full well it was a ruse to get her downtown; that was hard.

  It was getting more difficult to recruit women into the business. Soud took too much of their money. It wasn’t like the old days where desperate young girls would do anything to keep a roof over their heads; a dirty apartment shared by several other working girls who had to sleep in shifts wasn’t most women’s idea of a roof. There was nothing glamorous about it. Pretty girls like Gretchen were luckier; they would get regulars who paid their bills and bought their clothes. Gretchen was eye candy. She looked good on the arm of a man. Anyone would be proud to be seen with her. But times were changing. The problem was fewer men with money were coming into Detroit to get hooked up.

  Mike was going to have to get in touch with Soud and he dreaded it. He should have told her that morning as soon as the cops showed up at his door. They would be looking for her before long. Mike didn’t know if the john she chose killed Gretchen, or if she was murdered by someone on the street. It didn’t make any difference. They were going to look at him as a suspect and if they did, he would waste no time giving them the details of Soud and her entourage. He pulled his sweat pants on and went to the front door to get his evening paper. He gave a soft gasp; Detective Wong was standing on the other side of the screen.

  Chapter 18

  The fragrant aroma of baking peppers drifted out onto Beaubien Street. People walking to their cars from the casino came inside to find out what it was and left with dinner in a take-out box. By four, Gus had just enough stuffed peppers left for Jill and his regulars. Next time he’d make half again as many. For tonight, Gus mixed up a batch of spaghetti and meatballs to get through till closing. They were Greek style using mint, oregano and garlic in the meat mixture and then in the center of each one, a little ball of feta cheese. He fried them and then baked them in the oven.

  His nephew Andy was in the back, grinding beef and lamb together for the meatballs. After cleaning the grinder he would leave for home. He wanted to stop in Dearborn and see his parents before he went on to Novi. They loved it when he dropped in, his mother often crying out as she ran to him and patted his cheek. They would prepare coffee and serve pastries he brought with him from the restaurant next to the grocery store. Although she was Syrian, his mother acted more like a Greek than his aunts. Unlike the rest of the family, she never missed Sunday service, was active in the Daughters of Penelope, and cooked Greek food for her husband seven days a week. Big Andy took her to Greektown every Saturday morning to see Gus and shop in his store. Once a month on Tuesday, they drove in again early in the morning to go to the Eastern Market to shop for food that couldn’t be purchased in the suburbs.

  “We’re coming in tomorrow for the market. Want to go with?” Anna Zannos asked her son. “You should bring the boys with you. School will be starting soon and then we won’t see them until Christmas.” The unspoken: Your wife hates us and doesn’t want our grandchildren influenced by us.

  “We’ll see, Mom. Dana may have something planned.” The unspoken: Dana and I are on the verge of divorce and making waves with her is the last thing I need to do right now.

  “Maybe next week? We can wait until next Tuesday to do our shopping, can’t we Papa?” The unspoken: Your father is almost dead. He should see his grandchildren one last time.

  “Next week might be better, Mom,” Andy said. “But don’t change your shopping day for us.” The unspoken: I would rather poke out my eyes than ask you to shop next week. Do you think I have a death wish?

  “Then you’ll shop with us tomorrow?” Anna asked. The unspoken: This is what happens when you have just one child. Oh God, why are you punishing me?

  “Sure, I’ll shop with you tomorrow. I need to go for the store anyway.” The unspoken: Why is God punishing me? Why didn’t they have more than one kid?

  Andy hugged his silent, long-suffering father and gave his mother a kiss goodbye. His parents were young, his father was just sixty-seven and still as virile as when he was a young man, and Anna was only sixty. She acted like they were ready to die. The truth was that Big Andy was itching to get on the golf course before the sun went down; they belonged to the country club just across the street from their house. He would get in a good game before dinner. Anna gave Andy the rest of the baklava to take home; she didn’t need the calories and her husband was on a strict diet for diabetes.

  Andy got in his car and headed toward home. Rush hour traffic was thick, but he didn’t mind. He was happy that his children were being raised in a nice town like Novi. The schools were excellent, it was conveniently located for his commute into Detroit, shopping was great. But still his wife was miserable. She wanted to move out further west toward Lansing. Her mom and dad bought a big piece of property and built their dream house on it. They offered five acres to Andy and Dana to build on. Dana let it be known whenever she could that it was selfish of her husband to insist on staying at that horrible grocery store in the ghetto rather than getting a real job in Lansing so they could move to Stockbridge. In addition, Andy was sure she was seeing someone. She showed all the signs. She’d lost weight, took time with her appearance when slopping around the house in a dirty sweatshirt was good enough for five years, and he could never reach her during the day anymore. They no longer made love or spent any private time with each other and the worst part: they fought constantly. He learned to bite his tongue, not responding to her baits and her insults. It wasn’t worth hurting his little boys. So he did something that made him physically ill to think of; he hired a private investigator. And sure enough, she was having an affair with their son’s t-ball coach.

  The PI met him in the city at a coffee shop on Jefferson. Andy could tell by the look in the man’s eyes that he found something awful about Dana.

  “I don’t like to give bad news over the phone,” he said when they sat down. He reached down
in his briefcase and pulled out a file. Fortunately, the pictures it held were all of a fully dressed Dana and her scruffy lover. The PI said it didn’t look like they ever went to a hotel, preferring to have sex in the guy’s back seat or in the public restrooms at the ball park. It made Andy sick. But he felt terrible about it not because he was jealous or hurt; he would be relieved if she left him. The difficult part about being happy was being married to someone who wasn’t. And making her happy would be an act of sacrifice he knew he didn’t love her enough to make.

  The grocery in Greektown was his life. He knew exactly what his grandfather had in mind when he said he wanted to do something that he could leave to his family. He wanted to support his people. Andy thought of his father, a dynamic man who had loved living in the city as much as Gus did, yet he left without a glance back to satisfy his suburban born and raised wife. Andy didn’t love Dana that much anymore. And Dana hated the city in return. Anna on the other hand often wished that they had lived in the city. She loved going in to shop, often manipulating her husband and his brother into allowing her to stay overnight. It was a dichotomy.