by P. J. Conn
"The boys were William's children, not Paul's. Paul married my sister when William left town rather than do the honorable thing and marry her. Paul simply couldn't bear to see Lillian disgraced with an out-of-wedlock child. Our parents, may they rest in peace, never knew the truth. They believed Paul was the better of the brothers, and that Lillian had made the wisest choice.
"When Lillian had twins, Paul refused to raise two of his brother's brats, and told Dr. McDowd to take one away. My sister was too exhausted by a difficult labor to fully understand what had transpired. As soon as she regained her strength, I gave her little Fred to cuddle. She adored him instantly, and didn't need the grief of learning what Paul had done with their other little boy. The child simply didn't exist in her heart and mind.
"Paul soon fell in love with the baby, and if he ever regretted giving away his twin, he never admitted it to me. He was a wonderful husband and father. Paul and my sister were happy together, welcomed two daughters, and neither ever mentioned William's name. Is that a story either Fred or his brother will enjoy hearing? Fred loved Paul and believes he was his father. Do you really wish to reveal Paul was actually an uncle, and that he discarded Fred's tiny infant brother like a worn-out toy?"
She entered the house, closed the heavy oak door, and locked it before Joe could do more than stare in astonishment. He went out to his car to think rather than sit on her porch to gather himself. He felt as though he'd been punched in the stomach, and learning the truth had been more disastrous than satisfying.
* * *
He took Mary Margaret to Clifton's Cafeteria for dinner. He needed a plate of their soothing macaroni and cheese and offered very little by way of conversation while they ate.
"Clearly something is desperately wrong," she observed. "Do you want to tell me what it is, or should I try and guess?"
"I'm sorry. When I take you home, I'll tell you how another of my investigations has rendered the worst of results. Maybe all families have secrets, and the most painful ones should probably remain undiscovered. It shouldn't matter what I found."
She possessed the patience to wait for the whole story and once they reached her cottage she made coffee and offered chocolate chip cookies she'd made over the weekend. She'd added pecans, and they were especially good.
Comfortably seated together on the sofa, Joe repeated what Ida Sparks had told him. "Driving home, I asked myself whether or not Fred needed to have his world turned upside down. He doesn't, of course, but there is a value in knowing the truth, isn't there?"
She nearly choked on a bite of cookie and needed a swallow of coffee before she could speak. "Enormous value I'd say, but in Fred's case, I understand how difficult it will be to tell. The man who raised him stepped in when his brother abandoned Lillian, but then he handed one of his wife's twins to strangers, which is hardhearted. Phillip doesn't appear to care, so you can leave him out of it, if that's any consolation."
"Phillip is so impressed with himself, he would never have been content being the son of a barber, no matter how fine a man Paul may have been. Whoever made the choice, Paul or Dr. McDowd, Phillip was the right boy to send to a wealthy home."
"Interesting way to look at it. Have another cookie."
"I mean it, Mary Margaret. Are you and your brothers and sisters all alike because you have the same parents and upbringing?"
"No, each of us is a distinct individual. As the eldest, I was able to see their separate personalities from the moment they were born."
He nodded and took a second cookie. "Had Paul had two boys to remind him of his brother, he might not have been the loving father he was. He already knew he was Lillian's second choice, and that had to hurt."
"You could be over-thinking this, Joe. What if you told Fred his parents felt they couldn't raise two boys, and that Dr. McDowd found Phillip a fine home? It's a bare-bones account of what happened, but it is the truth. Maybe the Fitzgeralds had tried for years to have a child. They could have been overjoyed to adopt a baby boy."
Her explanation offered a justification for how the twins had been separated, but in his opinion, what was easy wasn't always right.
Chapter 13
CC came by Joe's office Thursday morning and found him with his feet propped on his desk, his attention focused on his new painting. "Good morning, Mr. Ezell, are you relaxing between cases?"
Joe swung his feet off the desk onto the floor. "I'm in the middle of two, that's the problem. I'm just taking a minute for an inspiration to hit me, and then I'll get busy."
"Well, sir, I've always found inspiration comes more easily if I'm walking toward it."
Joe stood and stretched. "You're a very wise man, CC. I do need to get moving, and I'll go out for a walk."
"It's a good day for it," CC agreed.
Once outdoors, Joe drew in a deep breath and walked twice as far as he usually did. With his long stride, he could cover several blocks easily and then several more. He knew exactly what he was doing, wasting time rather than typing a final report for Fred Cooper. He was leaning toward Mary Margaret's sterile version of the facts, but not far enough to actually go with it.
He'd want to know the full story, and he thought Fred would too. Still, the unvarnished truth disturbed him, and would needlessly hurt Fred. When he'd become a private investigator, he'd anticipated having cases where he'd discover and report the facts, and be well-paid for doing so. Clearly, he'd known nothing about the actual work any private investigator would do, and how little he'd earn doing it.
He ate lunch at a new café where they had freshly baked bread for their sandwiches. He'd come by again when his walk took him off his usual route. By the time he returned to the office, he'd gathered the inspiration he'd been seeking. He'd prepare two reports for Fred Cooper and let him decide which one he'd prefer to read. He called him, and said he'd come by after Fred finished work.
* * *
Fred was busy sweeping the floor as Joe entered his shop. "Give me a minute," he called to the detective. "I sweep up a dozen times a day, but the last time has to be the most thorough."
Joe sat down in the waiting area and scanned his two reports. Perhaps it was cowardly to ask Fred to make the choice, when he was already certain the man would prefer the more detailed version.
After Fred put his broom and dustpan away, he washed his hands, hung up his white jacket, and joined Joe. "Let's go down to The Pepper Mill for coffee. It's been a long day, and I could use one of their brownies."
"Brownies?" Joe's mood improved instantly. "I never refuse a brownie." He waited until they were seated in the nearby café and had been served before he summarized his work.
"I talked with your aunt Ida yesterday, and she spoke at length on the promise I'd never again darken her door. Which would you prefer, a brief version that explains how you and Phillip were separated, or a longer report that includes what might be some disturbing news about your family? I brought both with me."
"I'll bet I know what my aunt told you," Fred offered. "I've always suspected there was a good chance I was my uncle William's son rather than my father's. If that's what she admitted, then it's not totally unexpected. It also implies something my mother would rather I didn't know, but I'd never fault the dear woman."
Greatly relieved, Joe eyed the delicious looking brownie, but he dared not take a bite yet. "Yes, my report details what she told me, and it's clear the man who raised you is the real hero of the story." He'd taken Mary Margaret's advice and softened how Paul had chosen to raise only one of the twins.
Rather than respond immediately, Fred took a bite of his brownie. "I never even suspected I might have a twin. Aren't twins supposed to have a connection other brothers and sisters don't share?"
"I've heard it, but perhaps you were parted too soon for it to develop."
"From what I've seen of Phillip, I'm glad it's true." He laughed with the thought of his arrogant twin. "What are you going to tell him?"
"Phillip? Nothing at all. He's made it
clear he's not interested in having more than one family."
"I feel sorry for him."
"So, do I," Joe agreed, and he ate what proved to be the most delectable brownie he'd ever eaten.
* * *
Friday morning, Joe studied his bulletin board and rearranged the cards into different groupings. The other strippers at Sherry's were jealous of the attention Cookie Crumble received, and they could have killed her. They could also offer each other alibis, but Detective Lynch hadn't considered them serious suspects. Joe thought it a mistake to overlook the four women who knew Cookie best, and liked her the least.
He answered his telephone on the third ring. "Discreet Investigations."
"Mr. Ezell, this is Noel Sloan, one of Phillip Fitzgerald's partners. We met last week. Do you have time to see me this morning?"
"I'll make the time." Joe had nothing on his calendar so it wasn't difficult, and they agreed to meet in an hour. He turned his bulletin board to the wall, watered the philodendron, made a fresh pot of coffee, and considered himself ready.
Noel arrived a few minutes early. He took a chair in front of Joe's desk and removed his notes from his shirt pocket. "I'm glad you came by last week, because I'd been thinking of hiring a detective. I'm worried about Phillip."
"In what way?" Joe asked. He had a new folder ready for his notes.
"He's difficult to contact when he's in San Francisco. We leave messages at his hotel, and he responds, but I've come to believe he might be taking on outside work when he's there."
"Is that something your partnership doesn't allow?"
"It most certainly is. We work on projects together, or separately, but it's all for the firm. If Phillip plans to leave us, and take his clients with him, Jacob Finegold and I need to know it now."
"Have you asked him about his plans?"
"Not directly, because it would put him on his guard. Would you consider going up to San Francisco the next time Phillip does, and see what you can discover about how he spends his time?"
"I'd have to increase my fees for out-of-town work, and travel and hotel costs would also add to my expenses," Joe advised.
"Jacob and I have the money set aside to fund your investigation. Phillip must not even suspect we're doing so, however."
Joe nodded. "I understand. He'd accuse you of spying on him and leave the firm whether or not he'd planned on it."
"Exactly. Is it a job you'd care to do?"
In no position to turn down work, he offered a quick reassurance. "Yes, I can follow him and report on his activities without him suspecting he's being watched. Does he have another trip planned?"
"Not for a couple of weeks, but I'll let you know in plenty of time to make your own plans. Would you like me to leave a check today?"
He'd like it, but if Noel changed his mind and wanted a refund, the money might already be spent. "It's not necessary. Let's wait until we have a definite date to make plans." He rose as Noel stood and shook his hand.
* * *
Once alone, Joe turned back to his bulletin board. After the party at Casper Green's, he'd added Lawrence Mooney's name, but he considered the wealthy man too cold and calculating to strangle a woman. Lawrence had nothing in the way of charm as well, so Cookie might have met him at Casper Green's, but she wouldn't have liked him. The board was becoming cluttered, and no longer considering Lawrence a viable suspect, he removed his card, and tossed it in the wastebasket.
Joe had shied away from focusing on Mickey Cohen and his cohorts because they were such a dangerous crowd. Still, if Cookie had had such poor taste in men, they'd definitely be in that category. Mae had told him that about Cookie, and so had the strippers, but where was their evidence? Who were the men she'd chosen to date when she shouldn't have? It was time to make another trip to Sherry's to see the ladies and ask.
* * *
He arrived at the restaurant at six o'clock, checked for any sign of Corky Coyne, didn't see him, and made his way to the stripper's dressing room. Ginger Snap saw him first, and welcomed him with a pretty smile. "I hope I'm not intruding," he said.
"Of course you are!" she responded. "Come on in anyway."
Joe glanced over his shoulder, and the hallway remained clear. Carmela Cordova, and Patty, the Southern Belle, greeted him just as warmly. If they were carrying a heavy burden of guilt, they hid it well.
"Where's Lily?" he asked.
The girls exchanged puzzled glances. "Sometimes she's late, so we don't worry about her."
"Then I won't either." Joe opened his notebook. "If Cookie had poor taste in men, can you give me some names? They'll never know I got them from you."
Carmela rested a hip on the long counter. "Some were friends of Mickey Cohen, and I don't want to know their names. Others were men who saw her act and promised they could get her movie roles, but they didn't actually have any strings to pull. She'd drop them quick when she realized their promises were nothing more than hot air."
"She did like college boys," Ginger Snap offered. "I don't remember her ever dating Stuart Helms though. There must be some reason the police arrested him."
"Not really," he responded. "Did Cookie ever mention Lawrence Mooney?"
"Who's he?" Carmela asked.
"A man she might have met at Casper Green's."
"You've lost me," Ginger Snap added. "Who's Casper Green?"
Lily had taken Cookie to his parties, but apparently the other girls didn't know him. "He's a movie director."
"Really?" Patty asked. She was donning the ruffled slips for her costume. "Then Cookie would have stuck to him like a feather to honey."
Joe made a quick note. If Cookie were dating both Tom and his father, or using Tom to get to his father, she could have been caught in the crossfire between them. "Thank you, ladies. When Lily arrives, please tell her I'm sorry I missed her."
"Sure we will," Ginger promised, without a lick of sincerity.
* * *
Mary Margaret patted the place beside her on the sofa. "You were so worried about how Fred Cooper would take your report, and his reaction seems really mild."
Joe sat down beside her and pulled her into his arms. "Mild is a good word. How was your day?"
"We have a couple of difficult new patients, which makes tending them a chore, but we'll teach them how to behave soon enough."
"I bet you will." She managed him easily enough, and he kissed her soundly. When he'd caught his breath, he told her about Noel Sloan's concerns about Phillip Fitzgerald. "It means I'd have to go up to San Francisco for a few days, but if Phillip has an extra project, he'd go right to it, not wait several days to drop by."
"I want to go too," she replied. "Could we call it a honeymoon preview?"
He laughed at the idea. "We could, but I wouldn't get any work done with you there, and then I wouldn't be paid. It's still a lovely idea."
"I have others," she teased, and he enjoyed them all.
* * *
Joe looked forward to the relaxing hours of his Saturday morning golf games. Gilbert was unusually chipper, and while Joe and Hal exchanged amused glances, neither asked the young man why. They were playing the eighth hole before Gilbert paused after sinking his putt.
"A nice girl moved into my apartment building, and we went to dinner last night. We talked about going to the movies tonight, but do you think she'll get tired of me if we go out two nights in a row?"
Hal rested his putter on his shoulder. "If she does, then she isn't the right girl for you."
Gilbert looked to Joe for advice, and the detective couldn't help but smile. "Did you both have fun last night?"
A bright blush filled Gilbert's cheeks. "Yes, but I don't want to pounce on her. Well, not actually pounce, but you get what I mean."
"I do," Joe responded. "Why not take the newspaper section with movie times by her apartment this afternoon. Ask if there's anything she'd like to see."
"That's right," Hal agreed. "If she's not interested in spending more time with you
, she'll say there's nothing she cares to see and maybe suggest you two go to the movies another time."
"I understand, let her use the movies as an excuse rather than force her to say she'd rather not see me ever again."
"You need a more optimistic view," Joe chided. "I'll bet she's looking forward to seeing you tonight. She might even pick a movie she has no interest in just to go out with you."
Gilbert laughed in spite of himself. "I sure hope so." He moved back so Hal could make his putt, and kept smiling the rest of the morning.
* * *
Saturday afternoon, Joe had lunch at the counter downstairs and returned to his desk hoping something easy would come bounding his way. When the telephone rang, he answered promptly, "Discrete Investigations."
"Joe?" her voice was whisper soft.
Knowing something had to be very wrong, he sat up straight. "Yes, who is this?"
"Lily. I can't come to your office. Will you come to my place?"
He grabbed a pencil, wrote down the address in Hollywood and reached her within half an hour. The apartment building was the standard before war big box, but several residents had colorful flowerboxes that brightened the exterior considerably. Lily lived on the second floor, and he took the stairs rather than the elevator.
When he knocked at her door, she peeked out to be certain it was someone she wanted to see. Finding Joe, she released the chain, opened the door, and led the way through the narrow entryway into the neatly kept living room. Fresh flowers lent the sunny room a sweet perfume. He gasped when she turned to face him. Her right eye was black and swollen shut, and a vivid purple handprint marred the fair skin of her throat.
"Who did that to you?" he asked.
She gestured for him to take an overstuffed chair, and she sat on the sofa and leaned back. Her black satin robe was too tightly belted to allow for more than a glimpse of a slender ankle.
Her voice was hoarse, "The friend who meets me at Casper's parties called me yesterday to say the director had a role for me in an upcoming film, but he needed me to audition that afternoon. I've never considered myself much of an actress, but Casper's films aren't nominated for Oscars anyway, so we'd be even."
