Writing a Wrong

by Betty Hechtman

  ‘With pleasure,’ she said. I had already noted what she’d said and read it back to her and she nodded an OK.

  Lewis asked about taking some photos of the kids reaching in the prize jar. The mother agreed and the kids seemed so used to someone taking a picture of them with a phone, they actually posed.

  ‘Great work asking her for a quote,’ Lewis said when they’d gone.

  ‘You did a perfect job of waiting on them.’

  ‘Being a gym teacher helps,’ he said.

  I’d been thinking of something as I’d watched the kids trying out their shoes by walking around the store. ‘I don’t know if you want to add anything new to the décor, but have you ever considered a mat with a hopscotch layout on it. The kids could jump around on it to try out their shoes.’

  ‘Wow, that’s a great idea,’ Lewis said. ‘Before anything else …’ He pulled out a copy of the proposal with a check attached to it and handed it to me. I smiled with relief that I hadn’t had to ask for it.

  Emily was still with her customer. A little girl was getting a pair of party shoes. Instead of waiting for Emily to check the fit, she jumped up and started dancing around the store. She stopped at the counter next to me and looked up at the wall decoration. The cow was caught in mid-jump on the painted blue background. ‘Make it go,’ she said, doing a twirl.

  ‘I don’t know if the cow is going to jump,’ Lewis said. ‘She only jumps over the moon when she feels like it.’

  ‘Oh, no,’ the little girl lamented.

  ‘Maybe if you ask her very nicely to jump, she’ll do it,’ Lewis said.

  The little girl appeared very serious as she gazed up at the cow. ‘Please, oh please lady cow. Jump over the moon.’ By now we’d been joined by the mother who had taken out her phone and was recording it all. I don’t think the little girl even noticed that Emily had gone in the back. There was the sound of something starting up and the cow swung back and forth as if it was dancing before – with a rather jerking move – it made its way over the moon. Then the dish and the spoon started to run away together. The little girl jumped up and down, clapping with delight.

  ‘I can’t tell you how nice it is to deal with a shop like this that isn’t part of a big chain. There are so few places like this left,’ the mother said. Lewis gave me a nod and I repeated what I’d done with the other customer. The woman was only too glad to be quoted and the little girl was posing before I even brought up the idea of a picture.

  The bell over the door jangled as the mother and daughter left, and the three of us congratulated each other. ‘You heard her. There are people who want to shop at a place like this. I bet they will come from other neighborhoods. We just need to let people know we are here.’

  We talked a bit about what to put on the website and decided that a combination of old and new would be good. ‘Aunt Laurel can help with the old stuff,’ Emily said, looking at her brother. She turned to me. ‘She worked here when she was in high school. Then she moved on and went to art school. She’s a jewelry designer.’ She shook her head with regret. ‘I already told you that, didn’t I?’

  To cover the awkward moment, I asked if her aunt had made the silver dangle earrings she was wearing. She nodded and smiled. ‘I’d be happy to talk to her. Maybe we can set up a time to talk.’

  ‘How about now?’ Emily said. ‘She’s at LaPorte’s. They’re having a meeting about the neighborhood spring garden fair.’

  ‘Sounds good,’ I said, heading to the door.

  When I got to LaPorte’s, I looked around for a crowd at a table. Before I’d finished surveying the place, I saw a hand waving at me. When I got closer, I recognized Tizzy and smiled to myself. She seemed to be everywhere. She was sitting with three other women. I noticed a nursery catalog on the table. ‘Is this the garden fair committee?’ I asked.

  Tizzy rushed to answer that it was. ‘Are you interested in joining?’ she added quickly. She’d dressed for the occasion in a flower-print long duster over a pair of jeans that fit like slacks.

  She started introducing me around, offering much more than my name. I felt a blush coming as she went on that I was her writing teacher, the author of a wonderful mystery, and that I did all kinds of other writing for people. ‘Whatever you need, she can do it for you,’ my booster said.

  ‘Actually, that’s why I’m here,’ I said. My gaze moved to the other three women who were all about the same age. ‘I’m looking for Laurel.’

  The woman next to Tizzy raised her hand and I did a quick appraisal. She seemed somewhere in her fifties. Her dark hair was threaded with some silver and pulled off her face with a hair tie. There was something artistic about her appearance, which made sense since she was a jewelry designer. Then the writer in me took over and I studied her for a moment, trying to think how I could be specific about her artistic aura. I decided the impression came from the grouping of silver pins shaped like flowers on her charcoal gray sweater, the dangle earrings, silver choker necklace and colorful scarf. It seemed more nonchalant than planned.

  ‘I didn’t mean to interrupt,’ I said, but the other two women were already pushing back their chairs.

  ‘We were done,’ one of them said, and all but Laurel got up.

  Tizzy gave me a quick hug. ‘I’m off to a Hyde Park Historical Society meeting. You know me, I’m involved with everything in the neighborhood – the garden fair, the used-book sale, and the historical society.’ She went on talking about how much she loved delving into the history of the neighborhood, which made sense since she was writing a time-travel novel that took place in Hyde Park. She dropped some facts on me before she left. I was surprised to hear that the shoreline of the lake had only been a block from my place at one time and that the Metra tracks and the whole area on the other side of them, which included Jackson Park and the Museum of Science and Industry, was all landfill. Just before she walked out the door, she called out that she had a lead on another client for me.

  I was torn between hearing who the possible client was and talking to Laurel. Finally I decided to deal with what was right in front of me and I told her she could tell me about the client later.

  ‘So you’re the one my niece and nephew hired,’ Laurel said. Her dark eyes had a lively expression as she seemed to be checking me out. ‘I’m glad to see you’re a neighborhood person. You understand the feeling of the area,’ Laurel said. She looked at the empty chairs. ‘We’ve worked together on the garden fair together for years. There’s just something about Hyde Park that’s different, special.’

  ‘I grew up here,’ I said, ‘so I know what you mean.’

  Her expression deflated and she let out a sigh. ‘But it has its shortcomings.’ She glanced at the spots where her committee members had been sitting. ‘It’s kind of like a small town when it comes to spreading news. I knew that anything I said to them would be all over everywhere in no time.’

  ‘Someone joked that there’s the Internet and there’s Tizzy,’ I said, and she nodded.

  ‘I love her, but I’d never tell her anything that wasn’t for public consumption.’ Something in Laurel’s expression made me think she was referring to something specific that she didn’t want spread around the neighborhood. She folded her hands on the table. ‘But that’s not what you’re here to talk about,’ she said.

  The smell of food had reminded me that I’d skipped breakfast. ‘Would you mind if I got some food first?’ I asked.

  ‘By all means, go ahead.’

  It was actually a two-fer. I was hungry and it was a chance for me to taste some more of their offerings for my description writing.

  I had a list of their menu items in my bag and took it out. I marked off the things that I’d already tasted. I skipped right to the sandwiches and chose what was listed as Swiss cheese on a croissant. As a side I picked the potato salad.

  ‘That looks good,’ Laurel said when I set the food down on the table.

  ‘Would you believe it’s work?’ I said with a smile,
and explained what I was doing for LaPorte’s.

  ‘Another neighborhood business,’ she said. ‘I used to hang out with Rex and Cocoa when we were teens. We all worked at our family’s businesses. We’ve lost touch though. Now, we just wave when we see each other.’ I was listening to her and hadn’t touched my food. ‘Go on and eat.’

  I had my notebook out to jot down any notes along with the ingredient list, and took a bite of the sandwich. I immediately added words to the description. The croissant was now a flaky all-butter croissant, and I added that it was spread with their special mustard mayonnaise. I moved on to the potato salad and was surprised at the taste of curry. I jotted down that it was a cool salad with a twist of curry that gave it a touch of heat. She asked what I’d written and I read it to her.

  ‘That’s wonderful. Now, what did you want to talk to me about.’

  I started to explain what I’d been hired to do for the children’s shoe store and mentioned how the story-branding concept worked. It occurred to me that she might even be interested in it for herself. She wasn’t familiar with the term. ‘The point is to get the consumer emotionally involved with a business. Wouldn’t you rather shop at a small grocery store if you knew how it had come into being and who the people behind it were?’

  She considered what I’d said for a moment. ‘You’re right, you’re absolutely right. So then, what you want to know is how the shoe store came to be.’ Laurel took another moment to compose her thoughts. ‘When my parents started the store, things were a lot different than the kid-centric world out there now. There were department stores downtown that sold kids’ shoes and there were some neighborhood places that sold shoes including children’s. But my folks decided to open a store just for kids. It probably had to do with me. I had a problem buying shoes.’ She seemed a little embarrassed. ‘I might have thrown a few tantrums in some stores.’ She went on to say that her parents had designed the store with her in mind. ‘The first time I saw the cow going over the moon and those footstools that looked like elephants, I never wanted to leave the store.’

  I nodded and wrote down some notes. She was giving me just what I needed and I urged her to continue. ‘My brother was indifferent to the place, but then he was older and I don’t think he cared one way or another about shoes. I helped my parents all the time, and then when I was in high school, I worked as a clerk. We made an event out of it. I was taught to make sure the shoes fit properly and were comfortable. We never rushed customers, but had the kids walk around the store a bit to make sure they were happy with what was on their feet.’ Laurel’s eyes were dancing as she went on. ‘We never got returns. Oh, and you should have seen how the kids’ eyes would light up when I brought out the prize jar.’ She turned to me. ‘You have to get all of that across. I know it all seems old-fashioned, but all the service and attention in this digital world would be appealing.’

  ‘That’s what I thought,’ I said.

  ‘I haven’t really thought about how the store used to be in a long time. There’s an old fluoroscope in the back room.’ She noticed that the word didn’t register with me. ‘It would strike horror in parents’ hearts now,’ she said. ‘The child would put their feet in it, and you could look at an X-ray image of their feet in the shoes.’ She waited while what she’d said sunk in.

  ‘Really? X-rays of kids’ feet,’ I said, understanding what she meant about parents being horrified at the radiation.

  ‘I wouldn’t mention it if I were you,’ she said with a laugh.

  ‘Good idea,’ I said. I mentioned the quotes and photos that I’d just gotten and that it would be nice to balance them with something from the past.

  ‘I have pictures,’ she said. ‘It’s too late to get quotes, but if I think about it, I’m sure I can come up with some anecdotes.’ Her face lit up in a smile. ‘This stirred up a lot of happy memories, which got my mind off of other, less happy thoughts.’

  ‘I’m sorry. Anything you want to talk about?’ I asked. I’d liked her immediately and it seemed like we’d connected.

  Her face seemed to dim. ‘Not your worry,’ she said, getting up to leave. ‘Take it from me, you can be older, but not wiser when it comes to men.’

  TWELVE

  I went right to my computer when I got home. There was already an email from Tizzy about the client she’d recommended me to. She wanted to handle the introduction, so we arranged to meet the next day.

  With that settled, I started to transcribe my notes, starting with my description of Haley’s latest ice-cream flavor. Between getting the signed proposal, the check, the experiences in the store and meeting Laurel, I felt inspired to work on the copy for the kids’ shoe store. I did research on kids’ shoes and the fluoroscope that Laurel had mentioned. Once I read about how common they’d been and the radiation they gave off, I understood about Laurel’s caution about mentioning it. I thought back on meeting Laurel. I’d liked her immediately and wondered about her man trouble.

  I moved on to writing up the descriptions of my lunch at LaPorte’s. As I read it over, I had a thought about Haley’s dilemma. But since the proposal hadn’t been signed and there was no deposit, I was uncertain if I was going to be working for her. I decided to leave it be for now and see how things played out before I passed on my idea.

  The afternoon had melted and I hadn’t thought about the Ted situation once. I hadn’t heard any more from the detective, which seemed like a good sign. Maybe they were sticking with the idea that Ted had interrupted a burglary. I tried to push the whole thing out of my thoughts as I did chores around the house, but it kept popping back up. Somehow I got stuck on the idea of checking out the scene of the crime.

  It was still on my mind the next morning. With all the sitting I did, I needed a walk anyway. It was another dull-sky day. Everything seemed gray and to blend together, making it a good time to go prowling around. Prowling sounded a lot more dramatic than what I really planned to do, but it made it feel more exciting. Would a single woman who had a cat and no social life do something as exciting as prowl?

  It was a short walk to the red-brick building. The high-rise seemed like an anomaly. It was taller than the other buildings and a much more modern design. More modern was a relative term. My building was over a hundred years old and this one was probably sixty years old. I didn’t expect to be able to find out much, but at least wanted to see what name went with apartment 406.

  The outer lobby was small with a list of tenants and their apartment numbers on the wall. An intercom was set up next to the bells. Everything else was on the other side of the security door. I looked for 406 and there wasn’t a Richards or Roberts – the only name listed was Sandusky. That meant it was her place which implied that he was merely staying there. It hinted that she was paying the rent.

  I was thinking it over when I heard some noise from the other side of the security door. The door was solid but there were glass panels on either side. I stepped close to it and peered into the hall on the other side. A tall woman was holding open a door at the back. I could just make out the word ‘Lounge’ on it. She had a tense expression and was nervously tugging on the red fabric scarf she had hanging loose around her neck. A man exited the lounge and I swallowed my breath as I realized it was Detective Jankowski. He seemed in investigative mode as he walked into the hall, peering around the area. I tried to step back and disappear, but it was too late. He’d already seen me. It was pointless to try to escape since he knew where I lived, and besides, it would make it look like I had something to hide.

  He came through the security door and the woman disappeared down a hallway.

  ‘Ms Blackstone,’ he said. ‘So we meet again.’ It seemed like he was making an effort to keep his tone friendly. The heavy door shut behind him as he stopped next to me. ‘I was going to grab a coffee at a place I noticed down the street. I owe you a cup. We could talk about things. Maybe I could give you some hints for your mystery writing,’ he said.

  None of what he said was
really a question, or for that manner an order, but there didn’t seem to be a way to refuse. The worst was I knew what he was doing. I’d heard about it at a mystery writers’ conference I’d gone to. A former cop was offering some tricks of the trade when it came to interrogation. The coffee ploy was a way to make it seem like something off the record. Just a friendly chat where nothing would be used against you, but of course it could be.

  He left his car parked out front and we walked down to 55th Street. It had once been all commercial, just like 53rd, but now there were only scattered businesses after almost everything had been torn down during what had been called urban renewal. Some of the space had been given over to bland-looking townhouses, but much of it had been left empty. The street felt sterile compared to the liveliness of 53rd.

  HP Brew was a new place in one of the blocks that still had storefronts. Normally, I would have looked forward to trying a new place, but under the circumstances, all I felt was tension. The pungent fragrance of coffee was evident the moment we walked inside. Though the place had only recently opened, it had a lived-in look. I’d read about it in the neighborhood newspaper. The owner had deliberately used repurposed wood tables and secondhand chairs to make it seem like the place had been around for a long time. Most of the tables were taken up by student types who were hovering over some kind of screen.

  Heads turned our way as we walked in. It was no surprise. Detective Jankowski stuck out like … I stopped myself before I could complete the cliché. There had to be a more original way to say it. The best I could come up with was that he was like a banana in a bowl of oranges. It didn’t really capture the thought and I decided sometimes the only thing that worked was the cliché. Detective Jankowski did stick out like a sore thumb. The students were dressed in what I’d call grungy casual, which meant well-worn jeans or sweat pants with something comfortable on top. All of their hair was on the longish side and seemed a little askew.