by Leena Clover
No one said a word.
“It was his birthday,” Linda explained. “I owed him a kiss.”
“What happened after you, err, kissed?” Jason asked.
“I walked back to the awards function,” Linda said. “Asher was going to park the truck and follow me.”
“Why don’t you tell this to Adam?” Jason pleaded. “It will make things easier.”
“Don’t you see?” Linda argued. “It was a private moment. The last thing I shared with my beloved Asher before he was taken from me.”
“Let me see what I can do,” Jason consoled her.
“I may have a lead,” Jenny told Linda. “I’m going to try and get to the bottom of this, Linda. Don’t worry.”
Adam was talking to Nora, one of the clerks.
“You are wrong about Linda,” Jenny told him. “What’s her motive?”
“The spouse is always the most obvious suspect,” Adam told her. “You know that.”
“There’s something else going on in this case.”
“I know what your theory is,” Adam told her. “It’s too farfetched, Jenny. Surely you see that?”
“I think it’s worth looking into,” Jenny said stoutly before she stomped out.
Jenny walked to the seafood market, remembering she was supposed to get some fish for dinner. Chris greeted her.
“You seem preoccupied,” he said. “Something wrong?”
Jenny shook her head and asked for her usual order.
“Did you like the soft shell crabs?” Chris asked her.
“Nick loved them,” Jenny told him. “I’m going to grill them with barbecue sauce this time.”
“Sounds yum,” Chris laughed. “Anything you cook is tasty, Jenny. You have a gift.”
“Say, Chris, do you know Dawn, Asher’s youngest daughter?”
“Not very well. Why?”
“Was she in school with you?”
“She was a few years ahead of us. Didn’t Heather tell you that?”
“Who did she hang out with? Do you know?”
Chris shrugged.
“Like I said, she was older than us. I have no idea.”
Jenny had anticipated Jimmy would join them for dinner. She was right. Jimmy was displaying many interesting aspects of his personality now that he had stopped drinking.
“Did you meet that professor chap?” Jimmy asked her. “He’s weird alright.”
Jenny was stepping out for her walk when a luxury sedan pulled up outside Star’s cottage. Jason Stone stepped out, looking exhausted. He undid the top button of his shirt and loosened his tie as he exhaled loudly.
“Have you had dinner?” Jenny asked him.
He shook his head.
Jenny went in and fixed a plate for Jason. She brought it out and handed it over to him.
“What happened?”
“They let her go,” he said. “Linda wouldn’t budge. Adam tried hard. But they didn’t have enough to hold her there.”
“How is she doing?”
“Linda’s fine,” Jason sighed. “She’s a strong woman. She’s sad though.”
Jenny sat down next to Jason, lost in thought.
“How is it no one knows anything about Asher’s life before he got here?”
“Some people block out bad memories,” Jason said.
“He must have known other people in Germany.”
Jason pursed his lips.
“Chances are, none of them made it here. His family didn’t, as far as we know.”
“He must have come in contact with other people? How about his time in Switzerland? Did he not meet anyone there? Or what about the ship that brought him here?”
“There might be records somewhere,” Jason mused. “But they will be hard to find, Jenny. I’d say, impossible even.”
“Do you know that for a fact?”
“Not really.”
“I’m going to do some research,” Jenny proclaimed.
“Research is always a good idea,” Jason said. “I’m calling it a day now. I’m exhausted.”
Jenny stifled a yawn and started walking on the beach. She needed the exercise, she told herself. She walked longer than usual without running into Adam. Reluctantly, she turned back and trudged home.
“What’s this I hear about Linda Cohen?” Betty Sue asked the next day, twirling red wool over her needles. “Is it true, Jenny?”
“They let her go,” Jenny replied.
“Have you followed the money trail?” Heather asked her. “What happens to the Asher estate? And who gets the business?”
“I forgot all about that,” Jenny nodded. “All I know is everyone stands to gain something.”
“Even the older kids?” Star asked.
“Yes, even Walter and Heidi.”
“What about Luke Stone?” Betty Sue asked.
“Luke Stone gets to run the business for as long as he wants,” Jenny explained. “He just has to follow some conditions.”
“I bet they have to do with that no-good grandson,” Betty Sue huffed.
Jenny didn’t get a chance to work on her computer until later that day. She ran several different searches about the Holocaust. She was looking for support groups or societies where survivors might meet or come together.
She found message boards with discussions on various topics and got sidetracked. Finally, she started making a list of organizations in the area. She hoped someone there knew Asher personally or had at least heard about him.
“How about another trip to the city?” she asked Heather on the phone. “We haven’t gone anywhere in a while.”
“Is this for fun?” Heather asked cagily. “Or are you planning to squeeze in some sleuthing?”
“A bit of both?”
“Talk to Molly,” Heather said. “I’m in.”
“What are you hoping to find at these places?” Molly asked her.
“I don’t know,” Jenny admitted. “Think of it as a history lesson.”
Linda was sitting in a wingback chair, looking out at the ocean when Jenny visited her.
“I got rid of the wheelchair,” she told Jenny. “The kids are thrilled.”
“Do you like to swim?” Jenny asked. “You have a lovely pool.”
“Aquatics was part of my therapy,” Linda told her. “I can’t swim laps yet, but one day soon.”
“You and Asher belonged to different faiths,” Jenny began. “How did you handle that?”
Linda shrugged.
“Asher didn’t believe in God. After all the atrocities he witnessed, he refused to believe there was one.”
“This same God helped him get away,” Jenny pointed out.
“That’s one point of view,” Linda agreed. “But Asher didn’t think that.”
“What about his religion?”
“He didn’t talk much about it. He just wanted to be left alone. He worked hard to build a good life for himself and his family. Work was his religion.”
“What did you think about all this?”
“I had a crush on Asher since I was fourteen. I fell madly in love with him.”
Jenny remembered a time when she had been besotted with someone.
“You couldn’t care less about religion, I suppose?”
“That’s right. When he asked my Daddy’s permission to marry me, I couldn’t be happier.”
“What about the kids?”
“Olga was a devout Jew,” Linda explained. “She observed all the traditions. She raised the kids in the Jewish faith. Asher let her do what she wanted.”
“And your own kids?”
“When Ryan came along, we had been married for a while. I took him to church sometimes. When he got older, I told him his father was Jewish.”
“Your family may not have been very religious,” Jenny conceded. “But they still had the Cohen name. Did your kids ever face any discrimination because of it?”
Linda looked perturbed.
“I never gave it much thought. You will have to ask Da
wn.”
“Was Asher a member of any special organizations or societies?” Jenny asked.
“He was in the Rotary,” Linda replied.
“I mean, any groups from his old country, or war survivors.”
“Not to my knowledge,” Linda said. “A couple of groups up north tried to woo him. They wanted him to come and talk about his experiences. One of them sent some kind of annual letter every year.”
“Letter?” Jenny asked immediately. “What sort of letter? Do you have a copy?”
Linda shook her head.
“Asher threw them out. I think they provided updates on members. Births, deaths, bar mitzvahs, that kind of thing.”
“Asher wasn’t interested in socializing with other Jews, then.”
“I guess you could say that,” Linda shrugged. “I never gave it much thought.”
Jenny wished Jason had accompanied her that day. She really felt like taking a dip in the big pool.
“Say you survive something terrible,” Jenny asked Star over dinner. “You come out of an impossible situation. Would that make you believe in God or not?”
Star shrugged.
“You are assuming staying alive is a gift,” Star said. “What if you lost everything that was dear to you? Every living hour would be a curse, then.”
Chapter 16
Linda Cohen was called in for questioning again. Neither Jason nor Jenny could do anything about it. Jenny knew she needed to do more research to explore her own theory. She did something unprecedented and took a day off from the café.
Jenny shut herself in Star’s cottage and switched off her phone. Her intense research on the Internet produced more questions than answers. But she knew what she needed to do.
“We are going to the city,” she told Molly. “Plan to spend the whole day there.”
“Don’t worry,” Molly assured her. “I can call in sick. The library will survive without me for one day.”
“Grandma knows I am going with you,” Heather told her.
“What are you planning to do exactly?” Molly asked.
“I am going to track down Asher Cohen,” Jenny said resolutely.
The girls started off early, with Jenny anxious to spend as much time in the city as she could.
“So what is this place we are going to?” Heather asked.
“It’s like a museum,” Jenny admitted. “I am interested in their archives. I have an appointment with one of their experts.”
“What does Adam say about all this?” Molly wondered.
“He doesn’t know anything about our trip,” Jenny fumed. “I prefer it that way.”
“Why?”
“He shot my theory down the other day. I’d rather confront him with something concrete.”
“Fingers crossed, then,” Molly said.
“Don’t get your hopes up though, Jenny,” Heather warned. “It’s still just a theory.”
The building Jenny pulled up outside turned out to be much bigger than any of them had anticipated. They were directed to an usher who led them to a small office.
“Are you here for a family member?” the cheery young girl asked.
“Kind of,” Jenny said. “Does it have to be anyone related to me?”
The girl shook her head and Jenny heaved a sigh of relief. She had debated getting some kind of letter from Linda but she wanted to get her hands on some actual information first.
“I see you requested some special help,” the girl said. “Have you checked our online resources yet?”
“I ran some searches,” Jenny nodded. “But I wasn’t too successful.”
“Okay. Please walk me through what you are looking for and what you have done so far.”
Jenny explained her actions to the girl.
“The survivors’ database is pretty accurate,” the girl said. “Let me try a search again on my computer.”
She looked up a couple of minutes later.
“You are sure Asher Cohen is the name? Do you know who might have added it here?”
Jenny didn’t have an answer for that.
“Let me try something,” the girl said. “Aha!” she exclaimed. “I was right. I guess there’s always room for human error.”
“What happened?” Jenny asked eagerly.
“Asher Cohen is in the victims’ database. It looks like a data entry error.”
“Can I find more information about him?” Jenny asked eagerly. “Where he is from, his family, or anything else you can find, really.”
“We do that all the time,” the girl smiled. “I can cross reference this name with our archives and see what I can come up with. Why don’t you take a break? Have a coffee or something?”
Jenny thanked the girl and stepped outside, deep in thought. Molly and Heather were looking at the posters that hung in the hallway.
“Done already?” Molly asked.
Jenny explained what had happened.
“It’s time for lunch anyway,” Heather said, patting her stomach. “I saw a sign for a cafeteria.”
The cafeteria surpassed their expectations. The girls all ordered side salads and a large veggie pizza.
“What are you thinking?” Molly asked Jenny, pouring creamy Caesar dressing over her salad.
“I feel numb. I am hoping that young girl finds something worthwhile.”
Jenny knocked on the office door an hour later. Molly and Heather had decided to visit some of the exhibits.
“Come in,” the girl called out eagerly. “You are in luck. I found a veritable treasure trove.”
Jenny folded her hands in her lap and tried to sit still.
A small cardboard box lay on the table between them. The girl pulled out a faded book and a packet of old photos.
“This is an old journal depicting daily life,” the girl told Jenny. “I’m afraid it’s in German though. Can you read German?”
Jenny told her she could not.
“There are some news clippings leading up to the war,” the girl went on. “There’s a travel diary which is in English. And something you might appreciate most – photographs.”
“Is Asher in those photos?” Jenny asked eagerly.
“I couldn’t say,” the girl grimaced. “But you can stay here and go through this material.”
Jenny touched the papers gingerly, afraid she might damage them. She read the travel diary, her eyes filling up as she tried to imagine the plight of the writer. The photos intrigued her the most but she kept them for the last. She was almost reluctant to look at them. Her instincts told her she couldn’t undo the information she found in them. She couldn’t have been more right.
There were some group photos of people of different ages huddled together. Men, women and children with sordid expressions stared back at Jenny. Names were scrawled below the photos, identifying some of the people in the picture. Jenny marveled at the wealth of information available to her. She was holding history in her hands. A lot of that history was painful. Jenny couldn’t help but wonder about the perseverance of the people who had overcome the worst kind of atrocities.
A curly haired stocky man of medium height could be seen in many of the photos. He had dark eyes and Jenny guessed them to be black or dark brown. Jenny’s jaw dropped when she saw the name written below one of the photos. Asher Cohen. Jenny sat back, stunned.
Jenny was still trying to process what she had found when the girl got back.
“Did you find what you were looking for?” she asked.
“How long have you had this box?” she asked the girl.
“Let me check,” the girl said. She tapped a few keys on the computer. “The material in this box has been donated over time, by more than one person. The earliest donation was in 1965.”
“Do you know who did that?” Jenny asked.
“It’s given right here at the bottom,” the girl pointed out. “You are in luck. Not every donor leaves their information.”
“Can I contact this person?” Jenny asked.
> “No one’s stopping you, I guess,” the girl said. “Let’s see, this address is in a suburb about twenty miles from here. And there’s a phone number too.”
Jenny felt her excitement ramp up.
“So I can call them and get an appointment if I want to meet them.”
“Sure,” the girl shrugged.
“How many people can access this information?” Jenny asked urgently.
“Anyone can access it,” the girl explained. “Like you did.”
“Can you tell me who saw this box before me?”
“Sorry. That’s private.”
Jenny rubbed the charm hanging around her neck and thought hard.
“Do you want to look at anything else?” the girl asked. “We close in half an hour but you can come back tomorrow.”
Jenny thanked the girl for her help.
“I think I’m good for now.”
She walked out in a daze and headed toward the parking lot. Heather and Molly were waiting for her by the car.
“Ready for some margaritas?” Heather squealed.
“Lead me on, girl!” Jenny muttered. “I need a giant frozen cocktail, something cold enough to give me brain freeze.”
“Are you okay, Jenny?” Molly asked worriedly. “You look a bit weird.”
“Wait till you hear what I found.”
Jenny took them to her favorite Mexican restaurant in town. Piping hot tortilla chips arrived at their table along with a trio of salsas. They were followed by tall, generously salted frozen margaritas. Jenny munched some chips and drained half her drink, refusing to say much. Molly and Heather made small talk.
“What exactly did you find out, Jenny?” Heather asked finally.
Jenny told them about the box and all the photos and documents contained in it.
“None of this makes sense,” Molly said, her eyes wide.
“You think?” Jenny scoffed. “If you ask me, we are dealing with a case of false identity.”
“Huh?” Heather mumbled.
“Asher Cohen, our Asher, I mean, must have come across the actual Asher Cohen somewhere. He stole his papers and took his name.”
“But why?” Molly and Heather chorused.
“Who knows?” Jenny flung her hands in the air.
“You’ve opened a can of worms,” Molly said slowly.
“If our Asher is not Asher Cohen,” Heather said, “then who is he? What is his name? Where did he come from? And why did he come to Pelican Cove?”
