“No, ma’am. Go on.”
“There’s no ladder or anything. Just an opening like the one to the attic.”
There’s an attic?
“And?”
“The room was empty.”
All that buildup for...nothing.
“But I did find one thing—a torn receipt from Victor Lock & Safe Company. It was snagged on the rough edges of the opening under the trapdoor. Does that mean anything to you?”
“It sure does. I think I may have the other half!”
“Well, then you’re going to love this part because someone wrote what looks to me like numbers to a combination lock.”
“What are they?”
“L4, R29, L60.”
“Is there a date on that half?”
“January 8, 1940.”
I was so excited I couldn’t stand it but calmed down in a matter of seconds when I realized I didn’t actually have much of anything.
“Well, if I ever find the safe, I’m all set. You’re sure there was nothing else down there.”
“Not now, but according to Tymon, the one time he went down there for her, he saw boxes and artwork stacked against the wall.”
“No safe?”
“He said there was something in the corner that was covered with a tarp or something. I asked him how big, and he said it was maybe three feet high and a foot and a half wide, so it could have been a safe.”
“Anything else?”
“That’s not enough?”
“Well, yes. I just... You did great. How did you leave it with him?”
“The old coot asked me for my phone number.”
“You didn’t give it to him.”
“I sure did. He was her handyman, for Crissake. He knows more!”
* * *
“My family moved to Mexico when I was ten,” Naomi said. “My father had some kind of business there—we were never sure what exactly it was that he did. I left when I was eighteen right after my mother died.” Naomi and I were seated at Gene & Georgetti's, one of my favorite Italian restaurants. Buying her dinner was a small price to pay for the tremendous help she had been all week.
“Is he still there?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t care. He’s a mean person.”
I asked her how hard it would be to locate someone in Mexico.
“Not hard if you know the right people.”
I told her about Ignacio Ramirez and Petróleos Mexicanos.
“Pemex. That’s what it’s called in Mexico.”
“You’re familiar with the company then?”
“Anyone who has ever lived in Mexico is familiar with Pemex. They have a monopoly on oil. It’s huge. The Mexican government owns it, and...”
“And there’s a lot of corruption?”
“Sí. Mucha corrupción.”
“Do you think you could help me locate someone who worked for Pemex in the thirties?”
“I could try. It may cost a little in phone calls. I don’t think Elmer will go for that.”
“He gives me an itemized phone bill each month with my calls underlined in red and I reimburse him, so it’ll be okay.”
“Do you want me to arrange for two separate bills with the phone company?”
“You can do that?”
“Of course.”
“Naomi?”
“Yes.”
“I’m so glad you’re here.”
TWELVE
“She Called Him Al”
“Oh, look who’s here! It’s my neighbor, Grace.” Minnie winked at me as she greeted me at the door and mouthed she had a surprise for me.
“C’mon in, dear. I have company, but that doesn’t matter. We can all visit.”
I gave her a quizzical look. “Here’s a little something I picked up for you, Minnie,” I said as I handed her a bottle of Scotch that luckily was still in the brown paper bag from the liquor store.
She peeked in the bag. “Oh, goodie. That bath powder I like so much.” She leaned in and gave me a peck on the cheek. “You’re so thoughtful!”
I didn’t know what was going on, but Minnie could have given the lead actress in The Three Faces of Eve a run for her money with that performance.
When she introduced me to the man in her living room, Tymon Kossak, goose bumps rose on my skin. He was older than I had pictured, with a thin layer of graying hair on his head that had been plastered down with something that looked a little gooey. Judging from his appearance, he appeared to be somewhere in his sixties, which meant he must have been in his late thirties or early forties when he was Anna’s handyman.
We introduced ourselves and shook hands. Tymon and I sat on opposite ends of the sofa. Minnie headed for the kitchen.
We made small talk until Minnie returned—I couldn’t do much more than that, not knowing what she had already told him. I didn’t want to blow it.
Minnie returned with a tray of glasses.
“I hope you drink Scotch, Tymon.”
“I’ve been known to take a nip now and then,” he said.
“It’s funny that you dropped over, Grace, because I was just telling Tymon how you two have something in common.”
“Oh? What would that be?”
Minnie shot me a playful look.
“Tymon here used to work for your Aunt Anna.”
Aunt Anna?
“No kidding. What did you do for her?”
“Handyman work. Little of this, little of that.”
“Here? In this house?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve not met very many people who knew her, so this is pretty special. Did you know her well?”
His stare made me uncomfortable.
“I said, did you know her well?”
“I’m sorry. Yes, pretty well.”
“Were you working for her up until she died?”
“Yes.”
I could tell he was uncomfortable too.
“You know, they never did solve that case,” I told him.
“I know, but they didn’t try very hard either.”
I could hardly believe I was having this discussion and prayed my thumping heart wouldn’t leap out of my chest.
“What do you mean?”
“For starters, they never interviewed me, and I was in and out of this house all the time.”
“So you never talked to the police?”
“I went to the police station that same day, told them who I was, thinking maybe I could shed some light on what happened to her, but they had no one there to talk to me at the time and said someone would be touch.”
“And they didn’t get back to you?”
“I left my name and number, but they never called.”
“So do you know what happened?”
“No.”
The day was overcast and it was dark in Minnie’s house, so I could have been wrong about seeing tears building up in his eyes.
“And what about the baby? What do you think happened to...was it a boy or a girl?”
He didn’t say anything right away—he just stared at me and shook his head. Finally, he said, “What baby?”
“Anna had a daughter...right?”
Tymon shook his head no, but the look in his eyes revealed there was something more he was thinking that he wasn’t saying.
“You never saw a baby?”
He looked away from me.
“You said you were in and out of here all the time.”
He looked back at me with a blank stare and nodded.
I decided to drop the subject...for the time being.
“Tymon, what would you have told the police if they had questioned you?”
“For starters, I would have told them this place was picked clean before they got there.”
“Picked clean?”
“Almost everything was gone—most of her furniture, what was stored in the basement, even most of her clothes. Just enough left to show someone lived there.”
“No kidding. Now, I wo
uld think that would have been important for the police to know.”
“I thought so too. And when I finally found someone at the precinct who would talk to me, I told him that.”
“What did he say?”
“He listened, said they would look into it, and that was it.”
“What about the boarders living upstairs. Did you know them?”
“I occasionally saw them.”
“What were they like?”
“The fella who dressed like a girl,” Minnie chimed in. “Surely you remember him.”
Oh dear, she’s slurring her words. I looked at Minnie and wondered how much she’d had to drink.
“I try to stay out of other people’s business.”
“He dressed like a woman for cryin’ out loud!” Minnie shrieked.
She may not have been drunk, but she was headed in that direction. I gave her a look that I hoped she interpreted as time to stop talking.
“So who else lived up there?” I asked.
There was something peculiar about the way Tymon looked at me, and it was making me self-conscious.
“One guy kept to himself all the time. Older man.”
“Mike Smith,” Minnie blurted.
“I think you told me it was Mark Smith, Minnie.”
“Mark, Minnie, Mike. What’s the difference?”
She was slumped at an odd angle in her chair, and I was tempted to go over to her and straighten her up...but I didn’t want to embarrass her any further.
“Minnie, dear, would you mind if I put a pot of coffee on for us?”
“You hate coffee.”
“I thought maybe you would like some.”
“I don’t want any.” She looked at Tymon. “Do you want any?”
“I’d love some.”
I jumped up. “I’ll get it.”
I listened to them talk while I attempted to make coffee, something I had actually never done before. My parents had been tea drinkers.
It was hard to concentrate on what they were talking about when my mind was preoccupied with thoughts about why Tymon was denying Anna had a baby. I may not have had solid proof she had a baby at the time of her death, but I knew she did. If that wasn’t true, I was—.
Minnie was talking about her late husband, Clarence, but she kept calling him Larence. When I heard her tell Tymon she missed sleeping with him, I quickly finished up my task and rejoined them.
“So, Tymon, you were telling us about the boarders. Mark Smith, the one who died here—what was he like?”
“Like I said, he kept to himself. And his name may not have been Mark Smith.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Anna had a feeling, that’s all.”
“That’s interesting. Did she say why she thought that?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“And the third one?”
I held my breath, praying Minnie didn’t blurt out “Mousey.”
“You mean Pussy?”
Good grief.
“Mousey, Minnie! It’s Mousey!” Oh, Lord—what he must have thought of us.
“Maybe I should go,” Tymon said.
“Please don’t, Tymon. I would really like to hear—”
The whistle of the tea kettle interrupted me.
“Please stay. I’ll be right back.”
“Poor thing doesn’t know what the hell she’s doing,” Minnie mumbled.
When I poured two cups of coffee from the tea kettle that looked like dirty river water, I knew I had done something wrong. I honestly believed the coffee would dissolve in the water. I scooped out as much of the grounds as I could with a spoon and served it to them.
Minnie took one look in her cup and said, “What the hell is this?”
Tymon looked into his and placed it on the coffee table.
“May I speak with you in the kitchen for a moment, Minnie?” I asked her.
She gave me a look as if to say “Who me?” then got up and followed me.
“What are you trying to do to us with that crap?” she asked.
“Minnie, listen to me. You’ve had too much to drink. I’ve never made—”
She walked over to the stove and picked up the tea kettle. “You made it in this?”
“Would you please lower your voice?” I asked her in a low whisper. “Now, listen to me. This is very important, and—”
“Go back in there, Betty Crocker. Tell him the real coffee is coming...along with homemade peach cobbler.” She pushed me aside. “Go!”
I gave Tymon a weak smile and sat back down on the sofa.
“If Minnie is referring to Henry Sikes, I actually ran into him not long ago at Jake’s.”
“Jake’s?”
Minnie could be heard from the kitchen singing a dreadful rendition of “Home on the Range.”
Tymon hesitated before he continued, looking like he would rather have been anywhere but there. “Jake’s is a bar in my neighborhood. He recognized me, and we exchanged a few words. Had on expensive clothes, a big gold watch, slicked-back hair. At some point he must have come into some money or something. He never dressed like that when he lived here.”
“And the fourth boarder?”
Tymon didn’t answer right away.
“I shouldn’t be telling you all this stuff. I...”
“Listen, I don’t think you know how much I appreciate this information. You see, I never knew my aunt, and the fact that something so tragic happened to her…well, I want to know as much about her as I can. I have no family left, just memories, and I don’t even have any memories of her, so whatever you—”
“Some of this is so personal. Maybe she—”
“But she’s gone now, Tymon,” Minnie chimed in from the kitchen and then resumed singing. “Where the deer and the antelope play.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered to him.
“Don’t worry. I understand,” he whispered back.
Tymon focused on me for a long moment and sighed. His voice was low and soft. “The man who had the room above her, well, they were pretty close.”
“What was his name?”
“She called him Al.”
“You don’t know his last name?”
“No.”
“What did he look like?”
“Oh, he was a handsome man. Tall, dark wavy hair, wore nice clothes, drove a nice car.”
“Was he living here the whole time you worked for her?”
“No, I’d say he moved in maybe a year after she bought the place.”
“And was he still here when she died?”
“Yes, but he was gone right after.”
“You don’t think he did it, do you?”
“Caused her death? Oh, that thought crossed my mind even though based on what Anna told me about him, I couldn’t imagine him having anything to do with it.”
“What did she tell you?”
“Nothing specific.” He hesitated a few seconds. “Maybe it was just the way she talked about him. I got the impression she cared very much for him.”
“I wonder if the police talked to the boarders.”
“That I don’t know. But I do know they didn’t talk to Henry Sikes, because he told me as much.”
“I don’t suppose my aunt ever mentioned anyone else in her life—relatives, friends...enemies?”
“No. Well, she had a girlfriend who lived nearby. Don’t remember her name though.”
“Is there anything else you can tell me about her? Anything that would help me figure out what happened to her?”
He had a faraway look in his eyes. “I liked Anna. She was always good to me. Oh, you probably already know this, but she was raised by her aunt and uncle in Mexico.”
“Oh, yes, I had heard that, but I never knew what happened to her parents.”
“She never talked about them. At least not to me.”
“Tymon, do you know exactly how she died?”
His face turned ashen, and he spoke just above a whisper. “The
y never said in the paper how she died, but there was blood...” He didn’t finish his thought. His whole body shifted downward, like the life had been sucked right out of it.
“Blood?”
“I was asked by the bank to get the house ready for sale, and I found some traces of blood.” He paused. “Do you think we should check on Minnie?”
We walked to the kitchen only to find Minnie seated at the table... face down in a plate of peach cobbler.
“Do you want me to help with her?”
“No, I’ll manage.”
“Then I’ll be going.”
I knew I couldn’t keep him there any longer. “Let me walk you to the door.”
Tymon opened the door, turned to me, and reached for my hand, which he held for a rather long moment.
“It was a pleasure meeting you,” I told him. “And I can’t thank you enough for the light you have shed on Anna.”
“The pleasure was mine.”
I watched him walk away, not knowing what to think of the man.
* * *
The next morning I met with Veronica Van Zandt, but my mind was somewhere else. Tymon was hiding something, of that I was sure, and I would have bet anything it had to do with Anna’s baby.
Mrs. Van Zandt handed me the phone bills I’d requested. She had hired me to prove or disprove that her husband Victor was being unfaithful. I called the case the Three Vs. During our initial meeting, when I had asked her if there had been any changes in her husband’s personal behavior, she had rattled off all the classic signs of a cheating husband: paid less attention to her and more attention to himself, joined a men’s club, wanted her to cook more healthy meals, had less sex, and often worked late. She also told me about some non-textbook behavior that I found interesting. He had been a martini drinker for as long as she’d known him and had recently changed to red wine. And he had come home from a business trip the week before with an unusually neatly packed suitcase.
She told me she’d gone through his wallet while he was taking a bath that morning and was surprised to find a Diners Club card. I wasn’t surprised—cheating husbands often spent money on their mistresses using a secret charge card.
After she left, the first thing I did was look for suspicious phone numbers on their phone bills, and it didn’t take me long to find one that had been called periodically at very early hours of the morning. My wonderful contact at Illinois Bell gave me the name and address associated with the number—Susan Averill. Mrs. Van Zandt had told me her husband had been going to his men’s club on Tuesday and Thursday evenings. Today was Tuesday, so I knew what I would be doing after dinner. My guess was that when I tailed Mr. Van Zandt this evening, we wouldn’t end up at any men’s club.
Regarding Anna Page 9
