“I have a matched set of bookcases that look like they were torn from this very house,” said Claire. “I do love uniting pieces, bringing together objects and places that belong together.”
Had Claire developed a slight British accent as well?
Detective Oh wandered into the living room as coffee and tea were being made in the kitchen and Jane followed.
“I apologize. Claire sensed a business opportunity and would not take no for an answer. I hope this isn’t too unpleasant for you,” said Oh.
“Not at all,” said Jane. “I cannot for the life of me figure out why, but I am totally fine with all of it. I feel no attachment here. Maybe if Nick were with me, or if my special stuff was here. But the house is so showcase-ready, it doesn’t feel like mine anymore. I actually feel sort of lighthearted … or maybe it’s lightheaded … but I like feeling nonattached. I don’t know if it will last, but…”
“It’s still my daughter’s house you know, so…”
Nellie had raised her voice and Jane looked at Oh, her new lightness rapidly replaced by the weighty realization of uh-oh-did-I-just-leave-Nellie-in-a-room-full-of-take-charge-women-who-don’t-know-she’s-the-boss?
Jane hurried into the kitchen, but by the time she got there, all were smiling with large slices of pie in front of them. Apparently Nellie didn’t like the way Beatrice was dishing out portions and took over. Now she was putting lids on containers and washing the counter.
“We tried to tell your mother to relax, that we’d clean up, but it wasn’t well received,” said Beatrice.
Melinda and Jane slipped off to look over the values Jane had assigned to the property and the sum came to well below what the buyers had offered for “contents.”
“Should we tell her she doesn’t have to pay as much?” said Jane.
Melinda patted Jane’s shoulder and shook her head. She made a quick call to a mover, who would pick up the desk and chair and lamps along with a few pieces of art that Jane wanted to keep. “Do they take it to your storage locker in Kankakee?” asked Melinda.
“No such thing,” said Jane. She gave Melinda her parents’ address. One side of their immaculate garage could house these few pieces until Jane decided where she would light.
Nellie had cleaned up the kitchen and was already making her second trip to Tim’s van with Jane’s suitcase. Oh had carried out the box that held books, Jane’s printer from the den, and a small portable file box which had Nick’s school and medical records, birth certificate, and last year’s tax returns. Jane looked over a few more papers that Melinda needed signed and gave her all the bank information needed for a wire transfer of the money.
“I just want you to know how pleased I am that my children will be going to school here and enjoying this neighborhood as your children did,” said Beatrice. “It’s a wonderful house. I can feel the warmth here, the—”
Jane gently cut her off. She still had no regrets, but she wasn’t sure how long she wanted this love fest with the Hartzell Street house to continue. “There’s plenty of life and love left in this house. I think you and your family are a great match for the place,” said Jane.
“You’re getting yourself a good deal,” said Nellie. “I told her to hold out and not take the first—”
Jane’s cell phone began to vibrate and as she reached for her pocket, she gave Melinda the eye and nodded toward Nellie. Melinda interrupted and began to point out that most of the older windows on the first floor had been replaced recently with a quality product.
The phone number of the caller was unfamiliar to Jane.
“Where the hell are you, Jane Wheel? Don’t you work for me anymore?”
“Lucky, I told you I’d be out of town today. I’m in—”
“Jeez, you townies think you can get away with murder. When you coming back?”
“I’ll be back in town in about two to three hours or so, depending on traffic, but you said you’d—”
“You got to come here, you got to come back,” said Lucky.
Was the man crying?
“Somebody’s messing with my stuff. Messing with me. Somebody’s messing with me real bad.”
14
Jane shook hands with Beatrice, who looked as if she was about to cry.
“I feel you in this house, your touch,” she said. “I wish I could have the house and you.” Beatrice then pulled her in for a tight hug.
When Jane and Nellie got into Tim’s van, Nellie reached over and manually locked her door. “I don’t want that woman throwing herself in here and riding home with us. What the hell is her deal? Jeez.”
Jane began laughing, then quickly looked out the windows and checked the mirrors. “You didn’t know I had such a magnetic attraction, did you?” she said as she pulled away from the curb and headed west to the highway.
“She’s a nut job,” said Nellie.
“But she’s a nut job with money, good taste, and a cash offer. In three days, my bank account will be huge,” said Jane. “I’ll be, well, I’ll be very comfortable, which is good since I don’t really have any…”
“Nobody has any retirement or pension anymore,” said Nellie.
“How’d you know what I was going to say?”
“I’m a genius. Jane, everybody’s worried about the same thing,” said Nellie. “Why the hell you think Dad and I keep working?”
“Because you love the EZ Way Inn? Because the regulars wouldn’t have any other place to go? Because you like ordering pies every day? Because you and Dad would drive each other crazy at home? Because you and Dad would kill each other?”
“We might, but nope. We can’t afford to retire, that’s all. Dad put money away, but he had it in some fund or something and I don’t know what the hell happened, but he asked me if we could go a few more years and I said what the hell, so…” Nellie stopped to count on her fingers. “That was about five years ago.”
“How old are you, Mom?”
“Old enough,” said Nellie. “You hungry? I took all the leftover food.” Nellie opened her large purse to show Jane all the foil packets and plastic containers. “You know how much that chicken salad cost? Jeez, I serve that at the EZ Way and try to get those prices, people would string me up.”
“Where’s the folder that Detective Oh gave me?”
Nellie jerked her thumb to indicate the one seat that wasn’t folded down to accommodate the boxes they were taking back to Kankakee. Without undoing her seatbelt, Nellie squirmed and turned, grabbing the file and opened it up.
“What do you want to know?”
“Put it away, Mom. I just wanted to make sure I had it. Detective Oh got a little more information for me. Let’s talk more about a retirement plan for you.”
“I told you something wasn’t right with Lucky,” said Nellie, scanning the page.
“Something’s sure not right today. He sounded pretty anxious on the phone.”
“He’s a nut job, too,” said Nellie. “Sometimes I think we’re the only non-nut jobs left. Want a pickle?”
“Wasn’t that from Melinda’s sandwich?” asked Jane.
“She didn’t touch it. I watched,” said Nellie.
Nellie crunched the pickle while continuing to read the contents of the folder Oh had given Jane. He had told her that he had found more information, but he couldn’t verify all of its accuracy since some of the hospital and medical records were for Herman Mullet and some for Herman Muller.
“Someone either mixed up the name and Herman Mullet took advantage of the change or he himself adopted the alternative spelling,” said Oh.
“How were you able to get this information? This is from Canada,” said Jane. Oh had obviously gone beyond a Google search for these copies.
“Much of my father’s family emigrated to Canada and I have several cousins there, two of whom happened to be well placed to obtain this type of personal information,” said Oh. “As I said, though, some of this is a little confusing, although I’ve gone over it a few times and
the ages work and the times of hospitalization.”
It was at that point that Beatrice had asked Jane about the brass horse head hook that Jane had wanted to remove from Nick’s old bedroom, asking if it were an authentic Arts-and-Crafts piece that had been in the house when they bought it. Jane told her that it was not, it was something they found at a flea market in South Dakota on vacation and Jane just wanted to give it to Nick as a souvenir of his old room.
It was only a half lie and Jane only felt half guilty about telling it. They had taken a vacation in South Dakota. Besides, she was leaving Beatrice the hand-forged fireplace damper handle that had taken Jane two years to find.
When Nellie and Jane arrived home in Kankakee, Don was sitting on the driveway in a folding lawn chair. He was staring down at his hands.
“What the hell’s wrong with him?” said Nellie, opening the car door before Jane had fully stopped the van.
Jane hurried out of the van herself, leaving the unloading of boxes for later.
When she got closer, she saw Don was staring not at his hands, but at his new cell phone. Nellie was trying to look tough and inscrutable, but she began her sideways laughing when Don looked up at her with a lost puppy face.
“How the hell did you do this?” On R way home read the small screen. “I’ve been trying to write you back for an hour,” said Don. “Every time I type in Where I hit the wrong letter and the word were or here or some other damn thing comes up on the screen and then I try to erase it and I lose the whole damn thing. Something’s wrong with this thing.”
“Mom’s got smaller fingers and a natural penchant for misspelling. It’s easier for her to figure out texting, Dad,” said Jane. She wasn’t happy to see him frustrated, but the distraction from all things Carl and the decision to close the tavern for the day was a blessing in disguise.
“Thought I was too dumb for one of these things, didn’t you? There’s a book with it, you know. And even though you and Jane don’t believe it, I can read,” said Nellie. “Want some chicken salad?”
Don got up, slipped the phone into his pocket and followed them both inside.
Jane washed her hands and face and decided to call Tim before rushing to Lucky’s side. She needed to know if he wanted her to drive the van over and it wouldn’t hurt to find out if Tim knew what had happened that had so unnerved Lucky since Miller, nee Mullet or Muller, had refused to give Jane any details over the phone.
“Don’t know anything about Lucky, Jane … haven’t seen him all day. The writers were holed up somewhere and I heard that Lucky and Malcolm came in here around lunchtime but I didn’t really see them,” said Tim. “Wait. What? Oh, Maurice just said that Lucky was upset about the horseshoes in his office. Don’t know what that means, but apparently Lucky was screaming about his luck running out.” Tim paused before adding, “Sorry I couldn’t help at the house. Are you okay?”
“I’m great. I’m breathing new air.”
“Yeah, okay. Did you bring back a lot of your stuff?”
“Nope, hardly anything,” said Jane. “Do you need me to drive your van over?”
“Who is this and what have you done with Jane Wheel?” said Tim. “Nah, don’t need the van until tomorrow. In fact … what?” Jane could hear Tim talking to someone, laughing at something. “Apparently I have a date tonight,” he said. He sounded happy and a little bewildered.
“It’s been a while, hasn’t it, Tim?” asked Jane. She realized her mother had gotten the name wrong earlier. Not Maureen. Maurice.
“Talking about me or you, kitten?” said Tim.
“Okay, I’ve got to find Lucky. Maybe I’ll see you over there and if not, have fun. Don’t rush into anything, Timmy, those Hollywood type heartbreakers can—”
“Gotta go, Janie. I’ve got a date to rush into something.”
Jane shook her head. Maybe Tim had the right idea. Maybe she should find that teamster, Sal, and rush into something herself. Jane walked into her old bedroom to change clothes before heading out to find Lucky, but when she remembered that her wardrobe wasn’t exactly unlimited, she decided her jeans and sweater were perfect. Maybe she’d snag a Lucky Productions windbreaker over at the studio.
Jane grabbed the folder with Oh’s information. If she couldn’t find Lucky right away, she could do a little homework. Don and Nellie were at the kitchen table and Rita was hovering, hoping for more of what Nellie had in the foil packet.
“This roast beef is pretty good. I didn’t even see it when that nutty woman put the food out. I wonder if she meant for us to have it for lunch?”
“Mom! Did you go into the refrigerator and just take everything she brought? That was probably tonight’s dinner for her family. They’re staying at some apartment hotel!”
“It was in your refrigerator. You own it until Monday, right?” said Nellie, feeding Rita another slice of rare roast beef, which Jane knew cost double digits a pound.
Jane looked at her dad for support but he was lost in the manual for his cell phone. Next to the phone on the table was a list of people and phone numbers. Jane picked it up and read over the names. “Friends of Carl?” asked Jane.
Don nodded. The memorial was set for next Friday. One week would give everyone time to plan. A few old friends of the EZ Way Inn had retired and moved out of town, but Don said almost everyone he called was planning on making the trip back to pay their respects. There wouldn’t be an official funeral, since Carl had left instructions that he wanted to be cremated.
“Me, too,” said Nellie. “I want to be cremated. Nobody gets to look at me when I can’t look back.” She bent down to pet Rita and whisper roast beef promises for later.
“Right,” said Don, not looking up from his instruction book, giving his usual response. “We’ll wait until after you’re gone, though, okay?”
Jane was halfway out the door when Don called to her.
“When you get a chance, honey, Salt and Pepper really want you to get into Carl’s apartment and take his stuff out or help decide what to do with it. Keys to the place are right there.”
One more part-time job. Jane picked up the plain silver key ring, admired the fact that it was sterling, and left it next to the flowerpot on the counter. One more part-time job.
Lucky wasn’t answering his cell phone. Tim had said he wasn’t at the studio, so Jane headed over to Mack’s Café. That seemed to be a favorite meeting spot for the writers. The sign in the window said OPEN, but only a few Lucky crew members sat in a back booth. Jane took a seat at the counter. The perky waitress wasn’t on duty, but Sam was behind the counter.
“Back for a burger?” asked Sam. Everything’s finally cleaned up in the kitchen.”
“One of those perfect milk shakes, please. Chocolate.”
Sam nodded and reached into the two-door stainless steel freezer with a large metal ice cream scoop. Jane recognized the piece of restaurant equipment. Don and Nellie used to have one in their back room, back in their busy days of serving lunch to the Roper Stove crowd. It held two giant five-gallon tubs of ice cream, one under each heavy lift-up door. Nellie offered a choice of vanilla and fudge ripple. When Jane was around eight, Nellie caught her kneeling on a chair she had pushed up against the freezer, tunneling out the fudge with a spoon, eating it directly from the container. Nellie had laughed and told her that Don didn’t need to know about it. When she was older, Jane remembered Don handing her a coffee mug and asking her to put a spoonful of vanilla into it. When she brought it back, he’d pour hot coffee over it and say, “Wonder what the poor people are drinking tonight?”
It took Jane a while to realize that this was Don’s standing joke about just how rich he felt. Every Sunday when Nellie put the pot roast on the table and slammed down a pitcher of silky brown gravy that Don poured over his plate heaped with meat and potatoes and onions and carrots, he would tuck his napkin into his belt, and look at Jane and Michael and Nellie and muse, “Wonder what the poor people are eating tonight.”
Eventually,
Jane and Michael learned to answer him with whatever they were having for dinner, whatever Don was about to tuck into, and he would nod approvingly, agreeing with them.
Jane knew, though, that even though Don and Nellie weren’t rich, Don had been a shrewd businessman and that he and Nellie had been tireless workers, remained tireless workers. They owned their own house, they’d always paid cash for a car. There had been no hesitation about paying college tuition for both of his children—as long as they went to school in state, of course. Don hadn’t even wanted to get a credit card until one of the Roper office workers whom he trusted persuaded him that he might be in a situation where he couldn’t use cash somewhere.
“What planet would that be on?” Don asked. “Planet Kankakee will always take cash.”
There had been a few medical scares and some tests and hospital stays. Everything had always turned out all right and Jane knew that Don and Nellie paid for health insurance over and above the Medicare they now qualified for. What else, though … what else had Nellie been talking about when she said they had to keep working? Had Don trusted their savings to a retirement fund that had tanked with so many others? Jane’s brother, Michael, was a lawyer in California and did well, but he had two young children. Jane was now divorced and hadn’t had what Don and Nellie would think of as a “real” job for several years. Her parents were thinking about their ages and long-term care and their children and their grandchildren, just like everyone else these days.
“Too much whipped cream?”
Jane hadn’t noticed the picture-perfect milk shake that had been placed in front of her.
“It’s fine. I just got really lost in your ice cream cooler.”
“Beauty isn’t it? When we came in to spruce up the place for this … what—reopening—so much of the equipment in here hadn’t been touched in decades. Then we cleaned it all up and sure enough, when we plugged stuff in? Everything started working again. Apparently Lucky was willing to replace a lot of this stuff to make the place authentic, but we hardly had to use any of our budget.”
Lucky Stuff (Jane Wheel Mysteries) Page 14
