by Rick Polad
He glanced to the side and clasped his hands in front of him. His eyes darted from side to side, never focusing on me.
“They were all in a large crate. There’s never been a problem so I don’t open the crate until we start to build the display.”
“So there may have been fourteen, not thirteen?”
“I suppose. But why would there be fourteen?”
“Because Cletis made a mistake.”
This time it was my turn to walk away. I let myself out, leaving him to wonder what was going on. As I reached the door, my pager vibrated. I found a phone and called Rosie, who gave me Cletis’ Chicago address—3105 N. Kimball. Fifteen minutes away and not that much farther from the station.
***
3105 Kimball was a four-story apartment building. Not the best on the block, but not the worst. There was a bell block inside the door. I rang the one labeled Manager and in a minute heard footsteps coming down the stairs. An old woman with a scarf on her head and wearing an ill-fitting dress, peered through one of the eye-level glass panes and opened the door a crack. She asked what I wanted.
I handed her a card and told her I needed some information about a prior tenant. She came out into the foyer and let the door close behind her.
“About three months ago there was a Cletis Muddd living here. Do you remember him?”
Her lips almost touched her nose as she scrunched up her face. Not a flattering move.
“You mean the one with the three Ds?”
I couldn’t resist. “There was another Cletis?”
Nodding her head at an angle, she replied thoughtfully, like she wasn’t sure. “No, he was the only one. We get a lot of tenants here, but never another one named Cletis.”
“I bet not. Do you remember anything about him?”
“Like what, young man?”
I shook my head. “Like anything strange—how he behaved—did he pay his rent?—any trouble?”
“He paid his rent, not always on time, but it got paid. Not all do, you know. But I was glad to see him go.”
“And why was that?”
“Caused a ruckus, those two. Lots of complaints about noise.”
“Those two? He had a roommate?”
“Yup. Roommate is still here, but not as many complaints since the other fellow moved out.”
“What’s the roommate’s name?”
“Tony, Tony Vitale.”
I smiled big enough to cause the lady to ask why.
“I think I know Tony. Thanks for your time, ma’am. You’ve been very helpful.”
She held out my card.
“Please keep it. Call me if you remember anything or if you ever need a private detective.”
“We get evictions and I could throw some business your way.”
“Sorry. I don’t do evictions.”
She shrugged and let herself back in with her key.
I was still smiling as I walked back to the car. Hard to forget your roommate, I’d think. So Tony had something to hide. I wondered what it was.
I had made plans to have dinner with Stosh. He had said he’d grill some steaks. I glanced at my watch and decided I had time to take a shower and headed home.
I pulled three days of mail out of the box next to the driveway and laid it on the dining room table. I wasn’t good about checking mail, especially when I was working on a case.
There were two messages on the answering machine. One was from Paul, telling me there was still no sign of Cletis or Kathleen. The other was from Aunt Rose, who said she had some papers for me to sign and wondered when I was coming back. It had been two years since my folks had been killed and there was still red tape. They had been joint owners with Rose on several properties up in Door and had left them to me. I sighed, not happy about being reminded they were gone. I called and told Rose I’d be there by noon Tuesday.
Chapter 16
Stosh was sitting on the porch with a half-empty bottle of beer when I pulled into the driveway. “I see you started without me.”
He didn’t smile. “Tough day. You know where the fridge is.”
I popped the cap off a bottle of Schlitz, started the grill, and went back to the living room. Stosh had moved to his recliner.
“So kid, what have you been up to?”
“Stirring some pots. Lighting a few fires to see what slimy creature crawls out.”
“Yeah, great. One of your slimy creatures crawled into my office.”
I gave him a sideways look in mid drink.
“Got a call from your Mr. Bloom. He wanted to know about his employee IDing the suspect.”
I shrugged. “What’s so hard about that?”
“He wasn’t aware she had escaped.”
I sat on the end of the couch. “Bet he wasn’t happy.”
“No.” He set the bottle down. “Started lecturing me about the taxes he pays.”
“Well, technically, he doesn’t pay the taxes. He’s just the manager, or rather curator.”
“I didn’t bring that up. So what were you doing at the gallery?”
“Stirring the pot.”
He lifted the footrest and stretched out. “Why don’t you go throw the steaks on the grill and get me another beer.”
I put the steaks on, emptied a can of peas into a pot at low heat, and turned on the oven for tater tots. When I got back, his eyes were closed.
He didn’t open them to say, “The gallery is out of the picture till we find Kathleen.”
“I don’t agree.”
Folding back the footrest, Stosh stood up and said, “Of course not. Tell me about it after dinner. I want to eat in peace.”
We ate in peace, not that talking about the Cubs’ seven-game losing streak was peaceful. I washed the dishes. He dried and we returned to the same seats in the living room.
When he had settled in, he said, “Okay, whaddya got?”
I asked if Rosie had filled him in on the name confusion. She had. He wasn’t too concerned.
“The kid up at the frame shop that shipped the paintings is missing. Didn’t show up for work.”
“Hard to get good help.”
“Tony at Simmons signed in the paintings, but didn’t check them—just assumed they were all there.”
“And they were, right?”
“Yes. And I believe an extra one—Blue and Green. And that’s the painting Kathleen took.”
“Then why is Harbor Nights missing?”
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Don’t know—yet. But there’s too many strange things here to think this is anything simple.”
Stosh scoffed. “Don’t see much strange besides the missing kid, and there’s probably a simple explanation for that. Lots to do up there besides go to work.”
“I asked Tony if he knew Cletis and he said he didn’t. Then I reminded him he was the one who delivered the paintings. He said he never knew the kid’s name.”
Stosh shrugged. “So?”
“So, I stopped by Cletis’ prior address over on Kimball. The manager told me she was glad to see the kid go cuz he and his roommate were pretty loud.”
No response.
“Guess who the roommate was.”
Stosh sat up. “Okay, more strange stuff. Gotta wonder why people lie.”
I agreed. “If I keep stirring the pot I’m sure I’ll find out.”
“Well, we’re pretty much done with this till Kathleen shows up. The missing kid is Ephraim’s problem. Let me know if anything crawls out of your pot.”
“Sure. And if you’ll do me a favor... Bloom wouldn’t tell me who the owner is. If you could find out, I’d appreciate it.”
“Already did. Basically, it’s a holding company in a string of holding companies. This one is MaxAMillion.”
“No personal name?”
“I put Peters on it. It took him all day to strip away the layers. Does the name Larry Maggio ring any bells?”
“Larry Maggio the crime boss?”
“Yup.�
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“And you don’t think something strange might be going on?”
“I don’t think till I get facts, and so far we’re short on facts.”
“From what I hear, Maggio is pretty straight. Upstanding businessman, benefactor, sends old ladies fruit baskets at Christmas. Swell guy.”
“That’s the picture. And some of it is true. These days, they’ve traded goons with machine guns for lawyers with brief cases.”
“Sure, less expense on bullets.”
“But it costs them a lot more for lawyers than it did for goons. And you can’t ignore the genes.”
“What does that mean?”
“Does the name Torrio ring a bell? Johnny Torrio?”
“No. Should it?”
“Not necessarily. How about Capone?”
I laughed. “Don’t be silly. Of course.”
“Well, Johnny Torrio was the guy who started running moonshine in Chicago during prohibition. When he got tired of killing people, he turned the business over to his protégé, Al Capone. Al made him proud.”
“So, what does that have to do with genes?”
“Johnny Torrio was Larry Maggio’s grandfather.”
“Nice. So the art gallery is a front for something.”
He spread his hands. “Or money laundering.”
“Stolen art would make the most sense.”
“Not happy about your stirring this pot, Spencer.”
“I’ll stir carefully.”
He turned and looked straight at me with a furrowed brow. “And if anything even starts to crawl out you’re going to call me.”
“Promise. I don’t have a death wish.”
He just nodded. “Anything else?”
“No. I’m going back to Door tomorrow. Aunt Rose has some papers for me to sign.”
“Okay. Be careful. Let’s play some gin.”
By ten I was up three bucks.
Chapter 17
By noon Tuesday I was pulling into Aunt Rose’s drive. Maxine was sitting in a rocker on the porch rubbing behind Amelie’s ears.
“Tough duty, lady.”
“All part of the job description. I grin and bear it.”
She looked relaxed and as happy as anyone could. “I’ll talk to Rose about the work conditions,” I offered.
Her smile got bigger and she looked down at the cat. Amelie looked back with an attitude that said, You can look, but don’t bother me.
As I walked up the steps, I asked, “What time do you get off?”
“I am off. Tuesdays and Wednesdays and whenever else we’re not busy.”
“Great! I have some stops to make this afternoon. You wanna come along and see some sights?”
“Sure. That’d be great!”
“Good. I’m gonna scare up some lunch. About an hour?”
“I’ll be right here basking in the sun.”
I made a ham sandwich, chatted with Aunt Rose about the Kathleen situation, and finished lunch with homemade cherry pie. I cleaned up and met her in her office where we sat at the desk and I signed six papers. She suggested I read them. I told her I trusted her and had better things to do.
“Spencer, you need to take these things more seriously.”
With a serious look, I said, “I assure you, that was a very serious signature.”
She shook her head and asked what my afternoon plans were.
“I have a few stops to make. Going to take Maxine and show her some sights.”
“That’s nice, but I want her back here in one piece.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I’m serious, Spencer. She’s a wonderful girl. You should…”
“Now, Aunt Rose. I entirely agree about how wonderful Maxine is, and we’re great friends. Period.”
She straightened the pile of papers. “You could do a lot worse.”
“Yes I could, and I probably will.” I gave her a kiss on the cheek and told her not to wait up. She had said I could do worse than Kathleen and a lot worse than Maxine. I wondered if that put Maxine higher or lower on the scale than Kathleen. I couldn’t decide.
***
My first stop was the Alpine Golf Resort to see Adam. Maxine waited in the car. His secretary smiled and told me to go in. I just wanted to see if he had any news. He didn’t. I headed south on Highway 42.
“Where to next, Spencer?”
“Not too far. We’re almost there.”
“Almost where?”
“You’ll see,” I said mysteriously.
Six minutes later I pulled into a clearing at the edge of the forest.
Maxine looked at me with surprise—not good surprise, more like what the hell? surprise.
“See the sign up ahead?”
“Yes.”
“It’s a geographical marker. Forty-five degrees north latitude.”
I got a blank stare.
“Forty-five degrees north.”
“I got it. So what?”
“So what? Maxine—you’re halfway to the north pole!”
She started to laugh. I gave her my best hurt look. I’d have to tell Aunt Rose about this flaw in her perfect girl.
“Spencer.” She tried to talk in between laughs. “I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you. It’s just…” And she laughed harder.
It took a minute for her to calm down enough to ask if the next stop was to see Santa.
“Nice. I’m not telling you where the next stop is.”
I turned around, and turned right onto County Highway E, and headed toward Bailey’s Harbor. I pointed out the Coyote Roadhouse.
“So, really, where are we going?”
“Have you been to any of the lighthouses?”
“Rose took me to Eagle Bluff in the park.”
I nodded. “Nice.”
“And I climbed the tower in the park. The view is spectacular.”
“Haven’t been to Cana Island?”
“No. She said we’d go sometime.”
“Well, sometime is now. Kathleen’s best friend, Ginny, is the manager at the lighthouse. You’ll like it.”
“Any geographical markers?”
“Smart ass.”
She laughed. This time it was light and very appealing.
As we turned into the forest onto County Q, I told her about the island and the lighthouse.
“We’ll have to walk across a causeway to get to the island. When I was a kid the water was up to my knees. The lake is down so it might just be over your ankles now.”
We wound around the curves on Q, and as we came up to a clearing I pointed out Moonlight Bay.
“Oh Spencer, that’s beautiful. I can’t imagine living in a place like this.”
I agreed without telling her I did live there. Ten minutes later, I parked at the side of the road and we walked to the causeway.
“That’s Lake Michigan to your left and another bay to your right.” The lake was almost dead calm but could be deceiving. Many boaters who didn’t check the forecast before going out found out the hard way. Dead calm could turn into stormy seas in a matter of minutes. I had seen twenty foot waves on this lake. Many boats and ships were on the bottom of the Great Lakes, the most famous being the Edmund Fitzgerald.
“Where’s the lighthouse?”
“You’ll see.” It was hidden by the trees on the island.
We took off our shoes and socks and waded through the water to the tree-covered island. The path through the trees opened into a clearing with a clear view of the white tower.
Maxine stopped and stared with her mouth open. “Spencer, it’s beautiful. How many are there up here?”
I answered as we walked up to the lighthouse. “There are eleven lighthouses in the county, most in any county in the country.”
“Can we see some more?”
“We’ll stop at another when we leave here.” I held the door for her.
Ginny saw Maxine first, excitedly welcomed her, and started in on her spiel. Then she saw me and her face changed to a look head
ing toward terror.
“Oh, Spencer. I don’t know anything!” Ginny said.
“Nice to see you, too, Ginny. What don’t you know anything about?”
“About anything—that’s what.” She nervously looked at Maxine. Her eyes begged for help.
“Ginny, you’ve always been the worst liar in the world. Max, why don’t you look through the store while I find out what Ginny doesn’t know anything about. Then we’ll climb the tower.”
Maxine walked into the adjacent room.
Ginny started to follow her. “I should stay with the guests.”
I moved between her and the doorway. “I promise she won’t steal anything.”
Ginny sighed and leaned on a counter.
“When did you see her, Ginny?”
Her lower lip quivered and her brow furrowed. “I don’t want to get her in trouble.”
“She’s already in trouble. She escaped from the police. And if you know anything and don’t tell, you’ll be in trouble, too. I’m trying to help her, Ginny.”
Clasping her hands together, she said, “She was here Saturday morning. She was waiting in the woods and stopped me on the path when I got here.”
“What time was that?”
“About eight-thirty.”
“Didn’t you see her car?”
“No. I asked her about that. She said she parked it in her uncle’s garage not too far from here and walked through the woods.”
“And?”
After a deep breath, she continued. “And, she told me someone had broken into her studio and was after her. She asked if she could stay in the basement.”
“And you let her?”
“Well, not right away. I asked if she called the police.”
I just looked at her.
“She said something strange. She said she didn’t trust the police. And she said you’d be coming up.”
“Did she say why she didn’t trust them?”
She shook her head. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Maxine looking at a book rack.
“No. I asked, but she just said she needed a place to stay for the day.”
“And you agreed?”
“I did. She made me lock the door to the basement and told me if anyone asked I didn’t have the key. I suggested she call Adam, but she told me not to tell anyone.”
“What did you think?”
She shrugged. “I didn’t know what to think. I knew she had escaped—it was on the radio. But Kathleen can be, well, you know.”
