A man rose from the front pew and started toward him. Pallone’s breath quickened, and he considered running out the door and down the path but knew that based on the quick stride of his unknown companion, he wouldn’t be able to outrun him.
“Who’s there?” he said.
The man didn’t answer but continued to move forward.
“I said who’s there?”
The man stopped short with his hands clasped behind his back.
Pallone breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh dear Lord, you startled me. I didn’t mean to intrude. I was waiting for someone, and I must have fallen asleep.”
The man offered a smile but stayed quiet.
“Well, good night then,” Pallone said, and as he turned, he felt a heavy blow to the back of his head, which sent a sharp pain through his skull before everything turned black.
*
Elizabeth stood at the front of the glass turnstile door trying to time the right moment to hop in. Most people were exiting the building for the evening, making it more of a challenge to enter. She made her leap forward but missed her stop when a crowd of employees escaping for the day blocked her in and she had to circle around again before she made it into the building. She approached the imposing gray marble security desk that reminded her of her visit to the corporate offices of the archdiocese; however, this time, she had an appointment.
“May I help you?” asked a stern-faced woman.
“I’m Elizabeth Campbell. I have an appointment to see Bradley Iverson,” she said, putting a little emphasis on the word “appointment.”
“One moment please,” the guard replied and began furiously typing before she asked, “Identification, please.”
After Elizabeth completed the security formalities, she was presented a plastic visitor’s badge and escorted to a bank of elevators. The elevator came to rest on the twenty-fourth floor, and the doors effortlessly glided open. As soon as she stepped forward, she was greeted by a jovial woman behind a large glass desk. “Good evening, Ms. Campbell, please have a seat. Mr. Iverson will be with you shortly. May I get you something?”
Elizabeth declined the offer but was impressed with the efficiency of the office; even the variety of magazines displayed on the table were up-to-date. Before she could get settled in and catch up on the latest gossip, the phone buzzed and the receptionist rose. “Ms. Campbell, if you will follow me.”
The receptionist ushered her into a well-adorned corner office with floor to ceiling windows. Night had fully fallen, and she could see the lights of the city come to life. A well-manicured man stood from behind the desk and came forward to greet her. “Ms. Campbell, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Your father speaks of you often. He tells me what great work you do.”
Elizabeth opened her eyes wide at the comment.
“You seem surprised?”
“Let’s just say that my father and I don’t see eye to eye on my career choices.”
“Ah yes, he would prefer you to work in the family firm, but let me tell you, he’s proud of your accomplishments, nonetheless.”
She was awestruck and momentarily rendered speechless. After recovering, she moved along. “Thank you for agreeing to see me on short notice and at the end of the day.”
He gestured to a chair. “Please have a seat.” He retook his seat and leaned back. “So what’s the interest with the old mill?”
“The mill is next to a school that was abandoned around the same time as the mill. I’m actually interested in the school for a case that I’m researching.”
“Yes, your father told me.”
She gave a small smile and began to wonder what her father hadn’t told him. “I was hoping to find out what the mill was doing before it closed down.”
“Well, it was a textile mill,” he replied.
“But what interest does Spiedel Trust have in a textile mill?”
Iverson crossed his arms over his chest and smiled. “A good question, and one that I was curious about as well when I got your call this morning. So I did a bit of digging.” He took a long pause, but she remained still, never breaking eye contact. “You have to understand, my uncle was a very smart man, but also very desperate. Desperate men can do desperate things.”
She calmly nodded, effectively disguising the impatience growing inside her.
“Would you like a drink?” he asked.
She clasped her hands together in her lap, and her fingers started to turn white. “No, I’m fine. Thank you.”
He rose and moved to a well-stocked bar in the corner and began speaking again as he prepared himself a drink. “My uncle had enough money to buy anything he wanted, anything but his health. As I’m sure you know from your research, he suffered from MS. He was convinced that with enough money, a cure could be found.”
“So he established the trust to fund medical research,” Elizabeth said to show that she was keeping up with the conversation.
“But my uncle knew little about medical research, so any snake oil peddler that came to the door with his hand out received a grant.”
“And the mill?”
“Well,” he took a long sip and savored it, “that is interesting.” He took a seat and withdrew a manila folder from a drawer and tossed it on the desk in front of her. “There isn’t much information on the mill. The money was given to a man named Henry Gesler. He was a doctor or researcher who claimed to be working on a breakthrough. It was Gesler that chose the location. That was where he wanted to work.”
She lifted the folder and scanned the information as Iverson continued. “That’s all the information I have. The mill closed down. It was bleeding money, and best I know, Gesler disappeared. You can keep that,” he said, pointing to the folder.
“Thank you, and I really appreciate your time on this.”
He raised his glass in salute and took a sip before he stood. “I’ll show you out.” He walked beside her and waited for her to gather her things, and they walked side by side to the lobby with his hand on the small of her back, which didn’t go unnoticed.
Iverson offered his hand. “It was a pleasure meeting you. Please give your father my regards.”
She returned his firm grip. “I will. Thank you again.” She retreated into the open elevator and escaped.
Once she reached her car, Elizabeth locked herself in and reviewed the folder. It contained very few documents, including a research paper in medical terminology that she couldn’t decipher, but she assumed was the basis of Gesler’s work, and a curriculum vitae for Henry Gesler. First thing in the morning, she planned to comb through the CV and check its veracity.
Chapter Twenty-six
Elizabeth spent the better part of her early morning in a fruitless search on the Internet for Henry Gesler. The curriculum vitae proclaimed that Gesler earned a medical degree in Vienna, Austria, and spent several years dedicating his life to the research of various bacteria-driven illnesses, which the doctor believed were responsible for much of the world’s illnesses, including those traditionally believed to be genetic. It sounded good, but she could neither confirm nor dismiss Dr. Gesler’s proclamations in his CV from her Internet research. If Dr. Gesler’s claims were true, it went unnoticed in the Internet world.
Frustrated at her lack of progress, she decided to check in with Grace, figuring her morning was already unproductive, so why not call the cranky detective to add to it.
Grace answered the phone on the first ring and growled, “Donovan here.”
“My, are you always this charming?” she asked in a singsong voice. She could almost hear Grace grind her teeth.
“What do you need?”
She was unperturbed by Grace’s foul mood, accepting it as part of her demeanor. “What did you find out on David Collins?”
“Hold on a sec.” She could hear the background noise fade and guessed Grace was moving to a more private location before she came back on the line. “I didn’t get much. David was placed at the home that you gave me, but there’s no rec
ord of anything after that.”
“Have you spoken to the foster parents?”
“They’re both deceased, but they have a daughter. She owns the house. I tracked her down, and she works at a bar in the same town.”
“Are you going to see her?” Elizabeth asked.
Grace blew out a breath. “Yeeesss, and no, you can’t come.”
“Oh, come on,” she whined. “You only have this lead because of me.”
Grace remained mute for a moment, then finally spoke. “You’re probably going to follow me anyway. For all I know, you’re watching me right now.”
“You have a coffee stain on your shirt.” After a brief silence, Elizabeth laughed. “You looked, didn’t you?”
“I’m heading over at four. That’s when her shift starts. Meet me at the precinct if you want to come.”
“Will do. Thanks.” Elizabeth hung up feeling better.
*
In furtherance of her quest to learn who Henry Gesler was, Elizabeth decided to track down the information on his curriculum vitae the old-fashioned way, and she walked up the cement steps of the central library. The city boasted that its library contained the largest collection of books, documents, and research material in the state, and she was about to test it out. As she entered the front door and walked past metal detectors standing guard at the inside of the door, she was flooded with memories of law school. She shivered at the thought of the countless hours hunched over a stack of books meticulously cross-checking citations for law review. “Never again,” she vowed.
She approached a teenager with a slight acne problem standing behind a central desk staring at his phone. She knew that she should be annoyed when he didn’t acknowledge her immediately, but she felt for the kid stuck in a library all day. “Excuse me,” she said, announcing her presence.
“Can I help you?” the teenager responded with his eyes still fixed on his phone.
“Can you point me in the direction where I can find published papers on medical research?”
“Medical research?” he echoed.
She pulled out a copy of Henry Gesler’s curriculum vitae and pointed to the page that listed his professional research publications. “I would like to find these publications or any other information about this man.”
The teenager moved to a computer behind the desk and rapidly typed, and after a moment, said, “In aisle forty-seven, you can find a collection of medical journals. The journals are organized by title and then date of publication. It’s on your left.”
“Thank you.” She turned and headed deeper into the library.
The teenager softly called out after her, “Your other left.”
After changing course, she started counting up as she passed each aisle until she reached forty-seven. She perused the books and felt overwhelmed and took a deep breath, “Okay, let’s start with the first one on the list.” She read the title of the first journal and found it on the shelf; it was in alphabetical order as the teenager had promised. Her research from her law review days came in handy, and she soon got the hang of it and selected several bound volumes of journals and dropped them on a table at the end of the aisle, which earned her a few shushes from fellow patrons.
After reviewing several of the journals, she found that Dr. Gesler’s CV was fictitious. His name was not credited on any of the research papers he cited as his work; however, the articles she reviewed were based on the subject matter that Gesler discussed in his CV, so he clearly had an intimate knowledge of the research. On a hunch, she started cross-checking the citations on each of the research papers on Gesler’s CV and found that each of the papers included a citation to the same unpublished research paper that originated from Germany, but didn’t include an author. Gesler claimed to have gone to medical school in Vienna. Austria, Germany, that’s pretty close.
She inspected the shelves and pulled down several more volumes of journals in an attempt to locate additional information on the German research paper, but with no success. She sat back down and laid her head on the table. “Damn, damn, damn.”
Defeated, she stood and groaned at the cramp in her neck and shoulders, then guiltily looked at the stack of books in front of her and debated re-shelving them. She quickly dispensed with that idea and placed the books on a cart labeled “re-shelving,” envisioning a certain teenager creating a voodoo doll of her replica when he saw the cart.
*
Elizabeth headed to the precinct a little early, fearful that Grace might try to leave without her, and dialed her number as she sat in the parking lot. “Are you ready?” she asked before Grace could announce herself on the phone. She was learning a bit from her curt style. A loud knock sounded on her window, causing Elizabeth to jump and drop the phone.
She turned to see Grace next to her car, leaning into her half-rolled-down window. “Scare you?” she asked, pleased with herself.
Elizabeth didn’t answer but instead pushed the release for the car lock and then bent to retrieve her phone that fell. She contorted her body trying to dig under her seat and her skirt rode up in the struggle, exposing her thigh. When she finally came back up triumphantly grasping her phone, Grace quickly turned away. Elizabeth popped a piece of gum in her mouth from a stray pack she found hiding under the seat. “Wanna come?”
“What?” Grace quickly asked with a slight edge to her voice.
“Do you want some gum?” Elizabeth annunciated more clearly through the wad of gum.
“No, let’s get going,” Grace said abruptly and rattled off their intended location.
As they drove, she explained all that she had learned about the mill, the Spiedel Trust, and Henry Gesler. The conversation seemed to help settle Grace, who loosened her arms, which had been tightly folded across her chest. Elizabeth slowed her car as they approached a litter strewn parking lot with a neon sign that was only half illuminated, announcing the “Purring Kitten.”
“Is this a bar or a strip club?” she asked, pulling her car into the driveway.
“God help me,” Grace mumbled as she pushed open the car door, not waiting for Elizabeth to bring the car to a full stop.
Elizabeth walked a step behind her as they approached the front door. The inside was dimly lit, tables were scattered haphazardly about the room, and a long bar stretched across the wall. The air was filled with a stench of stale cigarettes, even though it was illegal to smoke inside, but somehow Elizabeth thought the patrons paid no mind to that rule.
Two men were perched on stools at the end of the bar nursing their drinks of choice, and she was conscious that they were watching them. Grace walked up to the middle of the bar, and Elizabeth pulled up beside her.
“Hey, little lady,” one of the men leaned over and slurred out. “How about you come sit a little closer and keep us company.”
Grace opened her mouth, but Elizabeth beat her to it. “I would, but my girlfriend here might get a little jealous.” She slung her arm around Grace. “She’s strapped and dangerous.”
The man looked at them confused. “Just can’t tell the dykes nowadays,” he said, and the two men picked up their drinks and moved to a table.
Grace paid little attention to the departing men and instead continued to glare at Elizabeth, who still sat with an arm around her shoulder.
“What?” Elizabeth asked, feigning innocence. “I was referring to your gun. What did you think I meant?”
Grace made a show of removing Elizabeth’s arm from her shoulder when the bartender approached, cutting off any retort.
“What can I get ya?” she asked, slinging a towel over her shoulder and leaning an arm on the bar.
“Are you Ellen Myers?”
“What’s it to you?”
Grace pulled out her badge. “I’m looking into the disappearance of a boy named David Collins. He was a foster child who lived with your parents. He went missing in 1981.”
“Well, aren’t you a bit slow?” the woman asked in a gravelly voice, clearly a partaker in the bar�
��s indoor smoking.
Grace ignored the remark. “What can you tell me about his disappearance?”
“I don’t know if it was a disappearance. They came and took him and—”
“Who came and took him?” Elizabeth interjected.
The bartender looked at her with a slight scowl. “I don’t know. The people that brought him there, I guess.”
“Where did they take him?”
“I overheard them tell my parents something about moving him to a group home or reform school or something like that.”
“Was he having problems, getting into trouble?” Elizabeth asked, just as Grace was about to do the same.
“Nope, just kept to himself.”
“So, why did they take him, then?” she asked. Grace had given up trying to take the lead on the questioning.
“How the hell am I supposed to know? You’re the government people. Don’t you know everything?”
Elizabeth ignored the retort. “Do you remember anything about these people or anything else they said?”
“Nooope,” the bartender popped with her lips.
Grace looked to her to see if she was done, and Elizabeth gave her a nod. She tucked her badge back into her jacket. “Well, thank you for your time.”
Elizabeth wasted no time getting out of there. “You sure know how to show a girl a good time,” she said as they walked to her car.
“You should see what I do for a second date,” Grace replied with a straight face.
“Oh my God, did you just make a joke? There may be hope yet.”
Elizabeth waited until they were seated in the car before she spoke again. “There’s no record of David being placed in a group home, reform school, or anywhere else. His record stopped after he was placed in the foster home.”
“It could simply be faulty recordkeeping. We’re talking pre-digital age. Paperwork falls through the cracks.”
“Or…” she countered, “perhaps children fall through the cracks. Who would notice? He had no family.”
Sins of Our Fathers Page 20
