Evil in the First House: A Starlight Detective Agency (Starlight Detective Agency Mysteries Book 3)

by Mitchell Scott Lewis

  She got up and began to pace. “I don’t know. Why should I trust you?”

  “There’s no reason you should. Just tell me what you feel comfortable with.”

  She sat back down and looked at him carefully. “I may regret this, but my instincts tell me I should.” She wrung her hands and sighed. “I don’t know where to start.”

  “How about at the beginning?”

  “Well, I suppose so.” She kept wringing her hands as she spoke, trying in vain to wash away some unseen blemish. “At first I guess we had a normal marriage. There were a few disagreements, and I suppose the usual struggles as we got to know each other. He was fairly easygoing and generous when we were dating. But then soon after we were married he started to change.”

  “How so?”

  “It was subtle at first. Some mood swings, an occasional argument that seemed irrational to me. But I was young and didn’t understand much about relationships. As the months went by, he became more abusive. He has a terrible temper, which at first he hid from me. It started to come out more and more. He would scream at me, sometimes in public. But then it escalated. He…” she stopped to catch her breath. “He would hit me, sometimes very hard.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I tried to talk to him, begged him to seek help. But he just said it was a bad mood and he’d get over it.”

  “Did he continue to hit you?”

  She nodded. “Many times. Even when I was pregnant. Once he threatened to push me down the stairs. I became afraid for myself and my unborn children. I needed to know who this man was that I had married. Everyone thought he was a god. People came from all over for his advice and skills as a surgeon. But I had to live with another side of his personality. I didn’t know what to do. I had very few friends and no money of my own. I felt trapped. I needed to learn more about the father of my children.

  “One night Edgar and I went to a charity ball where I met my husband’s accountant and his wife, Nancy. She and I hit it off right away and soon became close friends. Several weeks later over lunch I took a chance and confined in her about my troubles. Nancy was very sympathetic. She’d been married before to an abusive man and understood what I was going through. That night when her husband was asleep she opened Edgar’s file on her husband’s computer and emailed it to me. I was shocked. He was immensely wealthy, something he’d kept from me. I knew we weren’t poor, but I had no idea how much money he had. He’d spent years researching genetic diseases and by the time we got married was losing interest in practicing medicine. He was only interested in collecting and patenting rare genes. I later found out that he had been accused of using his wealth to buy, steal, and bully the rights to genetic material from those unfortunate enough to be in possession of a blood type or genetic code that he needed for his work.”

  Gloria blew out a deep breath that held years of pressure and sadness.

  “As the months went by and my due date came closer, he became less violent, as if the children were the important thing. But I knew his anger was bubbling under the surface. I began to realize that I couldn’t let him near my children. I didn’t know if he was using drugs or what the problem was.”

  They were quiet for a few moments as Lowell digested the information. Finally he said: “I understand. Tell me more.”

  She sat silently for a few moments staring past Lowell, her eyes unfocused, looking at a view from her past only she could see.

  “After my sons were born he became worse than ever. It was as if my giving birth to his offspring was all he’d been interested in and he had no more use for me. There were some complications from the births and I was forced to remain in the hospital for several weeks. At least the children stayed with me, at first. Edgar came into my room one night, his face flush with anger, his breath smelling from alcohol. He told me that it was time to wean the boys from me. That’s the term he used, like they were a litter of animals. That’s when I knew I had to get away from him.”

  She stood up and began pacing again, her agitation quite pronounced.

  “Being the doctor’s wife does come with some privileges in the hospital. I arranged for an early morning discharge the following day, convincing the nurses that my husband had just forgotten to tell them. Nancy agreed to come by and pick me up with a suitcase of clothing for me and the kids. We were going to start a new life.”

  Gloria Williamson stopped, closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and looked directly at Lowell. “It was the worst day of my life. The day I lost my son. I still have nightmares.”

  “Take your time. I know this is painful. But I need to know what happened.”

  “It was very early. The sun wasn’t up yet. It was quiet outside the hospital. Nancy pushed me out in a wheelchair. I was still very weak, and the hospital’s regulations demanded it. She had parked just down the street and was holding both babies, as I eased myself into the car.

  “Just then, another car squealed to the curb and a very large man I’d seen around the hospital ran to us and grabbed one of the babies. He tried to get the other but my friend twisted away and started to scream bloody murder. I tried to scream too, but the shock of what was happening was too much for me and I couldn’t utter a sound. I saw one of my babies…” She closed her eyes again, and kept them closed. “He took off with my child…”

  “You don’t have to say more. I understand your loss.” Lowell had a catch in his throat. “I understand your loss,” he repeated, more softly.

  She sat back on the couch, spent. “I’ve been running ever since, forced to adopt aliases and always on my guard. He has unlimited resources, I have few. I couldn’t let him come and take my other son. And I knew he wouldn’t be happy with just one.”

  They both sat quietly for a moment. Lowell broke the silence. “How did you survive?”

  “For years I roamed around the country taking any job I could find. We lived in California for a while, in terrible places. I was afraid to work as a nurse, figuring he’d find me that way. But after so many years, the only job I could find that paid decently was back here, so I finally took a chance. I had to use my deceased friend’s identity. And now he’s found me anyway.”

  She sat back on the couch and was silent for a while, gazing into space. “How is my other son?”

  Lowell shook his head. “That’s why I’m here. He’s very ill and needs a kidney transplant. He has a very rare blood type from your husband’s side.”

  She nodded. “Oh my God, no!”

  Lowell gave her time to process this awful news.

  She began to speak again, very slowly, her voice cracking. “I found out about Kevin’s blood type when he was about three. I had to take him to a clinic for a horrible cough and they discovered it. They wanted me to keep a supply of his blood just in case something happened.”

  “Did you?”

  “No. I couldn’t afford it. I haven’t had health insurance since I left him. Mr. Lowell, do you know how expensive it is? It would cost me more than my rent to cover Kevin and me. Some states have programs for poor people, but if I signed up for it he would have been able to find me.”

  “Your husband hired me to find his son’s twin in the hope of convincing you to allow the operation.”

  “My poor boy, my poor, poor boy.” She got up, walked over to the kitchen area, and put her tea cup in the sink. Then she poured herself a glass of water. “You sure I can’t get you anything?”

  “No, thank you.”

  She remained standing. “I don’t know what to do. I can’t let my son die, but I just don’t trust that man. Are you sure this isn’t just a ruse for him to get Kevin away from me?”

  “For the past year Edward has been in and out of a private hospital your husband owns in New Jersey. According to your husband he seems to be fading fast. Also, my astrological interpretation of his chart shows that he is quite susceptible to kidney
disease.”

  Tears welled up in her eyes.

  “Mrs. Williamson, Why don’t you take a little time and think about it?”

  She sipped the water. “Are you going to tell him that you found me?”

  “Not unless you want me to.”

  “But he hired you.”

  Lowell smiled humorlessly. “That matters less than you think.”

  “My other son needs me. I can’t just turn my back on him.”

  “Where is your son, if I may ask?”

  “He’s out with some friends. Kevin’s a very sociable young man.”

  “So what do you want me to do?”

  “I suppose I’ll have to see Edgar. Would you arrange it? And can we do it somewhere safe? I’m very afraid of him.”

  “I’ll arrange a meeting at my office in Manhattan. Would that be okay?”

  She nodded.

  He stood up and shook her hand. “You have my number on my card. Why don’t you call me when you’re ready to meet?”

  “You’re very kind. I’ll call you in a day or so.”

  Andy drove him back to the city. Lowell didn’t turn on his visual playground, but sat looking out at the gray world.

  Chapter Eight

  When they got back to Manhattan, Lowell decided to take a walk. The clouds had lifted, but it wasn’t sunny, just a brighter shade of hot gray. Weather conducive to deep thought.

  “Andy, drop me on Fourteenth Street. I’m going to stroll through the Village.”

  Andy took the FDR to the Twenty-third Street exit and went down Second Avenue. At Fourteenth Street he pulled over and Lowell got out. It was good to stretch his legs. Perhaps he’d become too complacent lately, relying on Andy too much. He was going to see Katherine soon. That thought made him nervous, like a sixteen-year-old kid anticipating a first date.

  He walked down Second Avenue, turned right onto Tenth Street, and headed west. He noticed subtle changes each time he come downtown, regretting the modernization that had slowly crept into this mostly unaltered district. But he knew this area was soon going to be massively redefined. NYU was about to gobble up huge chunks in a land grab unprecedented in this city since the heyday of Robert Moses who, two generations before had ripped entire communities from their homes and tore down neighborhood after neighborhood in the name of progress. Some of it was a necessary pruning for legitimate expansion and growth. But some was just wanton ego-fueled destruction.

  Something was bothering Lowell. Like eyes, unseen, glaring at the back of his head. He turned around quickly, but nobody seemed to be watching him. A woman was looking in a dress shop window. A homeless man sat outside a deli with a large plastic container hoping for donations. Otherwise the street was very quiet on this hot and muggy day. It wasn’t like him to be jittery. But despite a lack of supporting evidence he remained unnerved.

  He walked past the Albert on University and Tenth Street. Originally built in the late nineteenth century as the Albert Hotel, it was now a residential apartment building, but was once a meeting center for important writers and artists of their day. Some of its famous guests included Robert Louis Stevenson, Mark Twain, Walt Whitman, Anais Nin, Jackson Pollack, and many others.

  He crossed Fifth Avenue and went down to Bleecker Street. Of course this was no longer the center of bohemian music, literature, and politics it had once been. The days of starving artists living in cheap walk-ups while writing novels or perfecting their jazz were gone. The rise in housing prices had long ago pushed them out. Now it was another upper-middle-class paragon, with its romantic winding streets and hidden alleys, and rents in the thousands.

  If not for the tireless efforts of Jane Jacobs, a woman with a mission, determined to stop Moses’ relentless destruction and renovation, the West Village, with its hundred-year-old buildings and its old European-style charm would have been decimated by the wrecker’s ball and replaced by the massive Lower Manhattan Expressway Moses had planned. The Isaacs-Hendrix House built in 1799 still stood at 77 Bedford Street. The Greek revival rowhouses that still lined the north side of Washington Square were built around 1832. They all would have been demolished if Robert Moses had had his way.

  In the Fifties this area was home to Jack Kerouac, James Baldwin, Truman Capote, and so many other writers of that era. Dylan Thomas, who collapsed at the Chelsea Hotel after a night of drinking at the White Horse Tavern, died at St. Vincent’s Hospital on West Twelfth Street. St. Vincent’s was closed now, leaving the area without a single full-service hospital. Its buildings were being redesigned as another upper-class residence.

  And in the 1960s, the final surge of creativity to emerge from this incredible neighborhood attracted the likes of Jimi Hendrix, Theloneous Monk, Simon and Garfunkel, Phil Ochs, Dave Von Ronk, Joni Mitchell, Bob Dylan, and Peter, Paul, and Mary…the list was endless. It’s very unlikely that another great musical explosion will ever emerge from the West Village again, he thought. No struggling artist could afford to live there. And the clubs that nurtured them have mostly been priced out of existence. There was so much history here, something ignored by realtors and corporations who could only see the bottom line and not the human value.

  Walking was always one of Lowell’s greatest pleasures. No gadgets, no gimmicks, no car. Just him and his feet, freedom personified. He crossed Seventh Avenue and went down Bank Street, one of the loveliest of all, seemingly untouched by time. Remove the cars and you could easily think you’d awakened in 1880.

  What a strange pair of cases, he thought. A missing woman who, it turns out had good reason to go missing. A sick child, a twin no less. A million dollars in cash and a family reunited whatever the end result.

  And the embezzlement of the retirement money so many people relied on for their old age. That’s cold, he said quietly to himself, very cold. And a marshmallow company, to boot!

  After several hours of meandering, he’d had enough. His mind was clear and he was ready for work once again. A quick text and soon he was heading uptown with Andy.

  Chapter Nine

  “Mrs. Williamson is on line one.”

  He picked up the phone. “Yes, Mrs. Williamson?”

  It was 9:01 a.m. How thoughtful yet eager, Lowell thought. Both good signs.

  “I’m ready to meet with Edgar and see what this is all about. I can’t just let one of my boys die. The sooner the better.”

  “Certainly. I’ll try to get in touch with him now. When are you free to come?”

  “I’ve cleared my schedule for the next few days, so anytime you can arrange it from today through next week would be fine. I could even be there in an hour if you wanted. I’m in Westchester visiting a friend. She has a son about Kevin’s age so we’re staying here for a few days. I had to get out of the apartment. And they’ve got a pool, which is just great for Kevin.”

  “Okay, I’ll let you know.” They hung up.

  Lowell buzzed Sarah. “Get me Dr. Williamson. If he doesn’t answer, leave a message that I’ve found his wife and son.”

  A few moments later Sarah buzzed. “Dr. Williamson on line one.”

  Lowell picked up the phone. “Dr. Williamson, I’ve located your wife. She would like me to arrange a meeting with you in my office.”

  “That’s very good news, Mr. Lowell. When can we set this up?”

  “She would like it to be as soon as possible.”

  “As would I.”

  “Are you free today?”

  “Yes, of course,” said Williamson, “I can be at your office at noon, if that works.”

  “I’ll arrange it and have my assistant Sarah confirm it with you.”

  Lowell sent Andy to pick up Gloria. She arrived at about 11:45 and sat in a client’s chair in Lowell’s office staring out the window.

  “Can I get you something? Coffee, or perhaps something stronger?”

  She turned
toward him, a faraway look in her eyes and shrugged. “I guess coffee would be nice, thank you.”

  He buzzed Sarah. “Would you please get Mrs. Williamson a cup of coffee with…”

  “Milk and two sugars.”

  “…milk and two sugars. And I’ll have one as well.”

  Sarah came in a few minutes later with the coffee in delicate china cups she used mostly for clients, and a plate of cookies. “I thought you might like something with your coffee.” She put the snacks on the table by the couch and left.

  Lowell got up from his desk. “Let’s sit over here on the couch.”

  Gloria displayed little animation and seemed almost in a trance. She sipped her coffee, took one of the cookies and nibbled the tiniest bite. Her demure attitude belied a rather attractive woman in her forties. Her face was quite pretty and if she’d paid any attention at all to her looks she could be very desirable. But she carried herself in a shy, reserved manner and dressed in frumpy clothes that hid any sexuality she might accidentally exude.

  Lowell could see her distress. “I’m sure you’re worried about your sons. It’ll be okay.”

  Gloria looked at him. “I don’t trust that man. I can’t.”

  “I understand. I’ll stay with you the entire time if you wish.”

  “I would like that very much. I’m only agreeing to see him because of you. I’ve always been a believer in astrology, and your demeanor and reputation are very comforting.”

  He nodded in thanks. “I’ll be around as long as you need me.”

  The intercom rang. Lowell walked over to the receiver. “Yes, Sarah?…Okay.” He turned to Gloria. “It’s your husband.” He switched phone lines. “Yes, Dr. Williamson. I have your wife here with me…I see…Do you wish to talk to her?…Okay.” He hung up.

  “He’s running a bit late. He’ll be here in half an hour.”

  She nodded silently. They finished the coffee.

  “I have some work to do. There are magazines and a TV in the conference room. Anything you need, please tell Sarah and she’ll see to it.” Lowell ushered her out to Sarah’s desk.