They sat on the couch long after the pizza was gone and the fire had settled into a glow. Catherine, her wine glass in her hand, her stocking feet tucked under her, sidled closer to Liam, leaning her head on his chest. He put his arm around her.
“I don’t deserve a friend like you,” she whispered. “You’ve always been in my corner, since day one.”
She took another sip of wine and stared at the embers. “Why did you let me marry Peter?” she said at last. “Why didn’t you stop me?”
Liam shook his head. “If only I could have. It was the saddest day of my life.”
“Damn the choices we make that change our lives forever,” Catherine said. “The doors of decision are one-way only. You can never go back. I’ll never be the same person again.”
“Let it go, Cat. None of it was your fault. You’ve got to give life another chance.”
Catherine finished her wine and set the glass on the table. She turned and faced him with a soft and gentle gaze and cupped his face with her hands.
“You’re right,” she said. “I know you’re right. Maybe we should take that chance we should have taken years ago. Will you to stay with me tonight?”
He hugged her tightly His hand found the small of her back beneath her sweater and he rubbed her back as he kissed her. “I’ve loved you forever, Cat.”
“I know.”
Chapter Thirty-seven
Chicago, Illinois December 2004
Afternoon sunshine poured through the windows and onto the print-outs of Illinois appellate decisions, statute books, manila folders and notepads that lay strewn about on Catherine’s dining room table. Crumpled balls of yellow notepaper lay on the floor beside the waste basket – errant hook shots, missed free-throws. A stack of library books, annals of Polish history, were piled on the table in front of Liam. Ben had arrived earlier that morning.
“I still need a more definitive list of the stolen property,” Catherine said to Ben. “You’ve given me fourteen items, including your father’s bundle of currency, with a total present day value of $850,000. The non-monetary property, the items of jewelry and silver, need to be described with more particularity.” She looked at Ben and tilted her head. “For example, item eight, ‘A Silver Watch,’ is not descriptive enough. Can you remember what it looked like, the name of the manufacturer?”
Ben just nodded and tapped the point of his pencil on his notepad.
“Liam, anything further on Otto Piatek? Your ideas? Your leads?” Catherine said.
“There is no one named Piatek in Cleveland. My buddy has verified that there are no phones, real estate records, licenses or listings for a Piatek anywhere in the Cleveland area. He did come across a Piacek, but so far, no one answers the phone. I’ve still got some lines in the water. At the library I dug up some info from historical journals. There are scattered references to Piatek in the German military archives. Nazi administrative records, produced at the Nuremburg trials, confirm the elevation of Piatek from scharfuhrer to hauptscharfuhrer in 1941. His rank and an increase in pay were reported in the audited General Gouvernment accounting journals in 1943. His posting in Zamość is noted.”
“Are there any references to Piatek after 1943?”
“Not that I’ve seen yet.”
Catherine stretched her arms. “We’ve been at this for five hours today. Why don’t we take a break? Anybody want some lunch?”
Ben stood. “I’m going for a walk. I need some air.”
“It’s cold out,” Catherine warned.
Ben smiled. “Not really. It’s in the thirties. When I was a starter, sitting in that golf cart out on the first tee, many an April morning that wind would whip off the lake and chill me to the bone.” He struck a boxer’s pose. “I’m tough.”
Left alone in the townhome, Liam approached Catherine and gently placed his hands on her shoulders. Catherine tensed, patted his arm and turned away to walk to the kitchen.
“What’s the matter?” Liam said.
“Nothing.”
“Nothing? Last night, was that a problem for you, because for me it was heaven.”
Catherine shook her head but averted her eyes. “No, it was wonderful, Liam. It’s not that.”
“Then, what?”
“Let’s not talk about it now,” she said, opening the refrigerator and sliding out the meat drawer. “We have a lot to do. How about a turkey sandwich?”
Liam slid back a kitchen chair, reversed it, straddled it and watched Catherine gather the makings for a turkey sandwich. “White or whole wheat?” she said.
“I’m not OK with this, Cat. I don’t get it.”
“Let’s just leave it for now,” she answered without turning around. “You have to respect my wishes. That’s just the way it is. I’ve got to work my way through this. White or whole wheat?”
“Catherine, don’t put me off. I have a stake in this, too.”
She turned to face him. Her face was flushed. “Damn it, Liam! White or whole wheat?”
Liam blinked. “Whole wheat.”
* * *
“It was an Omega pocket watch,” said Ben, returning from his walk. “Made in Switzerland in the early 1900s. My father bought it in Zurich.” He hung his coat in the hall closet and returned to the kitchen. “It had a model name – Labrador, I’m pretty sure. Silver case, with an intricate design. Inside, the face had Roman numeral hour markers. My father kept it on a silver chain clasped to his belt loop. I expect it would be worth quite a handsome sum today. Descriptive enough?”
Catherine nodded. Unmoved. She obviously had other things on her mind.
“Something wrong?” Ben said.
“No,” said Catherine and Liam in unison.
“I’m going to add that description to the lawsuit,” Catherine said, walking to the dining room. “I still need more details on your mother’s bracelet.”
“Did I do something?” Ben whispered to Liam.
“No, it’s not about you.”
The phone rang and Catherine answered it in the kitchen. A few minutes later she returned to the dining room.
“That was Jenkins. He wanted to know if I had reconsidered his offer. He says Rosenzweig’s investigator is watching the Piatek house in Cleveland, but that it’s actually owned by a man named Piacek. He tells me that’s the English pronunciation of Piatek. Isn’t that the name your friend came up with?”
“It is,” Liam said.
“Well, Jenkins said there’s nobody home. The house is dark. Rosenzweig’s investigator now thinks he might be in Europe. He surmises that Piatek heard about the Rosenzweig incident and fled for Poland or Germany.”
“Nobody home. What a surprise,” Ben said.
* * *
The balance of the afternoon was spent doing research, Catherine questioning Ben, and Liam pouring through chronicles of the German army campaigns in Poland and western Russia.
“Are we going to work into the evening?” said Liam at five o’clock. “Because that little sandwich isn’t going to hold me – I’m getting hungry.”
“If you don’t need me,” Ben said, “I’ve been invited for dinner at Adele’s. She’s going to pick me up.”
Catherine set her pen down on the table and turned to face the two. She had her palms flat on the table and leaned forward. “Gentlemen, this is the bottom line: we need to have more evidence before I can file a lawsuit. I just don’t have enough factual support. I don’t want to file it on Ben’s ID alone. We need more than mysterious circumstances – more than a false immigration date, more than unexplained wealth. Something that will tie Rosenzweig directly to Piatek. Otherwise, we’ll get bounced on a motion and lose our opportunity forever.”
Liam poured three glasses of wine. “Trust me on this. I will have something soon, maybe in a day or two. I’m about to catch a fish.” He winked.
“What do you have?”
“Trust me.”
Adele stopped by at six, and she and Ben left shortly thereafter.
; “Having second thoughts about the lawsuit?” Liam said as he walked over to put his arms around Catherine.
“Nope. Not about the cause, anyway. Just about myself. I’m not sure I’m the right girl for the job.”
“He couldn’t have a better advocate,” he said and kissed her on the forehead. “Let me take you to dinner.”
Catherine shook her head. “Not tonight. I want to work a little more.”
“What is it, Cat? What’s wrong here? Have I done something?”
“No, it’s not you, it’s me. Don’t worry about it.” She kissed him lightly on the cheek and walked into the kitchen.
“Hold on,” said Liam, who followed her, grabbed her hand and led her back to the couch. “Sit down, please. I got something to say.” Reluctantly, she took a seat beside him. “Twenty years, Cat. I’ve been waiting around for twenty years. And all that time, I’ve loved you every day. I’ve laughed with you, I’ve cried with you and yet, I was always resigned just to be your friend, because I knew that’s all it’d ever be. Then last night happens and now everything has changed. At least it has for me. I know I’m just a hard-nosed Irishman, but, believe it or not, I got feelings. I can’t go back to some dispassionate friendship. You’ve got to level with me. What’s going on?”
Catherine, her eyes tearing, grabbed a fistful of tissues. “I’m sorry, Liam. I truly am. It’s a crisis of confidence. It’s all about me and my doubts. I doubt my judgments. I doubt my competence as a lawyer. I doubt my ability to sustain a relationship.” She turned to face him and gripped his wrists. “Don’t you get it? Ever since Peter, it’s all a façade. I’m a fake. I’m putting up a false front here, Liam, and I know that sooner or later everyone is going to find out. No one of sound judgment could make the mistakes I’ve made in my life. I’m a goddamn failure.” She shook her head. “And it’s not just my bad judgment. When my marriage crashed and burned, I swore I’d never let myself be that vulnerable again. I’d never get hurt like that again. I built myself a nice, strong, protective wall. I rebuilt my career. I put some money in the bank. That’s just the way I wanted it. Then along comes Ben. My career craters. When I file against Rosenzweig, it’ll hit every paper in town and I’ll be so overmatched it’ll make David and Goliath look like a fair fight. And now, on top of all that, I go and throw my heart out on the line like some stupid teenager. It’s overwhelming me. I can’t do this right now.” She broke into sobs and squeezed his forearms. “I can’t do this!”
Liam nodded and hugged her. “It’s all right. It’s okay.”
“If our relationship falls apart,” she said, “like all my other love affairs have my entire life, then I’ve lost the only friend I’ve got. I can’t afford for that to happen. I need you, Liam. Especially now. Please. Let me work this out my way.”
“Okay, Cat,” he said, drawing her head to his chest. “Okay.”
After a few moments of silence, she lifted her head and said, “Let me do a little work, a few more minutes, finish up, and then you can take me to dinner. Okay?”
“Sure,” Liam said.
Chapter Thirty-eight
Tinley Park, Illinois December 2004
Carl Wuld heard the doorbell ring at eight a.m. He stumbled down the stairs in his underwear and opened the door a crack. “Whatdya want?” he said to Liam standing on the front stoop.
“I want to talk about Carl Henninger.”
“Never heard of him.”
“Really? Have you heard of Samantha Green? I believe she was sixteen at the time. Am I jarring your memory? What about ‘People of the State of Arizona versus Carl Henninger, cause number 89 CR 4588?”
The door opened and Wuld stepped back to let Liam in. He led him to the small living room and took a soiled sweatshirt off the back of a chair. “You could sit here.” Wuld sat on the sofa. “What do you want,” he said.
“Does your wife know about Carl Henninger? Does Rosenzweig?”
“Nobody does. How do you know?”
“I’m a great detective. I also have a friend in Arizona.”
“That was fifteen years ago. I paid my debt.”
“I didn’t come across your State of Illinois registration, you know, as a sex offender. I didn’t see your name online, either. Let’s see, your jurisdiction of registration would be the City of Chicago. My, my. You must’ve have forgotten to file your notifications. Damn, how those things can slip your mind.”
“What the fuck do you want? You want money? I don’t have much.”
Liam smiled. “I want you to tell me about Piatek.”
“Can’t do it.”
Liam rose. “So long, Henninger.” He walked to the door.
“Wait. Wait. Maybe we can work something out. What do you want to know?”
“I want you to tell me about this bullshit stake-out story and why you were sitting outside in your car at Thanksgiving.”
“Okay, it’s a bullshit story. Okay? I gotta make a living just like you. Rosenzweig calls me to his fancy office and hires me to find out anything I can about Otto Piatek, a Polish Nazi. Find him if he’s still alive. If he’s dead, find his grave. Any information I can dig up, I’m to come directly to him. For that, he’s willing to pay me big bucks. I’m getting checks for twenty, thirty grand. It’s sweet. Only trouble is, there ain’t shit to find. This guy was some minor Nazi and he disappeared. Totally. I saw a giant payday walking out on me.
“So I decide to run a number and milk Rosenzweig for a little money. Shit, he’d never miss it. You’da done it too. I find this guy in Cleveland, through the phonebook, a guy named Piacek. What a fuckin’ coincidence. He lives in a little house in a blue collar neighborhood. It’s perfect. So I visit the guy. He’s a retired metalworker. On a pension. Doesn’t even speak good English. All his family’s in the old country – Lithuania or something. I couldn’t believe my luck. I say how would you like to go visit your family for a few months? I’ll give you the money. He’s not too keen on it. He don’t wanna go. It takes some convincing on my part, if you follow me. I don’t really leave him no choice. So he leaves and I tell Rosenzweig I found Piatek’s house, but he’s out of town. I show him the listing in the Cleveland phone book. Piacek, Piatek – it’s gotta be.”
Wuld spreads his hands like a showman. “Bada boom.”
Liam is not amused. “Go on.”
“I tell Rosenzweig I’m going to watch the house for awhile. Sooner or later, we’ll get him. I tell him he split for Europe. After a while, I figure I’ll plant a Nazi flag and some Nazi medals in the house. Come on. Who gives a rat’s ass if I run a number on a billionaire? Like you wouldn’t do it. You’re no different from me. We’re in the same business, you know, like brothers-in-arms. So, cut me a break here, will ya?”
“Rosenzweig didn’t know?”
Wuld shook his head. “He don’t know shit. You wonder how the prick got to be so rich, when he’s so fuckin’ simple.”
“Why were you out in the street on Thanksgiving?”
“Surveillance, man. Rosenzweig told me to find out everything I could on Solomon.”
“Did he tell you why?”
Wuld rubbed the stubble on his face. “Nah, but I’m sure it was because of the gun thing when Solomon called him a Nazi.”
“What did you find out?”
“Nothin’.”
“What did you find out when you busted into his apartment?”
Wuld grinned and shrugged his shoulders. “Just some papers. There wasn’t shit. Just like Piatek. There’s just nothing on these two guys.”
Liam rose and walked to the door.
“Hey,” Wuld said. “You gonna cut me a break, you know, one dick to another?”
“Sure. One dick to another. Brothers-in-arms. You stupid bastard, you’re an embarrassment. I should blow the whistle and have your ticket pulled.” Liam pointed his finger in Wuld’s face. “But, here’s the deal. Brother. I won’t say a word. You run your games. But I want to know every time Rosenzweig talks to you about Piatek
or Solomon. You keep me in the loop, I’ll keep my mouth shut. Screw up and I crow like a rooster.”
“Yeah, yeah. No problem. Thanks, bud.”
Liam opened the door and stepped out onto the stoop. Wuld called after him, “Howdja know? I mean about the Arizona thing?”
“The Camry. It’s ten years old with an Arizona dealer sticker on the trunk. I took a picture of the registration number, remember? You should’ve bought a new car.”
“Shit.”
Chicago, Illinois December 2004
“So the whole story about Piatek living in Cleveland in a bungalow was a lie?” said Catherine.
“Yep.” Liam twisted the cap off a bottle of beer.
Ben smiled and brushed off his invisible chest medals. “Told you so.”
“Was that one of your fishing lines in the water?” Catherine said.
Liam nodded. “I got one more, and I think I’m getting a bite. I’m supposed to meet Brad Goodlow this afternoon. He says he’s got something for me.”
“Who is he?” Catherine and Ben said in unison.
“Do I have to reveal my sources?”
Catherine narrowed her eyes and put her hands on her hips.
“Ok, ok, you win. He’s a researcher at NBC News and an old buddy of mine.”
“What’s he got?” asked Catherine.
“For that, you’ll have to wait and see.”
Ben mumbled something and Catherine turned her head. “What?”
“I said maybe Wuld wasn’t running a number on Rosenzweig,” said Ben. “Maybe it’s the other way around.”
“Explain.”
“Rosenzweig’s not simple, and he’s not stupid. I find it hard to believe that a thug like Wuld could pull the wool over Rosenzweig’s eyes.”
“Do you think Rosenzweig knows – that he’s going along with the story?”
Once We Were Brothers Page 28
