by Rick Polad
My hopes dropped back to the ground with a thud and I turned back to the counter. “Well, that figures, she’s gone.”
“What do you mean, she’s gone? She’d better not be!”
I was starting to get angry. I didn’t mind losing a client I never had as much as I minded being the butt of some joke. “There’s nobody there, Beef. And it’s not very funny.”
He looked down the row and smiled. “Oh, I see. She’s there. Just walk down there and see for yourself.”
I shrugged and walked down the aisle. He was right. She was there, but she didn’t have the long legs or the tight dress. What she did have was an adult-sized piece of chocolate cake and she was shoveling it in faster than I would have thought possible. And now I knew why I thought no one was there. She couldn’t have been more than four or five years old and didn’t come within a foot of the top of the high-backed booth.
Beef had come up behind me and he introduced us. “Marty, this is Mr. Manning. He’s going to help us find your daddy. P.I., this is my niece, Marty.”
She stopped eating long enough to give me a muffled “Hi” and then went back to the cake. She seemed much more interested in it than in finding her daddy. But then I’d tasted Maria’s chocolate cake and the cake was right there in front of her. Hard to ignore. Marty was a cute little thing. Long black hair framed a thin face with green eyes, a slightly upturned nose, and a mouth covered with chocolate. I told her it was nice to meet her and then noticed a Raggedy Ann doll sitting next to her on the bench with a white paper napkin spread across its lap.
“Who’s your friend there, Marty?”
“That’s Ann.” She didn’t take her eyes off the cake.
“She looks hungry. Did your daddy give her to you?”
“No. Uncle Ronny did.”
I glanced over at Beef and saw the puzzled look on his face. I guessed this Uncle Ronny was a new addition to the family.
“Well, you see she gets something to eat, okay?”
“Okay.”
I knew that was a lie. She wasn’t about to share that cake with anybody. I took Beef’s arm and steered him back toward the counter.
“So, you gonna take the case, P.I.?”
“How about you tell me what the case is first? Her father is missing?”
“More like we don’t know who the father is.”
“Her mother is your sister?”
“Was. She died six months ago.” He pursed his lips and took a deep breath. “And to answer your next question, she wouldn’t tell me who the father was.”
“They weren’t married?”
“They weren’t married. But it’s not what you think. She wasn’t that kind of girl.”
“I hadn’t considered what kind of girl she was, Beef.”
“Hey! How about a refill!” Down at the end of the counter, an old guy with a two-day growth of stubble held up his cup.
“Coming right up, Pops.” Beef walked behind the counter and picked up the coffee pot. “I’m closing at eight,” he said to me. “How about I get Marty settled with Maria and then come up to your hole in the wall?”
“Okay.” I ate, put seven bucks on the counter, and headed back to the office. I wasn’t crazy about the case. Missing persons wasn’t exactly what I had in mind, but I felt I didn’t have the right to be choosy. Things were a little slow and I had rent to pay.
Chapter 3
I unlocked my door, wondering if I’d ever get a real case so I’d have to use the old marker-in-the-door trick like I’d read about in the mystery novels. What was left of the sun left a sickly yellow pall over the few pieces of old wooden furniture that had come with the place, left behind by a tenant who didn’t think them worth the trouble of hauling to the next address. If this worked out, I’d have to spend some of my inheritance and buy some real furniture. But, for the moment, I didn’t want any of that money.
I was about to make the place a little more presentable when something about the room suddenly struck me as odd. A quick glance around showed me what it was. I must have noticed the blinking red light on the answering machine out of the corner of my eye. It was only the second message I’d had and the first one didn’t count; that was me checking the machine and what I’d said couldn’t be repeated. I rewound the tape and waited anxiously.
When I heard the gentle voice, I sighed and shook my head. It was Aunt Rose. Another great expectation ground into dust. She said she was still waiting to see me and then went on to say she had run into Kathleen at the grocery store. Kathleen was one of the memories up in Door County I wanted to avoid, and the third reason I had joined the army. And now it seemed she was coming to Chicago to exhibit her paintings. Of course, Aunt Rose, who firmly believed I should have married Kathleen instead of joining the army, had given her my phone number and told her I’d love to see her. I could always count on Aunt Rose.
Kathleen Johnson was a beautiful, talented, sometimes addle-brained woman whom I had fallen head-over-heels for the first summer I was interested in that sort of thing. We had been spending summers up in Door and staying in Aunt Rose’s inn for as long as I could remember. But, until the year I was fourteen, every summer had been spent down by the docks, out on a sailboat, or on one of the island beaches reading Mickey Spillane, Raymond Chandler, and Arthur Conan Doyle in the hot sun. Then, in June of one fateful summer, I had met Kathleen on my way to the boat and had spent the next month dreaming about her long blond hair and bright blue eyes and following her around with about as much control over my destiny as a dog’s tail.
She was almost a year older than me and at first wanted nothing to do with me. But I was persistent and, by the end of the next summer, she had fallen in love with me too. We were inseparable and, as the years went by, most everyone assumed we’d get married one day, especially Aunt Rose. Dad had laughed and said it was just puppy love. He said I’d go off to college and find out what love really was. Then I’d get married and find out once more; that’s when Mom hit him. I’m not saying there weren’t other girls in my life, but both Kathleen and I finished college without having found anyone else and the next year I asked her to marry me.
It was then that the fighting began. Both of us had tempers which were quick to flare. And the main argument was over where to live. I had always wanted to be a detective and had planned on joining the force in Chicago. She was an artist and never wanted to live anywhere but Door County and she once said that, even if she were in a pine box, she would have found a way to keep herself from being shipped to Chicago. Evidently she was willing to sacrifice me for her art. But then I wasn’t bending much either.
How had we spent seven years avoiding this issue to which there seemed to be no solution? But that wasn’t true. There was a solution and I found it. I broke off the engagement. Somehow a wonderful relationship spent watching fluffy white clouds and listening to tug whistles had gone south. We still loved each other but that love was interrupted far too often by fits of anger. We were either in each other’s arms or at each other’s throats. And I never knew which was coming next. So I had eventually decided to put myself in a position where I wouldn’t be able to change my mind. I joined the army. But a part of me missed her and had never forgotten her.
Evidently, neither had Aunt Rose. It was Tuesday and Kathleen wasn’t coming until next Wednesday. Eight days away. I’d have time to take care of Beef’s problem and then run up to Door for a visit to Aunt Rose. I knew I was trying to avoid Kathleen but only because I knew I’d have a hard time saying good-bye if I saw her in person. I loved her—I probably always would. But love should be like a favorite old chair with lumps. If you know where the lumps are, you can settle down in the comfortable spots in between. With Kathleen, the lumps kept moving around.
I spent the next hour dusting my desk with my pants and wishing Aunt Rose hadn’t reminded me about Kathleen. That was one clean desk.
Chapter 4
About 8:30, Beef knocked and let himself in. He dragged a straight chair to
the other end of the desk and sat down. He had taken the time to put on his Hawaiian shirt and splash on some aftershave. Old Spice if my nose served me correctly.
“You going to a party?” I asked trying not to laugh.
“Nah. But I’ve heard about those gorgeous broads that are always dropping in on you P.I.s and I thought I’d be ready.”
But his Hawaiian shirt was already sweat-stained and I didn’t want to tell him what I thought he was ready for. He wiped his forehead on the sleeve of his shirt and said, “You know, I could do without this heat.”
“You and me both. But I can remember Dad saying that same thing since I was a little kid and he couldn’t do anything about it either. You care for a cold one?”
He gave me a look that told me I didn’t have to ask and, as I walked to the mini-fridge in the corner he said, “Ya know they invented air conditioning a while back.”
“Yeah, I heard something about that. The crowd coming in the front door has kept me so busy I haven’t had time to get one. Marty settled in okay?”
“Sure. I got her PJs on and Maria’s reading her a book. And not that trash you read either.”
He was referring to the couple of hundred mysteries that lined the bookcase against the wall. There was also some Dickens and Steinbeck sprinkled in there for my more serious moods, not that Beef would have noticed.
He tipped back the bottle and took a long drink. “So P.I., you want the job?”
“I’m not too clear on what the job is, Beef. You want to fill me in?”
“It’s not too complicated. My sister, Elizabeth, got herself pregnant some five years ago. She wasn’t going to get married and she wouldn’t think of not having the baby. You know what I mean. So, nine months later, Marty is a member of the family and I became an uncle. I loved that kid like I was her own father, changed her diapers, sang to her, took her for walks. I wouldn’t give her up for anything.”
My raised eyebrows got me a dirty look.
“Don’t give me that look. Under this tough hide I got a heart just like you college boys. Just don’t spread it around.”
“She never told you who the father was?”
“Nope. She refused to talk about it and after awhile I figured it didn’t really matter so I stopped asking.”
“Do you think she knew who it was?”
He set down the bottle and slowly turned red. “What the hell do you mean by that?”
“Nothing. Just trying to see how things stood.” I had discovered one thing. You don’t want to get Beef mad.
“Well, now you know. My sister was a good Catholic girl and I don’t want you to ever forget it.”
I didn’t point out that she had evidently taken at least one night off from being good.
He calmed down, took another gulp of beer, and continued. “She knew who it was all right. It was just some big damned secret.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Cuz the guy did the right thing by her. Aside from marrying her, of course. She got a check every month for support of Marty.”
“You ever see the checks?”
A perplexed look preceded his “no.”
“Then how do you know he sent them?”
“Because she said he did and she wasn’t hurtin’ for money.”
I finished my beer and asked, “Who’s Uncle Ronny?”
The hardness returned to his face and he sat up straight in the chair. “I don’t know. That’s the first I’ve heard of him.”
“Not a relative?”
“Not in our family. And I oughta know. It was just me and Sis.”
“Maybe the father’s brother.”
“Maybe.”
“Or maybe a friend of your sister. You know how they always seem to get called uncle.”
“Maybe. It really irks me. I figured Beth gave her that doll cuz she never lets go of it. Now I find out it’s some slob. All the dolls I’ve given her and she drags that thing from some stranger around.”
“Doesn’t sound like a stranger to me, Beef.”
His eyes narrowed. “There you go again.”
Crossing my arms on my chest and leaning back, I said, “I didn’t mean anything by it. People are allowed to have friends you know.” I hadn’t noticed until now that the light from the setting sun had been replaced by lamplight from the street. I reached out and switched on the desk lamp.
“Yeah, I suppose,” he said disgustedly.
I wasn’t about to say it, but it crossed my mind that this big, mean junkyard dog was jealous. “He could’ve been the father but your sister didn’t want Marty to know.”
“I don’t think so. Sis was pretty firm about the fact that nobody ever needed to know. The guy is out there somewhere—he just doesn’t have a name. That’s why I’m hiring you.” He looked perplexed and fidgeted in his chair. “There’s just one thing.”
“Shoot.”
“Well, business is not that good. I’ve already got two mortgages on the joint. I...”
I waved my hand. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll do some nosing around and see what I come up with. If I get a line, we’ll see where it goes from there.” I didn’t want to tell him that I was pretty well-off money-wise. With the inheritance and the insurance and the money I could get from selling the house, I could have afforded a much nicer office. Maybe even curtains on the windows. But I wanted to make it on my own.
“Thanks, Spence. But chow is on me.” He gave me a quick look-over. “You could use a few pounds, you know.” I thought my six-foot frame did okay at 190. Beef obviously disagreed.
“Throw in the chocolate cake and you’ve got a deal.”
He laughed and we shook on it.
“I’ll need to talk to Marty, Beef. When’s a good time?”
“She gets home from camp by noon. Day care place. Any time after that. She’ll be upstairs with Maria.”
“Okay, tell Maria I’ll stop by after lunch.”
“Fine. Just keep it simple. I don’t want Marty getting upset. And it’s me that wants to know, not her. As far as she’s concerned, she’s got a daddy—me.”
“Where did Elizabeth live, Beef?”
I got a hard look that would’ve melted lead.
“Why do you want to know?”
“Because I need something to go on here. The neighbors might know something.”
He looked like he wasn’t going to tell me and then gave me an address on Paulina. I jotted it down and then looked at him.
“Pardon my asking, Beef, but why do you want to know who the father is?”
“After Elizabeth died, the checks stopped. I had her mail forwarded thinking I would find out who it was. No more checks came.”
“So whoever it was knew she had died.”
“Right. And whoever it was could provide for Marty better than I can and I’d like to see she gets it. She deserves more than what she gets from me.” He squinted his eyes like he was thinking about something. I watched. It wasn’t a pretty sight.
“I don’t want you askin’ her nothin’ about that night, the night Beth died. She’s forgotten about it. She spent weeks cryin’ herself to sleep and I don’t want that startin’ all over again.”
“Okay, nothing about that night.” I didn’t want to upset her either, but I also knew that one day she’d remember. It wasn’t something you could forget, no matter how old you were. And when she remembered, it would be nice to have something to tell her.
Beef pushed back his chair and stood up.
“Hey, Beef. How did she die?”
He turned and gave me a blank stare.
“Elizabeth, Beef. How did she die?”
“She just died, that’s all. Everybody does sooner or later.” There was no energy in his voice.
There was something here he was trying to stay away from and I was going to have to find out what it was, but I knew I had to be careful. I wouldn’t get any information out of an angry client and, at the moment, I was in need of some information.
/> “I have to know, Beef. I’m not going to publicize it for Christ’s sake.”
He stared at me for a good ten seconds, me holding my breath the whole time. About when I thought I was going to burst, he said, “She was killed.”
I let out my breath. The barrier had been broken. I sat down on the corner of the desk, dangling one leg over the front edge, and asked softly, “What killed her, Beef?”
I watched as the look on his face went from defiant to puzzled. He was trying hard to find the right words. He remained quiet for a few more seconds and then said, “She was shot. Right through the heart. The coroner said she was dead before she had time to think about it.”
I waited a minute while my shock wore off before I spoke. “That’s not killed, Beef. That’s murdered. Did they find who did it?”
He shook his head no.
“You know, the police don’t look kindly on some P.I. nosing around in an open murder investigation.”
He glared at me. “Nobody’s asking you to. What I’m asking you to do is find the father. And anyway it’s not open.”
“Beef, it doesn’t take much imagination to think that the father could be tied to the murder. Maybe they’re one and the same. Maybe he got tired of paying the support or ten other reasons that we don’t know about.”
He waved his hand at me. “Nah. It was some jerk. That’s all. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time and some jerk nailed her.”
“Maybe, maybe not. What do you mean the case isn’t open? It’s not that old.”
“Well, maybe—maybe it’s open,” he stammered. “But they’re not doing much. They can’t. It was just some jerk with a gun in his hand. Good luck finding him.”
I stood up. “We’ll see.”
“We’ll see, nothin’,” he growled. “It’s find the father or nothin’. If the two overlap, you come and tell me. I want this thing dropped. I’ve spent the last six months coming to terms with this and tryin’ to forget that she’s gone and I can’t do anything about it. And now I want it left alone.”
“Where did it happen?”
“At her apartment.”
“The place on Paulina?”
