Change of Address

by Rick Polad

  I shook my head. “No, that’s what friends are for. There’s nothing I...”

  A smile crossed her face. “Thought of something, eh?”

  “Okay, you win. But it’s something very important that someone asked me to keep quiet.” I had been wrestling with the Ronny, Jeffrey connection. I would have liked to have told someone. But I couldn’t even tell Rosie and she’s a cop.

  Maxine slid her feet down to the floor and stood up. It was obvious she had nothing under her shirt but her, and all the her was in all the right places.

  “So,” she answered, “If you can have important stuff, so can Beth. Please excuse me for a minute. I gotta pee.” She turned and walked away with a natural sway of hips that made a part of me wonder what the nighttime edition looked like. I was sure she would be hard to ignore.

  I was back to the same square. What happened to Elizabeth Williams to make her move here and take up this kind of life and was so personal she couldn’t share it with her brother or friends?

  I stood and walked to the windows. Cheap, yellowed shades kept out most of the sunlight and some of the heat. The air conditioner was old and barely winning the battle. Dust flew off the shade as I pulled the string to get a peak outside. There was a larger crowd of kids around my car and it was still in one piece.

  Walking back across the room, I noticed the beam of sunshine from the exposed window spilling over the paper-strewn table and onto the couch.

  The toilet flushed, water ran, the bathroom door opened, and Maxine padded back into the room. She was pulling her hair into a ponytail and feeding it through a rubber band.

  She squinted at the little bit of light like a night animal suddenly discovered in its hole in the daytime. “Hey, close the blind. I’ve got enough trouble keeping it cool in here.” She sat on the couch and puffed up a small cloud of dust that was transformed into hundreds of tiny golden beads momentarily suspended in the sunbeam. I pulled the shade back down and returned to the couch.

  “Can I get you a drink of something?” she asked.

  “No thanks, I’m fine,” I lied. “Could we talk about the night it happened?”

  “Sure, but I don’t know much. I was out part of the time. Friday nights are busy.”

  “Tell me what you remember.”

  “In a minute.”

  “In a minute?”

  She smiled. “Yeah. You can feel it before you hear it.”

  I was going to ask “feel what” when I felt the vibration through my feet and, a few seconds later, heard the approaching el train. Steel wheels on steel rails suspended above the city like spiders crawling around on ceilings. Except much noisier. The tracks made a bend a few buildings to the north and headed south behind this building. The screech of cars sliding around the corner was deafening—certainly enough noise to cover a shot. My amazed look brought a laugh from Maxine, but I couldn’t hear it. Then, just as quickly as it had come, it was gone and the air conditioner was the only sound in the room.

  “How the hell do you sleep through that?”

  “The human body is an amazing creation. It can get used to anything—even living here. So, where were we? Oh yeah, I...”

  “Hang on. When’s that going to happen again?”

  Settling into the couch, she said, “You’ve got about forty minutes. Long enough?”

  “I hope so. Talk fast.”

  “It was a Friday night. Both of us were working. I’m in the room here getting comfy with a john when I hear a racket from next door.”

  “What time was that?”

  She shrugged. “Somewhere round ten maybe.”

  “Which apartment was hers?”

  “B, right next to me. C is across the hall. I knew right away who it was and what she was in for.”

  “Who was it?”

  “That brother of hers. She told me about him—said he had a helluva temper. She told him she worked nights at the bakery to make extra money and he’d watch the kid on those nights, as well as others.”

  “Others?”

  “Yeah. She farmed the kid out to her brother as much as possible. This is no place for a kid, so Beth would get her out of here as much as she could.”

  My view of Beth went up a little. But there was still the question as to why she was here.

  “Beth would pick up the kid in the mornings at her brother’s place and bring her to day care or camp or whatever. She was scared to death that her brother would find out some day and give her hell.”

  “How did you know it was him and not some dissatisfied customer?”

  “He was yelling pretty loud and the door was open. Kept saying ‘My sister this and my sister that’. I was worried that he might hurt her.”

  “Because he was yelling?”

  “Partly. But she had said that if he ever found out it would be the end of her life.”

  “End of her life? Was she afraid he would kill her?”

  She crossed her arms under her breasts and lifted them. It was a supreme lesson in self control—mine. “She never said, but I suppose she may have been. She was certainly afraid of his finding out.” Her brow furrowed and she asked, “Do you think she could have killed herself?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know if she could have but she didn’t. Someone beat her to it.” I leaned forward. “Could she have meant it some other way?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, not necessarily death. But sometimes people think things are so bad they may as well be dead.”

  She gave me a look that I couldn’t read, but I felt she was trying to figure out how safe she was with me.

  After a deep breath, she said, “This isn’t exactly what a girl would choose if she had other choices. But if it’s what you choose you learn how to live with it. Beth really was a good kid at heart. It was one thing for her to live with it. It was something else if someone else found out, like her brother. I guess she would be disgraced or something. And it wasn’t an easy choice.”

  I let that sit for a minute. “There are other choices, Maxine. How about the bakery?”

  Her stare had been fixed on the wall across the room and I thought I saw a softness in her eyes. When she looked back at me the hardness was back.

  “There’s all kinds of selling yourself. This is one kind I have control over. The kind at the bakery, I didn’t. That bastard had strings tied to me and all the rest of them. He says jump, you jump, or you don’t get your money. That’s what it’s all about, Mister P.I. Those who have money control those who don’t. Here I do the controlling. I have something someone else wants.”

  I couldn’t help wanting to throw in my two cents and I felt I had enough of her trust that she wouldn’t throw me out. “But here is a bit more dangerous than the bakery.”

  “There’s danger all over. You could get hit by a bus walking to church.”

  “Yup. But the difference is you don’t purposely walk out in front of the bus. Here, the buses drive on the sidewalks. Any of these guys could break your neck, or give you any number of diseases you’d rather not have.”

  “Yeah, I’ve thought about that. As far as the diseases, they don’t play without protection. And as far as the guys, I know most of them. So did Beth after a while. They’re not going to hurt us. We serve a purpose. They’re good customers, like Wee Willie.”

  I gave up being a philosopher. “Wee Willie?”

  She nodded. “Wee Willie. They all have nicknames. Willie is a little lacking in a certain area. He was with Beth when her brother bust in on her.”

  “How do you know that?”

  She started playing with the nap on the couch. “When I heard the yelling in the hall, I went out to see what the problem was. Like I told you, this big guy was yelling that his sister wasn’t going to live in a dump like this and he was going to take her home. He was crazy. Kept banging on the door demanding she open up. She must have been scared to death.”

  “She opened it?”

  “No. He didn’t give her
the chance. He broke the lock.”

  I could see the fear in her eyes. And this time Beef wasn’t leaving out information, he was lying. “Then what, Maxine?”

  She looked at me. The fear had disappeared. It was replaced by the puzzled look kids get when they’re trying to figure out something.

  “It was as though everyone was frozen for a split second. The brother stood inside the room and then, all of a sudden, Wee Willie ran past him pulling up his pants. It’s a good thing he got out or that guy would have killed him.”

  I didn’t doubt that. “What did Beth do?”

  “She told him to get out. Said she’d pick up the kid in the morning. But he wouldn’t leave—said she was moving in with him. They yelled at each other for ten minutes or so. Finally he left after saying he’d be back in the morning to get her.” She sighed. “Morning never came.”

  It was a matter-of-fact statement. That’s how life is. “What time did he leave?”

  “Probably a little before 10:30.”

  “Did you hear anything else that night? More arguing or a shot?”

  “No. I got rid of my john, talked with Beth for a few minutes and then went for a walk.”

  “What did you talk about?”

  “Not much. I asked if I could do anything. She said no. I offered my place for the night since her lock was broken. She said that was okay, she’d be okay. I guess that was the wrong decision.”

  “What time was that?”

  “Oh, probably a little before eleven.”

  “How long were you gone?”

  “I got back around two.”

  “Did you hear anything after that?”

  “No. I took some pills. They put me out cold.”

  “Do you know if her brother came back?”

  She shook her head. “I suppose he could have. Anybody could have.”

  “You didn’t check on her when you got back?”

  “No. I went right to bed.”

  “Were you here when she was found?”

  “Yeah. The cops woke me up Saturday morning. The brother was out in the hall. They asked me if I had seen him there the night before. I told them about the fight and the door. You know, he wasn’t acting so tough anymore on Saturday morning. I wonder if he ever realized that if he hadn’t broken the lock she might still be alive.”

  I had wondered that myself. I just let it hang in the air between us.

  “Have you seen Wee Willie since?”

  “No. The cops asked if I knew where to find him. I don’t. I think he was scared enough to be long gone, especially after what happened to Beth.”

  “You okay, Maxine?”

  A few blinks and a nod were followed by, “Sure. Nice of you to ask.”

  “Can you answer a few more questions?”

  “Sure.”

  “Did Beth say anything to you about leaving town?”

  I could see the answer. She was surprised.

  “No. If she was leaving town it was news to me.”

  “You didn’t see the brother again till they woke you up Saturday morning?”

  “Right. The only person I saw was old Ethyl when I came back from my walk.”

  “Around two?”

  “Right.”

  “Who is old Ethyl?”

  She swiped at a fly that had landed in the middle of a pattern she was making on the couch cushion with her finger. “Ethyl is kind of the mother of the building. She’s been here forever.”

  “Which apartment is hers?”

  “At the time it was 3C, right across the hall. But she moved down to the second floor, 2B.”

  “Did she hear the fight?”

  “You know, that’s exactly what she asked me when I got back. I was opening my door and she stuck her head out and asked me if I heard the fight. I said sure, how could you not? We laughed and I went into my apartment.”

  “When was that?”

  “When I came in at two.”

  “That was all you said?”

  “Yup. Well, about Beth anyway.”

  “There was something else?”

  “Yeah. I wondered why she was there and asked her. See, she was supposed to be going to St. Louis with her brother. He was picking her up at nine and they were going to drive at night when it was cooler. So I was surprised to see her when I got back.”

  “Why was she there?”

  “She said they started off and then they had a flat. Her brother refused to drive without a spare, so he brought her back and said he’d get it fixed and pick her up at seven in the morning.”

  “Did he?”

  “I guess. She was gone when the cops woke me up at nine.”

  “Would she be home now?”

  “Probably. She won’t go out in the heat. If you see her, tell her I’ll bring down some lemonade later. She loves lemonade, as bitter as possible.”

  She puckered her lips and before they could unpucker I asked if the name Ronny Press sounded familiar. I thought she flinched, but if she did it was so tiny, and she recovered so quickly, it could have been my imagination. She replied "no" with no emotion at all and asked why I asked.

  “Marty says an ‘Uncle Ronny’ used to come and bring her presents. Did you ever notice a skinny guy with brown hair pulled into a ponytail?”

  “Nope. You know how kids are, making up imaginary friends.”

  I stood and put out my hand to help her up. She reached out and let me.

  “Thanks, Maxine. I appreciate your help.”

  “Don’t mention it. You’re the first company I’ve had in—well, maybe ever.”

  “Try opening the shade a little more. Your hair takes on a pretty color in the sunlight.”

  I opened the door and let myself out. As I reached the stairs, the door opened behind me.

  “Hey, P.I.”

  I turned.

  “I don’t know who the father is.”

  “What?”

  “I thought you said you were trying to find the kid’s father. I have no clue.”

  Some detective. I totally forgot to ask. I guess I was more interested in the murder than I thought. “Thanks for reminding me. I got sidetracked by a pretty face.”

  I smiled. So did she. But hers included a blush and her eyes had a warm sparkle. I had to pull hard on the reins to keep my horse headed down the stairs. This was a nice girl stuck in a rotten corner of life.

  I’d also forgotten to give her my card. I handed it to her, pointing out that I had an answering machine at the office and a beeper on my belt. I asked her to call if she could add anything. We said good-bye again.

  Standing on the edge of the landing, I kicked myself for forgetting about the father question. It wasn’t the pretty face that made me forget, it was the murder. Stosh would not be happy. I wasn’t either. Not only was I digging where he didn’t want me digging, but I was screwing it up. Come on, Spence. Just because you’re new at this doesn’t mean you have to be stupid.

  As I walked down the stairs, I checked my watch. The el would be here soon. I waited. In two minutes I felt the rumbling. A minute later the sound rose through the stairwell like a monster from the depths of hell.

  Chapter 18

  Standing outside Ethyl’s door, I could hear the air conditioner and a TV set. I knocked. A high-pitched, crackly voice asked who it was. I told her. I also told her, in case she was nervous about strangers, that Maxine had said she might be able to help me with some questions about Beth. That probably wasn’t necessary because she had the door open before I finished talking.

  Another surprise. I was expecting a bag-lady. Ethyl was someone’s kindly, old grandmother complete with silver hair, a neat, old, flowered dress, and beautiful skin altered only by the wrinkles of time. She invited me in with a smile and an offer of homemade cookies. She went for the cookies while I surveyed the living room.

  The apartment was the reverse image of Maxine’s both in layout and decor. I felt as though I had stepped back in time. The room was immaculate, very ho
mey, and looked like it had not changed in fifty years. The couch and chairs were worn and outdated, but clean and probably just as comfy as they had always been. Those little lace doily things covered the arms of the chairs. What do you call those? Something like Madagascar. Old pictures of a family and a house that I assumed was Ethyl’s dotted the walls. The room was bright and cheery, warmed by sunshine diffused through lace curtains.

  Ethyl returned, holding a plate of cookies in front of her. She sat me down on the couch and offered me one. Oatmeal. My favorite. It was good and the couch was as comfy as I thought it would be.

  I assumed I was going to be here awhile. If Ethyl was as lonely as I thought, she’d talk my ear off before the afternoon was over. Not that she hadn’t seen some choice history through those lace curtains, but I had other things to do and I didn’t figure she had anything new to tell me. I was wrong. Ethyl got right down to business.

  “So, young man, you’re looking into the murder of that poor girl.”

  “Yes ma’am. I’m also trying to find Marty’s father.” I might screw up once but not twice.

  A sad look added a few more wrinkles to Ethyl’s face. It was the kind of look grandmothers save for kittens stuck in a tree or a kid’s ice cream cone fallen on the sidewalk. “Oh yes, the poor little thing. She was always such a nice little girl.”

  “Did she or her mother ever say anything about a father?”

  After a pause she shook her head and slowly said, “No, no I don’t recall anything about a father.”

  She perked back up instantly with “Have another cookie” followed by an apology for not having lemonade.

  I told her Maxine was going to bring some later. She rubbed her hands together and her wide eyes sparkled. I guess that was her weak spot.

  In between bites, I asked what she had seen or heard. She leaned forward and started in. I leaned back and listened.

  “Well, I just shouldn’t have been here at all. Robert and I were going to St. Louis for the weekend. Family get-together you know. Robert’s my older brother. He refuses to drive in the heat, always has, even though he has one of those fancy new cars with all the buttons. So we were going to drive at night.”

  It was hard to hold back a chuckle at the thought of two eighty-some-year-old people driving to St. Louis in the middle of the night.