Change of Address

by Rick Polad

  “Like who Maxine?”

  She looked down at her hands. “Nobody—like nobody. Then how would you feel? Is that the kind of justice you’re looking for?”

  “No, it’s not. And I happen to agree with you. But the father hasn’t come forward yet so what’s to say he’d want Marty now?”

  Still looking down, she half-closed her eyes. “Maybe he doesn’t know he’s the father.”

  I knew she wasn’t talking hypothetically here. But I couldn’t force her to talk and it was easy to see how strongly she felt about this. “Who are we talking about?”

  She raised her head and looked straight at me, with no expression at all, and didn’t say a word.

  “Okay. Then let’s try this. What happened to change her life and why would you suggest a friend should move in here with a little girl?”

  Leaping off the couch with fists clenched and her face twisted in anger, she screamed, “Goddamn you! I didn’t suggest she move in here. It was all her idea. I did everything I could to talk her out of it!”

  She walked to the table, leaned down with her hands on the edge, and stood there shaking.

  I went over and put a hand on her shoulder.

  She whirled, screamed “Don’t touch me!” and turned away again, her head cradled in her hands.

  I returned to the couch and waited.

  A few minutes later, Maxine came back and sat on the couch. Tears were streaming down her cheeks and she wiped them away with her hands. Staring off into space, she whispered, “It was my fault she died. I should have tried harder to keep her out of here.” The tears started again.

  I got a box of kleenex from the bathroom and set it next to her.

  She took two, wiped her eyes, and blew her nose.

  “It wasn’t your fault, Maxine. If you tried, you did all you could. If someone has their mind set on something, they’re going to do it, no matter what. The fault lies with the guy who pulled the trigger. Period. It was simply an unfortunate chain of events that brought Elizabeth to that end. You’ve got to believe that, Maxine, and stop punishing yourself.”

  She simply shook her head.

  I took a deep breath, not quite knowing how to continue. After listening to her sob for a few minutes, I said, “I think it would help if you told me what happened. You’re just eating yourself up keeping all that inside.”

  In a few seconds, her face turned into the saddest picture I had ever seen. With lips pulled in, brow furrowed, eyes narrowed to slits, and tears flowing freely with no effort made to stop them, she sobbed, “He raped her.”

  She started to cry hard and her body shook with every sob. I slid over to her, pulled her head onto my shoulder, and put my arm around her. When she calmed down a little, I lifted her head by the chin and said soothingly, “You have to get it out. Who are we talking about?” I had a guess but I wanted her to say it.

  In a very soft, tiny voice, she finally did. The name Ronny Press was barely audible.

  “Can you tell me what happened, Maxine?”

  She took a deep breath and let it out, closed her eyes, and nodded yes. “I need to use the little girl’s room. I must look awful. I’ll be right back.”

  Watching her walk away, still trembling, I realized I was exhausted. I was completely drained. I had never been that close to such powerful emotions. And the scary part was what might happen if I ever faced mine. I stood and walked to the window. Kids were playing soccer on the sidewalk completely unaware that Maxine’s world had just drastically changed. It seemed as though they should have been able to feel the energy flowing from the building.

  I listened to the water running in the bathroom and heard her blow her nose again. A cabinet closed and a few seconds later Maxine came back into the room trying to look composed. She almost pulled it off. She had washed off the tears but soap and water couldn’t wash away the pain.

  “You okay?” I asked, feeling kind of helpless.

  “Sure. I’m a pretty tough broad.” A faint smile touched her mouth. “Come here and sit. As long as I started I might as well finish.”

  When I was seated, she asked, “What are you going to do? If he’s the father, I sure as hell don’t want him or anyone else knowing it.”

  “Neither do I,” I assured her. “You said ‘if he’s the father’. You’re not sure?”

  She shook her head. “No. Neither was Beth.”

  I looked at her, not understanding. “Pardon me, but how could the mother not know who the father was?”

  “Because there are two possibilities. Within an hour of each other.”

  I let that sink in. “Two men? Was she raped by both?”

  She shook her head. “No. One was her choice, the other wasn’t.”

  “Do you have any idea who the one by choice was?”

  “Kind of.”

  “Pardon?”

  “I don’t have a name, but she said the guy who raped her was the first guy’s brother, so I guess his name is Press. No, wait. It was his half-brother, so I guess his last name might be different. She didn’t tell me.”

  I didn’t tell her that I did know. And I wasn’t liking it one bit.

  “Would you like something to drink, Spence?”

  “No thanks, I’m fine. Do you know any more, Maxine?”

  She nodded and, pulling her legs up under her, got comfortable. “I know she was having an affair with a married man, had been for several years. They would usually meet somewhere where they could be alone, but sometimes he would come to her apartment. He did one Friday night and they made love. She said she was sure the guy loved her and didn’t love his wife, but he was also very clear that he would never leave his wife. So she knew what she was getting into.”

  “Did you ask what his name was?”

  “Yes, once. She said she wouldn’t tell. If it ever got out he would be ruined.”

  I guess so.

  She continued. “That night, the night she was raped, the guy left as usual and ten minutes later the doorbell rang. She figured he forgot something and opened the door without looking to see who it was. Ronny Press barged into the apartment. He told her he was the other guy’s half-brother and what was good enough for his brother was good enough for him too. Then he grabbed her and said if she cooperated she wouldn’t be hurt and neither would her lover.”

  “Did he have a weapon?”

  “Yes, he had a knife. Ronny told her he would tell everybody who she was sleeping with if she didn’t sleep with him too. She tried to tell the guy she wasn’t sleeping with the brother. He just laughed and made threats and flashed the knife. She said she let the guy... well, you know.”

  “Rape her?”

  “She didn’t call it rape. She said if she let him then it wasn’t rape. And she let him to protect the lover. Helped her justify it.” She shook her head. “I told her I couldn’t imagine anybody being that important that I’d let some guy rape me. She said that was cuz I didn’t know who the brother was. I still can’t imagine Beth knew anybody that important. And what kind of guy would want her to go through that instead of facing the music? He could have helped her.”

  “I wish I could ask her that.”

  “I did.”

  “And?”

  “She said she wasn’t going to tell him. She knew what she was getting into. She knew he was married and would not leave his wife. But they loved each other and she wanted whatever he would give her.”

  “When did she tell you all this?”

  “Just before she moved. She came to me and asked a lot of questions about what I did. I thought she was just asking, but when I found out she was thinking about doing it herself I told her she was crazy. But she said what she did with Ronny was as much a whore as a real one so, as long as she needed money, she might as well get paid for it. That’s when the story came out.”

  “She did this because she felt responsible for the rape?” I asked in disbelief.

  “Oh, it was much more than that. She called herself a ‘good Cathol
ic girl’—before, anyway. She had somehow decided it was all right to sleep with a married man but the thing with Ronny was unforgivable. So, if she was willing to give up her body for one thing, why not give it up for another. She was a failure to herself and her family and to her religion.”

  “So moving in here was the only option she had? What about her brother?”

  Maxine smiled slightly and said, “You’re doing the same thing I did. I thought a lot about it, trying to figure it out. But I was thinking like I think, not like Beth thought. It wasn’t the only option she had. To her, it was the only option she deserved. It was like wearing a hair shirt to atone for her sins. And when I asked about her brother, she said he had troubles of his own.”

  “My God.” I couldn’t at all comprehend this. “I can’t believe Beef would have turned her out. He’s crazy about Marty.”

  Maxine shook her head. “She wouldn’t ask him. She had disgraced her family and her God. As far as she was concerned, she didn’t deserve anything more than...” she looked around the room, “...this.”

  I tried to let it all sink in. “What about Marty? Surely this wasn’t good for her?”

  “She knew that too. And it only made her feel worse about herself. She sent her to stay at her brother’s as much as she could, but she couldn’t do without her completely. Marty was all she had left that was any good. Without Marty, I think she might have killed herself.”

  I didn’t even try to understand. Back to facts where I felt safe.

  “She was sure she got pregnant that night?”

  “That’s what I asked. That was the last time she slept with anyone—well, till here. The married guy called her and she kept avoiding him with one excuse or another. When she found out she was pregnant she finally broke it off.”

  The fact that she got pregnant at all was bothering me. “Did she say how long she was seeing this guy?”

  “A few years.”

  “And she had gone all that time without getting pregnant? She must have been using some kind of birth control, so why not that night?”

  “Exactly. They had started using a condom but that’s such a pain. You know, takes the spontaneity out of it. So she went on the pill. But sometimes she forgot or stopped. That was one of the times. But that had happened before and she didn’t get pregnant, so she figured her luck would continue.”

  “What rotten luck.”

  “Very,” she agreed.

  I stared at the wall for a minute, letting it all sink in. As Maxine crossed her legs, I asked the obvious question. “So she had no idea which was the father?”

  Maxine frowned. “No.”

  “How did she know Ronny was really the half-brother? She just took his word for that?”

  “She said she knew. They looked like brothers even though there were many differences. She said Ronny was like the evil twin.”

  “Whew. So that explains the father problem. But what happened to make her move?”

  “I don’t know. And that’s the truth. I do know that before Marty was born, she quit her night job. She worked doing cleaning in a library. But she didn’t move out of the apartment, and I know she needed both jobs to make ends meet, even without a kid. I asked her how she could afford it. She wouldn’t say. Just kind of laughed it off. I didn’t bring it up again.”

  “Do you have a guess?”

  “At the time I figured she was getting money from whoever the father was but, when I found out the rest of the story, and that she wasn’t sure who the father was, I wasn’t sure anymore.”

  I wasn’t either. A quick glance at my watch confirmed what my stomach was beginning to tell me. Almost dinner time.

  “One more question?”

  “Sure.”

  “I assume you did know Ronny Press was hanging around here?”

  “Yeah. Marty said something to me one day about Uncle Ronny and I had seen the guy with the ponytail. I asked Beth if it was the same guy who raped her. She got very defensive and angry and asked how I could think such a thing. But I was pretty sure it was. Pretty strange, huh?”

  I agreed.

  “Some things just make no sense,” she said with a sigh.

  “Everything makes sense, Maxine, once you look at it from the right angle. It all depends on your point of view. You and I just haven’t found the right angle yet.”

  “Well, do me a favor. If you find it, let me know.”

  “Be glad to. But only if you’ll do me a favor.”

  Cocking her head, she asked, “And what would that be?”

  “Have dinner with me. I’m starved and it’s no fun eating alone.”

  “You’re telling me, but now who’s lying? I can’t believe you ever have to eat alone. But if you’re serious, I’d love to.”

  “Serious is my middle name.”

  “Give me a minute to change.” She headed for the bedroom and, over her shoulder, said, “Don’t disappear on me.”

  I assured her I wouldn’t.

  “And do me another favor. Call me Max.”

  We went out for a burger and a coke, talked about nothing, laughed, and pretended all was right with the world. And when I dropped her off I got a kiss on the cheek.

  One message was waiting for me at the office. I predicted who it was from. I was right. I called Aunt Rose and we talked for a few minutes. She told me business was good and she needed help but finding someone good was hard. She asked when I was coming up. I said soon. And she reminded me that Kathleen was coming on Wednesday.

  Hanging up the phone, I rolled my eyes toward Wisconsin and called Stosh. I needed an appointment with the mayor. At first he laughed, but as I got into the story, the other end of the line got pretty quiet. I kept it short. He said he’d talk to the captain and would reach me in the morning.

  Last call of the day to Kelly. I felt like a teenager as I laid on the bed and we filled each other in on our respective days. She asked question after question, right up to the kiss on the cheek. She assured me she wasn’t jealous. I was hoping she would be, a little anyway. I told her I’d see her in the morning. I was going to the track to try talking to Bobby and was hoping I could catch him without his shadow. She said she had a meeting and wouldn’t be there till the afternoon.

  We said goodnight five or six times. Finally, I pressed down the button and hung up the phone. Ah, young love.

  I thought about the case and wondered what, if anything, I should tell Beef. I wasn’t sure. But, since I was making progress, I was sure I should start collecting my fee.

  I fell asleep watching replays of the Cubs losing. They were going into the all-star break with the worst record in baseball. The Sox, just finishing a weekend sweep, were tied for first. I wouldn’t be able to show my face in the diner.

  Chapter 22

  Monday morning dawned as a normal Chicago summer day. A breeze off the lake, clear skies, and just a hint that it would get hot as the day went on. The overbearing heat and humidity was, thankfully, gone.

  I got to the track at ten and, knowing Bobby hadn’t finished his painting job, made my way around back to the practice track. I went slowly, trying to keep in the shadows, watching for Ronny Press.

  I got lucky. Bobby was sitting on a pail painting the bottom rail and Ronny was nowhere in sight. I watched for a few minutes and then made my way towards him, coming from the side. I didn’t want to scare him. He saw me coming and, except for a few quick, nervous glances, ignored me.

  “Hi Bobby.”

  No answer, but quicker brush strokes.

  “Sure is nicer weather, isn’t it?” That usually works. Not this time.

  “Mind if I sit down?” I sat down on the grass. “Do you like horses, Bobby?”

  Another quick glance. Staring at the fence, he said, “I’m not supposed to talk to you.”

  “Why not?”

  “Please go away.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ll get into trouble if I talk to you.”

  “With who?” I kept my ey
es on the stables. This time I wasn’t going to be surprised.

  “Ronny.”

  “Do you always do what Ronny says?”

  He shrugged his shoulders.

  “Ronny isn’t here so could we talk for a few minutes?”

  “He doesn’t have to be here to see. I’ll get in trouble if I don’t do what he says.”

  I thought I could see the kid shaking. “Well I don’t want to get you into trouble. Is there some place else we could talk?”

  “I don’t have anything to talk about. Ronny says not to talk to you.”

  One of the trainers came out of the stables leading a horse and walked him towards us. “Have you worked here long, Bobby?”

  “A couple of years.”

  “Has Ronny worked here all that time?”

  No answer.

  I started to try again when I saw someone else move between the stables and then disappear into the shadows. I kept watching. Less than a minute later Ronny came out of the shadows and headed towards us. I stood up and started to walk away.

  As he came within hearing distance he yelled, “I thought I told you to stay away from here.” And looking at Bobby, “And I thought I told you not to talk to him.”

  I came to Bobby’s rescue. “He was doing a very good job of that even without your help.”

  He spun and took a few steps towards me. “You’re on your way out. Keep going.”

  “Did you buy the track?”

  Looking at me, he snarled, “Come on Bobby, you’re done painting for awhile.” Ronny grabbed Bobby’s arm, pulled him up and led him toward the stables. The paint can and pail didn’t follow. The brush would be useless in about five minutes.

  I watched them walk away. Ronny didn’t let go of Bobby’s arm. The weather hadn’t done much for his temperment. I felt sorry for the kid. And I knew if Ronny didn’t want me talking to Bobby that badly, then I needed to talk to Bobby. There must be a way. Maybe Kelly would have an idea.

  I drove back to the office and caught Kelly at her hotel.

  “Kelly, do you have any ideas how I could catch Bobby alone? Does he do anything but hang around the track?”