Change of Address

by Rick Polad

  I started with the bedrooms. There were three, all furnished with comfortable, fluffy pillows and chairs and soft lacy curtains that let the light shimmer into the rooms. Another room was full of kids toys, neat and tidy. That room faced the front of the house. What looked like the master bedroom adjoined a large bathroom with a two-person whirlpool tub. On the side table by the bed, the side away from the windows, was a book, the only sign in the house that a person had ever been here. Otherwise it was like a museum, unchanging and for show, locked behind a glass case. The book was the Adventures of Augie March by Saul Bellow. It was a thick book. A bookmark with a teddy bear on it was stuck about halfway through.

  The other wing of the house held a kitchen, a media room, and furnace and laundry areas. I took about two hours to do a thorough search, under and behind everything. I found nothing. If Mrs. Grey did have the rest of the checks and pictures, she had them hidden somewhere else. And when I finished the search, I realized I wanted to be somewhere else, too. There was a pall that hung over this house that covered the beauty of the setting like a shroud. Normally I would be at home here in the peace and quiet. But right now, I needed the noise of the city.

  Chapter 37

  I took the quickest route to the interstate and made it back to Chicago by seven. The mayor wasn’t in when I tried his private number. I left a message that I would call back.

  Driving back, I thought about Ronny and his slimy trail touching all aspects of this case. But if he had been blackmailing Elizabeth, and it certainly looked that way, and she had been paying, he wouldn’t want her dead. Unless she’d stopped paying. She’d been planning to move. To get away from him? But what would have changed to make her decide that?

  A nice neat detective story would have a clue somewhere. Unfortunately life was not nice and neat. I had evidence to link Ronny to the drugs at the track, but I had nothing to link him to Elizabeth’s murder. Was there a link? He was certainly capable, but that didn’t mean he did it. In her line of work Elizabeth could have been killed by anybody, which was probably why the police had her case in a drawer.

  Was it strange that they hadn’t found many personal items in Elizabeth’s apartment? Or had she gotten rid of everything that meant anything except for Marty? I remembered Ethyl saying that she had boxes of pictures stored up in the attic. Maybe Elizabeth had stored things up there too. It was worth a shot.

  I called Kelly, chatted for a few minutes, made plans for dinner Saturday, pulled off my pants and shirt, flopped on the bed, and read till I fell asleep.

  Chapter 38

  Friday started off as a gray day. The sky was overcast with some patches darker than others and the air had the smell of rain. I was planning on going to the Cubs/Mets game by myself so I wanted to get to Elizabeth’s apartment relatively early. But I wanted Maxine’s help and I didn’t want to wake her. Deciding that eleven would be a good compromise, I next tried to decide whether to stay in bed or have breakfast. Breakfast won. I deserved some retainer, even though I couldn’t tell Beef what I had found. I still didn’t know what to do about that.

  By the time I got to the diner, it was 9:30. The place was almost empty. I slid into a booth and Beef joined me with two cups of coffee. I ordered pancakes and eggs sunny side up.

  “So hotshot, you’re still eating your retainer so you must be doing something. But I don’t hear about much.”

  I smiled with effort. “You watch TV. The good guys spend the first forty-five minutes catching up with the bad guys. It’s not till the last fifteen minutes that things start coming together.”

  “Hmm. I suppose that means something, but couldn’t you just say you don’t have crap?”

  “No, because that’s not true.”

  “So?”

  “So what?”

  “So, I hired you to find out who this guy is. What do you got?”

  I sipped my coffee. “I have loose ends. Till they’re tied up, I keep them in my pocket.”

  “Oh, that’s nice. Well maybe I’ll just keep your pancakes in my pocket.”

  I shrugged. “There’s other diners.”

  He folded his arms across his chest and leaned back. “Well, maybe there are other P.I.s.”

  “There are. All over the place. Like flies on a cow on a hot day. I’ll get you the phone book.”

  While we chatted, Maria brought my breakfast. A big glob of whipped butter topped the pancakes and a sprig of parsley colored three strips of bacon. We exchanged hellos with smiles.

  I picked up the syrup jug, poised it over the pancakes, and, before pouring, asked, “So, do I eat this or not?”

  “What am I going to do now, throw it out?”

  I ate. I deserved it. After all, I had done my job.

  He watched me with squinty eyes. “Just tell me if you got anything that might get us somewhere here. If you got nothing, I won’t hold it against you. You’re new at this.”

  Great. What I had found out, I didn’t think anybody wanted to know, especially Marty. And if Beef hadn’t killed Elizabeth, he would probably kill Ronny if he knew Ronny was Marty’s father. He was certainly capable. But by withholding what I’d learned, I looked like an amateur detective who was getting nowhere.

  “I got something, Beef. Trust me for a little bit. It’s kinda complicated. I just want to be sure.”

  “Okay.” He wasn’t happy. I wouldn’t have been either.

  I nodded. “How’s Marty doing?”

  “Aw, she’s a good kid. But lately she’s been kinda down about the day-care joint. She’s taken a liking to a new teacher who hasn’t been there lately.”

  “That’s normal, given her life.”

  “Yeah, well I don’t want her attached to nobody but me.”

  “That’s normal too. But someday your little girl is going to grow up and get detached.”

  “The guy that tries to detach her is going to have to deal with me. I’m not losing her without a fight. ”

  I pitied whoever that guy would be. And I wondered again just how far Beef would be willing to go if he found out his sister was leaving. Could he have killed her in a fit of rage? If he had, that was one thing. But if he hadn’t, Marty was lucky to have Beef care about her. And if he had, it didn’t look like he was going to get caught.

  “When I picked Marty up, they asked for ID. I’m glad they’re being careful.”

  “They better be. I remind them every time I drop her off. And I also remind them what is going to happen if they screw up.”

  “Bet they’re happy about that.” I didn’t think either Kelly or Marty were in danger anymore, but it didn’t hurt to be safe. But I also wondered. Most of the help at the center were young girls who probably didn’t pay a lot of attention to much of anything.

  I sopped up the last bit of runny egg with a corner of toast, wiped my mouth, finished my orange juice, and thanked Beef for breakfast. A wave to Maria as I passed the cash register and I was out on the street. The midmorning traffic was sparse. I crossed the street to my car and headed for Beth’s apartment.

  Chapter 39

  Three kids were sitting on the curb smashing cans. I nodded once and gave them a two finger salute. They nodded back. A mangy black dog sprawled against the trunk of a scrawny tree in the only shade within sight. And it wasn’t much.

  The inside stairs were covered with pages from a newspaper someone had dropped or thrown down the stairs just for fun. On my way up, I picked up the pages. I knocked on Maxine’s door and offered her the newspaper when she opened it.

  “Couldn’t afford a quarter for a new one?” she teased.

  “You know how it is with us struggling P.I.s. Maybe one of these days I should grow up and get a real job.”

  Her smile disappeared. “You know, maybe I should too.”

  I walked in. The blinds and windows were open and sunshine filled the room. “Something happen?” I asked with concern.

  “No. Well, not other than me doing some thinking. You made me sit back and take a look
at my life.”

  I grimaced. “Maxine, I didn’t mean to judge you. I know you’re just trying to get through life along with all the rest of us.”

  She shook her head. “Don’t feel bad. And I know you’re not judging me. In fact, maybe it’s because you accepted me for who I am that made me want to be better.”

  “Then I guess that’s good. We can all afford to be a little better.”

  “Sure. But it’s not that easy. I have no skills, well at least not that other people would accept. Can’t exactly put what I do on a job resume. I’ve been sitting and thinking and thinking and I have no idea. It’s kind of depressing that I’m thirty years old and have made nothing of my life.”

  I gave her a pat on the back. “Maxine, you have something a lot of people don’t. You’re a good person and you care. That’s worth a lot.”

  “Tell that to the employment office.” She took some magazines off the couch so we could sit.

  “I bet you could get a job at one of the department stores. You don’t need experience. They’ll train you.”

  She scoffed. “They’ll also wonder what I did for the last ten years.”

  “Tell them you were a housewife. Happens all the time.”

  “Got all the answers, don’t you? Maybe I wouldn’t want to play that game.”

  I felt sorry for her. She was trying, but didn’t have a lot of options. “That’s another story. What game would you want to play?”

  “You mean besides president of Sears?”

  I didn’t answer.

  “I’m sorry, Spencer. I know you’re trying to help. It’s just frustrating. It was easier when I didn’t think about it.”

  I took her hand. “Which is why I feel bad if I started you thinking about it.”

  I looked at her face. Even with no makeup she was still pretty. I half expected a tear to form, but it didn’t. She had been through too much for that.

  “I guess I’d like to do something with people. But not in a big store. I couldn’t handle corporate America.”

  I laughed. “I couldn’t either.”

  She squeezed my hand. “So, is this business or pleasure?”

  My eyebrows raised.

  She smiled. “Not my business. Yours, silly.”

  “Nuts. I was hoping I was being propositioned.”

  No more smile. “You wouldn’t want me, Spencer.”

  “Not under these circumstances, no. But if I met you at the library it would be a different story. You are an attractive woman and a nice person.” I patted her knee. “But yes, business. Ethyl mentioned that she kept some stuff up in the attic. I was hoping you would accompany me up there to see if Elizabeth stored anything.”

  “I’d be glad to, but Ethyl has the key. How much time do you have?”

  “Why? Is she out?”

  She laughed. “No, she’s never out. Well, hardly ever. That’s why she has the key.”

  “Couldn’t you all have keys?”

  “I suppose. But this works. Most in here are so transient that no one keeps anything up there. There’s nothing up there that I couldn’t wait for Ethyl to come back if I wanted it. Just a box of memories. And besides, Ethyl kind of has squatters rights on the attic.”

  “So why do I have to wait?”

  “You don’t. She’s home. But she will insist on going with and giving you a guided tour of her life.”

  I shrugged. “I’ve got time. If that gives her some pleasure, I’m game.”

  “Okay. But please remember that I warned you.”

  “Noted.”

  We walked down a flight and I knocked on the door. Ethyl asked who it was, then quickly opened the door.

  “Why hello, Mr. Manning. And Maxine, you look lovely this morning. Come in and I’ll make some lemonade.”

  “No, thank you, Ethyl, maybe later. I need a favor. I’d like to go up in the attic and see if Elizabeth left anything up there.”

  Her face lit up and her eyes sparkled.

  “Oh certainly. Let me get the key and I will show you the way.”

  I figured I could find the top of the stairs by myself and told her so when she returned, but she was determined to come with us no matter what. Maxine gave me a snide look. Ethyl was back in less than a minute with an excited look of adventure on her face.

  “Okay, we’re off. Young man, if you’ll just give me a little bit of help on the stairs.” She took hold of the railing with her right hand and offered me the other. I let her intertwine her arm with mine. She looked like a little kid getting into the car for a trip to the zoo.

  But this time the car was stuck in low gear. One slow step at a time finally got us to the landing between the second and third floor. I was getting frustrated thinking how long the whole trip would take, Ethyl still had the happy look on her face, and Maxine was trying very hard not to laugh. We finally made it after several stops along the way to rest.

  Ethyl fumbled with the key and then slowly pulled open the door. I expected dark and dreary and messy with nests of cobwebs. It was quite the opposite. There were several windows that let in enough sunshine that we didn’t need a light and, except for dust, the attic was fairly clean and well organized. Little notecards pinned to the rafters divided the space into areas for each apartment. It was hot but not unbearable. Most areas were empty, but each had a card. There was one box in Maxine’s spot, one in Beth’s, and nine in Ethyl’s. Hers was full. A rickety old wooden chair with upholstery hanging from the back stood neatly aligned in front of Ethyl’s area.

  “Well, what do you think?” Ethyl beamed with pride.

  I was surprised and told her so.

  She seemed to get extra energy from the attic and took my hand and led me to her area where she sat on the chair. “Now, if you’ll just bring over box number one we can get started.” Maxine sat on the floor and leaned back against the hip wall staring straight ahead. I knew that if she would have looked at me she would have burst out laughing.

  I didn’t want to spend the rest of the day in the attic, but that’s where we were headed. I needed to get some control here.

  “Ethyl, I’d love to look at your things, but I need to see what’s in Elizabeth’s box. Maybe we could do it some other time.”

  She looked heartbroken.

  I felt like I had just kicked a dog and, tired of the smug look on Maxine’s face, tried a compromise. “How about if you and Maxine go through your boxes and show me the really important things as I go through Beth’s box?”

  That worked. Ethyl was happy. Maxine wasn’t. The smug look was gone. I wasn’t sure I liked the replacement. I pulled box number one off the top of the pile and set it on the floor next to Ethyl. Maxine came over and sat cross-legged on the floor next to the box. They were opening it as I walked to the other side, took Beth’s box out into the center of the attic, and blew the dust off the top. It was a simple cardboard moving box with the flaps folded under each other.

  I don’t know what I expected, but I did hope to find something that would help. I didn’t. All that was there were memories of a sad life that didn’t need to be that way. Almost everything in the box had to do with Marty. There were pictures and little things Marty had made out of popsicle sticks and clay. They were all organized by age, separated into little piles wrapped with pink ribbons.

  As I sorted through the piles, Ethyl held up various items and talked constantly. I was sure Maxine had heard these stories before, but she sat and listened patiently. Ethyl insisted I look closely at several items: pictures, post cards, an egg beater her mother used to make chocolate cake with, and a wooden spoon, cracked from old age, that she used to stir lemonade as a child. By the end of the second box, she was pulling out things that had belonged to her great-grandmother and dated back to the 1800s. I oohed and aahed from my spot in the middle of the floor until she made me come over to look at a roll of tickets. With resignation, I got up and sat next to Maxine who now seemed to be having a good time.

  “This is one of my favor
ite things,” said Ethyl. It was just a roll of red movie tickets. I guessed there were a couple hundred on the roll. They were nothing special, except to Ethyl, or so I thought at first. “I always dreamed of having the neighborhood kids put on a play of some sort and I could give out tickets. But no one was ever interested.” She ran them through her fingers.

  “What’s that writing on them?” I asked.

  “Oh, that’s nothing. I wish he hadn’t done that. Kind of ruins the tickets don’t you think?”

  I took hold of the end tickets and looked at them closely. They were signed John Wilkes Booth across the face of the ticket. “Ethyl, where did your great-grandmother get these?”

  She sat up straight and answered, “My great grandmother was the ticket taker at the McVicker’s Theater. My grandma told me her mom used to go and sneak in with her friends and sit in the back. She told such wonderful stories.”

  “But these are signed by John Wilkes Booth. Do you know anything about that?”

  “Mother said they used to do that. They had the actors sign the tickets to try and get more people to come. Kind of like a souvenir. She said it didn’t work very well. Business wasn’t very good.”

  I wondered if I was missing something. Neither of them seemed very interested in the signatures. “Ethyl, do you know who John Wilkes Booth was?”

  “Of course, he was one of the actors at the theater.”

  “Besides that.” Still no response from either of them.

  Maxine gave me a puzzled look. “What are you getting at, Spencer?”

  “John Wilkes Booth was the man who shot President Lincoln.”

  Ethyl looked shocked. “Well, that’s not very nice is it?” she said as she shook her head in disapproval. “Perhaps I should get rid of these tickets.”

  “Why would you get rid of them, Ethyl?”

  “Weeeell,” she drawled out disapprovingly. “I don’t want to keep something from a murderer in with my precious things.”

  I looked at her in disbelief and said, “That’s exactly why you should keep the tickets.”