Grave Expectations on Dickens' Dune

by Anna Celeste Burke

  4 A Better Shape

  “I have been bent and broken, but - I hope - into a better shape.” ~ Great Expectations

  ∞

  “It wasn’t a wrong number. The caller asked for me by name and then hung up.”

  “That’s weird,” Marty said, her brow wrinkled. “All you need is more weirdness after your experience this morning. Was it a man?” I nodded, yes.

  “The same man who spoke to you at Dickens’ Dune?” Neely asked.

  “Maybe.” Then I shook my head. “I don’t know—that guy hollered my name—this one was speaking barely above a whisper. It was kind of creepy, now that you ask.”

  “As in heavy breathing creepy?” Joe asked.

  “Obscene callers don’t usually ask for you by name,” Marty observed.

  “It’s more likely to be a telemarketer. They use random digit dialing until they find a number that belongs to a real person, then you get a dozen calls trying to sell you a vacation cruise or window replacement. Is your mobile number on a ‘do not call’ list?”

  “No,” I replied, although I was deep in thought. Carl’s idea about the telemarketing routine didn’t explain how the caller already knew my name.

  “Give me the phone,” Neely demanded. Before I could ask her why, she’d taken the phone and redialed the number. “It didn’t go through. Carl must be right.”

  “Block it. That’ll slow down the barrage of calls to come,” Carl suggested.

  “That’s a great idea.” At least, whoever had called wouldn’t be able to do it again without making a little extra effort. It took me a few seconds to figure out how to block the call. I wished that I’d gotten a closer look at the man I’d seen on Dickens’ Dune this morning. That might have made it easier to recall where I’d seen him before and determine if his face matched the voice of the man who had just called me on the phone.

  Carl could still be right that the call originated with a telemarketing firm. Not a random call as he suggested, but one targeted to my name and number. Then why hang up? Why not make his pitch?

  When Charly and Midge stepped back into the sunroom, I put aside my worries about the phone call. Instead, I focused on the imposing figure of a woman who entered the room with them. Judith Rogow was taller than both Midge and Charly. I judged her to be in her seventies, but I might have guessed she was younger if I hadn’t already known as much as I did about her background.

  The well-dressed woman wore her dark hair pulled back into a bun. Her business suit fit perfectly, and I suddenly felt woefully underdressed. Marty was the only one among us who could pass off her outfit as “business casual.” Charly, whose empathic ability must have been set on “high,” introduced us and instantly put us at ease.

  “Judith Rogow, I’d like you to meet the rest of the G.O.L.D. team including those two,” Charly said as she pointed at Joe and Carl. Then she introduced each of us by name. “Please don’t apologize again for showing up in business attire. We’re happy you were able to squeeze in a visit with us on a day when you have important obligations to your charity work.”

  “I’m glad to meet all the women of G.O.L.D. and Charly’s Angels.” Carl and Joe smiled.

  “At your service,” Carl said in a snappy tone. “I wish we were meeting under more auspicious circumstances, but we’re happy to help.”

  “I’m glad to find you none the worse for wear after your harrowing experience in Shakespeare Cottage. In fact, I was amazed at how composed you all seemed to be in the video captured by the local television news team as you left the cottage. You must be getting lots of requests for assistance now that your exploits as sleuths have become newsworthy.”

  “We don’t quite have our act together. There’s no easy way for members of the public to track us down. I have had several referrals passed along from the Sheriff’s PR department and the local TV station,” Charly said as Midge steered Judith to one of the big, comfy armchairs in the room.

  “I’ll be right back with dessert and tea,” Midge said. “Charly’s correct that we haven’t figured out how to advertise our services, but there’s something to be said for ‘word of mouth’ referrals. In fact, I almost prefer it that way.”

  “So far, the requests that have come in are for what Charly tells us is the ‘bread and butter’ of private detective work—background checks on people new to their business or social circles, concerns about a cheating spouse or two-timing paramour, and in the case of a local small business owner, a request for personal injury surveillance after an employee filed for workers’ compensation,” Marty commented.

  “We’ve already got that one figured out,” Joe said. “Carl and I jumped on the surveillance work and got to the bottom of the workers’ comp fraud caper.”

  “With backup from Miriam and me. Once they spotted the guy talking up a storm with some woman at a dog park, Miriam and I showed up with Domino,” Marty said, pointing to my sweet Dalmatian. She and her pal, Emily, were at the back door, peering in to check out our visitor. They must have approved since they were both wearing big doggie grins and furiously wagging their tails. I would have let them in except that I was sure they’d get dog hairs all over the lovely tailored suit Judith wore. As Carl picked up where Marty had left off, I got up, went to the door, and tossed a treat to each of them.

  “The guy was unbelievable!” Carl exclaimed. “Two minutes after they started chatting him up, he was cavorting with Domino. His back was in better shape than mine.”

  “Which isn’t saying much. You creak and squeak like an old door that needs oiling with WD-40,” Joe quipped. “We got the action on video, though, and quickly closed that case.”

  “Except for surveillance, most of the routine work can be done without leaving our cottages. Have laptop! Will snoop!” Then Neely snapped her fingers.

  “You know what, Miriam? Judith may have just solved the riddle of the new man in your life. Maybe it’s some guy who saw you on TV and wants to ask for our help, but he’s nervous about it.” Neely didn’t go into detail but briefly explained to Judith that I’d had two odd incidents in one day involving a strange man.

  “I can understand it if he’s nervous. It’s not easy to ask for help from strangers,” Judith responded. “I was so relieved when someone at the Temple Sinai Community Center mentioned how helpful Charly had been to Edgar Humphrey when his son got into trouble. Having a friend to ask for help makes it a little easier.”

  “We’ll do everything we can to merit your trust and find out whatever we can about what happened to your ex-husband.” I was about to sit back down when Midge came into the room carrying a tray laden with the sour cream coffee cake I’d brought for dessert and a fresh pot of tea. I took the teapot from the tray, savoring the hint of lemon cast off by the steamy tea. Midge set the coffee cake on the sidebar near a stack of vintage bone china dessert plates with beautiful botanical prints on them. While Midge cut the cake, I poured a cup of tea for Judith and then sorted out who else wanted another cup.

  “Charly has shared your story with us, but we’d like to hear it from you if you’re willing to tell it again,” I said after she’d had a sip of tea. “We’re curious to learn what you know about Leonard Cohen, although Charly’s already conducting a formal background check on him.” Judith smiled as she set her cup in its saucer, picked up her cake, and replied to my comment.

  “Well, I might be able to do a better job retelling the story now that the initial shock has worn off a little. It won’t take long to tell you all I know about Leonard Cohen. I first met him decades ago when we were children in Santa Maria. He and his family went to the same synagogue that my family and I attended. We were in grade school together, too. He was a skinny, annoying little boy with enormous glasses. A year younger than me, he followed me around.”

  “A crush, huh?” Carl asked.

  “It could be. He got bullied a lot, so I stuck up for him now and then. As far as I can recall, he was the only other Jewish kid at school. That wasn’t the ma
in reason he was picked on, but it ticked me off when someone brought religion into it. I was tall for my age, and I had a mouth on me even then with a voice that carried. It’s a good thing I didn’t have your kubotan, Charly. I might have been tempted to use it to give the school bullies more than a tongue-lashing.” Judith paused to eat a bite of the coffee cake. I held my breath. For some reason, it had suddenly become important to me that she liked it. She did.

  “Miriam, this is delicious. I’d love to have your recipe if you’ll share it.”

  “Of course, I’ll share it. I’m glad you like it. It’s one of dozens of recipes I rescued when the bakery I worked for went out of business. They were excellent bakers, but not very good managers. I tried to get them to raise the price on their products with no luck.” I stopped speaking since I was babbling about an irrelevant topic. Judith didn’t seem to mind as she ate more of the cake. Everyone else was eating, too, amid a chorus of oohs and ahs.

  “Miriam ought to start a sideline. ‘G.O.L.D.’s Bakery—where to find the best baked goods is no mystery!’” Neely exclaimed using the back of her hand to give her glasses a shove. “I’ll be a willing taste tester to ensure the quality is always first rate.”

  “Angel deliveries are on us. We’ll work for cookie dough, won’t we, Carl?” Carl was up on his feet heading to the sidebar for a second piece of cake.

  “You won’t get an argument from me!” He said and then paused to ask Judith a question. “Did you know your old friend had ended up in prison?”

  “No. We lost touch by the time we went to middle school. By then, he’d distinguished himself academically, so I figured he was on his way to great things. I was as shocked to discover that Leonard was in prison as I was when Allen ended up there.” She glanced around at us. “I’m sure that Charly already explained that’s how Allen and Leonard became acquainted.”

  “We weren’t sure how they met since she didn’t give us much detail,” I said. “I suppose Allen told Leonard that you were his wife, and that’s how he knew to get a message to you.”

  “Yes. While they were both confined to The Men’s Colony just north of San Luis Obispo, Leonard and Allen spoke frequently. They were in AA meetings together, although Allen’s problems involved more than alcohol abuse. Leonard was in prison for financial fraud involving a Ponzi scheme or a phony fund of some kind that went belly up. He was a smalltime Bernie Madoff before anyone had ever heard of that rat. Even though he’d used his talents to become a crook, I was grateful for Leonard’s kindness toward Allen. When I visited Allen, I brought care packages that always included a few goodies for Leonard.” She polished off her cake and set the plate on the table next to her.

  “Nothing with a file baked into it, I guess.” Joe snickered.

  “Will you stop? He promised to be on his best behavior today. Charly’s Angels sometimes fancy themselves to be throwbacks to Lewis and Martin.”

  “Hey, we’re good at coming up with clues, but we’re not great explorers like those guys,” Joe smirked. Carl snorted, and Neely rolled her eyes.

  “He knows I didn’t mean Lewis and Clark,” Neely muttered. “Some guys remain annoying little boys all their lives.”

  “Well, it was Martin and Lewis—not Lewis and Martin. You confused my old pal,” Carl said. Joe nodded his head vigorously in agreement. Neely harrumphed.

  “Charly told me ‘angels’ might be a misnomer,” Judith smiled when Joe’s mouth popped open. “No, Joe. I never took them cakes filled with anything other than massive amounts of hope. They were fortunate to have been imprisoned in a place that had support for inmates with alcohol and drug problems. I wanted them to come out of there clean and sober and with a fresh start on life.” Judith stared into her teacup without saying another word for a minute before she looked up. “I kept hoping for the day when Allen would tell me he’d been bent and broken, but into a better shape.”

  “I love that line. It could have come from the pen of Charlotte Brontë instead of Dickens,” Charly sighed. Judith’s sorrow bore down on us like a cloud. A big, fat dark one. It would have been heavy enough to smother hope altogether in someone less resilient than Judith Rogow must have been.

  “I’m sorry that didn’t happen,” I said.

  “I am too. Not everyone can transcend suffering or come through it in better shape,” Judith responded as she met my gaze and held it. Had Charly told her about my own poor ill-fated marriage to a man who got in over his head without giving me a clue he was in trouble? “To be honest, I was pretty worn out with Allen, but I would have gone another round when he was released from prison if he’d been willing to do it. Instead, he filed for divorce, moved out, and then vanished a few months later.”

  “Moved out?” Neely asked. “Where? Was he living alone or with someone else?” Before she could answer that question, out of the corner of my eye, a golf cart sped by. It wasn’t on the greens, but on the cart path that ran between Midge’s backyard and the golf course. That wasn’t an unusual sight, but the loud “pop” that followed had us all on our feet.

  “Down!” Charly shouted and we all ducked for cover.

  5 A Heart that Never Hardens

  “Have a heart that never hardens and a temper that never tires, and a touch that never hurts.” ~ Hard Times

  ∞

  “It’s okay!” Midge said in a firm, confident tone. “We’re not under attack! That’s the sound of a golf ball hitting the side of my cottage. It’s the price I pay for living this close to the tee-box.”

  “Are you sure?” Marty asked as we reclaimed our seats. It would take a little longer for my jangled nerves to settle down.

  “Yes, I’m sure. It’s a monthly occurrence this time of the year. I should have warned you, but it happens so rarely I don’t think about it until I take a hit or I’m bringing in someone to fix the dings left on the side of my house.”

  “You’re a brave woman to have added a glass room onto the back of the house,” Judith remarked in a lighthearted way.

  “That stand of trees deflects the golf balls that could hit us here. Most drivers off the tee slice right at an angle that misses me, but occasionally, I get hit like today. I’m sorry we were distracted from a far more important matter. You were going to tell us where Allen lived after he was released from prison.”

  “Oh, yes. Initially, Allen was released to a halfway house. It was a sober living residence, which I considered to be a good thing. He was supposed to return home after that, but filed for divorce instead, and left the halfway house without even giving me a forwarding address. I begged for information about him, still hoping I could change his mind about the divorce. One of the residents of the halfway house finally took pity on me and slipped me a note with an address on it.” She stopped speaking as if trying to compose herself and didn’t look at any of us as she continued. “When I went to that address, a woman answered the door. She was obviously loaded and maybe high on something too. I asked to speak to Allen, and she told me he didn’t want to see me. She also insisted I go away and change my name because there was a new Mrs. Rogow in his future.”

  “No!” I gasped, silently thankful that Pete had spared me that humiliation. That’s presuming I’d unraveled all his secrets. Had there been other women in his life? I wondered as I struggled to speak. “What did you say to her?”

  “What could I say? I left, but I didn’t really believe her. Eventually, Allen contacted me again to make visitation arrangements to see the children. He assured me she was a housemate with an all-too-vivid imagination. I figured that was an attempt to avoid the obvious issue that they’d met through rehab or a support group, and she was a drug user.”

  “Did you try to change his mind about the divorce?” Neely asked.

  “Yes, but he was determined, and I was too tired by that point to fight him anymore. I didn’t change my name, though. While Allen was in Vietnam, I’d educated myself as an accountant. By the time he got out of prison, I had finally managed to establish myse
lf, professionally, as Judith Rogow. Even if I wanted to do it, I was known in San Luis Obispo by that name and didn’t want to lose ground by changing it.”

  “Did you get the name of the woman you spoke to?” Neely asked.

  “I heard someone inside the apartment call her Wendy. Wendy Ballard was the name on the mailbox when I checked on my way out of the apartment building.”

  “Why didn’t you believe her?” Marty asked.

  “Call me a fool for love if you want to, but I was still convinced Allen meant what he said when he’d promised to love me forever. A promise he’d made publicly before family and friends when we exchanged marriage vows. Before God, too, since he was religious at the time. What I didn’t fully understand, I guess, was that the Allen Rogow who made that vow never came back from Vietnam. Still, Leonard’s message conveyed what I felt in my heart all along—that Allen hadn’t stopped loving me.”

  “Charly told us how deeply affected Allen was by his experience in Vietnam—including the dependence he developed on pain medications after he was shot and nearly killed. Did Allen ever try to explain what had happened to him?” Carl asked.

  “Nothing specific. When I pushed him to be more open with me, he listed all the miseries that I’ve since heard from other Vietnam vets. The list is a long one—the mud, mosquitos, heat, trying to avoid contact with chemicals, lousy food, and no sleep. The relentless gunfire, landmines, booby traps, and snares set up in the jungle, as well as attacks coming from civilians—even kids. Watching their comrades die. I know it’s nothing that wasn’t on the nightly news back then, but the distress was palpable in his eyes, and in the trembling of his voice and lips. I did my best to comfort him without knowing the whole story.” Judith’s voice broke. “I was so angry when I couldn’t reach him, but I forgave him for everything when I saw how hard it still was for other vets even years later. It’s all the things I still don’t know that haunt me.”