Regarding Anna (31 page)

“No. Devoted my whole life to it. Started out helping my mother around the house, then as a teenager helping neighbors. After high school, I had to work to help support my mother and me, and that was all I knew.”

“It sounds like it worked out pretty well for you though.”

“I can’t complain. I live a simple life, but I’m comfortable.”

“When did you retire?”

“The minute I became eligible for Social Security last year. I still do some things.” He smiled. “For special people.”

Two hours and eighteen months of Sunday
Tribunes
later, I had six leads.

THIRTY

It Was Elmer

It was Saturday, and I was sitting on the patio with a cup of tea waiting for Naomi and her daughter to arrive. The previous day, the doctor had said I could finally ditch the crutches. After I’d been on them for seven and a half weeks, I was considering creating a nice bonfire out back in which to burn them. As I waited for Naomi, I considered the calluses on my hands and the irritated skin under my arms, wondering how soon my body would get back to normal.

Tymon was the only other one home. The “boys” had gone off to a White Sox game.

Naomi and little Candace arrived right on time. Naomi’s weekend outfit was just as provocative as her work attire—tight-fitting Capri pants, a polka-dot v-neck top, and patent-leather slingbacks. Candace had hair so blonde it was almost white. Her bright blue eyes and wide smile matched her mother’s.

I had bought a few things to keep Candace amused while Naomi and I talked. I figured you couldn’t go wrong with a coloring book, crayons, and bubbles for a four-year-old.

Naomi introduced me as Miss Lindroth.

“Hi, Candace. How old are you?”

She held up four fingers and eyed the bubbles.

“Do you like to blow bubbles?”

She nodded.

I unscrewed the lid on the bottle of bubbles and handed it to her, and she ran off to play.

The first thing Naomi said was that she couldn’t wait to get out of Elmer’s office.

“He’s as shady as they come, and he expects me to just go along with it. I don’t know if he’s breaking the law or not, but I’m sure much of what he does wouldn’t pass the code of ethics I know lawyers have.”

“Do you have any leads on another job?”

“A couple. But nothing close yet.”

I took the next twenty minutes or so to explain my plan to divert Elmer’s attention away from the money...and me.

“Count me in. I’ll gladly help you with this. In fact, it will be my pleasure!”

We chatted for a while longer, long enough for Candace to color a picture for my refrigerator, and then they left for a birthday party.

I felt good but knew I’d feel even better on Monday when Naomi placed what I’d hoped would be a live hand grenade at Elmer’s feet.

* * *

After a painstaking hunt for phone numbers, I called the first name on my list of Essie Noe leads. I was hoping the sellers still had a relationship with her and knew how to reach her. Essie had listed this man’s house for sale the same month she’d disappeared.

That call didn’t pan out—the man told me he’d changed his mind after listing his house with her and had taken it off the market.

My second and third calls were to people whose homes had been listed by Essie in February, four months before she disappeared. No luck there—both had been sold and closed upon before she disappeared.

Call number four was to a disconnected phone number.

Call number five rang fifteen times with no answer.

A woman who confirmed her house was still for sale answered the last number on my list. I told her I might be interested in buying it and asked her who at Baird & Warner her realtor was. She told me Esmeralda Noe.

“No kidding,” I told her. “I happen to know her, but she recently moved out of the area. Is she still handling your sale?”

“Yes, as far as I know. I haven’t heard otherwise.”

“I think she may have moved out of state.”

“I wouldn’t know anything about that.”

“Has her number changed? I still have her old number.”

“I just call the Baird & Warner office when I need to reach her. Would you like that number?”

“No, thanks. I have it. I’ll give them a call. It was nice talking to you.”

It was a long shot, but I called the Baird & Warner office.

“Hello, may I speak with Esmeralda Noe, please?”

“She’s not here, but I can put you through to someone else who can help you.”

“I was hoping to talk to Esmeralda. Will she be in later today?”

“I don’t expect her in. Are you sure someone else can’t help you?”

“Actually, this is personal, but this is the only number I have for her.” I forced my voice to crack. “A very dear friend of ours passed away, and I wanted to tell her about it. Would you happen to have another number for her?”

“I really can’t give that out, Miss. But I can take your name and number and give her the message.”

“I’m afraid that won’t do any good. I live in Benton Harbor and am on my way to take a train in for the funeral. She would have no way to reach me.”

“I’m not allowed to give out personal information. I’m sorry.”

She was sticking to their policy no matter what.

“I understand. Thanks anyway.”

Looked like I still had the ability to make stuff up on a moment’s notice—wasn’t that grand?

I tried the unanswered phone number again. Still no answer.

I no sooner hung up the phone, and it rang. It was Naomi.

“I thought you’d never get off the phone,” she whispered. “Can’t talk long. It worked, and is he mad! Pacing his office, pounding on his desk, swearing up a storm. Gotta go.”

It paid to know people in the right places. I opened up the Chicago
Daily News
to page twenty-three:

Of course, just two copies of that bogus page had been printed—one for Naomi to give to Berghorn when he overheard her talking about it on the phone, and one for me so I could gloat about it every once in a while.

* * *

No one knew that it was my twenty-third birthday. I’d thought about telling people but then decided against it. Birthdays should be happy occasions, and except for my satisfaction over duping Elmer, I wasn’t feeling particularly happy then.

On a long shot, I retrieved my box of family photos hoping I would discover something of value, something I had overlooked or that hadn’t made sense before but would now.

I examined a photo of a crowd of people in front of Wrigley Field—more specifically, in front of the blue and white HOME OF CHICAGO CUBS sign. It occurred to me that if someone had been taking a picture of the sign, it would have been centered in the photograph. Instead, the crowd of people was front and center. I stuck the photo in my pocket.

After wasting an hour looking at photos I had examined a hundred times before, I hopped on the bus to meet Fern for lunch, hoping I could draw out from her more information about Essie, things that could lead to her whereabouts—hobbies, favorite foods, friends, relatives. Sometimes the smallest tidbit of information could turn into a viable clue.

That day, I was traveling without Tymon, who had agreed that since Elmer thought the money was gone, it was safe enough for me to be out and about by myself. I suspected his need to protect me would end soon, but admittedly I had mixed feelings about that. I had gotten used to having someone looking out for my well-being—a male version of Minnie.

As soon as I got off the bus, the smoky aroma coming from Eddy’s Rib Joint hit me, reminding me of those special occasions when my father would bring home full rib dinners for us. I walked a half-block down the crowded sidewalk past a bank, two dress shops, a hair salon, and a drugstore until I reached the restaurant.

I spotted Fern seated in a booth next to the windows overlooking the sidewalk. We greeted each other with a quick hug.

As soon as we ordered, I showed her the Wrigley Field photograph.

“Look closely at the people in front of the building. Do you recognize anyone?”

Fern examined the photo and slowly shook her head. “No.”

“What about the woman in front who is gazing directly at the camera. Does she look familiar to you?”

“Not really.”

“Could it be Essie?”

She continued to stare at the photo. “Could be, but it’s hard to tell.” Several seconds passed. “It could be.” She turned the photo over and read the back. “1941.”

“How old would you say Essie is now?”

“I’d say somewhere in her fifties.”

“So let’s say she’s fifty-five. That would make her thirty-one in that photo.”

“The woman in the photo could be that age. What if it is her? What does that tell you?”

“Not much except that maybe she liked baseball, enough to have her picture taken in front of the stadium.”

“That photo was taken the year before we were born.”

“I know. I was thinking about that.”

“Any leads on finding her?” she asked.

I told her about my calls to Essie’s clients.

“Needle in a haystack,” she said.

“Something like that. Do you know what kind of car she drives?”

“She doesn’t. Takes public transportation everywhere.”

I got excited. “Really? Why didn’t you tell me that before?”

“I didn’t think it was important.”

“It’s important. Knowing that, and being fairly sure she still has ties to Baird & Warner to finish up any sales she started before she left, I’d guess she must still be in the area, close enough that she can take public transportation.”

“That must be why you’re the PI. So now what?”

“I’m going to call for information in every suburb to see if they have a new listing for her.”

“What about right here in Chicago?”

“I’ve got that covered. I called for a Chicago listing on her every day for two weeks after she disappeared. They would have had one by then if she was here, so I stopped.”

“Unless she doesn’t have a phone. Or is staying with someone.”

“She has to have a phone—she’s a real estate agent. But she could be staying with someone. She never mentioned being close to anyone?”

“No. She was pretty quiet about herself. I had a hard time getting anything out of her. She talked about a niece, but I don’t think she ever mentioned her name.”

I told her about tricking Elmer into thinking the Irish money had been given to O’Gowan’s relatives.

“Nice one! So are all your boyfriends gone then?”

“Very funny. No, not yet. Tymon is being extra cautious.”

“So what else is new?”

“I know.”

We finished our lunch, said goodbye, and headed for different bus stops.

When I arrived home, I found Tymon on the patio drinking a cup of coffee.

“Did you have a nice lunch?” he asked.

“Yes, and I was only mugged twice.”

“I won’t rest until that hoodlum is completely out of the picture. You know that.”

“Out of the picture? What do you want...him dead?”

“I’d settle for incapacitated. Sit for a minute, I have something to tell you.”

His expression was serious.

“What’s wrong?”

“I went over to Jake’s while you were at lunch and ran into Henry Sikes.”

“I thought he was dead!”

“Looks like that’s what Elmer wanted you to think.”

Now I felt stupid for not having checked that out.

“So what did he have to say?”

“A lot. Henry develops a very loose tongue when someone buys him drinks.” He leaned in toward me, his arms resting on his thighs, his hands clasped together. “Gracie, Elmer Berghorn was responsible for your parents’ deaths.”

THIRTY-ONE