Willow Pond (24 page)

“Sorry if I disturbed you,” Erich said, then walked to the back of the room. There he was confronted with two doors: one straight ahead and one to the right. He glanced back to ask for direction, but the doorman was no longer in sight. Probably gone out for more chicken, he thought. On impulse, Erich tried the door to the right. It swung open and he saw a guy hunched over a large round table, sleeping.

“Are you Rossi?”

The man’s eyes popped open. “Who the fuck are you?”

Erich closed the door behind him and locked it. Rossi sat up straight.

“We need to talk,” Erich said.

“Says who?”

“A mutual friend.”

The man narrowed his eyes, suspicious. “You haven’t told me who you are.”

Erich folded his arms, trying to look tougher than he felt. “The friend of a friend of a friend of a friend of yours. How’s that?”

“That’s horse shit. Either give me a name or I’ll call my friend in here.”

“Who, the big guy out front? Oh, I wouldn’t bother with him. He loves his chicken leg and I’m gonna bet he doesn’t care about anything else. In answer to your question, I’m Erich Muller from the Herald Tribune. I don’t think you’ll do anything dumb, because you Chicago gangsters are still answering questions about the Lengle murder.”

“State your business and get the hell out.”

“I need information about a guy named Paul O’Malley. And also about some pretty boy.”

“You on Virginia Kingsley’s payroll?”

That was unexpected. “What?”

“Don’t play dumb. She sent you here to see what else I know. Guess the guy in Texas wasn’t much help to her.”

“Think whatever you want, pal. What do you know that you didn’t tell Virginia Kingsley?”

“Not a damn thing.”

“How would you like me to tell her you’re keeping secrets from her? Bet you know what that’ll get you.”

Sweat bubbled on Rossi’s brow. “You need to see someone at the Lexington Hotel. Room 235.”

“Thanks. Oh, and if you’re hungry, your buddy might still have a little chicken to share.”

Erich drove to the Lexington Hotel and climbed to the second floor. No one answered the door of Room 235, so he went to the front desk. The hotel manager told him the woman who’d been living there for more than three weeks might have had a child with her, but she had checked out that morning and left no forwarding address. The clerk wrote the woman’s name on a piece of paper and gave it to Erich.

***

Virginia arrived in San Francisco in time for the biggest rainstorm to hit the city in twenty years. Rain streamed down the windows and pounded the hotel roof. She ordered room service and tried to read the newspaper, but the image of Paul O’Malley with a bullet in his brain kept popping into her head. Only the good die young.

The rain eased up on the third morning. This time, before leaving, Virginia made sure she had her gun with her. She drove through puddles, parked the car near the address Harry had given her on Jones Street, then set off on foot. Jones Street was only two blocks long. It had three houses on the first block and four on the second. Now Virginia had to play a game of elimination. She watched a woman came out of one of the houses along with two young children and an elderly woman, so she eliminated that house. A car pulled up the driveway of the last house on the second block and a middle-aged couple got out. Not that one, either.

With its overgrown grass and weeds, one of the five remaining houses caught her eye. She hoisted herself onto the sill of a broken window on the main floor, cleared away a few stray shards of glass and landed with a thud on the wood floor of what turned out to be the kitchen.

The stove and icebox were caked with dirt and something smelled rank. The next room was empty apart from a box of tissues. She picked up the box and examined a smudge. Could it be blood? She found nothing of interest upstairs and was checking to see if any of the doors would open from the inside when heard something that sounded like a muffled sneeze.

She headed in the direction from which the sound seemed to have come and discovered a door ajar to the basement. Sliding the gun from the pocket of her coat, she started down the stairs, stopping on each step to listen. When she reached the bottom step, enough light peeked through the window that she saw she was alone in the room. At the other end was a door to another room.

She eased the second door open and was met by the impressive image of bottle after bottle of wine lined up against the wall. A man half sat, half lay against the wall, and he didn’t appear to be awake. Rudy. Rudy in pretty rough shape. Blood seeped from his left arm and bloody tissues were strewn all over the floor.

“Get up, you bum.”

He raised his head. “Who’s there?”

He yelped when she yanked him to his feet. “Oh, Jesus. I need help. I’ve been shot.”

“Help? You want me to help you? You’re out of your mind.”

“Virginia?” He peered at her in the faint light. “Is that you, Virginia? Thank God. I need a doctor.”

She shoved him onto the floor, and he landed on his left side, groaning loudly. She prodded him hard with her foot, as if she shoved a sack of garbage. “Don’t you pass out on me, you lousy piece of shit.”

“Please. I can’t stand it anymore.”

She knelt in front of him and brought her face as close to his as she could bear. She felt repulsed by the familiar face. She was disgusted with him, disgusted with herself for ever having been with him. “Where’s Todd?”

“I don’t know.”

“Liar.” The sound of her slap across his face was like a whip in the tiny room. “What have you done with my nephew? Is he dead?”

“Don’t know.”

She grabbed his left arm and twisted it as hard as she could. “Tell me where he is.”

He made a pathetic mewling sound and his breath came in gulps. She eased up just enough so he could speak.

“I’m telling you the truth. I have no idea.”

She held the gun to his head. “Stand up like a man when you talk to me.”

It took him a few minutes, but he managed to struggle to his feet. “How long have you known?” he asked.

“Since the beginning, you bastard. Start talking.”

“It was for the money. I was going to give him back. I swear.”

“More lies.” She twisted his left arm and his nose began to run. “Out with it.”

“When I got back from picking up the ransom, Nancy and the kid were gone.”

“Some girlfriend of yours has Todd?”

He wiped his nose with the back of his hand and slumped against the wall. “I guess. But I swear. I have no idea where they are.”

She let him go, then watched him slide down the wall until he lay in a heap at her feet. Her stomach rolled with nausea. How had she allowed such a man near her?

“Are you stupid enough to kidnap my nephew and think I wouldn’t come after you? Did you actually think I wouldn’t find you?” She shook her head. “I’m very unhappy with you, Rudy. You’d better come up with something quick.”

“Maybe they’re in England. Nancy’s English. She used to live in London.”

“Nancy. Last name?”

“Evans.”

“And the money?”

“It’s all gone. You think I’d be here if I still had any of it? Please, Virginia, get a doctor for me. I can’t stand the pain anymore. Please.”

Ice replaced the nausea as she tightened her grip on the gun. “Oh, I can take care of the pain for you.”

She pulled the trigger twice then stood over his body, wishing she could kill him again.

“God damn your black soul to hell, Rudy Strauss.”

Chapter Forty-Seven

Maggie was so proud of her little Andy. All the time they’d spent traveling because she’d been afraid to stay in one place for too long had left no marks on him. She couldn’t say the same thing about herself. He was stronger than she was. She loved him so much. And yet sometimes when she looked at him she was filled with such guilt she didn’t know what to do.

The weeks after they left Vandalia’s Boarding House were terrible. They’d traveled from town to town, sometimes sleeping in the car, trying all the while as if everything were perfectly normal. Maggie was a pretty girl, used to being looked at. She had always enjoyed the attention. Now that she needed to be invisible, she didn’t know how to do it. Every stray glance or word seemed suspicious, every encounter threatening. She spent her days watching and her nights worrying, trying to figure out where to go next, how to stretch what little money she had, how to keep them both clean.

The nappies drove her crazy. She only had four. Washing them in the sinks of public bathrooms was difficult enough, but getting them to dry was impossible. More than once she scolded him for soiling one right after she’d put it on. Afterwards, she felt awful. He was so sweet. He never complained, just studied her face and watched. He had a habit of putting his little hand on her face as if to comfort her. That’s what it seemed like, anyway.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way.

One night while he lay sleeping in her arms, she was so hungry she ate the remains of his apple, core, seeds and all, flavored by the salt of the tears running down her face. She knew there was an escape for her, and it was easy. All she had to do was call Laura Austin and tell her where to find him. Then she’d be free of the worry and bother, the smell of nappies, the frantic need to keep moving. But what would she have then? Nothing. Just like before.

The money ran out in Chicago. She had to leave Andy alone so she could clean offices at night and return every morning, afraid he’d be gone. She knew firsthand how easy it was for a child to disappear. Once she started bringing in a tiny income, she guarded every penny.

Only when an ocean stretched between them and his parents was she able to sleep through the night again.

They stepped onto British soil then moved into a four room flat in South Kensington in February 1931. She got a job at a jewelry store, and after more than a year of being on the road and living in boarding houses, Maggie was delighted to have a home of her own. It gave her a sense of security. Also, now they were living in London she no longer worried someone would find them and take Andy away.

She decorated the large sitting room with furniture she’d bought at yard sales. The combination gave the room an eclectic look, which had received many compliments. Her new friend, Terri, gave her a bed and a dresser for Andy that her youngest son had outgrown. Maggie slept on a mattress and box spring, but that didn’t matter. She and Andy were together and happy. That was all she cared about.

She was in the kitchen putting away groceries when she heard his laughter coming from outside, where he’d been playing with the little girl who lived in the downstairs flat. A moment later she heard his footsteps on the carpeted hallway. He walked into the kitchen and proceeded directly to the cookie jar.

“Hi, Mommy.”

“Hi, Andy. Did you have fun with Janie today?”

“Yep.” He began to sing, “London bridge is falling down, falling down,” then plunked down on his little rear. He was a beautiful boy. She still kept his hair short so his curls didn’t grow, but had stopped dyeing it. Now it was its natural golden shade. The other mothers in the neighborhood were always quick to compliment her on his sweet looks and nature. She never told anyone she couldn’t take credit for either.

“Don’t hurt yourself.”

He got up and climbed on a stool, trying to reach the biscuit jar, but he couldn’t quite make it. She helped him down from the stool and put the biscuit jar on the table.

He peeked inside and sighed. “No more bickies.”

She pointed at the two shopping bags on the table. “I bought some today.”

He opened the icebox door and reached for a bottle of milk, but she was there in a second, ready to help him. In recent days he’d wanted to do everything by himself. Even things she knew were difficult for him. He prided himself on being a “big boy” and got angry whenever she babied him, which was her natural instinct.

“It’s too heavy for you. I’ll pour it for you straight away.”

“No, Mommy. I want to. I want chocoly milk.”

“You know where the chocolate syrup is. Not too much, though.”

He put his pudgy hand over his mouth when he laughed. “I want lots of chocoly.”

He started to sit across from her but when she patted her lap, he crawled into it. He looked inside one of the shopping bags again and pulled out a party favor.

“Mine.”

“Put them back.” She rested her chin on top of his head and a wave of tenderness engulfed her as the silkiness of his hair brushed her skin. “They’re for Steve’s party tomorrow. Put the biscuits in the biscuit jar and stop snooping.”

He took another biscuit and held it between his teeth. When the rest of them were in the jar, he began nibbling around the edges the way he always did.

“I like peanut butter bickies best. Is Auntie going to have cake and ice cream?”

“Yes. Now you must be a big boy and remember you can’t say anything to Steve because it’s a surprise. Mommy is going to help her get ready for the party.”

“I want to help.”

She kissed the top of his head. “If you’re a good boy maybe you can help. Now go back out and play. I’ll call you when tea’s ready. I’m making your favorite, bangers and mash.”

She bent over to tie his shoes. When he looked up, the sunlight hit his face just right and Maggie’s heart raced. He looked just like the picture of Laura Kingsley on the dust jacket of her novel. He had her eyes and that magical golden hair.

***

Maggie kept her eye on the kitchen clock and listened to Terri drone on about her ex-husband, who never paid his child support on time. Maggie had no one to help her with the expenses of raising a child, so she especially hated hearing Terri complain. It also made her think of Rudy and the half million dollars he’d collected from the Austins.

Maggie almost never thought about Rudy. When she did, she wondered if he were alive and looking for her.

To celebrate Maggie’s twenty-fifth birthday, her new boyfriend, Dennis Collins, took her to Picassos, her favorite Italian restaurant. Terri had offered to keep Andy in her flat, saying he could spend the night with Steve. The two little boys loved nothing more than to play with their trucks in the sitting room and try to see who could scream the loudest.