Ash Wednesday (25 page)

“Thank you.”

Herman reluctantly handed over one of the beers, took another for himself, and put the four remaining in his fridge. It looked empty to Tuttle.

“You fix your own meals or what?”

“I eat at the rectory.”

Tuttle was surprised, so Herman went on to explain his early dinners in the rectory kitchen. “But it’s what she prepares for him.”

“Him” would be Father Dowling. “Herman, people would kill to get a job like yours.”

The only fly in the ointment was Marie Murkin, who seemed to think she was Herman’s boss. “I got a boss other than the Father it would be Edna Hospers.”

“A wonderful woman,” Tuttle said unctuously. “I suppose you knew her husband … before.”

Herman shrugged. “It all depends on what you mean by ‘knew.’”

“You ever think of running for president?”

Herman didn’t get it. Well, maybe he hadn’t followed the news closely when he was in Joliet. “He was out here the other day,” Herman said.

That did not seem a special event to Tuttle, until Herman mentioned Earl had been checking out the center’s shuttle bus.

“Was there damage to it?”

“Ask him.” Herman tipped back his can and drank thirstily.

Tuttle nodded, as if making a note of the suggestion. “Did Maxwell talk to Eugene Schmidt?”

“Ask him.”

Tuttle nodded at this sage advice. “Wasn’t Schmidt driving the bus when the accident happened?”

“Accident! He says it was all his fault. For days he talked about nothing else. Swerved right into the path of her car without looking into the rearview mirror. All the old people were whooping it up behind him, and then some guy cut in front of him and he swerved into the right lane to avoid getting hit. The bus went bumping onto the shoulder and nearly turned over. When Schmidt got out, he looked back and saw the car crumpled into the bridge abutment.”

“You sound like you were there.”

“I got it, blow by blow. He couldn’t shut up about it. He practically begged the police to run him in.”

Herman finished his beer and crunched the can. “Another?” he asked as if he were willing Tuttle to say no.

“I’m fine. I brought the beer for you.”

Herman got a fresh can from the fridge and popped the tab. He settled back in his chair now. He was still three cans to the good, and he was ready to shoot the bull with Tuttle.

“You were Nathaniel Green’s lawyer, weren’t you?” Herman asked.

“Was? I still am.”

This was a delicate point. Nathaniel had yet to come to him since the reading of Helen Burke’s will. Not that he was a beneficiary or anything, but as Tuttle saw it his client had been absolved of
the will Tuttle had drawn up for him, leaving the lion’s share to his sister-in-law.

“Call him,” Hazel had urged. Reading about all that money changing hands had her salivating. Surely some portion of it should come to Tuttle & Tuttle. Tuttle liked the thought so much he didn’t tell her how unlikely it was. Of course, Nathaniel had promptly paid the bill Hazel sent him after Tuttle drew up his new will.

He had been as surprised as anyone that Helen hadn’t left the whole bundle to her son, Jason. Jason was a loser, but blood is thicker than water. Unless Nathaniel changed his will, Madeline Clancy and Natalie Armstrong were in for another bonanza when the old man died.

“He around?”

“Who?”

“Nathaniel Green.”

“They don’t check in with me, Tuttle.”

“You two have more in common than anyone else here, Herman.”

“Nathaniel didn’t kill his wife,” Herman said.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because he confessed.”

“That doesn’t make a lot of sense.”

“To a priest. He told me. Look, it’s like Schmidt claiming he’s responsible for that accident. If he was, he would have shut up about it.”

“Interesting.”

“Now he’s getting married.”

“Nathaniel?” Tuttle sat forward in alarm as if prey he had been stalking had been jumped by another predator.

Herman gurgled. “Ha. No, Schmidt.”

“Come on. Who’s the lucky lady, Marie Murkin?”

Beer improved Herman’s sense of humor. His laughter made Tuttle feel like a wit. “Natalie Armstrong.”

Tuttle fell back. “She’s loaded.”

“I know what you’re thinking,” Herman said.

“What am I thinking?”

“The lady comes into money and right away Schmidt goes for her.”

“It would be a powerful incentive.”

“He was sweet-talking her long before the accident.” Herman made it sound like proof of true love.

“They’re really getting married?”

“They’ve talked to the priest. Schmidt doesn’t even have to turn Catholic first.”

Herman crunched his empty can and took another beer from the fridge, not offering Tuttle one this time.

Here was food for thought. No wonder Amos Cadbury had put Maxwell on the trail of Eugene Schmidt. The man had been a frequent presence at the St. Hilary senior center for months, but where had he come from? Who was he? Tuttle could understand that Amos Cadbury did not like the thought of a stranger coming to town and marrying a woman whose lawyer he was. Particularly when that woman had some money of her own, had just come into a packet from Helen Burke’s will, and stood to add to all that when Nathaniel Green bit the dust. Whatever secrets there might be in Schmidt’s past would not be secret long.

Tuttle went off to the courthouse and looked into the pressroom. Only Rebecca was there.

“Where’s the ace reporter, sweetheart?”

“The two of clubs is across the street.”

“I have half a mind to give the scoop to you.”

“Half a mind is all you’ve got, Tuttle.”

Why couldn’t he josh with Hazel like this? He could propose to Rebecca and she would go right on hitting her keyboard.

“Too bad about the smoke-free ordinance.”

Rebecca tossed her head. “We’re protected.”

“Then you haven’t heard?”

“Heard what!” She swung from her computer and looked open-mouthed at Tuttle.

“Of course, it’s just a rumor.”

“For God’s sake, tell me.” She was nervously lighting a cigarette although a half-smoked one still tilted from her ashtray.

“Whatever I know I learned from Tetzel.”

“That son of a bitch.”

“Any other message for him?”

Tetzel had confided in him Menteur’s insistence that his reporter write a piece blasting the hypocrisy of the city council for exempting the courthouse from the smoke-free ordinance.

“What’ll you do?”

Tetzel had looked sly. “I’m interviewing the man in the street. One gripe after another about the ordinance. We should have done this when it was before the council. It’s the beginning of my campaign to have it repealed, Tuttle. That ought to please Menteur.”

He found Tetzel in a booth in the bar across the street, a scotch and water before him, a pleased smile on his face. Tuttle slid in across from him, having placed an order for a shandy when he passed the bar. Passed the bar. Unpleasant memories of the number of attempts it had taken him to be admitted to the local bar came and went.

“Rebecca says you’re a son of a bitch.”

“I didn’t know you were taking maternity cases, Tuttle.”

Tuttle squinted. “There is a resemblance.”

Tetzel dismissed this. His pleased expression had not gone away. “My story on Jason Burke is featured on the paper’s Web site.”

Tuttle’s shandy arrived, and he toasted Tetzel. “Let me be the first to congratulate you.”

“What do you mean, first? Menteur actually gushed about the story.”

“I suppose you’ve heard about Maxwell?”

Tetzel’s smile faded, but there was wariness in his eye. “The coffee?”

“Are they still in business?”

“Who the hell is Maxwell, Tuttle?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

He hunched over the table, and Tetzel followed suit. Tuttle pushed his tweed hat to the back of his head, then took it off and put it on the seat beside him.

Tetzel didn’t know who Eugene Schmidt was until Tuttle reminded him of the accident that had killed Helen Burke. “Schmidt was driving the shuttle bus.”

Tetzel remembered.

“Okay. I don’t have to tell you who Natalie Armstrong is. She’s going to marry Eugene Schmidt.”

Tetzel sat back in disgust. “I don’t do the society page, Tuttle.”

Tuttle waited. Tetzel was no idiot, no matter what people said. Thoughts came and went. He sipped his drink. Finally he said, “It’s like a series, Tuttle. All involving the same family, more or less. First the return of Nathaniel Green and his new will. Then Jason Burke, son and heir who is determined to go on with his shoe store. And now …”

“Now one of Helen Burke’s heirs is about to marry a man that Maxwell has been hired to check out. Cy Horvath is on it, too.”

“What do we know of the man, Tuttle?”

“I wouldn’t presume to do your work for you. I suppose you’ll talk to Maxwell.”

Tetzel offered another shandy to Tuttle, but the little lawyer held up a staying hand. “I have miles to go before I sleep, Gerry.”

“Who doesn’t?”

Warn Natalie about the mysterious Eugene Schmidt? Madeline had begun to shake her head even while Amos Cadbury was formulating the question.

“Madeline, the man’s life can be traced back less than a year, to Detroit. Before that is a total blank.”

“Have you been investigating him?”

“Not personally, of course. Madeline, would I be a worthy lawyer to the family if I just shut my eyes to this development?”

Madeline thought about Eugene Schmidt, the heartthrob of the widows at the senior center until his interest had focused on Natalie. Such a harmless little fellow, with his twinkling eyes and neat little mustache. He looked like fun, and Madeline felt she understood why Natalie had responded to him. Was he as old as Natalie? Not that a little age difference made a particle of difference at their time of life. Working at the center had restored Madeline’s sense that she was still young, that life lay ahead of her, not just behind. She imagined that Natalie and Eugene would live together as she had once dreamt she and Jason might.

“We don’t need another sensational story about the family, Amos.”

He closed his eyes as if in pain. Tetzel’s story about Jason and the Foot Doctor had made Jason seem a minor hero. Come into piles of money, he intended to just go on as he had before. Winners of the lottery often made similar claims. What Madeline had feared was that Jason’s turn of fortune would reawaken his vices, but he seemed genuinely through with drink and gambling.

Amos said, “Thank God the story didn’t mention Carmela’s control of his money. Think of what the reporter would have made of that.”

Madeline said nothing. When at the reading of Helen’s will Amos mentioned this proviso, adding that he and Jason had already discussed it, Madeline had assumed that Amos was taking Jason under his wing. But Carmela! Jason’s estranged wife had established herself in Schaumburg; she was by all accounts successful, which no doubt was the reason she had been chosen as custodian of Jason’s money. Madeline couldn’t believe that Carmela would accept such a role. All her experience with Jason had been unhappy; why should she think he would be different now?

Madeline knew immediately that this arrangement would bring Jason and Carmela together again. She wouldn’t be surprised if that had been Amos Cadbury’s intention. No one could ever convince Madeline that Aunt Helen would have wanted such a reunion. Now Carmela had moved the Avanti Group to Fox River.

“Is it still a group?” Madeline asked.

“One of the partners is moving with her. A man she calls Augie Liberati.”

“Calls?”

“I assume Augie is short for August. Maybe even Augustine.”

*  *  *

It was short for August. He was there when Madeline stopped by the new offices of the Avanti Group.

“How would you like to have been named after a month?” he asked her.

“I was named after a repentant sinner.”

“Mary Magdalene?” Carmela said. “I never thought of that. It seems so inappropriate.”

Why should she have been annoyed at the suggestion that she was not a repentant sinner? Oh, everyone was some kind of sinner, of course; Madeline made no great claims for herself. She had led an uneventful life. Temptation had never come her way.

Augie said, “Look who’s talking. You were named after a candy.”

“I was not. The allusion is to Our Lady of Mount Carmel.”

“That’s a high school football team.”

Other women seemed so at ease with men, joking with them, able not to take them seriously, an easy and comfortable equality. Madeline envied her old friend’s ability to banter with her partner. Not that she wasn’t all seriousness when Madeline explained why she had come. They were in Carmela’s office then.

“Madeline, I am flattered.” She paused. “I do have some misgivings, however. As you know, I now have responsibility for Jason’s assets. Which are considerable. And I manage a little account for Natalie.”

“Really?”

“If you didn’t know, consider it a confidence. You can see what I am getting at. I would feel uncomfortable with even more family money in my hands.”

Madeline was disappointed and must have shown it.