Boystown 7: Bloodlines (9 page)

“Um…we should stick to dinner and a movie. And even if we weren’t I don’t think I’d want—”
“No. I’m not going to ask you to wear it while we…it’s for me—”

“That’s not any better.”

“It’s for me to wear to work.”

“Are you changing professions?”

“I need to watch a building downtown. I’m going to get a bucket, wear your suit, and collect money for Easter Seals or something. That way I can watch everyone who’s going in and out and not be suspicious.”

“Oh. Well, all right. I’d be more comfortable if you promise not to perform any sacraments.”

“I’m not planning any.”

“And the money you raise?”
“Can go to the charity of your choice.”

I thanked him in advance and told him I was looking forward to our evening, then hung up. My stomach gurgled, but I decided to make a quick call to Kimmy Crete before heading out to find some lunch. She answered quickly and agreed to meet with me at her apartment in about a half an hour. She lived on Lincoln Park West near the zoo. After I hung up, I hurried out of my office. I walked down Clark to Belmont and found a greasy gyros place I liked. I got a gyros wrapped in foil and a bag of French fries. I scarfed them down as quickly as I could, swallowed a sixteen ounce Coke in a few gulps, and was back on the street a few minutes later hailing a cab for the nine block ride. I could have waited for a 22 bus but didn’t have the patience.

The cab let me off right in front of 2020 Lincoln Park West. The building was about forty-stories, cement, with half-circle balconies going all the way to the top. The doorman announced me and I was sent to the twenty-seventh floor. I found Kimmy’s apartment, 27G, and knocked. A young girl, short and a little on the pudgy side, opened the door. She had perky blond hair that probably cost a fortune to keep up and wore a pair of white flannel pajamas with hearts.

The apartment was a studio. A small bathroom to the right as I walked in, then an equally small kitchen, and a large room that had sliding glass doors as one wall. They led out onto one of the half-circle balconies, which looked cold, damp and uninviting. The place was far too expensive for a dental assistant and even more out of reach for an unemployed dental assistant. I assumed there were a couple of parents in the background despairing of the fact that their daughter hadn’t yet found a man to take care of her. The furniture was nice, comfortable. Her pullout bed was still pulled out and a large TV in an entertainment center played an afternoon soap, I think it was
Ryan’s Hope
but I’m hardly an expert.

We sat down at a small glass dining table with delicate metal chairs. She offered me tea but I turned it down, hoping I didn’t smell too much like onions and grease.

“I only have a few questions. You were a dental hygienist at Caspian Dental Group?”

“No.”

“No?”

She shook her head.

I thought for a moment and said, “Oh, sorry, you were a dental hygienist at Caspian Levine Dental Care?”

“Well, yeah, that’s right but I wasn’t a dental hygienist. I was a dental assistant.”

“What’s the difference?”

She looked at me like I was stupid. “A dental assistant assists the dentist. A dental hygienist cleans teeth.”

“Why did you stop working as a dental assistant at Caspian Dental Group?”

“I was fired.”

“Oh? Why were you fired?”

“Math,” she said simply.

“I didn’t think there was a lot of math involved in being a dental assistant.”

“I know, right? But there is. I had to keep track of Dr. Caspian’s drugs. You know, he does oral surgery and stuff. So he’s got all these painkillers and he’s even got pharmaceutical cocaine in there. I guess if you’re high enough you don’t care what he does to your mouth.”

“So you kept inventory.”

“I did, yeah.”

“And drugs went missing?” I speculated.

“Not missing, exactly. Unaccounted for. Because I can’t do math. Nobody there would steal drugs.”

“And that’s why you were fired. Because the drugs were unaccounted for?”

“Yeah…Dr. Levine-Berkson tried to keep me, but it’s all sort of regulated so they had to make someone responsible. Since I can’t do math and it was probably all my fault anyway…”

“When I called over there I got the impression that Dr. Levine-Berkson wasn’t well liked.”

“Cynthia hates her, I know. I could never figure that out. But then I was only there for nine months. They told me Dr. Levine-Berkson was difficult to work with, but she was always really nice to me.”

Her attention drifted over to her soap opera. I stared at her and wondered if she was as dense as she seemed. It was very likely that someone was stealing drugs, possibly counting on Kimmy’s poor math skills while doing it. Did this girl really not understand that?

Abruptly, she said, “When I got fired, she wrote me a check for five hundred dollars out of her own account.”

“Dr. Levine-Berkson did that?”

“Yes.

“Why do you think she did that?”

“Because she’s nice.”

“She felt bad about your being fired.”

“Yeah. A nice person would feel bad, wouldn’t they?”

But did she feel bad or did she feel guilty?
I wondered. Someone stole drugs but never got caught. Was it Madeline? It would explain Cynthia’s cryptic comment about the doctor’s personal problems. It would also explain why she felt guilty enough to write a personal check to a girl who was clearly in no danger of starving.

“Wait a minute. Were you the only one who had access to the drugs?”

“No. That would be stupid. They’re in a glass case. I had a key and so did both doctors.”

“And that’s it. Just the three of you?”

“No. Cynthia had a key at the desk. In case I was out. She could give it to a temp.”

“So how did it work?”

“Well one of the dentists would ask for something and I’d go get it.”

“And you wrote down everything you took.”

She shrugged. “I thought I did. But I guess it was only some of the time. Every night I had to make sure everything matched.”

“And did it match?”

“No, it never matched.”

“Never?”

“No. I knew I was just making mistakes so I kind of fudged the numbers.”

“But the dentists or Cynthia could have taken drugs out of the cabinet and not written it down.”

“They wouldn’t do that.”

“How do you know that?”

“God, you’re just like my father. He’s suspicious of everyone. He doesn’t believe I could do anything wrong.”

I smiled at her. I got the feeling she didn’t believe she could do anything right. She started watching her soap again. I pulled her attention back with, “Do you know anything about a woman named Emily Fante?”

“Mmm-hmmm. Dr. Levine-Berkson had a friend named Emily who used to call. I think she came by once so they could go to lunch.”

“Do you remember what she looked like?”

“Older, short hair, almost kind of dyke-y.” She blushed when she said the word dyke. As though it was embarrassing that lesbians existed. “It was always weird.”

“Because they didn’t look like they’d know each other?”

“Yes! That’s why it was weird. I mean, I knew it was weird I just didn’t know why. Thank you.”
 

“That’s all you know about her?”

“Yes. That’s all.”

“Did Dr. Levine-Berkson ever talk about her family with you? They refuse to testify on her behalf.”

“She didn’t talk much about them.
 
I mean, I know that her mother took care of her kids for her. Not that it was all that convenient. She had to drive the kids from Skokie to Park Ridge and then come into the city to the practice. Usually it took her an hour in the morning. Longer in the afternoon.”

“Did Dr. Levine-Berkson ever talk about her marriage?”

“Well, no. Not to me.”

“To someone else?”

“Um. Well, she didn’t always take her husband’s calls. I mean, even when she wasn’t with a patient. And then…” She made me wait, so I did. “One time I overheard her fighting with him on the phone. I mean, I think it was him. She kept saying stuff about how he stole from her. That she gave him an allowance and that should be enough.”

“She couldn’t have been talking to one of her kids?”

“Oh my God! They’re not even in grade school. You don’t talk that way to kids. I mean, she was cursing and everything.”

“Can you think of anything else that might be helpful?”

“Is this what I have to talk about in court? The lawyer said I just had to talk about how much I liked Dr. Levine-Berkson.”

“He’s right. You should be honest, but don’t volunteer any of this unless they ask you directly.”

“Then why do you need to know?”

“I’m looking for something that might help Madeline.” But so far I was only finding things that would hurt her. Which made me think of something I should at least ask. “You don’t have any idea who Wes Berkson was having an affair with?”

“Maybe. When they were fighting on the phone Dr. Levine-Berkson kept saying Jane. It was all Jane’s fault.”

“When was this phone call?”

“A week or so before I got fired,” she said.

“When did you get fired?”

“I guess it was a year, more than that, fourteen months.”

I did some calculations in my head. “You got fired a couple weeks before Dr. Levine-Berkson killed her husband.”

“Yeah. I was so surprised. I felt so bad for her. I wish I’d never cashed her check.”

“So, the conversation you’re talking about when she and her husband fought over money and someone named Jane was about a month before she killed her husband.”

“Yes. I guess.”

I thanked her and stood up to leave.
 

“Oh, that’s it?”

“Yes, thank you for your help.”

She walked me to the door. It wasn’t a long walk. As she opened the door for me, she said, “You know I’m still looking for a job. Do you need anybody? I mean, your job looks really easy.”

Chapter Eight

I was a good boy and took the 22 back to my office. My head was spinning. If Madeline was fighting with her husband about his girlfriend a month before she killed him then her story was a fabrication. She didn’t stab him because he suddenly admitted the affair. She already knew about it. And, she claimed not to know who he was having an affair with. But, if this Jane person was actually the woman Wes was seeing then Madeline did know, or very least knew the woman’s first name and had a month to find out more. Not to mention, a month to get angry enough to stab her husband.
 

Or, she might have stabbed him for another reason. A reason she didn’t want people to know. I remembered the comment Melody made about her sister. That she’d lie to make herself look better. Was she doing that? Was there something worse than being a jilted wife going on here?

And the missing drugs. What did that mean? I’d already confirmed with Lana that the anger at the office, Madeline’s distant parents, and the mysterious Emily Fante were all connected. So, was the connection drugs? Drugs would explain the anger at the office—especially if it was Madeline who was stealing the drugs and letting Kimmy take the fall. It would also explain the problems with her family. But how does it explain Emily Fante? Was she Madeline’s drug dealer? And how did it all connect to her husband spending too much money and having a girlfriend?
 

When I got back to the office there was another hang up on my machine. It seemed clear that someone wanted to talk to me but didn’t want to leave a message. It was almost two o’clock and I didn’t have anything planned for the afternoon until seven-thirty, when Joseph was coming by. I wanted to crawl up on the sofa and take a nap. It was a heck of a lot more comfortable that the one I was sleeping on at Brian’s. My neck could use the change of scenery. But I decided not to. What I really needed to do was find a relative of The Nose and nose around a little. I laughed at my little pun and realized, not for the first time, that I was a little too good at being alone. Focus, I told myself. Should I go downtown to the library and do a newspaper search? Or maybe go visit Harker’s old partner, Detective Frank Connors. He might know something about The Nose. He’d been around long enough.

Then I had a realization. There might be information on The Nose right in front of me. The whole reason I knew The Nose was implicated in the Perelli murders was that I’d read it in a transcript of an interview with Prince Charles. I had fifteen boxes of information. I’d organized it all. Read most, but not all of it. There were about thirty-two different files on known associates of Jimmy English. These included members of a crew he oversaw; the management of Lucky Days, a small casino he owned part of in Las Vegas—which seemed at least partly legit; and various lowlifes who were believed to have done jobs for him.
 

I’d organized and relabeled everything, so it wasn’t that hard to find the box containing known associates. There was a file on The Nose. It was thin, but still a file. I opened it. Inside were a page of notes referencing both the transcript of a conversation with Prince Charles, which I had, and page numbers for the diary or journal or whatever that I didn’t have. After that was an arrest record which included The Nose’s last known address. That was someplace to start.
 

I pulled the Greater Chicago Metropolitan Phonebook out of a drawer. Mine was from 1981. I also had a couple of suburban phonebooks, so I took out the Oak Park Forest Park River Forest phonebook from 1983 to go along with it. The Nose’s last known address was in Forest Park. Forest Park was a step down from Oak Park but still had some nice parts. For some reason these gangster types liked the ritzy western suburbs. Jimmy lived in Oak Park.

I checked the Metropolitan phonebook first and found that The Nose still lived at the same address. Well, he didn’t live there; he’d been dead for two years by then. But in 1981 there was still a phone listed in his name. Widows did that. They left a phone in their husband’s name so that people didn’t make obscene phone calls. It was strange that more people didn’t unlist their phone numbers. Yeah, the phone company charged about a buck a month to
not
list your number, which didn’t make a whole lot of sense. But if people realized how easy it was to find them and find out things about them, they’d probably pony up the money. Then I checked the Oak Park Forest Park River Forest phonebook and found that Nino Nitti still had a phone at the same address on Thatcher in Forest Park. I had five hours. If I walked over to Aldine and found my car I could be out in Forest Park in about forty minutes. I grabbed my overcoat and was out of the office in two.