Danger Comes Home (Kelly O'Connell Mystery) (11 page)

“Is not!”

“Girls. Stop this instant. Finish your dinners.” They finished their pork chops and mashed potatoes and pushed the spinach around on their plates.

“If it were turnip greens, they’d eat it,” Mike said. “They’re southerners.” He was laughing. He knows I can’t abide turnip greens, no matter how Keisha fixes them.

Joe and Theresa came by that night to ask if they could move into the apartment temporarily. What Joe suspected had become a reality. He’d lost his job.

“Mike told you it was fine, Joe. He offered.”

“I have to know that it’s okay with you, too, Miss Kelly. I don’t think I’ll be bringing any trouble near you and the girls, but it’s still a lot to ask.”

“We’re grateful,” said Theresa who was again pale and subdued tonight, clinging to Joe’s hand. I hated to see her that way, like she was during all that trouble in high school. I wanted the recent joyful, full-of-life Theresa back.

The girls sat silent. Even if they had been in bed, they’d have been up to hear this, so there was no sense shooing them out of the room. And that wasn’t how we treated them, whenever we could avoid it. But for once, they didn’t try to be part of the conversation, nor did they ask questions.

In a tremulous voice, Theresa said, “My dad has a storage unit where he keeps tools,
etc.
but there’s lots of leftover room. We’ll store what we have there—it’s not much. And I’ll bring our kitchen stuff.”

“Theresa, you know that little kitchen out there is fully stocked, thanks to Mrs. Hunt, the previous owner. Just bring what you want. There’s a TV, probably almost everything you need. Maybe we can bring the stationary bike back into our bedroom, since Mike should be riding it now.” As a detective, he doesn’t get the exercise he did on patrol, and now that he’s healed and good to go, I thought he needed that workout but I was waiting for him to discover that on his own. Such patience was unlike me.

Mike was not with us to defend himself. He’d pleaded late work, and the girls and I had eaten tuna fish sandwiches by ourselves. A dreary meal, brightened for them only by the prospect of having Joe and Theresa around a lot. But somehow Maggie and Em knew to be quiet.

“I can do some cooking for you, Miss Kelly, and I was wondering if in exchange for rent, I could clean your house every week.”

I laughed. “I’m sure Mike would be grateful—housecleaning is not something I enjoy doing. But, Theresa there’s no rent to exchange for.”

She cast her eyes down.

“I’ll move us tomorrow while Theresa’s at work. Her dad said he’s not real busy now and can help me. Our lease is month-to-month, so that’s not a big problem.”

“Of course.”

Em could stand it no longer. She marched over to Joe, hands on hips, and demand. “Joe, does this have to do with you being arrested?”

Joe sent me a look of pure panic, but I nodded.

“Yeah, Em. It does.” The apprehensive look on his face made me bite my lip.

Suddenly, Em threw herself into his arms, a leap that caught him off guard, so that her momentum pushed them both back on the sofa. “Oh, Joe, we know you don’t have anything to do with drugs. You didn’t do that! We’ll fight for you.”

He hugged her tightly, probably a first for him, and managed, “Thank you, Em.”

Maggie squeezed in between Theresa and Joe, suggesting, “We can have a lemonade stand or something to raise money for your lawyer.”

By now, Theresa was crying, and all I could think was, “What a mess.” Joe choked out, “Thank you, girls. It means a lot to me that you believe in me.”

“So do Mike and Mom,” Maggie said with determination.

Keisha knocked and walked into this scene, standing for a moment staring at all of us. “What in the name of the Good Lord is going on?”

Haltingly, the story came out—a bit from me, a bit from the girls, but mostly we let Joe talk.

When he was through, she said brusquely, “We got work to do, and it ain’t gonna be easy. But Joe Mendez, you are not going to jail, and you will finish school and get your job back. Now, let’s sit down and make a plan.”

“We’re going to sell lemonade,” Maggie said, “and maybe we could put up posters around the neighborhood.”

“Bless you, child,” Keisha said. “But posters about what? We don’t know who we’re looking for.”

“Oh, we’re looking for Jenny’s father,” Maggie said with sureness. “We just don’t know what he looks like.”

I squelched that idea, with the briefest explanation I could give about innocent until proven guilty. Maggie looked highly doubtful.

We did sit and plot strategy, and the girls were a part of it. I was glad my mom didn’t happen in. She’d have been horrified. After my last adventure, when I nearly got kidnapped and taken to Mexico, Mom announced she was ready to move back to Chicago. It was, she said, safer. She didn’t listen to my statistic about random gun deaths in Chicago, but we eventually talked her out of it. I suspected it was really Otto who convinced her to stay.

Mike came home in time for our meeting, with no explanation of why he was late. I knew I couldn’t expect one—a detective did what he had to do. I also knew he wouldn’t eat a tuna sandwich, so I brought him a glass of white wine and said a bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich would follow.

“I’m glad you’re home, Mr. Mike. There’s one thing everyone should know.” Joe squirmed uncomfortably. “I’m going to have to go out some at night, like I’ve been doing—even after I find a job. I got to keep my ear to the ground and find out what’s going on. Mr. Mike, Miss Kelly…Keisha, I’d appreciate it if you’d be sure Theresa’s safe.”

Theresa jumped up from the table, spilling her water glass. “No,” she shouted. Theresa never shouted, so we were all startled. I went to the kitchen for a towel, while she almost screamed, “No, Joe. You can’t do that. You’ve got to stay away from those people.” She collapsed into her chair sobbing.

Joe stood up, pulled her to her feet, and put his arms around her. “Theresa, if I don’t get to the bottom of this now, you and I will never have a peaceful life. Mr. Mike and his police force can’t do it. I have to do it myself.”

Mike glared at me. Joe had taken up my attitude about intervening when the police didn’t solve something immediately. The girls were staring, their eyes frightened, and I knew I’d have to talk fast and hard when I put them to bed.

Theresa looked helplessly from one to the other of us, but Mike was the one who solemnly nodded his head in agreement.

“What else is going on, Joe?”

He hung his head. “I been playing some pool, listening to what I can hear.” Hastily, he added, “I usually win, so it don’t take from our budget. Theresa’s strict about what I spend. I wish she didn’t have to do that.” He paused a minute. “I talked to Little Ben.”

Mike turned. “What’d he say?”

“He don’t know nothin’ about nothin’, according to him.”

“He have a job?”

Joe shook his head. “Yeah, but I don’t know what it is. He’s free a lot during the day. Real secretive about what he does. Says there’s a lull in his business right now.”

“Money?”

“Sure seems to have more than I do. So do some of the other guys he runs with—one guy they call Lucky, and Nathan that I’ve known since I was little. I don’t figure it’s smart to ask too much, but if I hang around maybe they’ll let something slip…or make me an offer. Since I’m out on bail, they think I’m one of them again. Little Ben kind of smirks about it. Says things like, ‘What’s that sweet Theresa think now?’ I really want so bad to punch him out.”

With a whole lot of concern, I asked, “What would you do if he made you an offer?”

“Play along and come tell Mr. Mike,” he answered. He didn’t have to think about it for a minute.

“Joe, that’s dangerous.”

He spread his hands. “I got to clear my name, Miss Kelly.”

There didn’t seem to be much to say after that, and Joe soon took Theresa home, muttering soft reassurances to her.

After Joe and Theresa left and the girls were in bed was definitely the time that Mike and I could try to sort out our lives. This night, with Keisha still there,” I asked, “Mike, Joe won’t violate his probation, will he?”

Mike shook his head. “Joe knows exactly what he’s doing, Kelly, and it’s going to be okay. We can’t trap Little Ben without his help. I didn’t put him up to this—nobody did—but he knows. He can’t sit back and be a patsy for them. It’s going to be hard on both of them for Joe to do what he has to and at the same time cling to the new life he’s built for himself. God help him.”

I wasn’t sure I’d ever heard Mike so fervent. Keisha was silent… We were a solemn group.

When I went to tuck them in, I found both girls in Maggie’s bed.

“I’m worried,” Em announced, “so Maggie said I could sleep with her.”

“You want a pallet?”

“Yes, please.” So one more time I gathered up extra blankets and made a pallet. Then I sat on Maggie’s bed and pulled Em up next to me.

“Girls, I know you’re worried about Joe. We all are, but when there’s something you can do to help, we’ll tell you. Meantime, you can try to keep Theresa cheerful.”

“Who’s Little Ben?” Maggie asked.

“Someone Joe knew a long time ago. We think he’s not up to good, and he’s trying to get Joe into trouble.”

“Why?”

How could I answer? “I don’t know. Maybe to keep from getting in trouble himself.”

Em was indignant. “That’s not fair!”

I shook my head. “No, it’s not. But we have to let Joe figure it out. We can’t do it for him, much as we want to.”

“Can’t the police just arrest Little Ben?” she persisted.

“Not without proof. It’s complicated, girls. But remember this: Mike and I will always keep you safe.”

“And Theresa?” Em asked

“And Theresa,” I pledged solemnly, hoping I could keep that pledge.

We talked a bit more and then I kissed them good night, wondering what would fill their dreams this night.

Late that night, I had one question for Mike. “You told me in no uncertain terms not to let Mona and Jenny stay in the apartment because they would put us and our girls in danger. Isn’t the same true of Joe and Theresa? I mean, I won’t stand in the way of it for a minute, but doesn’t it put us all in danger?”

He was thoughtful. “Yes, I think it does, and we’ll have to be very careful. But Kelly, we’ve lived with danger before, and Joe and Theresa are family.”

I wanted to remind him that this time he was the one bringing it home to us, not me. I also realized he was making distinctions again between those he trusted and those he didn’t. He trusted Joe; he hadn’t trusted Claire and was maybe not a hundred percent sure even now. And he didn’t trust Mona at all.

I changed the subject back to Joe. “What kind of job can he get?”

“He may have to wash dishes or bus tables. He says he’ll do whatever. If you’d send Keisha to real estate school, I bet he could do her job.”

I nixed that. I couldn’t afford to send Keisha for training, and I didn’t know she wanted to commit to so much time, now that she and José spent every spare minute together. Besides, Joe hadn’t had the training as an administrative assistant—call it what it is, a secretary—that Keisha had.

“He’ll work something out,” I said. “I have a lot of confidence in Joe, but I’m sorry they’re having such a tough time.”

When I changed the topic and told him about Lorna McDavid, Mike just shook his head. “Kelly, will you ever learn? You can’t save the world? And you probably can’t save every Craftsman house in Fairmount.”

I ignored him and went back to my book. I’d expected a little sympathy for the way I’d been ordered about, but maybe he had a subtle point: no one orders you around unless you let them.

I asked the question I’d been forgetting. “What happened when you sent an officer to see Lorna McDavid?”

Mike laughed. “Officer came back with her tail between her legs, like a frightened puppy. She said, and I quote, ‘That woman is too much. I’m not going back alone.’ Apparently Lorna gave her three pieces of her mind and ordered her off her property.”

“Did she have a search warrant?”

“No, and we’ll have to get one. We’ve been too busy.”

****

The next day promised to be busy. Anthony and Joe were moving the young couple into the apartment, deciding what to bring, what to store. I was showing Mona around in the mid-morning and had to get Ms. McDavid’s groceries.

The old apartment building was interesting. It was officially called the B. Max
Mehl Building
,
but everyone just called it the Mehl Building. It was built in 1916, and the Numismatic Company of Texas, once one of the largest coin companies in the world, had its office on the first floor, with other offices on the floors above.

The apartments were lovely. Mona and I looked at one-and two-bedroom ones. There was only one unoccupied two-bedroom and it was on the fourth floor. But the one-bedroom we saw was large and considerably less expensive. It was on the second floor.

“I can happily live with stuffed animals,” Mona said. “I like that it’s on the second floor. I don’t want to climb all the way to the fourth, but I wouldn’t want Jenny on ground level either.”

There it was again—Jenny was in danger. From Todd’s colleagues and bosses? I speculated that maybe he’d skipped with money and/or drugs. A random thought went through my mind:
He left her the car. Wonder how he got away?

The windows looked over Henderson to the east and Magnolia to the south. Windowpanes were mostly that old-fashioned wavy glass—I love it though some people replace it just to be up-to-date—and lots of sunshine. The floors had been redone with a dark stain, and the woodwork matched, accenting the arched doorways. The ceilings were ten foot. Old at its charming best, and someone had done a good restoration job.

Mona gave Doris a modest down payment, took the lease papers to study, and said she’d like to move in a week after the lease was signed. I was impressed because I’d seen too many people sign lease papers blindly without reading them.

Next stop was Faith’s Diner. The former diner was just what Mona hoped. Blue-and-white checked curtains still hung halfway up the front windows, but now they drooped, full of dust. Everything was dusty—the blue Formica countertop, the stools covered with some sort of blue plastic meant to look like leather. Eight stools and a takeout counter. A lot of chrome accented the blue motif. Beyond a single curtain-covered door was a small kitchen, still grimy with grease now layered with dust. It looked like Faith had just closed the door, turned the lock, and walked away. Yuck! I didn’t want to be the one to clean this.

I watched as Mona inspected the place, peeking into storage areas, checking the refrigeration and the stove, turning the latter on and holding her hand over burners to judge the heat. She seemed to know what she was doing and looking for. She found stacks of dishes, flatware, all the things that would be needed.

Turning to me, she said, “This is actually an efficient small kitchen—or would be if it were clean. The health department won’t pass on this. Will the owner pay to have it professionally cleaned?”

“I don’t know, but I can ask.”

“Please do. And ask about leasing terms—monthly cost, term of the agreement, insurance and liability. I’m sure you know the questions to ask. Oh, and a certified inspection of the equipment to make sure it’s all working—especially that the dishwasher is hot enough. This place could make a profit, if it was done right.”

I don’t know much about restaurant economics, but it seemed to me she’d have to turn those stools pretty fast if she were going to profit. She must have read my mind. “Takeout would be the key—that’s where the money is.” Then she added, “And maybe someday a beer and wine license, but that’s in the future. Oh, what am I talking about? It’s all in the future. But this gives me a better concept for my business plan.”

That at least made sense to me.

“Don’t tell the owner, but this suits me perfectly. I wouldn’t have to invest in equipment.”

There she goes, acting like she can afford it today.

It was nearly eleven-thirty when we locked up the diner, so I suggested we just walk the block to Lili’s. We’d be early enough to beat the worst of the lunch crowd. Lili’s was a favorite with Mike and me—we’d had some romantic dates there in our courtship days, and I remembered once refusing to meet sleazy realtor Tom Lattimore—
don’t speak ill of the dead, Kelly
—there because I didn’t want to tarnish the restaurant in my mind. I looked forward to taking Mona there.

Vance, the owner, gave a friendly wave as we came in. We were seated in what I think of as the annex, which was a little quieter than the main room. Good thing, because I wanted to talk. First though, Mona studied the menu with the eye of a professional, murmuring about pricing, variety, and all the things I took for granted in a restaurant menu. She ordered the house wedge—iceberg lettuce with a creamy blue cheese and bacon dressing—with the tuna salad, and I ordered the same with chicken salad. As soon as the waitperson had left, I sprang my question:

“Mona, do you have any income? How are you going to live, let alone open a business? I don’t want to intrude or seem nosy, but I’m concerned.”

“Fair question, Kelly, and I appreciate that it comes with the right motivation. I’ve been salting away money for about five years. I knew Jenny and I weren’t going to be with Todd forever, and I would have to be prepared. Lucky for me, he didn’t pay much attention once he took in the money, and I was able to do that. I have an account at Claire’s bank under an assumed name.”

And you’re not going to tell me that name!

“Does Claire know this?”

“Yes, it has to be part of my business plan.”

I honestly didn’t know where to go from there, and I was more and more mystified by the puzzle that was Mona Wilson. The silence between us grew, but then Mona finally spoke.

“Kelly, you’ve been good to me and really good to Jenny. I want you to know the truth, so you won’t think badly of me. At least too badly. I don’t exactly deserve respect yet, but I intend to earn it.” She went on, “Todd Wilson wasn’t always the man your husband saw the night they raided our house. Fifteen years ago, he was young and dashing and could charm the socks—or the pants—off any girl. At least he did me. I fell hard, even though I knew he was dealing pot way back then. My parents forbad me to see him, and I ran off. It’s some small comfort that I never married him, though I took his name—but that makes Jenny illegitimate, and that’s not good either.”

Tears welled up in her eyes, and I could tell she was having great difficulty getting this out. “At first, it was wild fun and games. We lived the high life, went to San Francisco, New York, and then, in Ohio, Todd was caught and put in jail. Not for long, but when he came out he was changed. He never talked about it. In fact, he almost never talked at all. But by then there was Jenny, and the one thing he told me was I’d never see her again if I left him. I believed him. He knew people who could make that happen…in an unpleasant way for Jenny. I stayed, and I placated.”

“Have you heard from him?”

She shook her head. “I suspect he’s dead.” No emotion, just a flat statement.

“One more question, Mona. If you ran away with him, where did you get your restaurant experience? You seem to know what you’re doing and talking about.”

She smiled. “I’ve been in the restaurant business since I was five, in one sense or another. My parents owned a successful Italian restaurant in Chicago, and I was there weekends and after school almost every day. I absorbed all their knowledge, and I loved it. I always wanted to go back to it, but Todd wouldn’t let me. And because of Jenny I never crossed him. I’m ashamed of that now.”