Rohn Federbush - Sally Bianco 02 - The Appropriate Way (10 page)

Tim phoned early to find out when Sally would be ready to interrogate
Enid’s neighbors. “I thought we could bring them into the station. Then, they would understand how serious we are.” When Sally didn’t respond quickly enough, he added, “You know, about any information they might give us.”

“Wait a minute,” Sally said. “We can always threaten to question them at the police station, if they won’t help us.”

“What time will you be ready?”

“Nine. What time is it now?”

“Eight. Do you really need an hour for breakfast?”

“You haven’t eaten?”

“No,” he said.

Sally laughed. “Why don’t you eat. You’re always hungry.”

“I forget about it. I still live in my folks’ house in Geneva, the one you cleaned for us. Jeff is out of the house by five for his job in Chicago. Molly teaches in Elgin, so nobody’s here when I wake up.”

“Poor bachelor. Come on over. The hotel’s
breakfast has a long menu. Wait half-an-hour before you start.” Sally glimpsed her smile reflected in the hotel room’s mirror. Young people were such a joy to be around.

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Enid
Krimm’s Neighborhood

Tim parked the police cruiser in
Enid’s driveway. “Which side of the condo do you want to interrogate?”

“Better stick together,” Sally said, “to act as each other’s witness for any facts we might uncover.”

Only one housing unit was attached to the left of Enid’s. In the small dooryard, a wooden wheelbarrow held a peck of snow. Sally imagined flowers were expected to bloom in its interior in the spring. She knocked on the door, checking her watch -- ten o’clock.

Taking her own sweet time to answer the door, or perhaps jumping out of a bed in the upstairs, a skimpy-haired woman appeared in a long fleece bathrobe. “Yes?” she asked, quickly adding, as she began to shut the door. “I’m not interested.” Tim stopped the door with his arm. He poked his police badge through the opening. “You’re not allowed to come in,” the woman said. “I know my rights.”

“We want to inquire about your neighbor.” Sally positioned herself in front of Tim.

A faint odor of something like the alfalfa, Sally remembered from her years on the farm, issued from the house.

“The Krimms?” the woman asked, opening the door an inch more.

“Yes.” Sally moderated her tone to friendly. “Have you known them long? Mrs.?”

“Sederbush,” the older woman said. “Don’t know them at all. Minded the traffic, though.”

“Traffic?” Sally pushed lightly on the door.

“Well, come in if you’re about to. You’ll have to sit yourself down. I need to get presentable. Or, go ask the other neighbors and come back.”

“We will,” Sally said. “I don’t suppose you kept notes.”

“I certainly did. License numbers and all.”

Sally thought about protesting against the closing door, but decided the information was too valuable to irritate the source. “Thank you.” Sally managed as she followed Tim down the front stoop.

The neighbor on the Krimm’s right was more welcoming, but less helpful. “Enid Krimm?” Another older woman answered their question. “Was that the daughter’s name? I met her mother, Kathleen, for exactly two seconds. Come in, come in, I love company.”

Sally and Tim followed the fragile woman into her dining room, where she folded up her walker before easing into a soft chair. “Young man, there’s coffee on the kitchen counter. Why don’t you pour your mother and me a cup? Donuts in the fridge. I like cream, too.”

Sally took out her notebook. “You are Mrs.?”

“Pierce, Miss Pierce, thank you very much. You can write down ninety years old, if you’ve a mind to.”

Tim busied himself in the kitchen and then served them coffee and donuts. Sally asked, “Have you thought there was anything odd about your neighbor?”

“Always been odd. But then, who isn’t. Did notice the movers.” Miss Pierce broke a piece off one of the un-iced donuts and dunked it into her coffee, without apology. “Those guys had a heck of a job. They packed up everything into huge wooden crates. The truck’s crane mechanism pulled the crates up a ramp to its flatbed. Took them all day. I went to sleep before they finished.”

“Did you happen to see the name on the truck?” Tim asked between mouthfuls of donuts.

“International Seaways, something like that I’m sure.”

“We thought Enid lived alone,” Sally said.

“She did for the last fifteen years. Her mother died from
AIDs. One of the first cases I heard about. I don’t suppose anyone will be wanting to buy the place for a long time.”

Mrs. Walker and her son, Gary, the neighbors to the right of Miss Pierce’s unit, were not as welcoming. Tim and Sally stood in the hall during for the entire interview. Mrs. Walker summoned her son from the basement, where a television was blaring drug commercials. “Gar-
ryee, get up here. Police officers want to know if you knew the Krimms?” Mrs. Walker winked at Tim. “In the biblical sense, I assume.”

Tim stepped away from the woman. So, Sally questioned the two, who resembled each other enough to play
Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee. Both sported thick long yellow hair. Their height, stomach, blue eyes, and lack of eyebrows also matched. Even their blue jeans, fleece-lined slippers and sweatshirts were identical. Each shirt was emblazoned with reindeers, sporting Christmas bells in their noses. Trying not to reveal her astonishment, Sally asked. “When was the last time you met with the Krimms?”

“Christmas Eve,” they answered in unison. They smiled at each other and then added in perfect harmony, “She moved out.”

The son stepped forward, which caused the bell on his shirt’s reindeer to tinkle. His mother also moved toward Sally and Tim with the same tinkling of bells. “Laundry,” they said, together.

The son deferred to his mother with a courteous sweep of his hand. Mrs. Walker said, “We thought it odd, after we moved in. A linen service made deliveries once a week.”

“What name was on the delivery truck?” Sally asked.

Simultaneously they answered. “Stuart’s.”

“They lived here, how long?” Tim asked.

Mother and son smiled at each other, and answered in concert. “Ten years.”

Tim pulled at Sally’s sleeve. “Thank you, both.”

Once outside, Sally and Tim hurried to the cruiser. Tim drove the car a block away, out of sight of the
Walker’s windows. He parked as quickly as he could. “Good Lord,” was all he said.

“See what can happen.” Sally couldn’t stop laughing. “When, when a mother and son live together.”

“Gave me the shudders.”

“I haven’t laughed, since seeing Bret in John’s house.” Sally wiped her forehead free of irrelevant cobwebs.

“We better get back and see Mrs. Sederbush.” Tim suggested.

“Did you see Matilda, after?”

“With Sheriff Woods. We drove her to the Montgomerys, where her mother and father are staying. We didn’t think we should leave her alone.”

“I don’t wish to get into your personal business.” Sally equivocated. “What did she say for herself?”

“She said she did not mention me to Bret. She was shocked by his violence. He never said a word about me to her.”

“Where was the butler?”

“He is never around, when I show up to see Matilda.”

“Yes, but,” Sally began and then changed the direction of her question. “Do you know his name?”

“J. K. Reeves.”

Back at Mrs.
Sederbush’s condominium, Sally was astonished at the woman’s transformation. She no longer looked over sixty. In fact, if you ignored the out-of-style wig and the condition of the skin on her neck, she might pass for the heavy side of fifty.

Tim seemed oblivious to how nicely Mrs.
Sederbush cleaned up. He was busy writing down license plate numbers from the list she provided.

“Oh, don’t waste time.” Mrs.
Sederbush scolded. “Just take the list with you.”

“When did you start recording
Enid’s visitors?” Sally asked.

“They’re dated.” Mrs.
Sederbush pointed to the list. “When I first retired from DuKane, I marveled at the different cars. First, I thought I wasn’t acquainted with how busy people could be at home. You know, if they didn’t work for a living.”

“How long have you been retired?” Tim paged through four pages of numbers.

“Six months.” Then Mrs. Sederbush laughed. “I should tell you. One night, about 1:00 in the morning, mind you; I crept outside and used a flashlight to read the plate on a Cadillac.” She pointed to the final entry on the last sheet of paper Tim spread out on the dining room table. “For about three days, there were no visitors. Then the movers showed up. How’s that for a successful neighborhood action committee of one.”

“Very brave.” Sally decided to put the fear of God where it belonged. “Enid
Krimm died in a suspicious fire.”

Mrs.
Sederbush shuddered and reached for her list.

Tim kept the evidence safely away from her. However, he saw fit to add to the proud vigilante. “And a man who drove a Cadillac shot and killed Sally’s husband last week.”

“Please,” Mrs. Sederbush said, completely chagrined, “Will I need to testify against anyone?”

“You might,” Sally said. “In the future, you would be safer to call the police when there is a problem.”

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Kane County Sheriff’s Office

At the Geneva police station, Sally entered Sheriff Woods’ empty office. The large squad room could be viewed through the office’s glass walls. Tim was explaining, to a female officer, how the license number list should be checked against the stack of addressed cards Sally provided.

Sheriff Woods’ wooden desk held a minimum of personal belongings. A picture of Gabby stood behind a silver paperweight with a Chinese inscription. Sally studied the bookcases around the window behind the desk. A credenza with three, model sailing ships added a nice touch. The room was his safe haunt, since his father retired from the hardware store.

Sheriff Woods returned with a pot of coffee.

“Fifty years? Is that how long you’ve been here?” Sally asked.

“About.” He handed her a filled cup of coffee. “Can’t complain. Jill Wisnewski-Reddinger did not fare as well.”

“Gabby said she’s okay.”

“After a long stay in Elgin’s mental ward. Didn’t your mother write you about her?”

“Mother?” Sally easily summoned up her mother’s reaction to Tony Montgomery’s suicide.

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December 1958

The night Tony slaughtered himself in the Hotel Baker’s fourteenth-floor hallway, Art had telephoned Sally. In shaking sobs, he described the details of Tony’s last moments. That morning when Jill, the new Mrs. Charles Reddinger, opened the bridal suite’s door, she found Tony sprawled on his back. He’d bled to death. At the funeral, Jill’s new husband supported her as they walked down a side aisle at St. Patrick’s, leaving Art to sit with his parents. Sally sat next to Jill. Jill held out her hand for Sally. Sally grasped Jill’s cold hand with both of hers, unable to speak.

Jill pulled her hand away and then thrust it close to Sally’s face, whispering, “Can you see it? The devil is trying to get out of my hand?”

Sally stood up and pulled Charles Reddinger to his feet. “We’ve got to get her out of here.”

Jill began to cry, then wail.

By the time Charlie, with Art Woods coming at last to help, and the three of them shoved Jill into the back seat of the Reddinger’s car, even closing all the doors didn’t cut down the noise of Jill’s hysterics.

“What should I do?” Charles wrung his hands as he stood at the driver’s door.

“Art, go back inside,” Sally said. “Explain to my folks.” Then deciding for them all she added. “We’ll take her to the hospital. They’ll know what to do.”

In the back seat of the car with Jill’s cries in her ears, Sally turned to see Art still standing on the steps of St. Patrick’s. His shoulders slumped, his hands hung at his side. Finally, he lumbered back inside. Sally’s heart went out to him. If only she could mend all the grief and hurt he suffered since she’d met him.

At the hospital, Charlie signed forms and nurses stuck sedative needles into Jill. Jill’s screams diminished and the staff wheeled her away.

“They said to wait here,” Charlie said, as if glad to be told what to do next.

Sally tried to get him to talk, but he only shrugged his shoulders, shaking his head in despair at every question. After two hours of inhaling disinfectants, a doctor as young as Charlie explained Jill would need to stay. Waiting for Charlie to bring the car around, Sally questioned the doctor about how long Jill would be hospitalized.

“Oh, she may never recover,” the doctor said, cheerfully. “There’s a chemical imbalance, indicating she may be institutionalized for the rest of her life.” He left Sally standing in the lobby. Charlie coaxed her into the car, and then wheedled her into giving directions to her
Dean Street home.