Goodfellowe House Page 28

  “What did you think she meant by that?”

  “Well, I suppose I believed—or wanted to believe—that maybe her baby’s father hadn’t walked off after all. You know, that’s what we’d all supposed, but how were we to know?”

  “Had you ever heard her mention anybody? Seen her with someone?” I had a specific person in mind, but I wanted him to be the one to mention him.

  He reflected. “No ... I didn’t.”

  “Did you think she was just talking to reassure you?”

  “Yes—and no. I mean, I’d always sensed a certain steel in her, deep down beneath all that softness. I’d always suspected something tough as nails. But the way she talked to me when she left that day, there was something more, something that, well ... that bothered me.”

  The bartender reappeared. “Want anything more?”

  Roland and I both shook our heads, no. He tipped his cup up, looking into it, but seeing something else entirely.

  “Weeks went by. I thought about her. I admit it. I couldn’t get her out of my mind. We didn’t have an address for her, but we knew nobody had hired her, nobody worth mentioning.”

  “You mean nobody in Miss Katherine’s rank and file.”

  “That’s right. We would’ve heard about it.”

  He took a sip of his coffee and grimaced. I watched him set his cup back down and asked my next question.

  “So how did you find out where she was living?”

  “I followed her.”

  * * *

  He’d seen her on 125th Street. It was about a month after she’d been dismissed. He nearly went up to her, to ask her how she was doing, but something stopped him. At first he didn’t know what it was, but then it him that she looked incredibly slim. Her stomach was flat. She wasn’t pregnant.

  Had she lost the child? Now he wasn’t sure what to do. What would he say? If she had lost the child, then would she be interested in getting her old job back? Maybe he could talk to her about that.

  But even that idea failed to put him at ease. There was something about the quick smile she gave the vegetable dealer and something else in the snazzy way she was dressed. It was all wrong.

  He was a widower. He and his wife had never been able to have children, but they had tried. His wife had endured three miscarriages before giving up. So he knew a little bit about how women reacted to losing a child, especially so late in the pregnancy. His wife had been torn up about it. He’d heard other men talking about their girlfriends and wives who’d miscarried, saying their women had gone through the same thing. He told himself that different women reacted differently, but couldn’t help wondering just how well he knew Beth after all.

  He followed her home. He didn’t have the nerve to go up to her apartment and talk to her, so he took down the address and went away wondering. More than wondering. Worried.

  And perplexed.

  He took a deep breath, rubbed his face with his hands. “You must think I’m a sick, dirty old man, chasing after a child like that.”

  “I don’t think that at all.”

  “You’ll change your mind when you hear what else I’m thinking.”

  “I don’t think so, but go ahead and tell me.”

  He rested his elbows on the bar. “It’s this way. I told you that I never heard her talk about a man one way or another. And it drove me crazy. She got a bit sassy after Mr. Eric took an interest in her. Naturally, she got real quiet after he died.”

  I could imagine.

  “If it hadn’t been for the fact that Mr. Eric was dead,” Roland said, “I would’ve wondered whether he fathered her child. I’m ashamed to admit it, but it would be a lie to deny it.”

  “No reason to deny it. Those things have been known to happen.”

  “But she never said nothing about nobody else, and now I don’t know what to think.” He paused. “Well, I do know what I think, but it’s not pretty.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “I don’t think she was pregnant at all.” He bit his lower lip. I couldn’t tell whether he was trying to hold the words in or to force them out. “I think—it sounds crazy to say it—but I think she wanted to be fired.”

  I frowned, genuinely surprised. It was a conclusion I hadn’t seen coming.

  “Why would she want that?”

  He scratched his head. “I don’t know.”

  I was about to ask another question when the bartender appeared. She slapped her check on the bar. Roland reached for his wallet.

  “It’s on me.” I picked up the bill, and then stared at it. “Seventy cents? For just two cups of coffee?”

  “No, miss. It’s twenty cents. That’s a two, not a seven.”

  “Oh,” I said, relieved. Then I had a thought. “Do you have a telephone?”

  “In back. By the ladies’ room.”

  I paid the bill and added a nice tip that sent her away with a smile. Then I pushed away from the bar.

  “Roland, could you excuse me for a second?”

  “Sure.” He looked bewildered.

  It took two minutes to cut through the crowd. Once I at the telephone, I dug out Sophie Carter’s number.

  “Mrs. Carter? It’s Lanie. Sorry to disturb you so late, but I need you to check on something.”

  “What is it?”

  “Tillman’s appointment book. Could you double-check when he was supposed to have met with Denver Sutton?”

  “Is it important?”

  “Could be.”

  “Well, all right. Wait a second.”

  She put down the receiver. I heard her moving about. The telephone was in the room Carter had used as an office. She was back within a minute.

  “I found the appointment book,” she said. “Hold on.” The light sound of her ruffling pages came down the line. “Oh, here, yes. Here it is.” A pause. “It was for the second of August.”

  My heart thumped. “I was sure it was for the seventh.”

  “Tillman’s two has a short tail. Many people take it for a seven.”

  “Thanks.” I hung up and just stood there for a second.

  A seven. A seven. I had thought it was August seventh.

  I remembered Roland. I had to get back to him. I pushed my way through the crowd and was relieved to see him still sitting there.

  “Wow,” he said. “You look like you got good news.”

  “Yeah. Sort of like an early Christmas present. Feels like it, anyway.”

  “Is it about Beth?”

  My smile faded and I shook my head. “No. It has nothing to do with her.”

  “So, how is she?” he asked, his voice tentative.

  “Doing well,” I said, thinking how he wouldn’t recognize his little friend in her anymore. “You know, it’s funny … how you said she might not have had a baby. When I was in her apartment, I didn’t see any sign of a child, so I asked her about it. She told me she’d sent him down South to stay with her mother.”

  He frowned. “Her mother? But that can’t be.”

  “Why not?”

  “Her mother’s dead. Been dead. For more’n twenty years.”

  Another shock. “Are you sure?”

  “Sure I’m sure. Beth grew up in an orphanage. And she’s not from down South neither. The orphanage is up there on 125th Street. You know the one, St. Jude’s Orphan Asylum. It’s run by a convent.”

  “Beth, in a convent orphanage?”

  “I went up there with her one day. She wanted to visit ‘em, take a cake to the kids.”

  “And the nuns knew her?”

  “Oh, they knew her, all right. They sure did.”

  Chapter 52

  I had the taxi drop Roland off, then take me over 410 St. Nicholas Avenue. The front door was open. The lock had been jimmied. I went inside and had to walk around a drunk sleeping in the lobby. I went upstairs, anticipating the look on Beth’s face when she saw me. She didn’t disappoint me.

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “We need to
talk.”

  “Well, come back tomorrow.”

  “It can’t wait.” I pushed past her.

  “You can’t bust in on a person like this.” She slammed the door and turned to me. “I never did like you.”

  “That’s too bad, ‘cause I sure liked you.”

  Her mouth dropped open, but nothing came out. She didn’t know how to answer.

  “Beth, I need the truth.”

  “About what?”

  “About you … and Eric and what happened to Esther.”

  She was wary. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Beth, it’s over. This is your chance to save yourself.”

  “Go away.”

  “Don’t make me do this the hard way. I don’t want to call the cops on you. Not yet.”

  She swallowed. “I got nothing to say to you.”

  “All right. Let’s try it this way. Esther disappeared on a hard, cold night, a night as cold and lonely as this one. Either she went away by herself, or she was kidnapped. Well, we know she didn’t just go away, don’t we? She was taken. It’s just a question of who did it. Was it a crazy boyfriend? If so, then it was a one-man show. But it wasn’t, was it? The kidnapper had help: somebody who posed as Esther when Mrs. Goodfellowe’s Packard was sold, somebody who faked Esther’s scar, wore Esther’s clothes and made believe she was Esther.”

  “You’re nuts.”

  “Would a crazy boyfriend enlist a woman’s help? He wouldn’t—but thieves would.”

  She didn’t answer and I knew that Roland was right.

  “You never were pregnant, were you? It was just a ruse to get Mrs. Goodfellowe to fire you.”

  Defiant. “Why the hell would I want to get myself fired?”

  “‘Cause it would’ve been too dangerous to walk out on your own. If you’d quit within months of the heist, the cops would’ve been suspicious. Ruth said you were scared. Of course, you were. You thought that if they suspected Esther, they’d suspect you—and they would’ve been right.”

  “You get outta here.”

  She went to the apartment door and yanked it open. I stood my ground. I wouldn’t have been doing her any favors by leaving.

  “You’d better close that door and listen. You’re on the losing team, baby. What has Eric done for you? All this time, what has he done? Has he bought you fine clothes? Or paid for a nice place? He hasn’t and he won’t. He’s left you like a sitting duck.”

  “Shut up!”

  “Talk now—’cause the clock is ticking.”

  “Get outta here!”

  “I can help you. I can help you find a good mouthpiece. But if you don’t speak up—”

  “I don’t need your help. You hear me? Now get out! Get out!”

  “It’s over, Beth. Don’t you understand? I’m going to make it over.”

  We locked eyes. She saw my resolve and I saw her fear. Her bravado wilted. She looked out her open door as though it was her last vision of freedom, then sighed, closed the door and leaned against it.

  “Nobody’s gonna believe you,” she said in a monotone without conviction. “You got no proof.”

  “It doesn’t matter. Once I tell them what happened, they’ll start digging. They’ll pull you in and make you talk. And there’ll be no negotiating. The time for that is now. Come on, come with me. I’m sure we can make a deal.”

  “I’m not talking to no cops.” She shook her head. “They’d kill me.”

  “We’ll go to my office. Talk to my boss. Write up your story. I’ll call a lawyer.”

  “I don’t know,” she whispered. “It’s too late.”

  “It’s not too late. Come with me.”

  She thumbed the tears away, smearing her eye makeup. Hugging herself, she came back down the hall and collapsed in her sole chair.

  “What am I going to do? Oh, God, what am I going to do?”

  I told myself not to feel sorry for her, but I did. “Esther told you about her problems with Whitfield, didn’t she?”

  Beth nodded.

  “So you did know his name,” I said.

  “I was too scared to give it to you.”

  “Maybe,” I studied her. “But I think you were just doing what you were told to do.”

  She straightened up. Fear flashed across her eyes. “What did you say?”

  “You were given instructions, weren’t you?”

  “How did you know?”

  “Lots of little things. I don’t want to go into it right now. What I want to hear about is Esther.”

  She was quiet, then swallowed and closed her eyes. “It was my fault,” she said in a small voice. “What happened to Esther, it was my doing. She told me about Whitfield, and I told Mr. Eric. Next thing I knew, he was telling me to make sure Esther got to the hospital that night. He didn’t say why. I wouldna never done it if I’d known why.”

  “What did he do to her?”

  “I don’t know. He didn’t tell me. Really. He never told me.”

  “And you didn’t ask?”

  She looked down. “I was afraid to.”

  “Do you know where he’s hiding?”

  “He’s gone. Been gone.”

  “Where? Don’t protect him anymore.”

  “Protect him? Oh, please, no! You think I’m here ‘cause he left me? They killed him. Said it was too dangerous to have him walking around. Someone might recognize him. And that if I ratted, they’d kill me too.” She shook her head. “I’m not saying nothing more. They’ll kill me if I talk.”

  “You’ll go to jail if you don’t.”

  Thick tears spilled down her face. “Please, give me time to think.”

  I let out a deep sigh. She’d had three years to think. Three years more than she’d given Esther.

  A sound came from the hallway. She and I exchanged looks. She got up and went down the hall. I heard her open the door.

  When she reappeared seconds later, she wasn’t alone.

  Chapter 53

  He shoved her into the room and stood next to the closet, just on the edge of the room.

  “How you doing?” he asked me.

  “Fine, Bellamy, just fine,” I said. “But maybe not as well as you.”

  He wore a long gray coat, the bulky kind, and had both hands stuffed in his pockets.

  “Where’s your cane?” I asked.

  “Left it at home.”

  “You don’t really need it, do you?”

  “Nah. But this,” he said, “this I need.” He withdrew his right hand and showed his heater. “I never leave home without it.”

  Beth quailed. “Please. Please, don’t.”

  “Get your coat,” he snapped.

  “I won’t tell. I—”

  “Get your fucking coat. Or I swear I’ll do you right here, right now.”

  Beth threw me a terrified glance.

  “Get it!” he barked.

  Beth jumped and grabbed the thin coat that lay at the foot of the bed.

  “How’d you know I was here?” I asked.

  “I started keeping tabs on you after that last phone call, the one where you asked me if I’d spread Whitfield's name around. That’s when I knew, dealing with you wasn’t going to be so easy.”

  His threw a lustful glance at Beth, then said to me, “You know, you almost caught me, that last time you were here. I was on my way over, for my regular appointment, you might say. If you’d stayed a minute longer, you would’ve seen me.”

  No wonder Beth had been such a hurry to make us leave. I didn’t want to think about how much time and effort might’ve been saved.

  “Well, I guess some people have all the luck,” I said.

  “You’d better believe it.” He motioned toward the hall. “Let’s go.”

  “Where’re you taking us?” Beth asked.

  “You’ll find out when you get there. Now move.”

  He shoved the gun back in his pocket and we went downstairs, with me in front. He had parked his car at the corner, he said.


  It was freezing outside. A frigid wind whipped us as we walked. Street lamps threw weak circles of light across the deserted street and created pools of blackness in between.

  Bellamy gripped Beth by the elbow and held her close to cover the gun. When we reached the car, he tossed me the keys and told me to do the driving. He made Beth sit in the back with him.

  “One false move and I’ll blow her heart out of her chest.”

  I started the car.

  “Head downtown. A hundred and twenty-fifth.”

  “What’s down there?”

  “The dock.”

  Our eyes met in the rearview mirror, Beth’s and mine: stark terror in hers; fear battling reason in mine. I had to keep my wits.

  Two minutes of silence. Traffic thin going both ways. Cold sweat on my hands. A surreal conversation from the back seat.

  “Please,” Beth moaned. “What you going to kill me for? I didn’t tell her nothing.”

  “Which is why I got to do it now, before it’s too late.” A pause. “C’mon baby, don’t cry. You knew what you were getting into.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “Maybe not. You’re pretty, but dumb.” A thoughtful sigh. “On the other hand, you did do a damn good job of telling our lady reporter here about Whitfield.”

  I met his gaze in the rearview mirror. “So you’re the one who told her to tell me about Whitfield?”

  “Called her right after you left my house. I didn’t think you’d actually find him, though. It took me for a loop when you did. Had to do some quick thinking. But I’m good at that.”

  That last self-serving compliment I ignored. “Why did you guys hang around? Why didn’t you clear out?”

  “Why should we? I like this city. After the heist, I felt like I ruled it. Furthermore, I liked the idea of sitting it out. I liked the idea that while everybody was running around—thinking about how the robbers must’ve burned rubber down to Mexico, they were all right here. Anyway, it was the best place for me to be. I could keep an eye out in case any smart alecks came along … and I was right. One did.”