Dead End Street (10 page)

“No. The request came from Detective Hrivnak, so I have no idea.”

“Will you be ready to leave at five today?” he asked.

I checked the time: already past three, thanks to my excursion to Montgomery County. “Sure. See you then.” We hung up.

I strolled out to Eric's desk. “I'll be out of the office for maybe a couple of hours in the morning tomorrow. Are we all set with the board reports?”

“Yes, ma'am. Signed, sealed, and delivered, as the saying goes. Want me to send a reminder to the board members?”

“Give 'em a couple of days after they've received the packet of materials and then nudge them, so they'll remember to read the reports. And I may have something to add to the agenda—I'll let you know.” After I'd mulled over the “Save the Manor” project. Or did I mean “Save the Neighborhoods”?

James arrived right on time. As I scrambled into the passenger seat of his car, I said, “You don't have to do this every day, you know. I can take the train.”

“I know,” he said.

When he didn't add anything, I told him, “I've been doing this for years, and I've never had any problems. Well, there are always drunks or homeless people in the subway tunnels, but I know how to avoid them, and they don't usually bother anybody.”

“I'm sure,” he said. And stopped again.

“So?” I demanded.

“I'm only trying to be supportive. Look at it as therapy for me, not you. I need to feel that I'm doing something to help.”

“Oh. Well, if you put it like that. But if you have
work-related things you need to deal with late in the day, I can manage.”

“Of course you can. Did it occur to you that I like to have someone to talk to during the drive? It's that or tune up some oldies and sing along, which means I get some really odd looks on the highway.”

I tried to picture that. “I bet. If you stick headphones on, they'll think you're having an important conversation with someone. At least, until they get close enough to hear the bass line.”

“I'll take that under advisement. So, how was your day?”

“Marty dragged me off to the country, remember? We visited the delightful Oliver sisters, who are living in an impressive colonial home in the wilds of Montgomery County.”

“Ah, right—you told me about that. Does Martha have a plan?”

I was still surprised that she didn't. Was she bringing this up now only to distract me? “Not that she's shared with me. In fact, she was curiously silent. In a perfect world she'd probably find a way for the Society to adopt the building, but she knows we don't have the money to do that. Nor does she, personally. You think she could put together a collection of assorted Terwilligers and make them all ante up a share?”

“Frankly I don't think that's likely,” James said. “The family fortunes are not what they once were. Plus her line—her father and grandfather—is the only one that took
a serious interest in local history, so it would be a hard sell to the rest of them. What's the place like?”

“Preserved in amber. It's lovely, and very little has changed in the past two hundred-plus years, down to the pieces of furniture and maybe even some of the draperies. It would make a great house museum, but I don't know who would want to step up. The ladies are charming, and they served us a perfect tea. Which is why I'm starving—tea sandwiches and dainty cookies do not a meal make.”

“I'm sure we can remedy that once we get home.”

We managed to put a meal together, and it was only after we'd sat down to enjoy it that I said, “I told you on the phone that Tyrone Blakeney has asked to see me, but I'm still puzzled about why.”

“The detective didn't explain why?”

“No, but you know she doesn't share more than she feels necessary.”

“How's he doing? Is he critical or something?”

“No, she said he's stable, but he's still in the hospital. I suppose he could be considered lucky that he survived at all.”

“Are you going to ask him if he has any ideas about who was shooting at you?”

“That's hardly my role, especially with a detective sitting right there. And I doubt he'd want to bare his heart to me even if she wasn't. It's more likely that he's looking to get some PR out of this event and needs my cooperation.”

“You sound cynical. But it suggests that he believes his project is going forward, in spite of events.”

“With or without him? Or Cherisse? I suppose it does. Would that be a bad thing?”

“You don't suppose he orchestrated all this as a publicity stunt?” James asked.

“James, someone was killed!” I erupted. “And Tyrone was badly wounded—it wasn't just for show.” I'd seen the blood, so I knew.

James held up both hands. “Just asking. He might have asked the wrong person to stage it—somebody who's a lousy shot.”

“I refuse to believe that. I'm going to wait and see what he has to say, and I'll make sure Detective Hrivnak sticks around to hear it.”

“Good. What do
you
think about his project, shooting aside?”

“This all came up so fast that I haven't had time to do any research into it, or into any of the competing ideas. I know it's not a simple task to salvage a dying neighborhood. But then, nothing ever is in this city. In a way, the manor that Marty and I visited is kind of the flip side of the issue. It's undeniably historic, and it's beautiful. Say someone—it could be anyone, from the township to a museum to a private donor—had limited resources and could choose only one: How would he or she decide which? Who gets to declare one is more important and more worthy than the other?”

James chewed a mouthful of food, no doubt allowing himself some time to think. “That's not an easy question to answer, as I'm sure you realize. In fact, you and the Society are probably the best equipped to make that
assessment, or at least make the case for one or the other.” When I started to protest, he stopped me. “I know, there's no way the Society could take on either project, but who could? At least you're in the position to answer that, by identifying potential supporters. Or would you rather wash your hands of the whole thing? You could walk away from the North Philly project, you know, and nobody would think less of you, under the circumstances.”

“Maybe. I'd look like an elitist coward if I went for the other one now. Thank goodness I don't have to decide anything right away.”

*   *   *

The next morning James dropped me off in front of Jefferson University Hospital, but he refused to leave until he'd seen Detective Hrivnak arrive. “Let me know when you get back to the Society, will you?”

He really was worried about me, probably more so than I was. It was sweet but troubling. “I will,” I told him as I climbed out of the car.

When I approached the watching detective, she said, “He babysitting you now?”

“He's worried. Does he have any reason to be, or should I tell him to back off?”

She shrugged silently, which didn't help at all.

I tried another tack. “Why does Tyrone want to talk to me? You've already interviewed him, right?”

“Of course, as soon as he could speak.”

“Did he give you anything useful?”

“Not really. He claims he was so busy trying to
convince you about his brilliant plan that he wasn't paying attention to what was happening on the street, even though Chapman was. Which was not too smart of him. He should know better—he grew up in that neighborhood.”

I wasn't surprised. “Maybe that's why he's so committed to the project. And maybe he thought he was safe there. Cherisse was more anxious—I told you, she's the one who noticed the car. She's not from the neighborhood?”

“No, from out past Chester, but she went to Temple, so she knows the general area. She was a bit younger than Tyrone, so maybe her experience was different. Ready?”

“Yes, let's go. I really need to get back to work.”

The last time I'd been in this hospital, it was when James had been injured, so it didn't hold happy memories for me. “Is there anything you want me to say, or not to say?”

Hrivnak was moving fast ahead of me. “Nope. I'm not expecting anything in particular, but he asked, so I'm delivering you.”

“Is this an official interview?”

“Not necessarily. You want privacy?”

“No, not really. I'd rather you stayed. Remember, I don't know this man, and I have no idea what he wants or what he's going to say. I doubt it would be anything too personal.”

“No problem,” the detective replied. “Here we are.”

We walked into a double room, with one empty bed. Tyrone occupied the one closer to the window. He looked remarkably good for someone with some nasty holes in him. He was dozing when we approached, but opened his eyes when he heard us.

“Ms. Pratt, thanks for coming. I wasn't sure you would.” He nodded toward Hrivnak. “Detective.”

Was the formality for the detective's benefit? “Call me Nell, please. After what you and I have been through together, we should be on a first-name basis, don't you think? I was sorry to hear about Cherisse, but I'm glad you're okay.”

“I'll live. Yes, it's a shame about Cherisse—she was really a big help in managing the interface between my group and the City. It was through her efforts that we turned up your Society's connection. You would not believe the state of record keeping at city hall.”

“I can guess. I know how hard it is to keep track of our own materials, and we're a lot smaller than Philadelphia. Look, Tyrone, I don't want to take up too much of your time, and you need your rest, so let's get to the point. Why did you ask to see me?”

He glanced at Hrivnak. “This off the record, Detective?”

Hrivnak was leaning silently against the wall. “Sure, if you want. Unless you plan to point a finger at someone in particular.”

“Just so we're clear. Ms. Pratt—Nell—first I want to apologize for dragging you into something that nearly got you killed. I swear, I had no idea that there was anything dangerous about the place. You've seen it—there's nothing there. That building, the one you own, isn't worth anything to anyone, including my group. For us it's just a symbol, and a good visual for the press. But in itself it's worthless.”

“So why was anyone shooting at us?”

“I don't know, swear to God. I've been thinking on this for two days now. I grew up in that neighborhood, and I still know some folk there. I can't think of a single one who'd want to do me harm, much less go after anyone with me.”

“What about new gangs?” Hrivnak demanded. “You up on all of them?”

“Well, not exactly. I haven't lived there for a while, and I know things change, sometimes pretty fast. But you still have to ask, why go after us? We weren't doing any harm to anybody. We aren't looking to take anything away from anybody, because there's nothing left to take.”

I glanced at the detective, but she didn't seem to have anything to add. “You're saying you don't think the shooting is related to anyone from the neighborhood, right?” I asked. Tyrone nodded. “So what about outside the neighborhood? You tell me you're trying to save the spirit of the neighborhood, its history—but are you the only group who wants to do that? Are there any developers who want a piece of it, who want the land, never mind the house? Or anyone who's trying to drive off the competition?”

Tyrone looked at me like I'd sprouted a second head. I had to wonder what the heck he had been expecting from a museum director. “I, uh, I'd have to think about that, maybe ask around the community. It's a possibility.”

“You do that, Mr. Blakeney,” Detective Hrivnak chimed in. “If Nell here hadn't asked those questions, I would have. Look, my captain would like nothing better than to shut this case down. You want to keep it open, and find out who
tried to kill you and did kill Cherisse, you'd better give me something to work with. You do want to solve this thing, don't you, Mr. Blakeney?”

“Of course, Detective. I want to help. Let me talk to my people, see if they've heard any rumors. Are you talking to anybody at the City?”

“Yeah.” Hrivnak didn't elaborate.

I couldn't think of any more questions to ask, and Tyrone looked like he was flagging. “Listen, Tyrone, if you and your group decide to go forward with this project, I'll be happy to put together a history of the neighborhood, or any particular property. We can talk about it when you're back on your feet.”

“That's more than generous, Nell, and I appreciate it. I'll let you know. You have any more questions, Detective?”

“Not right now,” Detective Hrivnak said, giving nothing away. “Feel better. Let's go, Nell.”

We walked back out into the corridor, then turned toward the elevators. “Do you believe he's on the up and up, Detective?” I asked when we were out of earshot.

“Maybe,” she said, pushing the elevator button. “He's got no record, but not many people escape that neighborhood without a few secrets. We've given him something to chew on.”

“Are you looking at Cherisse's department at the City?” I said as we entered the elevator.

“Wow, you don't give up easily, do you?”

“No, I don't. Someone shot at me. I didn't like it. I'd like to find out why, and even if I don't, I'd like it to matter.
That's all. We've worked together in the past, and I respect your abilities. I want to help if I can.”

“I'll keep that in mind, Nell. Yeah, we're checking out the City, but this little property of yours is like a flea speck to them. I can't imagine anyone there would care, unless they want back taxes or something. You want a lift back to your place, or is your boyfriend waiting?”

“I can walk, Detective—Meredith.” It might take a while before I could walk along city streets, even the familiar ones, without looking over my shoulder, but I had to start sometime.