Mixed Messages (A Malone Mystery) (44 page)

“You go have fun,” Olivia told her
.
“I’ll be fine.”

* * * *

Olivia rolled over to the front window and watched Ann, Danielle and Davey as they
headed down the sidewalk. Such a nice family, she thought
. I really enjoy having them here
. If only David would straighten
himself out
… .

I’ve always been fortunate to have good tenants, she thought, picturing
Doris Schweitzer,
the elderly woman
, several years older than her,
who had lived
in the apartment
before the Kerns moved in. She smiled, recalling the many times they’d had coffee together, munching on
her friend’s
delicious homemade oatmeal raisin cookies,
reminiscing
about
“
the good old days.
”
I really missed
her
when she had to go into the nursing home, she thought, but it’s wonderful having children living in the house now. There’s something about the sound of children’s laughter that makes a house a home.

The doorbell rang,
jarring
her
from her thoughts
.
She opened the door and rolled out into the hallway with one of the large bowls of candy that Ann had set out balanced on her lap
.
She propped open the front door and peered through the storm door at a group of children
who were
dressed in
a variety of Halloween costumes. There was a devil,
three
ghosts, a witch, two vampires and an astronaut.
She scooped candy out of the bowl and dropped
several pieces
into each of the children’s bags as they extended it toward her.

“And who are you supposed to be?” she asked a little boy
of about three or four years old
who was wearing
a black cape and black mask with an attached hood.

The little boy looked down at the ground, shuffling his feet.

“He’s very shy and I’ve taught him not to talk to strangers,” a woman, presumably his
mother,
explained
. “He’s Darth Vader. You know, from the movie
,
Star Wa
rs
.”

Olivia laughed. “I guess I’m more out of touch than I thought. I do remember that one
though. Isn’t that the one with the robots?”

The little boy looked up at her. “R2D2 and C3PO!” he exclaimed.

“Well, it looks like you’ve made a friend,” his mother said, smiling.

“Happy Halloween,”
Olivia
told them as she
dropped several candy bars into his bag.

For the next
two
hour
s
,
she
handed out candy, almost non-stop
.
Twice she had to go back into the Kern’s apartment to
refill the bowl
.
No sooner would she close the storm door
than
another group of kids would run up the front steps
.
I forgot how much fun this is, she thought
.
This is working out splendidly
.
I’m so glad that I insisted Lawrence go to his convention
.
This way, everybody’s happy
.
He’s off doing what he enjoys and I’m having the time of my life!

She
was so busy complimenting the children’s costumes and
dispensing
candy that she
didn’t notice the tall figure directly across the street, leaning against a tree
,
watching her.

Chapter 4
2

FROM THE WINDOW OF HIS SECOND FLOOR APARTMENT
,
Bernie watched the last of the trick-or-treaters
trudging
home
, carrying their bags full of candy.
In all the years he’d lived there, no children had ever come to his door, asking for candy. Probably, he reasoned, because the building had a security entrance and they’d have to ring the bell of each apartment
in order to get in
.
That took a lot of time and he knew how impatient children could be.

He smiled
to himself
, thinking how, on other nights, kids sometimes rang the bell and ran off, just a harmless prank. How many times had he hoisted himself from his recliner in response to the doorbell, only to look out his front window and see that there was nobody there?

He turned up the volume on his television set. The announcer, Steve Lane, was telling his viewers that there had already been reports of tampering with some children’s candy. He named a street, not far from where Bernie lived, as the location where someone had put ex-lax, a laxative, in chocolate candy bar wrappers and given them out as treats to neighborhood kids. The police, he said, were canvassing the neighborhood, knocking on doors to try to pinpoint the exact house where the person responsible lived. He urged parents to check and double-check their children’s candy, looking for anything the least bit suspicious. “Please don’t
assume
that
you won’t have a problem
, even if you only allowed your children to go to the houses of people you know.
These days, you can’t be too careful,” the announcer warned.

H
e turned off the TV; he’d heard enough.
Everything’s changed so much since I was
a cop on the streets
, he thought not for the first time. There’s always been violence and there have always been lunatics out there
and I’ve seen more than my share of evil
but, anymore, that’s about all you hear
about: senseless, brutal crimes
.

Crime used to be about passion or personal gain; as bad as that was, at least it made some sense. A man, in a moment of rage, kills his wife when he finds her in bed with another man. Or
,
someone robs a bank, obviously, for money. Of course, there were always acts of vandalism, mostly by kids who had too much time on their hands and not enough parental supervision. But where’s the motivation in
so many of
the crimes today?
he wondered.
What possible pleasure could anyone take in putting ex-lax in children’s candy? Really, how sick would a person have to be? What do they stand to gain?
He didn’t understand it.

He leaned back in his recliner and closed his eyes. Within seconds, he fell asleep and began to dream.
H
e smiled as he slept. In his dream, he was no longer Bernie though; he was Jeremy. That was his middle name, what Olivia, the love of his life, had called him back then. He was a young man again,
just turned nineteen
, in love with
the most
beautiful girl
in the world
who had long, blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes. He was hurrying to meet her in the orchard behind her father’s house.
They
always
met at the same time every night.

It was cold out. He shivered as he waited beneath the gnarled branches of the old Osage orange tree. It was their tree, the place they always met. He was thinking that he probably should’ve worn a warmer coat but he knew that, once he saw Olivia, he would take her in his arms and forget all about the cold. He loved her; he wanted to marry her
and raise a family with her.
He wanted
to spend the rest of his life with her.

He glanced down at his wristwatch. She should be here any minute. He heard the rustling sound of feet
shuffling
through
dried, fallen leaves and glanced up, eager to see her. But it wasn’t Olivia
walking toward him
; it was her father. Bernie would never forget the
menacing expression on his face and the
look in his eyes; it felt like hatred. He grabbed Bernie roughly by the arm, glaring at him.
He released Bernie’s arm and stabbed a pointed finger against his chest.

“You will not see my daughter again! Nie! Nie mehr! Do you understand me?
”

Bernie stood
there with his mouth open, shaking his head slowly back and forth. He couldn’t believe this was happening and he didn’t know what to say.

“
Soon, Olivia will marry a man who is well able to provide for her, as I always have
,” Olivia’s father continued
.
“
He is the son of my friend, a well
respected
businessman
. It has been arranged
; I have arranged it
. You will not destroy her life! If you see her again, if she chooses to
see you, to
go with you, I will disinherit her! She will have nothing! Only you and you have
nothing
!
You
are
nothing!
Nichts!”

Bernie awoke abruptly, the dream still fresh in his mind. He knew
that
it wasn’t just a dream though; sadly, it had really happened
many years ago
. That night, he’d felt as if his heart were breaking. He knew
that
he had to walk away, that what her father had said was true; he had no money and no future and, because he loved her as much as he did, he couldn’t, he wouldn’t, ask Olivia to give up everything just for him.

He never tried to contact her again. Instead, a few days later, he joined the army. There was nothing to keep him in Cincinnati now and he needed to find some structure, some purpose for his life.
He needed distance from Olivia
too
. He couldn’t bear to be so close to her and yet not
be
able
to
be with
her, to hold her in his arms.
Still, hoping to catch at least a glimpse of her b
efore he left
for boot camp,
he drove past Olivia’s house
but she wasn’t outside, as he’d hoped. After that, he got in the habit of driving by whenever he was home on leave but he never saw her.

Then, one day in June of 1950, when he was on
furlough
before being sent to Korea,
once again, he drove
to
Olivia’s
street
and
parked his car
across the street and down two houses
from hers
. He didn’t dare get any closer.
He sat there for a minute
with his hands covering his face
, afraid to look, afraid that he’d be disappointed again.
When he finally got up the nerve to look,
h
e
couldn’t believe his eyes.
Olivia
was
sitting on the
front
porch with a little boy in her arms.
He
had light blonde hair and a fair complexion, like Olivia.

He
had wanted so badly to jump from the car and run to her but
he knew
that
he couldn’t.
She had a husband, a child, a life that he could never, would never be a part of. Instead, he got out the binoculars that he kept in his glove compartment. He felt like a voyeur, as if he were intruding on a very personal, intimate moment,
as he watched the two of them together, the tender way she held
the little boy
and the loving expression on her face
as she gazed down at him.
He
remembered saying a little prayer, thanking God that
at least
Olivia was happy and that she had a son. He’d never driven by her house again.
It hurt too much.

So many times through the years, he’d wondered
whether
he’d done the right thing by leaving her. Should he have defied her father and
taken her away? Would their love have made up for what they would’ve lacked
, at least at first,
in material things
?
O
r
,
would she have grown to resent him because
she’d lost her father, the only family she had, and
given up her birthright and all the money and possessions that went with it
,
all for him
?

He knew
that
there was no point in second
guessing himself. At the time, he’d done what he felt he
had
to do
and, in all his life, it was the hardest thing he’d ever done
.
Still, on lonely nights, he couldn’t help but wonder
.
H
e
sighed, running his fingers through his thick, white hair.