Regarding Anna (35 page)

Tymon and I were back in the Wells Fargo Bank parking lot at midday for the fifth day in a row, and there had been no sign of Essie. If the bank had had better security, they would have questioned what we were doing there every day by now.

On the positive side, the stakeouts had given us the chance to talk about every subject imaginable, and the more I got to know Tymon, the more I liked him. It had taken me a while, but now I was convinced he was just an all-around good guy, and it seemed such a shame he had been alone all his life.

On the drive back home, Tymon surprised me with his question.

“Do you trust me, Gracie?”

“Well, we’re living in the same house. You know more about me than anyone else on this earth. You have access to every room in the house. Yes, I think I can say I trust you.”

“Enough to tell me where you keep the combination to the safe without really telling me?”

What was he up to? We weren’t sure if there even was a safe, let alone where it was.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because I asked you to.”

* * *

Early the next Saturday morning, not without hesitation, I put the combination to the safe in the cookie jar. When Tymon came down for his usual morning coffee, I told him to help himself to a cookie. He thanked me and left.

I was glad it was the weekend and that I had a break from our midday stakeouts. They took a big bite out of the day—three hours counting driving time. Still, I wanted to continue for another week, and Tymon hadn’t shown any reluctance, so that was going to be my plan.

The phone rang. I couldn’t imagine who would be calling so early—it was barely seven o’clock.

“Hello?”

It was Fern. She’d had an Essie sighting.

“I was coming into church after stupidly agreeing to manage a Saturday daycare room full of two- and three-year-olds when I saw her stepping onto a 54 bus.”

“Did you call after her?”

“She was too far away.”

“Are you sure it was her?”

“I know it was her. I recognized the dress she was wearing.”

“How long ago was this?”

“Not more than ten minutes ago. I came in here hoping to run into someone who could give me some information, like why she was here, but—wouldn’t you know it—no one is around right now.”

“You think she was in the church?”

“There are only two reasons you’d be at that bus stop on a Saturday: to come to this church or to come to the off-track betting parlor next door, and I’m quite sure she wasn’t betting on horses.”

“Fern, I gotta go. I have a hunch.”

“Okay.”

“What color dress was she wearing?”

“Beige with a wide black belt and black epaulets.”

“See ya!”

I jumped in my car before Tymon could catch me and headed for the Baird & Warner office, thinking she might go there next. I parked in our usual surveillance spot in the bank parking lot and waited. No sign of Essie.

After fifteen minutes of tapping my fingernails on the dashboard, I drove to Essie’s church and waited for a 54 bus to come by. When it did, I followed it so that I was familiar with the route. When the northbound bus turned east on Montrose, I figured that must have been the end of the line and it was going to turn around. According to the odometer, it had been four miles between the church where Essie had boarded the bus and the end of the line—four miles and thirteen stops.

I decided that little adventure had been a complete waste of my time. With that long of a route and that many stops, she could have gone anywhere. The only interesting thing was the route ended at Montrose Avenue, which was 4400 north. Minnie’s house was on Belle Plaine Avenue, which was 4100 north. Ha! She could have walked to my place from there.

Shit!

I drove as fast as traffic allowed, which was not fast enough. Why did all the slowpokes have to pick right now to be on the road? The giant maroon Buick in front of me was going slow enough to be in a funeral procession. Must have been an old man driving it. They get that way.

When I finally got home and drove down the driveway, I saw Tymon standing on the patio.

“She was here, wasn’t she?” I asked him after I jumped out of my car.

He nodded.

“How much did I miss her by?”

He glanced down at his watch. “Half hour.”

“Damn it!”

I ran back to my car.

“Where are you going?”

“To see if I can catch her before she gets on the bus.”

“Wait!”

I ignored his plea and barreled out of the driveway, almost sideswiping a parked car. It was five blocks to Cicero Avenue where she would get back on the bus, if that was even the bus she would take to wherever she was going. I kept my eyes peeled for her beige and black dress, but I didn’t see her anywhere. A ride around the neighborhood proved to be fruitless.

Tymon was still on the patio when I returned.

“Sit down,” he said pointing to one of the patio chairs. “I’ll tell you what happened.”

I plopped down next to him. “Lay it on me.”

“I was sitting right here when she walked up the drive, and as soon as she got within twenty feet or so, she must have recognized me, and she turned right around and ran off. I called out her name not knowing for sure it was even her. I yelled, ‘Please come back! It’s okay!’ But she was halfway down the block by the time I got to the sidewalk. I would have gone after her, but—”

“No, you did the right thing. You’d have scared her even more if you’d gone after her.”

“I’m so sorry, Gracie. I feel just awful that I—”

“Don’t feel bad. It wasn’t your fault. If I hadn’t rushed off like I did, I would have been here when she came and that wouldn’t have happened. I’m surprised she recognized you after all this time.”

“I am too, especially since during the three or so years I worked here, I saw her only occasionally. Why do you think she bolted like that?”

“I’m thinking she was expecting to see me here, and when she saw you, of all people, she probably couldn’t rationalize fast enough why you would be here, and she panicked.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’ll never guess where I just was.”

“Where?”

“Fern called to tell me she just saw Essie get on a 54 bus outside of the church where Essie used to go. I thought knowing that bus route could be helpful in finding out where she is staying, so I jumped in my car to where she got on the bus and followed it.”

“And the reason she was on that bus was to come here.”

I hoped I didn’t look as foolish as I felt right then.

THIRTY-FOUR

The Floor Safe

I called Fern to tell her about the No. 54 bus escapade.

“It would be funny if it wasn’t so unfortunate. I wonder if she’s been scared off for good,” she said.

“God, I hope not. I could just kick myself. Now, even if I find out where she lives, I can’t approach her, at least not so soon after this happened. And the more time goes by, the less likely it is I’ll be able to find her. I really know how to screw things up!”

“Aw, don’t be so hard on yourself. You know, I’ve been thinking about this. When she and I had dinner that day, and she told me she had this secret that she was thinking of talking to Reverend Orman about, maybe that’s what she was doing before she got on that 54 bus. And maybe it was he who recommended she speak directly with you.”

“Makes sense, and I hope you’re right, because if you are, she may be back.”

“What’s next?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Essie is the only one I know with the answers.”

“No, she’s not. If I’m right, Reverend Orman has them too.”

“He’s not going to tell anyone, least of all me.”

“Maybe he would if he felt pressured to do so.”

“What are you suggesting, that we beat it out of him?”

“No. Maybe just rough him up a little.”

“You’re sick, Fern.”

“I’ve been called worse.”

* * *

Raymond Webb called me to say he had a hearing date for the validation of Minnie’s draft will—August 2. Three weeks away. He felt good about it, especially given Tymon’s statement.

When I got off the phone, I started setting the table for dinner—Tymon was bringing Chinese food. It had surprised me earlier when he’d said he had a few errands to run and would be back in a couple of hours. He hadn’t left me alone for that long since moving in, which I had to admit didn’t bother me anymore.

Tymon’s familiar rap on the back door made me smile. There were certain things I’d miss when he was gone.

He had a wide grin on his face.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“Nothing,” he said unconvincingly, as he entered the kitchen with a large bag.

I finished setting the table while he unloaded the food, which we didn’t bother taking out of the white cardboard containers.

“There is no safe,” he said before either one of us took a bite.

“What?”

“There is a room in Berghorn’s basement, very similar to the one here, but it’s empty.”

“I know you don’t want me to know how you know this, but can you at least tell me that everything went okay...without incident.”

“He’ll never know anyone was there. Someone had already hacked through the cement wall to get in though.”

“Someone?”

“Not us. Someone before us.”

“Well, I hope it was Berghorn. And when he finished hacking down the wall, I hope he looked up to find the trapdoor that he could have used to get in. Serve him right. Anyway, the room was empty?”

“Completely.”

“But who knows what Berghorn could have removed from it.”

“Right. I’m sure your parents didn’t build it for nothing.”

“I’m getting tired of all these dead ends.”

“Gracie?”

“Hmm?”

“At some point, are you going to let go so you can get on with your life?”

“And give up?”

“Letting go doesn’t have to mean giving up.”

“I suppose.”

“And I realize everyone’s different, but sometimes maybe it’s better not to search too hard for it.”

“Why?”

“You could get hurt in the process, or worse yet, find something that makes the situation even more troublesome.”

“I guess it’s a matter of whether or not it’s worth the risk,” I added.

“Exactly.”

“Tymon?”

“Yes.”

“It’s worth the risk for me.”

* * *

A floor safe couldn’t just disappear, I thought, as I lay wide awake several hours before daybreak. Like Tymon had said, since the receipt described it as a floor safe, it had to have been heavy and bulky. He said he remembered seeing something covered with a tarp in Anna’s hidden basement room that could have been a safe—the size of a small dresser. A floor safe would obviously—.

“You idiot!” I said aloud.

It was three A.M., but I didn’t care. I threw on a robe, ran up the stairs to Tymon’s room, and pounded on the door.

The door swung open, and there stood Tymon, wearing nothing but his boxer shorts, his hair a tousled mess.

“What’s wrong?”

“It doesn’t sit
on
the floor. It sits
in
the floor.”

“Huh?”

“It’s a floor safe! A safe that’s built into the floor...flush with the floor so you could throw a rug over it or a piece of furniture, and no one would ever know it’s there.”

He looked dazed.

“Okay,” he said unenthusiastically.

“I’m sorry I woke you. I got excited. We can continue this conversation in the morning.”

“Well, I’m up now,” he said. “Let me get dressed. You make the coffee.”

He wasn’t as excited as I was, but that was okay. I charged down the stairs, threw on some clothes, and went to the kitchen. While I made a pot of coffee, which Minnie had eventually taught me how to do correctly, I fantasized about finding the safe and uncovering all sorts of missing pieces to the incomplete puzzle that was my life. This could be a red-letter day.

Tymon used the inside staircase to enter my space. I supposed he figured that since I had rousted him out of bed he had the right to do that. And he did.

“I’m really sorry, Tymon. Please don’t be mad at me.”

“I don’t think I could ever get mad at you, Gracie, not for real. Just give me a cup of coffee.”