The House on Seventh Street (25 page)

AFTER SOME
RESEARCH
on the original colors of the walls, Winna ordered paint and hired a man to help Seth with the work. With so many large rooms to paint, Seth estimated they would be at it for at least a month.

Winna was glad her bedroom was finished. She could go there, close the door, open the windows, and not smell paint. Using her memories and the book on garden design Seth had loaned her, she set up a table in her room and began to work on plans for the rose garden. She hoped to start planting by mid-September. Her sister had promised to help her with the selection of roses and perennials.

Chloe was the real gardener in the family, but she had called that morning to say she couldn't come. Todd was away in Denver and a leak had flooded her kitchen. She had to be home when the plumber came. Winna would have to wait for her help.

She walked past the hall table on her way to find Seth and saw the stack of pictures Emily had taken, her favorite one of the waterfall on top. She looked at it again and picked up the phone to call Emily.

“Honey, can you bring the negatives of your pictures? I've got the darkroom up and running and want to print a couple of these shots for you—I love the one of Hugh with the baby on his back and that one of the waterfall—both would look great enlarged and framed.”

Emily sounded delighted and said she would bring them by tomorrow on her way to drop off her column at the newspaper.

Winna found Seth in the front hall on a tall ladder. “Chloe can't come by and help me with garden plans today. Can you stay for dinner tonight? I'm going to proceed on my own and should have something to show you.”

“Sorry, I'm dining with the mayor.”

Winna laughed. “Look. I'm sorry—I make too many demands on your time,” she said. “You have a right to say that you just want to go home and watch TV tonight.”

“I don't want to go home and watch TV. I'd rather spend my Saturday night having a burger and looking at garden plans with you.”

“I can do better than a burger.”

OVER STEAKS, BAKED potatoes, salad, and beers in the kitchen, Winna remembered that she had found Seth's picture in the 1956
Tiger
. She retrieved the yearbook from the counter. “I found you in here—have a look,” she said, handing him the book.

With the enthusiasm of a kid on his way to the principal's office, Seth took the book and began to thumb through.

“Let me help you find it,” she said, impatiently turning to the marked page. “There you are—with all the rest of the T's.”

“I look like a hick,” he said. “I'm glad those days are over. I hated school.”

“Why?”

He leaned back in his chair and rolled his eyes. “I was smarter than my teachers. At least that's what I thought.” He paused and put down his knife and fork. “Look, Winna, there's something I'd like to tell you, but I'm wondering whether or not I should.”

“I can keep a secret.”

“No, it's not a secret. It's just that I haven't leveled with you—we haven't really talked.” He looked troubled. “Hell, I might as well tell you—I was a very good friend of your dad's. The last five years of his life, I spent a lot of time with him.”

Winna was astonished. “Really? Why didn't you tell me?” she asked.

“I figured I had,” he said, looking a bit sheepish. “We spoke at the funeral and I mentioned it then. Maybe it didn't register.”

She tried to remember. “I wasn't myself that day. I don't remember.”

“When you never brought it up again, I figured you didn't like the idea, or something.” He shook his head. “You probably don't know it, but you Grummans have the rep around this town for being upper crust—not quite approachable by the common man.”

“You're kidding me,” she said, punching his arm. “I love the idea of you and Daddy being friends. How did you know him?”

“He hired me to do some work around here. I'd be outside clipping the hedge or weeding and he'd come out and follow me around wanting to talk. I figured he was lonely.” He smiled fondly at the memory. “I got a kick out of him and his old jokes. As the years passed, I came to like him way better than I liked my own dad. We'd watch sports on TV and go to college games together. Now and then, we'd go fishing. Sometimes he'd get groceries and I'd cook for him. He had me wash and polish his old car every week. I was really sad when he disappeared and volunteered to look for him. No one knew where to begin. They started looking around town, then in the foothills to the Book Cliffs, finally moving on to Pinyon Mesa. I went searching with them every day for as long as they searched and when they gave up, I went searching alone.”

“I neglected him terribly,” Winna said, ashamed that a perfect stranger—to her at least—had taken on her responsibility. “I appreciate you doing what I should have done. I'll tell you all about it someday.”

“I missed him so much that sometimes I'd come over here and work in the garden or just sit on the back porch. I mowed the lawn now and then and even edged the rose beds one day. I love the idea of that garden.”

“I wondered who had been working in the rose garden,” she said, remembering the day she first arrived.

“I knew he had daughters and I asked him about you girls, but he made excuses for why he didn't see you. He said he hadn't been a good father. He seemed sad about that.”

Seth's words came like an apology from the grave and she burst into tears. She did not feel comfortable sobbing in front of Seth. The urge to run and hide propelled her to her feet.

Seth grabbed her hand. “It's okay, Winna. You can cry,” he said, standing, pulling her into his arms.

Winna gave in to an embrace that felt like that of a friend or brother. When they parted, she held on just long enough to place a kiss on the back of his hand.

“You don't know what this means,” she said, stopping to take hold of her trembling voice. “Please tell me about him. Can you believe—I didn't know him?”

As Seth told his stories, Winna felt her weight lighten. Her questions for Seth and his answers went on for hours. They forgot the garden plan, broke out the tequila and some limes. As the tequila disappeared, their exchange became a wake, a goodbye party with laughter and tears. Henry Grumman finally had a son.

At last, Seth was able to talk with someone about his grief.

And, at last, Winna felt hers.

Seth was too drunk to drive home. Winna led him to bed in Edwin's room upstairs. She went to her room feeling almost giddy with joy. By three, she was asleep.

The next morning was a Sunday, the painter's day off. The dogs insisted on being let out at about ten, but as soon as they had done their business, Winna went back to sleep.

The smell of bacon frying woke her. She put on her robe and went down to the kitchen. Seth was making breakfast, sipping coffee from a large mug. Winna poured herself a cup.

“Good morning,” she yawned.

“It's just after noon and breakfast is almost ready.”

“We had a party last night,” she said, doctoring her coffee with cream and sugar.

“We sure enough did.”

Winna suddenly remembered. “Say, I saw you the other morning at the little Catholic church on the other side of the park. Do you go to church?”

“Pretty often. I wasn't good at school, but I'm good at church.”

“Me too.” Winna remembered something else she had forgotten to ask. “Have the police gotten in touch with you?”

“Yes,” he said, turning to look over his shoulder. “Long time ago. I think they've gotten in touch with everyone you know, Winna.”

“They made me give them the names of everyone I'm in contact with. Did you get a grilling?”

“I wouldn't call it that. They got my fingerprints. The cops asked questions. I told them I'd been arrested for drunk driving about fifteen years ago.”

“I'm sorry, Seth,” she said. “I hope it wasn't too awful.”

“No, they were doing their job. They also had me show them where I had thrown out what was left of the broken stair rail. They took all that.”

“I've heard back about that. According to Lieutenant Dougherty, the stairs and the stair rail had been tampered with. The police have decided that my fall was not an accident.”

“When did you hear that?” Seth asked, looking concerned.

“On Friday, I think. The police believe someone wants me dead. So far he has tried twice, maybe three times.”

Seth had no time to respond. Someone was at the door. Winna and the barking dogs went to answer.

Emily walked into the kitchen, out of breath, with an envelope in her hand. She looked at her mother in her robe and Seth standing at the stove with a spatula in hand.

“Holy shit!” she said, looking dizzy.

“Emily, it's not what it looks like. Seth and I were—”

“You're both adults,” she said, looking like she wanted to run. “I've got the negatives you wanted—”

“Sit down a minute and I'll explain—it's a wonderful story.”

WHILE ENLARGING
SEVERAL
pictures for Emily to frame, Winna found the negatives to the shots she had taken at the sidewalk café in Glenwood Springs. Looking closely, she hoped to find one that she could put in a little frame she'd rescued from the attic. She had loved the light and the way her daughter and son-in-law were grouped with the baby. There were several and, in some, the background really interfered with the shot—a large black truck parked across the street showed up in almost every one.

Damning the presence of the truck, she realized that she had seen that truck before—or one like it. She looked again, and among the pedestrians on the street, she saw a tall man coming out of a store. He wore a cowboy hat and what looked like a buckskin coat. She decided to enlarge the image. The man, who looked a lot like Todd, was looking toward the truck and, in another shot, was headed toward it. Winna enlarged the image again, enough to see that the man had just left ABC Pawn Brokers and Jewelers.

If that was Todd, why was he at a pawnshop in Glenwood Springs? If it was Todd, why hadn't he noticed them at the sidewalk café just across the street? The street was wide and Winna admitted that she hadn't noticed him either. That could be a weird coincidence or her imagination was working overtime. She had to force herself not to call Todd and ask if he was in Glenwood Springs last week. Instead, she called Emily, who most emphatically suggested a visit to ABC Pawn Brokers and Jewelers.

IN A STATE of high excitement, Winna, with Emily in the passenger seat, parked her car in downtown Glenwood Springs. They entered the small storefront and immediately found themselves in familiar surroundings: a long narrow room, windowless on both sides, under an embossed tin ceiling painted white, just like so many of the old stores on Main Street in Grand Junction. Shelves with TV sets, VCRs, record players, cameras, sets of china, vases, and musical instruments (mostly guitars) ran along the walls above long glass display cases full of watches, jewelry, and coins. Guns were artfully displayed on racks under the heads of antlered deer and elk. All these things had belonged to people who needed to raise cash. Winna felt as if she was intruding on other people's secret misfortunes. She'd never been in a pawnshop before.

Emily was already at work, scanning the jewelry cases, looking for something familiar. She motioned for her mother to come. “You'd better get to work, Mom. I'm not sure I know what to look for.”

Side by side, they came to a shelf full of cameos and brooches. Next, they looked at dozens of rings. Just then, a man, the owner perhaps, approached from behind the counter. “Need some help, ladies?”

“I'm just wild about antique jewelry,” Winna blurted, wondering if she sounded as deceitful as she felt.

“We have lots of that. You want a ring or what?”

“Mom,” Emily said. “Look at these earrings.” She pointed to a pair of antique earrings with pale aqua stones.

Winna gasped. “Those are beautiful.” She recognized them as the zircon earrings from Juliana's jewelry box. “These here,” she said, pointing for the benefit of the salesman, “what stone are they? It looks like zircons. What are you asking for these?”

“They came in just last week and I'll have to get three hundred for them.”

“Ah, that much? You must think they are real. Do you have any diamonds—real ones?”

He took them to a case filled with diamond jewelry and, right away, she spotted the small diamond and pearl sunburst that Juliana used to pin to her suit collars and sometimes her felt hats. She jabbed Emily with one elbow and pointed. “I like that one.” She looked up at the man and smiled. “We won't take up any more of your time today. Thanks for the help.” She grabbed Emily by the arm and they headed for the door.

“What are you going to do, Mom?”

“We are going to the police station and have them call Lieutenant Dougherty. They need to search Chloe's house. Oh, my God, poor Chloe.”

THE CRYSTAL
CAFÉ
would not be crowded on a Tuesday afternoon. Winna had agreed to meet John there at one-thirty following the rush. They sat in a booth at the back. Todd Cody's arrest and arraignment was their opening topic. John expressed his surprise and sadness. He had obviously misjudged one of his foremen.

Winna had been in court that morning, with Chloe at her side. They'd sat in the front row of the gallery behind the prosecution table. Todd stood beside his lawyer dressed in a dark business suit. He looked ominously innocent, his blond curls playing over and under his ears like a child's. He kept his eyes forward. Not once did he turn his head to the right and look at his wife and sister-in-law.

The charge against him read felony burglary. The police had found boxes full of things from the house on Seventh Street in a crawl space at Chloe's house.

When asked about the robbery, Todd pleaded “not guilty.” After a brief battle of words between the two lawyers, bail was denied and the defendant was remanded to custody. Chloe sobbed as Todd was led away in handcuffs—so traumatized that Winna cried with her.

Learning that Todd was her thief was not the last surprise. After his arrest, the police had entered his fingerprints into the FBI fingerprint database and came up with someone named Owen Robert Healey, wanted in Oklahoma City.

“He's been a fugitive for six years,” Lieutenant Dougherty had said as Chloe and Winna sat with him in the kitchen at the house on Seventh Street.

“A fugitive from what,” Chloe said, dabbing at red eyes with a tissue. She had stayed with Winna ever since Todd had been arrested, sleeping in Poppa Ed's old bedroom.

“He's a suspect in a bank robbery in Oklahoma City—a policeman was killed. His prints were on file from ten years ago, when he was in prison for a string of robberies. He's also been jailed for selling cocaine.”

Chloe could contain herself no longer. “I can't believe all this. He was so sweet with me. It's just impossible for me to understand.”

Winna took her hand. “For me too—we were all fond of him, honey.”

“We are also looking into the possibility that he might have been the one who put the arsenic in your scotch,” Dougherty said. “So far the evidence is all circumstantial.”

Chloe leapt up from her chair and ran from the room.

“She feels responsible,” Winna said. “I feel so bad for her.”

He looked away. “It's tough all around, Mrs. Jessup.” He stood up, retrieving his briefcase from the kitchen table. “It's going to be a lot harder to prove attempted murder, but we will do our best. I know the DA wants to proceed.”

WINNA HAD BEEN nervous about meeting John for lunch but thought it important that she did. Greeting him with reserve, she sympathized with him for not suspecting Todd.

“We were all fooled—especially poor Chloe. She is deeply hurt and deeply pissed. I'm glad they've got him in jail.”

“Let's hope he is extradited to Oklahoma. Actually, Chloe is one lucky gal—she was also in danger,” John said.

“Chloe's not feeling lucky. I've never seen anyone in so much pain. According to Lieutenant Dougherty, Todd—rather, Owen what's-his-name—has been in prison for selling drugs and burglary charges. His father is in jail and his mother was a prostitute who was murdered some twenty years ago.”

John shook his head in disbelief. “A real menace disguised as a good ol' boy.”

“A cute good ol' boy. There's more. The police have looked at what was left of the stair rail that caused my fall. Dougherty says it had been tampered with and then repainted. There were two other attempts on my life. But can we prove it was Todd?”

John was silent a moment. “It could be hard—this isn't easy for me to take in.”

“He's not the only menace in disguise.” Winna shot an accusing look at John.

John shifted his weight. “What's that supposed to mean?”

Staring at her hands, she said nothing for a moment. She looked up. “I found my old emerald ring on your dresser.”

John paled, then diverted his eyes. “That last night—up at the house?”

“Yes, when I went through to your bathroom. What's that about, John? My ring—did you steal it?”

“I doubt you'd understand.”

“Try me. I can be very understanding.”

“It's simple, really.” John looked down. “I wanted you. I wanted the baby,” he paused and looked her hard in the eye. “How could you do that without even telling me—it was my only child.”

Winna winced as if he had struck her.

John was angry. “I stole your ring because I had nothing left of you.”

“I couldn't have told you first. My mother didn't tell me why we were going to Denver. What we did was an act of desperation. I know I hurt you terribly. You don't know how long I've grieved over this.”

Suddenly out of words, Winna looked down at her hands and shook her head.

“John, we aren't kids anymore. I'd fallen in love with you again. Why didn't you tell me how you felt? Why didn't you return the ring?”

“I probably would have—once it occurred to me. Now it's too late.”

“Seeing that ring again made me afraid of you.”

“Afraid of me?”

“Yes, someone put arsenic in my scotch.”

“I'm sorry. You can't imagine how sorry I am. You found the ring at a bad time—during this nightmare you've been going through.”

“There's nothing we can do about that.”

“Not now—not yet,” he said. “You'll have your ring tomorrow. I'm a patient man, Winna. I love you—always have, always will.”

ONCE AGAIN, THE old kitchen on Seventh Street was cluttered with boxes. The police had returned Todd's stash to the house. Anxious to have a look, Winna, Chloe, and Emily gathered in the morning to sort through the boxes. They found the silk rugs, the Chinese vases—much of what had been lost, including Juliana's story.

In one large cardboard box, they discovered a small wooden chest, humbly made and quite old.

“I've never seen this before,” Chloe said, lifting it onto the kitchen table.

Inside, they found old photographs, a tiny diary, a pocket lexicon, a soft paperback book, and a stack of yellowed letters surrounded by a collection of small things: a lock of baby hair, a rabbit's foot, marbles, an old matchbook—the kind of things a young boy would collect and keep in a cigar box.

Winna picked up the book. “Here's the Brown chapbook. Finally, we'll get to see Whitaker's poetry.” She opened the book to the title page.

“Not now,” Chloe said. “I'm not wild about poetry. Look, I found some pictures.”

Winna turned to her sister just as a sheet of paper fell out of the book to the floor. She picked it up. “Another poem—a work in progress maybe. It's short—listen, I'll read it.”

Truly, I know, Aladdin's Cave is here,

In the High Desert. The great Tree of Gems

Is rooted at this confluence—the stars,

Its fruits, are hanging as from diadems

That crown night-sprites who haunt the upper air.

No Ifrit of Arabia, no Djinn,

Dare trespass in America's free West:

Our sprites are Liberty and the Frontier.

“I think Aladdin's cave was full of treasure,” Emily said.

Suddenly interested, Chloe wanted to hear the poem again. Winna read it, this time more slowly.

Chloe looked excited. “He says the cave is here—in the high desert—and he mentions a tree of gems—just like Juno said we'd find in Unaweep Canyon.”

“Okay,” Emily said, shaking her head in disbelief. “How about we look at the pictures you found, auntie.”

Chloe looked at the top photograph on the pile she was holding. “Could this be Dolph?” Yellowed and foxed, the snapshot showed a boy about seven sitting on a swing. He was squinting in the sunshine, wearing knickers and a cap. Another picture showed a smiling young man standing against the wall of a brick building in a gown holding his graduation cap. They appeared to be the same boy at different ages.

“That must have been taken at his high school graduation,” Winna said, looking over Chloe's shoulder. “That's how he looked when Gramma loved him.”

She'd had it all wrong. Dolph had dark curly hair combed into well-oiled waves and he wasn't tall and thin. He looked to be average height, just the right size man for little Juliana. She could imagine them as perfect dance partners. She looked at his eyes, wishing the picture were in color.

Then it occurred to her. “I think he looks like Daddy.”

Both Emily and Chloe wanted to look again and looked over Winna's shoulder.

“Yes, he does,” Chloe said.

“Your grandfather was way taller, thinner,” Emily said. “Poppa was built more like Whitaker. The plot thickens, but I doubt you'll ever know the truth.”

They were silent a moment and, as if she knew she had spoiled the moment, Emily brightened and lifted the stack of letters into the light. “Guess who the letters are from.”

“Gramma?” Chloe said.

“Whitaker's keepsakes—where on earth did Todd find this?” Winna asked.

Emily knew. “I'll bet you anything that he found it in the basement of that house he tore down.”

Winna made coffee and they all sat around the kitchen table reading their grandmother's letters. They were full of Juliana's hopes and dreams for their future marriage, naïve words—sweet words that surprised the sisters.

“She wasn't always mean,” Chloe said, surprised.

“Here's the letter I've been hoping to find,” Winna said. She held it up and read it aloud.

Dear Dolph,

I am beside myself with worry. I can't begin to imagine what you are thinking now. As you dashed for the train, you picked up the wrong bag. Mine was so like yours, I might have done the same. I didn't even notice until I got home. The contents of your bag are safe and hiding in a trunk in the attic. Please tell me what you want me to do. These objects mean nothing to me. I cannot use them, nor do I want them. I do not need my bag back, but my things are important to me. Please send them care of Daisy.

Write soon. Tell me if you want me to ship the suitcase to Providence. Until I hear from you, be assured that all are safe with me.

I cannot tell you how sorry I am for this and for the way I disappointed you. I should have known better than to think for a moment that I could live off the fruits of ill-gotten gains. I gave you hope where there was none, for that, please forgive me.

Farewell, Juliana

Chloe sighed. “Whitaker never read that letter. He died on the train.”

“But now we know how the jewels got into Charlotte Blackleash's trunk,” Emily said, “and that Gramma must have waited to hear back from him about her suitcase.”

“There's no mention of a baby son,” Winna said. “That means Daddy wasn't born yet—doesn't it?”

Her question brought a sudden silence, then Emily said thoughtfully, “Chloe, maybe Juno can tell us?”

Chloe smiled at her niece. “I'm going to take that comment as a near conversion.”

Winna happily watched them hug. “Obviously Todd read the letter and it confirmed what Gramma wrote—that's why I had all those break-ins.”

“How did the letter end up in this box in the basement of Mrs. Whitaker's house on First Street?” Chloe asked.

“Think about it. If your son died, wouldn't you send for his things?”

“Of course. The letter arrived and the landlady put it among the things she sent back to his mother.”

“There is no envelope. I assume that means that his mother opened it and read it,” Winna said.

The women agreed that if they put Dolph's letters in sequence with Juliana's letters, they would get a better picture, but until then, they had already solved most of the mysteries.

Chloe detailed her version of what had happened. “Juliana learns her former lover is dead. She grieves, then remembers she's stuck with stolen property. She can't reveal that without exposing her adultery, so she sneaks around sewing jewelry into her stash of outdated gowns.”

“And who knows where else,” Winna said. “You know that rhinestone choker Leia found? I took it down to Page Parsons and they said it's about fifty-five carats of high quality diamonds. We still don't know where the dog found it.”

“Will it never end?” Emily said.

Chloe sighed. “I hope not. By the way, you interrupted me as I was making sense of everything. Where was I?”

“You left her sewing jewels into her gowns,” Winna said.

“Yes. Then Gramma writes a story using some of the events that really happened. For instance, we never found any of the jewelry described in her story—do you suppose those pieces are in Unaweep Canyon like Juno said?”

“Who knows,” Emily said, rolling her eyes.

“Don't get too excited about the jewelry. It doesn't belong to us—it's stolen and belongs to someone else's grandchildren,” Winna said.

“Are you kidding?” Chloe cried. “It was meant for us. Gramma would want us to have it all.”

“Hey,” Emily said, “don't argue about that right now. One thing's for certain. Both of her granddaughters inherited Gramma's knack for falling in love with the wrong man.”

Winna and Chloe nodded and rolled their eyes.

Luke and Leia started barking. A knock on the kitchen door followed and Seth came in. He looked like a man on a mission and would not be persuaded to sit down for a cup of coffee.

“I've thought this over carefully,” he said. “It's time for me to take you to the attic. I have something to show you.”

Seth led them up the front staircase, down the hall, and up the stairs to the attic. Most of the attic's contents had been cleared for the yard sale. Winna was surprised to see that Seth had left the strange bedroom tableau on the braided rug. She said nothing as he led them in that direction.