“You’ve lost a brother-in-law since then.”
“Nathan? What has his death got to do with Larry? You’ve got me confused. Do you mean that it was a revenge killing by some … some …?”
“Former client of your husband? Could be. But my money’s on secrets. Nathan knew something about Larry, and it was worth the risk to make sure Nathan didn’t spread the news.”
“I didn’t think about that.” She was quiet for a minute. She looked at her decaffeinated tea growing chilly on the white counter. Her hands were trembling.
We were perched on chromium and white leather stools. All we needed was a bartender on the other side wiping out glasses and hanging them up to dry. What kind of secrets would Ruth tell a bartender after a couple of drinks? “It’s secrets that do it, Mrs. Geller. I’ve been telling everybody this week. Secrets lead down the long dark hall.”
“Are you still harping …? Damn it, Mr. Cooperman, I don’t know this man you’re talking about. I’ve tried to be up-front with the police, and they won’t tell me a thing. I’ve been straight with you, and you couldn’t find beets in a bowl of borscht.” She was leaning on her arms propped on the counter. Her head was held in the palms of both hands. I couldn’t see if she was crying. I thought that she might be. I felt a nickel worse than somebody who felt like two cents. But I felt like that when I arrived, so I didn’t pack up and leave.
“Mrs. Geller,” I said, trying to make my voice stand up as tall as a Mountie in a musical, “you know that Larry had plans to leave town. You know that he didn’t plan on leaving without company. Will you tell me now who he went away with?”
For a moment she didn’t move. Her eyes were shining when she looked at me with an expression that I tried to forget in a hurry. Her hand shot out and pulled open a drawer. It fished about among coupons like those in Ma’s kitchen drawer and came up with a photograph. At first I was disappointed. I’d been hoping for a hotel reservation or an airline schedule with a destination circled. I think you can’t improve on neat arrangements like those. But what Ruth was holding out to me was a colour photograph. Smiling Larry was holding his hands over the eyes of a woman. In spite of the covered features, I was sure from what I could see of the smile that the woman was Pia Morley. It was a party photograph and the light in Larry’s eyes was pink. “But Pia didn’t leave town, Ruth,” I said, forgetting to be formal in my inquiry.
“She went missing the same day Larry did. She doubled back, that’s all.”
“Did Larry double back with her?”
“God, don’t you think I’ve been asking myself that? How could she do it? And while living with his brother! What is that woman made of?”
“Try to stay calm When did she get back to Grantham? How do you know for sure that she went with …”
I didn’t finish the sentence. There was something else in the photograph that suddenly grabbed me by the tie and shook me around.
“What is it?” Ruth asked, looking at my sagging jaw, I guess. “Mr. Cooperman? Are you okay?” She was gone for a moment and then came back to the counter “Here,” she said “Drink this.” I took a glass from her and felt the heat as I swallowed something straight and alcoholic. I never asked about the brand name. But it was the right medicine for what ailed me that day. “Is that better?” Ruth asked, the tone of worry in her voice as genuine as I remember hearing from anybody.
“Mrs. Geller,” I asked as soon as I could locate my tongue, “where did your husband get that ring he’s wearing?”
“Ring?” She looked puzzled. “Oh, you mean in the photo. Why that’s his ring from Osgoode Hall, the law school. They all have them, all the lawyers who go through Osgoode. The crest is usually in gold, but I had this cut specially for Larry’s birthday three years ago. Why do you ask?”
I still felt like I’d just taken a beating, like my stomach had been removed and the local anaesthetic was just wearing off. I didn’t know what to tell Ruth Geller. What I heard myself say at length was, “Oh, I’ve always been an admirer of fine rubies.”
TWENTY-THREE
I suppose I should have headed straight to Niagara Regional with what I’d just found out. At least I’d have been taking some of the advice I’d been handing out all over town. If everybody passed on his secrets, nobody’d be sent for a post-mortem because he knew too much.
I hadn’t stayed at Ruth’s for more than another few minutes. I’d not confided my suspicions to her, but I did hit her with one more big question before I left. It was the one that had been bothering me since the day I’d been snatched coming out of Larry Geller’s bolt-hole.
“Mrs. Geller,” I’d asked, “why won’t you admit that Larry called you on the day he disappeared?” She looked blank, but still managed to smile vaguely, like it was through a fog or mist.
“You’ve asked me that before. Why is it so important? He didn’t call. I had no contact with him after he left that morning. Nobody here spoke to him. I checked.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m not sure why it’s important, but what I have amounts to evidence in a way. It’s the sort of evidence that doesn’t lie.”
“Well, Mr. Cooperman, maybe it doesn’t, but then maybe you aren’t reading it right. Have you thought of that?”
Since leaving the Geller place, that’s what I’d been thinking about. The evidence of the phone call. By pushing the redial button I was automatically connected with Ruth. We’d talked about Nathan’s midnight phone call to me about Daytona Beach. At least I wasn’t imagining things. I pushed the button and the phone made the connection. I didn’t dial her number, the memory in the machine dialled the number. Then it hit me. It could have been from the day before or the week before. But she’d told me that he never called. Not for weeks. Who was I going to believe: the redial button or the wife?
Pete Staziak wasn’t working that night. He was in the middle of his long narrow backyard trying to get a charcoal fire started with his vacuum cleaner. That’s where I found him and he went a little red when he saw me coming over the newly mowed lawn. “Hi! You looking for a chess game with my kids? He’s out. Pull up a lump of charcoal and sit down. Shelley’s inside getting a salad together. You’ll have a hamburger, Benny? When I get this going?”
“Be careful you don’t electrocute yourself.”
“Nuts, I do this all the time. It’s the quickest way. It’s a little more bulky than using Shelley’s hair dryer, but I cracked that. This works very well, when you hook it up backwards so that it blows instead of sucks.” I walked closer and showed an interest in the arrangements. I hoped he was using grounded wires, that’s all. He turned the vacuum on again and the sparks shot out of the middle of the bed of coals. In the centre they were red going on yellow. It looked as hot as a blacksmith’s forge and smelled about the same. Pete added another load of charcoal from the sooty blue and white bag. Once this lot began to burn, Pete made himself busy handing me the blackened racks to the hibachi and a wire brush. He didn’t try talking over the racket made by the vacuum cleaner. At first I thought that working the brush over the racks would be very satisfying, turning the soiled, carbonized grease-covered metal grates into silvery gridirons, but it was hard work and unrewarding. There was no transformation even after I’d gone over them twice. So, I gave up at about the same time Pete turned off the vacuum cleaner. I handed the grates to him and he fitted them into the black holders. He unplugged the vacuum and reeled in the cord. “Don’t let me leave it out here all night. That’s the sort of thing that brings on a midnight downpour. Will you have a beer, Benny?”
“Sure.” Pete went into the house to explain the unexpected visitor and returned with a tray with four bottles and one glass.
We didn’t speak until we were a quarter-way into our first beer. It was Pete who broke the silence: “Well, you might as well tell me now. Let’s get it over with. I want to eat with a clear head.” I gave Pete a fast rundown of what I’d been doing since Nathan’s funeral. The highlight was the ring in the fire-hall footing.