An hour later her mother and Jette returned from Eric’s house and were told they would have to move. Her father said they’d booked a room at the hotel, and Ilka held up the car keys.
“I’ll drive you down there.”
“No,” the two women said, nearly simultaneously.
“Sorry,” her father said. “Sister Eileen came back and needs the apartment, so unfortunately you can’t stay.”
Ilka looked away, thinking about the day Lydia had packed Ilka’s suitcase without a word and moved her things down to the hotel. Back then she’d thought the nun wanted to get rid of her, when in fact she was trying to protect her.
“It’s a good hotel, and it’ll be easier to walk around town if you stay down there,” Ilka said.
“But we’ll be going over to Elly’s. We promised to stop by again.” Her mother obviously was taking this personally.
“But you’ll only be sleeping there,” Leslie said. “You can be here the rest of the time.”
Earlier Ilka had explained to Leslie what she’d told Officer Thomas, adding that she should expect a visit from the police. Ilka’s half sister had taken it surprisingly well; in fact, she’d even offered to call the lawyer. It was as if Leslie had renewed her membership in the human race, and it suited her well.
“But did the police swallow the story?” she’d asked.
Ilka assured her that they had, and that all Leslie had to do was act convincing when she told the policeman that her grandfather had threatened to kill all three of them.
Leslie nodded and asked if the police would want to know where she was standing when the shooting occurred.
“Tell them you were so shaken up that you don’t really remember. And say that if your mother hadn’t grabbed the rifle out of the gun cabinet, he would have shot us with the pistol in his desk drawer.”
Leslie had nodded.
Now her father spoke up. “This is just how it has to be.”
All five of them stood awkwardly, looking in five different directions, until Jette nodded and took Ilka’s mother’s arm. They didn’t at all understand what was going on, but they seemed to accept that it was none of their business.
“Then I guess we’ll get to see the harbor,” she said, her face blank. She grabbed the two suitcases. “If it’s because we’re not welcome…” Her mother gave her father a look.
Ilka stepped over and put her arm around her mother’s shoulder. “No, no, you are welcome; absolutely. It’s just that when I said you could stay in the apartment, I didn’t know Sister Eileen would be back so soon. I’m so sorry. Whenever you’re ready to come over, just call me and I’ll come get you. Or you could also take the car.”
She knew very well why her father wanted them gone. It wasn’t a problem when everyone was at the funeral home, but the Rodriguez brothers might decide to come back. Letting them sleep over there by themselves simply wasn’t an option.
“Hello! Anybody here?”
Ilka recognized the deep voice coming from the reception: Jeff. She rushed out to meet him.
“Have you found her?”
The others had followed along, and he smiled at them. “Just need to borrow Beautiful here for a sec.” He placed his arm on the small of her back and winked at them. Ilka glimpsed her mother smiling at Jeff as he led her out the door.
“Where is she? Is she all right?”
He opened the door of his BMW for her, and Ilka got in. Her mother stood in the doorway and watched. Ilka knew what she was thinking; her mother longed for Ilka to move on from losing Flemming. You should be looking around for another man, she’d said—several times.
“I got your message about the extra bonus,” Jeff said. Ilka nodded, assuming this wasn’t the time to tell him she didn’t actually have the money. That would have to wait until they found Lydia.
“But I want an evening with you too,” he added.
“An evening?”
He looked away. “Yeah, like back on the boat.”
Their erotic encounter on the table in the close quarters of his cabin hadn’t exactly been memorable. What it had been was quick—a physical release, and that was it. No talk, no affection. No emotions. It seemed he now wanted a repeat performance. Fat chance of that happening. Did he think he could have anything he wanted from her just because he’d found Lydia?
The idea angered her.
He seemed nervous. Or maybe he was just excited.
Ilka recalled the line of coke his friend had snorted on the boat, and had the feeling Jeff had already begun celebrating his success, which meant he would soon be fifteen thousand dollars richer. She tried to check his pupils, but they were hidden behind his sunglasses. Then again, he seemed more hyper than high; he kept a steady, rapid beat with his thumbs on the steering wheel as they sped through town.
“Where are we going?” she said. The marina flashed by on her right, and soon they’d driven past the last stoplight and were out of Racine.
Jeff ignored her and kept tapping his thumbs, as if in time to loud music in his head. Ilka turned and stared at the landscape of open fields. Moments later they turned off in the direction of the lake.
“Has she been hiding in Artie’s house?” A jolt of fear rocked her; the Rodriguez brothers knew this place. It angered Ilka to think that Lydia would hide somewhere they could find her so easily.
She was out of the car before Jeff could shut the engine off. He hopped out and caught up to her. “She could be armed, you don’t know,” he hissed as he grabbed her arm. “Use your head. If you scare her bad enough, she might shoot before she sees it’s you.”
Ilka stopped. “But are you sure she’s in there?”
He nodded and nudged her toward the door, but Ilka wrenched free of his grip. The windows that had been broken during the attack on Artie now had sheets of plywood covering them, but the one beside the door had escaped damage. She walked over to it, cupped her hands against the pane, and peered into the living room. Then she tapped on the glass and waited, hoping Lydia would spot her and come out when she saw who it was.
“Hello in there,” she yelled.
Jeff pushed the door open and waved her over.
“When did you see her?” Ilka whispered.
“She was here this morning.”
Ilka stepped in the doorway. “Hello! It’s me!”
She walked inside and stood a moment listening, even though she already knew the house was deserted. She wiped her shoes off on the mat and entered the living room. Glass still lay on the floor, but the first thing she noticed was the bag on the coffee table, its soft leather strap hanging over the edge of the polished wood surface. The bag was empty. Ilka felt a cold gust of wind, and she ran through the room and to the wide-open back door. But there was no one in sight.
Ilka walked back to the living room. “Where is she? Did you take the money?”
When Jeff didn’t answer, she stepped over and grabbed his jacket and pushed him up against the wall, all in one movement, too quickly for him to react. “What have you done with her?” she yelled.
He had pushed his sunglasses up on his forehead, and now they flew off onto the floor. He stared at her in surprise. She glimpsed something vulnerable in his eyes, but a second later they were dark with anger. He wrested free and pushed her back, hard.
“What the hell are you talking about, you bitch!”
His sudden rage frightened her; had he brought her out here to get rid of her, after discovering what was in the bag? He could easily push her over the cliff and watch her disappear in Lake Michigan. Killing her was all he needed to do if he really had taken the money. She had felt his gun holster under his jacket.
“She was here,” he snarled, though he seemed to be trying to hold himself back. “She’s been staying in the house at least since yesterday. I don’t know when she came, but I know somebody a few houses down from here, he saw a woman fitting her description yesterday afternoon. I’ve been keeping an eye on the house ever since, I just wanted to be sure it was her before I got back to you.”
“Where’s the money?”
Jeff stared at her.
“You took it, all of it,” she continued. “The temptation was too great, and now you think I can’t figure out what happened.”
He shook his head. “I didn’t take any money, but you owe me, a lot. And I want it, right now. We had a deal, and I held up my end.”
Ilka shook her head. “I don’t owe you a thing. You were supposed to find her for me, but she’s not here, and how do I know she’s even been here? You should’ve stayed and kept her in sight until I showed up.”
His lips were clamped together from rage, and for a split second she thought he might shoot her, but without a word he turned and stomped out of the house and onto the sidewalk. She ran out after him.
“Where is she?” she yelled.
When he reached his BMW, she noticed the ruts behind Artie’s black pickup. Two broad, deep tire tracks in the rain-soaked ground. Someone had driven in and backed out again, so fast that the tires had dug into the mud. Jeff’s car was on a paved portion of the driveway, and there was no dirt or mud splatter on his shiny black car.
Standing by his car door, he turned back to her. His icy voice felt like a slap to her face. “She was here. I did what you wanted me to do. You’re going to pay what you owe me.”
He got in the car and slammed the door shut, and moments later he was gone.
Ilka stood in the driveway, shaken by his anger. Up on the road, a white Toyota with HAPPY HOMES written on the door slowed and turned in. The driver approached slowly, as if he wasn’t sure it was the right address.
She stood her ground as he parked and shut the car off. A chubby man holding a briefcase under his arm got out and walked toward her. His coat was unzipped even though it was starting to rain.
“Good afternoon. Are you Mrs. Sorvino?”
All Ilka wanted to do was sleep. To turn her back on him and walk inside and jump into Artie’s bed under the blankets.
She shook her head but asked if there were anything she could help him with. A strange blend of numbness and fear overtook her. His voice sounded distant; Ilka barely understood the words coming out of his mouth.
“I’m here to assess Mr. Sorvino’s house. He contacted us earlier today and said he’s interested in selling.”
“Selling? The house?”
The real estate agent smiled politely. No doubt he was thinking she must be a relative with limited intellectual abilities, someone to humor so he could pull off the deal.
“He contacted you today because he wants to sell his house?” Ilka said.
He nodded and showed her a key. “I’ve just been by the hospital; I picked up the key and written permission to go inside, since he’s unable to let me in himself.”
He reached to open his briefcase and show her the paper, but she simply nodded and told him the house was open.
Artie had seen through her, had found out she couldn’t be trusted. Couldn’t be counted on. She flashed on him lying in his hospital bed, calling the insurance company because he’d sensed something was wrong, that she was lying when she assured him everything was fine. He knew the hospital would be sending him bills from now until he died if he didn’t do something about it himself.
Ilka turned her back on the real estate agent and slowly walked up to the highway. She headed for Racine in a fog of tears and rain, crushed that she couldn’t find a way to help Artie. And scared stiff that the Rodriguez brothers had found Lydia.