Back in my office I put in a call to Bertie. He wasn’t in, but I got a half-hearted promise from the desk sergeant to have him call me. If I hustled to the park, I might see him there at the end of his lunch.
I got the Chevy going and pulled out of the industrial court. Heading towards Forest Park, I turned over some ideas about this case. My bet was Mr. Hanady was alive and had picked up the daughter. Mrs. Hanady may have covered and said he died, but that was far-fetched. Wouldn’t Rachel have spoken up about it? My guess was they were separated and, to spare embarrassment, Mrs. Hanady had popped out with a lame story. None of that meant Rachel was okay. That kind of upset on a mother’s face is hard to manufacture.
Turning onto Skinker, I thought about Mr. Hanady. Smiling, successful. Business interests in Colombia. Bet there’s some shady doings on his end, or the wife’s. Or both. I intended to find out. I didn’t have anything better to do.
I parked near the tennis courts and walked towards the chess tables. A small fountain splashed with the tiny urgency of a child in a wading pool. Two old men were huddled over a table, eyeglasses thick as the German gutturals dropping out of their mouths. A mother and her son walked around the fountain. No sign of Bertie. I sat on a bench to wait.
“You know I could bring you in on vagrancy.” I turned around to the voice behind me, and there he was.
I relaxed. “ Can't say I’d blame you."
“What’s new, Detective?” he asked. He set a foot on the bench and leaned his forearm on his knee.
“I’m late for a chess date.”
“We don’t have one today. What is it? A girl?”
“You know me. Always on the make.”
“Have you made it with a queen yet?”
“Nope. But I met a gorgeous girl today. You’d like her.”
“You’re not trying to pawn her off on me, are you?”
“Nix. She won’t stand before the bishop with just anyone.”
“Ah. And you’re her new knight?”
“Yep. Wait’ll she sees my sword.”
“Seriously, I’m glad I found you. I need some information.”
“What’s up?”
I related the morning incident to him. His casual posture left him. He took his leg off the park bench, and his face hardened.
“Listen. Let me see what I can find out about Mr. Hanady. Got a first name?”
“No. He shouldn’t be hard to find, though. Start with the daughter’s or wife’s names maybe. There ought to be adoption records, right?”
“Sure. I can also call the preschool.”
“No wonder you’re chief inspector.”
“That’s me.” He stood up, straightening his grey pants, his gold wedding band flashing momentarily. “Look. Ed, don’t make any moves until I get back to you, okay?”
I made an innocent face and raised my hands, palms up, as if to disavow any history of trouble with one shrug.
“Where’re you going to be later?” he asked.
“In my office. You know, always sort of on the job.”
“I’ll call you there later.”
We shook hands. Bertie departed with a confident stride. He’s tall, slender, but his shoulders are powerful. Been married three years to an absolute doll. They’re gonna make a beautiful baby some day.
I stopped off for a hamburger and coffee at the Eat-Rite before returning to my office. A little sleepy, I pulled into the court and brought the car to rest in my reserved spot. I leaned over the wheel and looked through the windshield. The sky had gotten overcast. By the end of the day it would probably storm, turn sunshiny and humid, and then be followed by a cold front. Expect snow tomorrow. Who says the Midwest doesn’t have its charms?
I unlocked the door to the sound of the phone ringing. I hurried in and grabbed the receiver. “Ed Darvis Investigations."
“Ed? Bertie.”
“Goddamn, you’re fast. What have you got for me?”
“Listen up. You got a pen?”
“Somewhere. Got a memory like some animal. I forget which. Shoot.”
“Okay, here’s the deets. Hanady’s first name is Thomas. He’s thirty-four years old and chief executive of Limited Imports.”
“Trinkets?”
“Naw. Bananas. Has a midwest distribution.”
“Ah. I noticed you’re using the present tense.”
“That’s because there’s no record of Hanady’s death. In fact, he hasn’t even been to a hospital in the last year.”
“Okay. Back to the bananas. Is that all? Guy makes a fortune on bananas?”
“Judging from the IRS’s interest in him, I’d say it could be something else he’s importing.”
“Drugs?”
“Why not? Hep cats gotta get their tea from somebody.”
“What else you got?”
“He’s been married to Jerri Hanady for five years. One daughter, Rachel, age five. She was adopted at age two—“
“From Colombia. I know that. No mention of divorce?”
“No.”
“Any idea of how often he’s in Colombia?”
“Not from what I have so far.”
“You got a number for the import shop?”
There was a pause on the line.
“Look, Ed, where’s this going?”
“What do you mean? I’ll give Mrs. Hanady the privilege of hiring me to recover her daughter. She’ll give me a nice retainer, I’ll return her bundle of joy, she’ll leave her sap of a husband for me—"
“Listen. Those two officers dispatched this morning may be green, but they’ve already proven themselves capable.”
“Sure, Bertie. And I appreciate the show you’re putting on for me. Who’s listening over your shoulder?”
“Just don't get in their way.”
“You know I won’t. I’ll play very nice and we might even cooperate on the investigation. Now, may I pretty please have that number?”
Bertie gave me the number, as well as the Hanadys’ address. These I did write down. “Thanks, buddy, you’re a peach.” I hung up.
Soon it would be time for the early afternoon pickup across the street; some of the kids stayed until five, and even six o’clock. A rush of wind shook the Bradford pear in front of my window, and the sky turned greyer. Any minute now. The deluge.
I picked up the phone and dialed Limited Imports. A secretary with a perfunctory pleasantness in her voice answered.
“Limited Imports. How may I direct your call?”
“Tom Hanady,” I said evenly.
“I’m sorry, he’s away. May I take a message?”
“No, thank you. Do you know when he’ll be back in the office?’
“I can’t say. He’s been on a business trip.”
“Really? For how long?”
“Who may I ask is calling?”
“This is Barry Whitworth, from Sunny’s Grocery, you know? We had some bad bananas last shipment.”
“I’m sorry. If you’ll wait a minute I’ll pull your file.” Fat drops began to strike my front window.
“That won’t be necessary. If you could just tell me when you expect Mr. Hanady to return, I’d like to speak with him myself.”
“Mr. Whitworth, Mr. Hanady is often called out of the country at a day’s notice. He should be in touch with us shortly about a return date. I can connect you with our southern district distributor.”
I could see this was going nowhere.
“That’s okay. Say, how’s Mr. Hanady to work for?”
There was a pause on the line during which I could hear typewriters clacking in the background. The rain complemented the sporadic tattoo of the keys.
“He’s a fine man, Mr. Whitworth.”
“Well, that’s good to know. Hey, I need to get back on the floor.”
“Are you sure I can’t take a message for you?”
At that moment something outside the rain-streaked window caught my eye. My pulse quickened.
“That won’t be necessary, Miss. But thanks anyway.”
“Goodbye. Mr. Whitworth.”
I hung up and squinted to be sure I was seeing right. A Cadillac had just pulled up into the space next to my car. The driver’s door opened and a woman, covering her head with a large purse, emerged.
I hustled to the glass door and pushed it open. She rushed in without looking up. She shivered, her back to me. Rivulets of water dropped onto the linoleum.
“Mrs. Hanady?”
I expected, with a little thrill, to see blue eyes. Instead, as she turned around, I saw beautiful green eyes, sternly examining the office. Her face was nearly expressionless when she returned her gaze to me, but her verdant eyes were penetrating. Then she nodded.
“Please, take a seat. Can I offer you some coffee? I’m afraid I don’t have a towel here or anything. Would you like my coat?” I gestured to the rack that held a navy sports coat. This time, she shook her head. She sat slowly, and then she spoke. I was surprised at how clear and resonant her voice was.
“Yes, please. To the coffee, I mean. I don’t need a coat.”
I unscrewed the cap to the thermos. Luckily, I had a clean, albeit chipped, mug on the shelf behind me. I poured the lukewarm liquid, handed her the mug, and sat down.
“Mrs. Hanady, thank you for coming to my office. I’ve spoken with Marni Reyes. Did she give you my card?”
She looked at me, her eyes scrutinizing me from an otherwise impassive face. “No. I haven’t talked to Miss Reyes. Not since … this morning.” She sipped at the mug.
So, she came here of her own accord. That was a surprise. “I spoke with Officer Frederick,” she continued. “He said he took a statement from Miss Reyes.”Frederick. Officer High-and-Tight.
“So, I take it the police don’t have any leads?”
“I don’t think so. He wasn’t very reassuring, either.”
“Mrs. Hanady, I have a friend on the force, a chief inspector, who gave me some information on your husband. I’d like to ask you some questions for corroboration.”
She took the news of my poking around with a nod and clung to the mug. “Of course.”
“I witnessed what happened this morning. That’s how I got involved.” I watched her expressionless face. “I’m not technically involved with this case unless I’m hired.”
I paused a moment, thinking she would give me the go-ahead. She just seemed to examine the tired grain of my second-hand desk, so I continued. “However, having spoken to Miss Reyes, I suspect something more delicate might be going on. Something that maybe you don’t want to tell the police? Or, that they might not be able to help with?”
“I’m sitting here, aren’t I?”
“Yes, ma’am, you are. Are you seeking outside assistance in finding your daughter?”
She smiled ruefully. “Yes. And that would be you.”
“Okay. Before we go on, I’m afraid I need to discuss fees.” I wasn’t afraid at all. But the rich like to hear that money pains some people.
“I’ll pay any price to get my daughter back.”
“My normal fee is fifty dollars a day, plus expenses. That’s it. In some cases, the client has to pony up reward money, from which I might get a percentage, but I don’t think that’s what we’re talking about here.” I meant to imply ransom, too, and my percentage from that, but I didn’t figure she’d handle it well. “Since we’re near the end of the day, and if you choose to hire me, I’ll waive today’s fee and start the clock tomorrow.” I smiled to cover the crassness of my last statement. She didn’t seem to care. I passed her a sheet of paper scrawled over in turgid legalese. She signed it dispassionately.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Hanady. Now, if you don’t mind?”
“I’m ready … anytime. But first,” she held up her coffee mug and said, “do you have anything to put in this coffee?” I knew she didn’t mean milk.
Damn. I had killed the scotch.
“I’m afraid not. But look, I can run to the package liquor down the street.”
“No, please don’t. I shouldn’t anyway. I quit last year. Tom hasn’t, though.”
“Hasn’t? Or didn’t?”
She blanched.
“Mrs. Hanady, my buddy on the force said that there was no death certificate for your husband.”
“No, there wouldn’t be. He’s alive.”
“Did you not tell Miss Reyes that your husband had died?”
“I did. At the time, I couldn’t think on my feet.” Although I found this hard to believe, I let her continue. “Besides, he might as well be dead.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because the bum is always off somewhere. He’s barely in Rachel’s life. Not to mention mine.”
“I saw a photograph of the three of you at the school. I have to admit you all looked happy.”
She grimaced. “That was a happy time. Tom was home more often. Rachel had gotten used to our home, our life. I had quit drinking.”
“Was alcohol a problem?”
“It was. I was just…. You see, we had tried for years to have a child. Finally, a doctor told me that I couldn’t have children. I was devastated. Tom took it well at first, but then something changed in him. He was travelling at the time, making more trips to Colombia. So, I wallowed in alcohol when he was gone. When he returned, he could see something was wrong. I think he chalked it up to infertility, and that just seemed to sour him more.”
“How long did this go on?”
“For several months. But then he came back from a trip with flowers. For me. He took me in his arms like he did when we first married, and I fell in love all over again. Excited by his spontenaity, I laughed and asked, ‘What? What is it?’ He swung me around and said, ‘We’re going to have a child! We’re going to adopt!’ I was so taken aback that I cried. He told me all about the opportunity in Colombia, how there were so many sweet children in desperate need of a mother and a father. We shared a bottle of Dom Perignon to celebrate. It was the first time in a long time I’d felt so good.”
“When did you make the trip to Colombia yourself?”
“I don’t know. Maybe three months later. We’d found out who Rachel’s birth mother was, and I wanted to meet her.”
“And did you?”
“Yes. She was almost a child herself, barely nineteen. She was so beautiful and shy. It was important to me to see her.”
“Why did she give Rachel up for adoption?”
“She’s poor. So many of them are. They work on the banana plantations. Many of them live right on the edge of the fields, in shacks. Tom looks for the best supervisors; he really does.” An unexpected defensive note entered her voice. “But he can only pay so much himself, in order to turn a profit here in the States.”
“I see. Where is Tom now?”
“I thought he was in Colombia. He’s been gone the past week. I’ve been taking Rachel to pre-school all this year. It’s been very difficult—being away from her while she’s at school, that is. But all the other mothers insisted it was a good thing. All of them in the charity send their children there.”
“What charity is that?”
“Orphan Care. We raise money to help families adopt children from Central and South America.”
“Sounds noble.”
She blanched and plunked her cup on the desk, sloshing coffee over the side. “It is. And you don’t need to say it like that.”
“I didn’t mean any harm, Mrs. Hanady. I meant what I said. What I don’t get is why you don’t have a nanny.”
She glanced out at her car, like she was now doubting her decision to hire me. I looked outside, too. The rain was abating. “We have Ella. She cooks for us. Plus, Mrs. Carmody started the preschool herself. She thought it would be grand if our children played and learned together. She’s in our group,” she added.
“Why here, though?” I gestured to the surroundings, and included my office in the sweep of my hand.
“Because the building and land were affordable. And I know what you’re thinking. We’re not all rich bitches without heart out in West County.”
I leaned back in my chair and held onto my protest.
“Besides, the first kindergarten in the country was in St. Louis. But then, you probably knew that already, detective.”
I let the comment slide with a smile. “Mrs. Hanady, does your husband drive a Jaguar?” She nodded. “Is his car missing today?”
“It is. It wasn’t in the garage when I returned from the school at noon.”
“Are you sure it was him who picked up Rachel today?”
“It had to be. God, who else could it be? Maybe he just returned early. Maybe he wanted to surprise me.” She grasped the arms of her chair and looked as though she might leap up any second.
“Mrs. Hanady, just one more question. Have you called his office today?”
She settled back in her chair and frowned.“Yes. They don’t know when to expect him.” She was looking out the window now, clutching her moist purse.
“Thank you for your time. You can trust that I will do all I can to see that your daughter is returned safely. I have a feeling she’s with your husband. In good hands.”
“I wish I had your confidence right now.”
“Let me make some more calls. The policemen you spoke to today will likely be in contact with your husband’s office, if they haven't been already. They will also want to come out to your house.”
“To stake it out?”
“To talk to you. And, yeah, to see if your husband, or someone else, returns. If he is back—and I think he is—he’ll come home at some point.”
“You’re right. I know he will.” She stood and extended her hand. It was soft, her skin supple with lotion. A sensation I had not felt in a woman’s hand for too long. I had to fight the crazy notion that I should bend over her hand and bring it to my lips for a kiss. Ed Darvis, courtier extraordinaire.
“I’ll call you later this evening. Say around eight?” She nodded. “Good. Please take care getting home, Mrs. Hanady.”
“I will.” I held the door as she stepped out into the diminishing rain and got into the coupe. I wasn’t quite sure how those long legs fit in that toyish car and smiled at the thought of examining the mechanics of the arrangement. The rain continued to slacken as she pulled away, and I inhaled the scent of her skin on my hand.