March 27, 2016
Des Moines, Iowa
Des Moines, the capital of Iowa, was one of those Midwestern towns that had gone through radical ups and downs over its life. Many would say its primary business is the presidential primary, as it is the first stop of every presidential campaign. Founded in 1851 as “Fort Des Moines,” it had undergone a revival the 21st century. Part of that revival was the transformation of the old Simpson Chair factory into the Malcolm Grossinger Lofts—sixty-one loft apartments located in the heart of the Court Avenue cultural district. The charm of the exterior of this historic building has been a model for the gentrification of downtown Des Moines.
Malcolm Grossinger, the owner of the lofts, was an upper-middle-class only son of a Sioux City physician. He had graduated from Drake with honors and went into business, eventually marrying the daughter of a small upstart cable company executive. The cable enterprise was just the beginning. As the company grew, Malcolm’s personal wealth climbed into the upper one percent of the country as he acquired many landholdings across Iowa. He was one of the rich and powerful in Des Moines and board president of Des Moines’s mega-church, the Evangelical Covenant.
Now in the gray mist of a cold March morning, Grossinger, with Ramsey by his side, buzzed himself into the Malcolm Grossinger Lofts.
Ramsey immediately liked the man while at the same time recognizing there was some agenda in play that he wasn’t being told. Almost immediately Grossinger began talking about his friendship with Adam.
Grossinger and Adam had developed one of those lifelong relationships that to most people would seem a mystery.
Adam and Malcolm were roommates as freshmen at Des Moines’ Drake University. An immediate and deep bond formed between the two young men. Adam had a scholarship from a private fund that supported foster children. He was a self-driven, self-taught philosophy major. But as Grossinger would quickly find out, he was a person incapable of dealing with the social milieu of university life and dropped out after only one semester.
Grossinger gave Ramsey a snapshot of Adam’s life. Adam could’ve done anything he set his mind to, even play football at the pro level. During his adult life he worked mostly in a bookstore, and as a stock boy in a grocery store. When Malcolm needed something fixed on his house or his apartments Adam could do it all. They hunted together. They were passionate University of Iowa football and basketball fans, attending hundreds of games together.
Grossinger turned to Ramsey. “As you might have guessed by the name on the building, my family trust owns these apartments. When the restoration was complete, I let Adam stay here for free. Why not? He was my best friend. It’s hard to believe he just disappeared. I’ve kept his place just as it was the day of his accident. I always thought he would come back.”
“Did he?” Ramsey asked.
“No, instead I visited him three times down in New Mexico. The first time he was just beginning his convalescence. Still bedridden. His memory was really foggy and he asked me to tell him stories about his life. Which I did for three days.”
“Second time?”
“He had changed dramatically. He was anxious that I come down because he wanted to take a trip with me to Albuquerque. Said he wanted to see the ancient rock art. But when we got there he asked me to drop him off on the edge of the poorest Hispanic neighborhood in the city. Told me he would be fine and to pick him up in six hours. Which I did.”
“What do you think he was doing? Did you ask him?”
“He said something about needing to be among the poor and the sick.”
“That was it?”
“That was it.”
“You said there was a third time. What did you guys do?”
“Nothing special.”
Ramsey’s highly practiced intuition again told him Grossinger was hiding something, but he didn’t press it since they had now reached room 356, Adam’s apartment. Grossinger pulled out a key and unlocked the door. It was a small loft. Books were everywhere. Every philosophical book that was ever written seemed to be here in one grand collection. Taking in the room, Ramsey grasped the organizing principle. Logical positivism in one place, transcendentalists in another, existentialist and moral philosophers—all were brilliantly grouped and alphabetized. Adam must have been a stickler for order.
“As I said, I kept the room for him just as he left it. I always assumed he was coming back. But now?” He shrugged.
Grossinger walked over to a large metal filing cabinet. He opened the upper drawer and inside were reams of handwritten notes, yellow pads filled with mathematical symbols and file folders stuffed with papers.
“Adam wrote constantly all his life. Said he hoped someday to write the quintessential philosophical treatise. Somebody should go through these and see what’s here.”
“You?”
“Of course not. Maybe you know somebody who might like to be paid to organize this stuff?”
“I might.” Ramsey thought of a bright young graduate from the nearby University of Wisconsin who he just interviewed for an internship.
Grossinger’s mood shifted. He was no longer the jovial storyteller. “Tell me again what you’re up to?”
Ramsey wondered how Grossinger would respond to the story of his paranormal experience but he decided to risk the truth. “Do you believe in apparitions or visits from spirits, angels, or even the dead?” Ramsey waited for a reaction but Grossinger’s steely gaze never shifted. “When I was at the shrine three days ago I had what could be called a visitation from Adam. He gave me a riddle about how it was time for me to sow the seeds of a life. I’m trying to make sense of this experience and the riddle. Can you help?”
The smile returned. “I believe I already have. I have an appointment I must get to in ten minutes.” He then disarmed Ramsey when he said, “Stay as long as you like, lock up when you leave. And when you get back to the Milagro Shrine, tell Carlotta I love her.”
Ramsey knew Grossinger was playing with him and enjoying it. “A last question. When did you take Adam to Albuquerque?”
“I believe it was in June of 2011. By the way, no one could ever figure out why Adam was driving Sam’s motorcycle that day. Adam always said he had no recollection of what happened.”
Ramsey spent another hour carefully studying the room. Eventually he was drawn to the book on the table alongside Adam’s bed. It was William James’s Varieties of Religious Experiences, and it was open to the page with a quote underlined: “There are two lives, the natural and the spiritual, and we must lose the one before we can participate in the other.” The idea of him trying to commit suicide immediately popped into Ramsey’s mind. Is that what he was doing on the motorcycle?
Ramsey tried to make sense of some of Adam’s writings. He’s either a genius or self-deluded. The last thing he noticed on Adam’s desk were books on Scotland and travel logs and maps of Edinburgh. What was it Carlotta had said? His father was Scots and he’d been born in Edinburgh practically on the steps of Holyrood Palace.
He sat in the wingback chair by the window. The leather was shiny from use and it was obvious Adam had spent many hours reading here. As often happened at a time when he was sifting through clues to puzzles, his thoughts drifted to his old girlfriend, Paige Ripperton, and he wondered what she would think.