Like it or not, I’ve learned a few things about Cleveland history since I started my job at Garden View Cemetery. Never interested in the past, I’d pretty much been swallowed up whole by it, and not just by the dead I’d seen and talked to, but by those thousands of Garden View residents whose last resting places I saw each and every day I went to work.
When I took visitors on tours, I had to know who was who and what was what and why it was important (well, Ella said it was important) so people could get to know more about these dead peoples’ lives.
History went along with the package, and history told me that the building I’d been sent to at eight o’clock that Monday night was the city’s famous Terminal Tower.
Here’s all anyone ever needs to know: the Terminal Tower is a Cleveland icon, fifty-two stories high and smack dab at the heart of what we call Public Square, the center of downtown. Once upon a time when it was built (back in the 1920s), it was the tallest building in the country except for the Empire State Building. It was built by two brothers, the Van Sweringens, who back in the day were movers and shakers in the city and had a few billion dollars to their names. Originally, the tower was part of a huge complex that stood on top of a railroad station, but these days, there are no more trains in and out except for the city’s local rapid transit cars. There’s a mall at and below street level that includes shops and restaurants and offices in the tower.
I stepped out of the elevator on the tenth floor of the Terminal Tower and glanced around. Like pretty much every other office building I’d ever been in, this one was predictable, and except for the marble floors which said something about the age of the building, pretty much uninspired. The walls were white, the offices I passed had glass doors that led into reception areas and signs outside that said they housed things like attorneys and engineers and architects.
The scrawled note Caleb had handed me told me to go to the end of the hallway and that’s where I found myself, convinced that Dan had opened some sort of private practice (for what, studying peoples’ brains?) and that, as usual, he was working crazy hours.
Unlike the other offices I’d seen, this one had a solid wood door, and it was locked. I knocked and got no answer.
Just as I raised my hand to knock again, the door was pulled open just enough for me to see Caleb standing on the other side.
Standing being the operative word in that sentence.
‘You’re early,’ he growled.
‘I found a parking space faster than I thought I would.’
He wasn’t listening. But then, his head was bent and he was looking over his shoulder, obviously trying to catch something coming from another room. A second later, he yelled, ‘Who is Mel Brooks?’
I can be excused for being just a tad confused. ‘He makes movies, right?’ I asked.
But again, Caleb wasn’t listening. Balanced on each of the canes he held, the kind that had braces that went around his forearms, he called out again, ‘What is a sylph?’
‘Uh …’ I’m not exactly sure what I was going to say and I guess it’s a good thing because he shouted, ‘What is tweed?’
‘I can come in, right?’
I think he actually forgot I was there, because he flinched and turned to me. From somewhere behind him, I heard the distant, droning sound of a car commercial. ‘Sure, yeah.’ He stepped back and opened the door all the way. ‘Come on in.’
I didn’t. Not right then, anyway, but it’s not like I didn’t have a good excuse. With the door fully open and Caleb standing back, I toed the doorway, totally stunned and feeling like Dorothy must have when she plunked down into a Technicolor Oz.
I looked back the way I had come, at the white walls and the offices arranged like soldiers, one after the other. I turned to Caleb and the hallway that stretched behind him for what looked like miles. The entire hallway was paneled in rich, dark wood, including the ceiling. The furniture was old and substantial, there was a mahogany table against the wall with sumptuous wingchairs on either side of it. There were silver sconces on the wall and, overhead, a crystal chandelier threw patterns of light all around.
Caleb closed the hallway door and, each step slow and obviously painful, he turned and disappeared into the first room down the hallway where I heard the sounds of a TV.
Still stunned, I followed along and found myself in a room with a fireplace on one wall and windows on another that provided a million-dollar view of downtown Cleveland.
It turned out the view didn’t interest Caleb in the least.
The commercial break was over, and Jeopardy was back on.
‘Who is the Duke of Wellington? What is a flyby? What is Dublin?’
Completely ignoring me, he answered each of the show’s questions rat-a-tat, long before any of the contestants even had time to ring their buzzers and attempt to answer.
‘What is the bourgeoisie? Who is Mel Tormé?’
‘Is Dan here?’ I dared to ask.
I guess he did remember I was there because he shot me a look, but he didn’t answer. Well, he didn’t answer me, anyway. What he actually said was, ‘What is flax?’
While he kept his eyes glued to the super-sized flat-screen, I held my temper (barely) and took a seat on a black leather couch. There was a desk across the room with three computers on it, each with its own giant-sized monitor and each of those opened to a different webpage. Next to them was what looked like a police scanner, a couple walkie-talkies and (I swear) some gizmo that reminded me of those radar devices they use in the UFO movies, the kind with a round screen and an arm that sweeps around it and beeps when aliens are close at hand. There was a framed photo there, too, of Caleb standing in full combat gear and holding a gun big enough to do major damage, a dusty landscape in the background. There were piles of papers on the desk and, on the table in the center of the room along with a couple beat-up books, more than a few empty beer bottles, and an empty bag from Taco Bell.
When it came to organizational skills, it looked like Caleb and I had something in common.
When Alex announced that the day’s Final Jeopardy category was Nineteenth Century American Literature, I knew I had a small window and I’d better act fast.
‘So …’ I got up and marched over to where he stood in front of the TV. ‘What happened to the wheelchair?’
He looked down at the braces on his arms. ‘What, you think I was trying to pull some kind of scam back at the hospital?’ I guess he knew that’s exactly what I was thinking because he didn’t give me a chance to answer. ‘It’s easier to use the chair when I’m out, but I need the exercise. I use these around the house.’
‘House?’ I checked out the twenty-foot-high ceiling, the chandelier that hung at the center of the room. I peeked out into the hallway again and all that rich, dark wood. ‘You live here?’
I should have known better than to expect an answer. I mean, any answer other than, ‘What is The Purloined Letter?’
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he turned off the TV.
‘Don’t you want to find out if you’re right?’ I asked him.
For the first time since I walked in, he flashed that hot-as-hell grin I’d seen back at the hospital. ‘I’m always right. So …’ It took some effort and obviously some skill, but he managed to pivot around and joined me near the doorway. ‘We should get down to business.’
‘Yes, we should. So where’s Dan?’
‘Callahan?’ Caleb stomped over to the other side of the room and turned that photo of himself facedown on the desk before he shuffled through some papers. He didn’t fool me. He wasn’t searching for information, he was stalling for time, and when he was done, he had the nerve to give me a look that was all about innocence. ‘Tibet,’ is all he said.
‘What?’ I’d already flown at him so it was a little late to stop myself, but I didn’t knock into him or knock him over, and I figured that was something, especially considering how easy it would have been. ‘What do you mean, Tibet? He can’t be in—’
‘Tibet.’ He was sure of himself so he could afford to watch me seethe. ‘Dan …’ He propped himself against the desk so he could slip one arm out of the brace and run a hand along the back of his neck. ‘That boy’s long gone, just about a year now.’
‘But why did you … Why didn’t you … I said I wanted to see Dan and you said …’
‘That you should stop by.’ He gave me the same kind of careful up-and-down look he had back at the hospital. Now that he was standing, I saw that Caleb and I were the same height. We were eye-to-eye. Which meant I couldn’t help but catch the way his were touched with flecks of amber that caught the gleam of the chandelier.
There was no way he could miss the flames in my eyes, but apparently, the guy was fireproof. As if I hadn’t said a word, he headed for the door. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘I’ll show you around.’
He was out of the room faster than it should have been possible for a man with two canes, and I scrambled to catch up with him. I found him outside a room with yet another fireplace and wallpapered in an amazing swirl of spring green and white.
‘Dining room,’ he briefly glanced inside before he hobbled to the next room.
‘Gym.’
Except for another fireplace and chandelier, this room was sleek and modern and complete with a treadmill, weights, and a platform that was about ten feet long and had railings on each side. I had no doubt he used it to practice walking.
I glimpsed a kitchen, too, with plenty of stainless appliances and couldn’t help but ask, ‘Where do you sleep?’
Caleb glanced up at the wood-paneled ceiling. ‘Twelve bedrooms upstairs on floors eleven and twelve. If you’d like a tour …’
He knew I didn’t or he wouldn’t have grinned that way. I breezed past him and farther down the hallway to where it opened into a wide foyer, a stairway on one side and a wall of leaded glass windows on the other.
‘Great room’s right here,’ he said from behind me, and the room he led me into was the size of the house I’d lived in before Dad got sent up the river. The timbered ceiling was two-stories tall and, not one, but two huge crystal chandeliers hung over an Oriental rug as big as a football field. There was a fireplace on the far wall that was taller than me, and a sort of gallery, like a choir loft, above the double doors where we’d walked in.
‘That’s where the musicians used to play,’ Caleb said, looking up to where I was looking. ‘You know, when they had parties here.’
It was beyond amazing. ‘What is this place?’ I asked him, and then answered before he could, ‘I mean besides where you live.’
‘It’s where the Van Sweringens used to live.’
‘The brothers who built the building.’
‘Pretty and smart.’ He nodded. ‘They had a home in the suburbs and an estate in the country and they kept this here little apartment for business guests and for when they worked late and didn’t want to leave the city.’
‘And now you live here.’
‘Home sweet home.’
‘And Dan lives here, too?’
‘Dan’s in Tibet.’
‘Yeah, you told me that. Which means I paid twenty bucks to park for nothing.’
‘You think?’
One entire wall of the great room was lined with leaded glass windows, and Caleb went and leaned against it, easing up on the braces as he did, and some of the tension eased from his shoulders, too. The glass in those windows was old and smoky and there was no clear view, but the city lights winked at us from the other side, muted and blurred like stars someone had tried to erase.
The hell with ambiance; I headed straight for the door.
‘You’re not leaving, are you?’ Caleb called after me.
I was already standing in the double doorway under the musicians’ gallery so it wasn’t like he was some kind of genius, even if he did know all the answers on Jeopardy. ‘I told you, nobody can help me but Dan.’
‘And you told me it was personal, too,’ he called over because really, the room was huge and by this time it seemed like we were miles apart. ‘But you’re going to have to do something and do it quick, cher. With or without Dan. You know, before someone tries to kill you again.’
I froze and I guess I stood there quite a while because when I snapped to, Caleb was right in front of me. ‘You want to tell me what’s going on?’
I looked away. ‘You wouldn’t understand.’
‘Try me.’
‘You think Dan’s an absentminded professor.’
‘I do, but I also know he’s one of the few people in this country doing serious scientific research on the paranormal.’
My gaze shot to his. ‘You know?’
‘Oh, darlin’, I know a whole lot of things.’
‘Like all the Jeopardy answers.’
A smile touched his lips. ‘Every night. Every single one of them.’ Caleb walked past me and back out into the foyer. There were a couple chairs there and he sank down in one of them. Rather than look like I was giving a presentation to a class, I sat down in the other.
‘Now,’ he said quite simply, ‘tell me.’
I shrugged and wondered if I would have felt just as confused if Dan was the one asking for the details. ‘I don’t know where to begin.’
‘At the beginning.’
‘The beginning …’ I shook my head in wonder. ‘You mean, the first time someone tried to kill me recently?’
It was hardly a laughing matter, but something about what I said set Caleb off. He slapped a knee. ‘Recently! I knew I was going to like you the moment I clapped my eyes on you, sugar. Yeah, tell me about how someone tried to kill you recently.’
I didn’t mean to do it, but my hand automatically drifted to my neck. ‘Yesterday …’ I hated sighing. It made me look like some stupid heroine from some stupid romance novel. I sighed, anyway. ‘My mother tried to strangle me.’
He nodded. ‘That explains the red nose. And the turtleneck. But it doesn’t explain why you wanted to see Dan. Unless you think there’s more going on than just your momma being miffed at you.’
‘Of course there’s more going on!’ It was suddenly so obvious to me, I sputtered out the words. ‘My mother tried to kill me, and last week, my boss tried to run me over.’
Thinking this through, he pursed his lips. ‘He doesn’t like you?’
‘She does like me. She says I’m like one of her daughters. And just for the record, my mother likes me, too. I’m her only child.’
Maybe he knew how painful it was to even talk about what had happened at the bridal fair because he controlled a smile, but just barely. ‘When did all this start?’
I didn’t have to think about it. ‘Last Monday. At the cemetery. The same day I met—’ I swallowed the name.
We were seated side by side, and Caleb put a hand on my arm. It was a cool evening and I was wearing skinny jeans and a tawny-colored sweater that didn’t prevent the heat of his skin from seeping through. I slipped my arm out from under his hand and stood up. ‘So you see why I need to talk to Dan,’ I said. ‘He’s the only one who will understand. If you’ve got a cell number …’
One corner of his mouth screwed up. ‘In Tibet?’
I threw my hands in the air. ‘Well, I’ve got to do something! There’s something weird happening and, yes, it’s something paranormal. And I can’t just stand back and let it happen to the people I love.’
‘I get it. Really, I do.’ It took him a bit to get to his feet. ‘But you’re in boo-coo trouble if I’m not mistakin’, and you’re going to have to trust someone if you’re going to get out of it. I may not be Dan, but right now, it looks like I’m all you got. Unless I’m not.’ He gave me a steady look. ‘Why don’t you ask your boyfriend for help?’
‘How do you—’ I gave myself a mental slap; this wasn’t the time for games. ‘I can’t,’ I admitted. ‘There’s something weird going on with him, too.’
‘Your boyfriend.’
I didn’t so much shrug as I did twitch. ‘It sounds so high school, doesn’t it? Quinn isn’t just my boyfriend, he’s—’
‘Your lover.’
I looked Caleb in the eye. ‘Yes.’
I didn’t see a clock anywhere nearby but I swear, I heard the seconds tick away – one, two, three – before he said, ‘Lucky man.’
‘I’m lucky, too,’ I said, and I believed it with all my heart. ‘He’s wonderful. The best. But …’
‘But?’
I don’t know what possessed me. Maybe it was keeping secrets and bottling up emotions. Maybe there was something about the strange apartment that no one would guess even existed and the silence that pressed around us. Maybe it was Caleb himself and maybe it didn’t matter. When I let go a breath, it felt as if I’d been holding it in all week long.
‘He’s a cop, and we were at the scene of a murder and he took the murder weapon. I don’t mean he took it like he took it so it could be entered in as evidence, I mean he took it. Really took it. I found it in his closet.’
Caleb whistled low under his breath. ‘And this all happened since last Monday?’
My blood pounded and my heartbeat did, too, and I couldn’t stand still if my life depended on it. I zipped over to the huge double doors of the great room and back again, my fingers folded into fists and pressed to my sides. ‘All of it has happened since last week when I got this package at the cemetery.’ As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I realized how weird they sounded and explained. ‘I work at Garden View. And I was there last Monday and this big old Buick drove through, and the driver brought me a package and inside the package was an old beer bottle, and I don’t know why anyone would send me an old beer bottle, but somebody did, only Quinn dropped the bottle as soon as it was out of the box and it broke so it really didn’t matter, anyway, and then the guy who brought it … well, that’s the person I found dead when I went to see him and he was murdered, you see, and the murder weapon was this big old fountain pen holder on a marble base and it was there when Quinn got there with the other cops, and then it wasn’t, and of course I figured they’d taken it, you know, the way they do. Only they didn’t. Because, like I said, I found it at Quinn’s.’
To Caleb’s eternal credit, he didn’t bat an eye at this crazy story. ‘He’s an honest cop?’
‘As the day is long!’
‘And Quinn, he hasn’t tried to kill you, too, has he?’
The very thought made me feel as if I’d been punched in the solar plexus. ‘No. Not him.’
‘But he doesn’t know you saw the fountain pen holder.’
I sucked in a breath. ‘You think if he did—’
‘I can’t say. Not for sure.’ I guess I looked like I was going to keel over, because Caleb put a steadying hand on my arm. ‘We need to get to the bottom of this,’ he said.
I didn’t miss the we. I don’t think Caleb intended me to. When I looked his way, I realized there were tears in my eyes and, annoyed at myself for showing even that much weakness, I dashed my hand across my cheeks. ‘How?’ I asked him.
‘I don’t have a clue!’
At least he was honest, and I couldn’t help but smile.
‘That’s better.’ He met my smile with one of his own. ‘But we’re never going to get anywhere if you don’t tell me the whole story, cher. You said it all started last week when you met someone, only you haven’t told me who that someone is.’
I made a face. ‘You won’t believe me.’
He gave me a wink. ‘Try me.’
I could, and find myself laughed out of the apartment.
Or labeled a nutcase.
Or considered a threat to my own and others’ safety.
But there was something in Caleb’s steady gaze that told me there might be another possibility, too.
I drew in a breath for courage. ‘Eliot Ness.’
Even if he didn’t believe me, I’d hoped he’d be a little impressed. Instead, without a word, he moved past me and into the gym and when he came back out again, he was in his wheelchair. When he rolled by, he grabbed my hand. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘We’re going upstairs.’
I held back, but he was determined, and plenty strong. I shuffled beside him and found myself in front of the private elevator that served the apartment, and when he hit the door open button and backed into it, I got in, too.
Honestly, I wasn’t sure what I expected, but I was relieved when he didn’t punch the buttons for either floor eleven or twelve.
He hit thirteen.
The door slid closed and I found myself with my back to him, wondering where we were headed and why.
‘We must have a long way to go,’ I said, trying for conversation to cover a sudden onset of jitters. ‘You needed your chair.’
Behind me, he laughed. ‘The chair? Hell no, cher. The chair is just so I can enjoy the view.’