Chapter 12

Just as Alene was about to leave, Kofi limped through the door, his leg covered in a professional-looking bandage. He limped to Julian and Heather’s table, and from where Alene stood, she could see that he spoke harshly to Julian. She wondered how they knew each other. Last thing she needed on a lazy Saturday morning was to deal with personal disputes.

Alene walked over to the table, but Olly got there first. He began removing empty cups and shooting the breeze with Kofi, asking if he’d found anything worthwhile that morning, and wondering if the gash on his leg was healing okay. Jack had followed Olly out from the kitchen and hovered near the table with a broom.

“I found a rusted tricycle and locked it with my bike,” Kofi said, flashing his dimples. “I can do a lot with a rusted tricycle.” Julian kept his eyes on his plate, clearly relieved that Kofi’s attention was distracted.

“Like what?” Jack asked.”

“Truth is,” said Olly, sounding a little too enthusiastic. “I’m standing here because there were some raised voices coming from this table, and I want to remind you that you shouldn’t be bringing your little squabbles into Alene’s café.”

“Cut it out, Olly,” said Julian, with a weary sigh. “And I didn’t say a word.”

“Because you don’t have a leg to stand on,” Kofi said, “You were at the tournament last week, Olly, and you know why I don’t want him here.”

Jack whispered to Alene, “I’ll just stand here in case things get out of hand.” Alene gave him a thumbs up. Another sign that Jack had become more of a team player.

Olly circled the table, talking, “It was very exciting to watch you in action, Julian,” he gushed. “I admit it, I had no idea you could move that quickly. I gotta say, there’s nothing I like better than watching two men in physical combat. Especially when one of them cheats.”

Kofi hadn’t moved. “Just leave,” he said quietly to Julian. Kacey had reached Kofi by then and was pulling him away. Alene helped Julian buckle in his kids, and when they’d finished, he pushed the stroller out the door without speaking. Jack cleaned up their mess.

Alene grabbed Olly before he could return to the kitchen. “What just happened?” she asked. “Why did Kofi tell Julian to leave?”

Olly pantomimed pulling a gun from a holster as he swaggered, saying, “Because that’s how we handle things here at the O.K. Corral, little missy.” Sometimes he refused to be serious.

Edith called out from the smoothie section, “I thought it was extremely rude of Kofi and you shouldn’t allow that sort of thing, Alene.”

Alene lifted an eyebrow and Olly laughed. “Well, last Friday night, there was a bit of an incident, and those two gunslingers duked it out.”

Alene followed Olly into the kitchen wanting more details, and Edith followed closely behind. “I hope you don’t mean they were shooting guns at each other,” Edith said.

“No, Edith, I was joking. They were actually at a jiujitsu competition,” said Olly, heading to wash his hands.

“Why didn’t I know that?” Alene asked.

“You did know it, Alene,” said Edith. “Julian told you that’s where he was when his mother was rushed to the hospital. That was the day he had some acid reflux, and I suggested…”

“Fighting is what people are supposed to do at a competition,” Olly said, interrupting Edith, “but Julian broke some rules. You know I’ve been trying to get you to take a class for the past three years. Seriously, Alene, it’ll change your life.”

“What do you mean when you say that Julian broke some rules?” asked Alene. There was always a lot to do in the kitchen, but she had to get to the bottom of this.

Olly said, “It was kind of sad. Julian Evans, also known as the-Incredible-Hulk-just-before-he-turns-green, made a couple of illegal moves and got kicked out of the tournament.”

“What did he do?” Alene asked. She couldn’t believe Julian Evans was a competitive fighter. He always seemed so lethargic, and he’d been such a meek teacher, allowing obnoxious sixth graders to disrupt his classroom, according to Sierra, nearly every day.

“I don’t know which thing got him kicked out of the tournament,” said Olly. Everyone at the baking table followed the conversation, turning their heads while they continued to knead or measure. “It was either the head butting or the kick to Kofi’s groin. I’m not sure the ref noticed the illegal move Julian made with his elbows, but I think I can say, without exaggerating, that Julian Evans is a cheating cheater who cheats.” Olly turned his back to Alene to put on oven mitts and lift a tray out of the oven for one of the bakers.

“That’s awful,” said Alene. Noah had begged to take jiujitsu after she’d taken him to observe one of Olly’s classes, but she thought it had been way too violent. Jocelyn had tried to convince her that Krav Maga would be a better alternative for all three of the children because they’d learn to protect themselves in real life. Alene had planned to sign them up for after-school classes in the fall. The younger two would probably love it, and she’d let Sierra make up her own mind. Ruthie’s kids were already doing something or other and Ruthie said she thought it provided character building along with music lessons and team sports.

“Kofi and Julian both come in all the time,” said LaTonya. “How’d they miss running into each other before today?”

Everyone in the kitchen had an opinion about it, and LaTonya suggested that Julian always came in the morning, well before Kofi ever showed up. “I don’t know and don’t care. I just don’t want fighting in my café,” Alene said, taking off her apron and grabbing her purse from the chair behind her desk.

Julian didn’t seem like someone who cheated, but she’d already been wrong about him being competitive. And he didn’t look like someone who would commit a murder, but it would be silly to assume that murderers were required to look the part. Maybe he’d gotten away with other crimes as well, all because he looked exactly like a nerdy science teacher who wrote science fiction stories and spent a lot of time with his mother. “I’m sure Frank already looked into Julian’s story about where he was the night of Stanley’s murder,” Alene added. She made sure everything was set and said her goodbyes.

Olly followed Alene out the back door. “Did Frank mention if they found anyone else’s DNA on or around Stanley?” Olly asked. “It’s been over a week.”

Alene turned in the alley and said, “I read that the state is backed up for at least half a year on getting DNA results. I wouldn’t even bother asking Frank.”

Olly whipped his head around so that his curls bounced. “Guess you’ll have to keep Sherlocking it on your own, boss,” he said.

She waved goodbye to Olly and started walking. She was still thinking about Julian cheating twenty minutes later as she passed Sylvie’s room on the tenth floor of St. Darius Hospital. Sylvie’s door was open and she was asleep. Even from the hallway, Alene could see that her face was puffy, and she didn’t look any healthier than she had looked earlier in the week. Maybe her doctors had figured out that there was no cure for narcissism.

Alene rushed past. Cal slept through Alene opening his door, sitting down beside him, and answering emails for twenty minutes. He finally woke up and smiled to see her. “Hello, Sweetheart,” he said, smiling. His eyes were more focused. “I’m going crazy here.” He thumbed towards Sylvie’s room.

“If she starts yelling while I’m here,” Alene said, “I’ll go over and say something.”

“Can the thing you say be. ‘Shut the hell up?” Cal wore his exasperated expression. “Actually, it’ll give me. Great pleasure. To do it myself.” Alene noticed that his sentences were getting longer.

They heard Sylvie then, her voice like a saw cutting through steel. Alene didn’t want her father to get up before he was ready. She said, “I’ll take care of it, Dad.” She saluted him and hustled over to Sylvie’s open door.

“Well finally,” said Sylvie, patting her bed as if she thought that Alene was going to come in and sit down next to her. “I’ve been trying to get your attention. You have no idea how hard it is to be stuck in the hospital.”

Alene didn’t want to argue. She said, “I’m sorry you’re having a hard time Sylvie, but my father is having a hard time sleeping with all the noise coming from this room.” As if other people were also shouting and barking out orders.

Sylvie looked confused. “I don’t know what noise you’re talking about,” she said, “but since you’re here, I wanted to chat with you. I wasn’t going to say anything, but I’d really like to know who you keep using that Polish woman to clean your apartment.”

That was a weird non-sequitur. “Are you asking me about Blanca?” she asked. “She’s my father’s caregiver. Did she do something to upset you?” Alene knew that Blanca enjoyed rattling people who annoyed her.

“Yeah, I’d say so. She slept with my husband, and that’s why I fired her,” Sylvie said, her hands pressed together as if she spent most of her day praying and her voice hushed as if she were sharing a state secret that Alene didn’t have clearance to hear. “Also, she didn’t dust the pictures or move a single chair to clean underneath the dining room table.” Sylvie sucked in her cheeks and frowned at Alene over the top of her big red glasses.

Alene remembered Blanca complaining about the Huffs. There was no way she’d have slept with Stanley, and she always dusted the pictures. Also, Sylvie hadn’t fired Blanca, she’d quit. Alene said, “You must be mistaken, Sylvie.”

Sylvie snorted. “No, I’m not mistaken. Your Blanca is a whore.”

Alene shook her head. “That is ridiculous, Sylvie.” Blanca was always meeting men through her church, and she would assess their husband potential, gossiping to Alene about how this one made a good living but never laughed, or how that one was too stingy to take her out to dinner. Blanca had street smarts and longed for a real relationship. There was no way she’d have slept with a married man, especially not Stanley Huff. She’d thought he was old and pathetic.

The only question, Alene thought with disgust, was why she’d just let Sylvie get under her skin.

Sylvie pointed at Alene and said, “I have proof. Here’s a lonely, undocumented Polish girl who can always use extra money, and there’s Stanley, who can’t stop chasing women.”

“That’s not proof, Sylvie,” said Alene. “She’s not a girl and she’s lived in this country for over twenty years. She’s also not the kind of person who would sleep with someone’s husband.”

Sylvie said, “Well, maybe she’s not like you. Maybe she needs a man.”

Alene felt her mouth go dry. What would Ruthie do in this situation? “Shame on you for speaking like that about someone you don’t even know,” Alene said. At least she’d refrained from using the kind of expletives that Sylvie deserved.

“Oh, I know the kind of person she is,” Sylvie said. “Have you seen her diamond stud earrings?” Alene stared out the window at the Chevron sculpture near the Diversey Harbor and Sylvie blathered about how the studs had a diamond on one side and a sapphire on the other. Stanley bought them for their fifteenth anniversary, and she kept them in the original velvet box in her jewelry drawer. Alene tuned in when Sylvie added, “Those earrings have disappeared, and Blanca was the one who took them.”

Alene took a deep, cleansing breath. “I’m sure you’ll find them when you get home, Sylvie,” she said. Blanca would not have stolen your earrings. She has plenty of her own jewelry.”

Julian came in the room and Alene nodded at him, thinking again that he slouched too much to be a practitioner of jiujitsu. Not that she knew what they were supposed to look like. She turned to leave without a word. That was the last conversation she intended to have with her no matter how long Sylvie Huff stayed in the hospital.

When Kacey showed up an hour later, Alene was scrolling through Instagram and Cal was contentedly engrossed in a book about the history of human civilization. “How’s everyone?” asked Kacey, kissing Cal on the cheek. He put down his book as Alene vented about Sylvie’s accusation. She hadn’t shared it yet with her dad.

“It’s nonsense,” Cal said. “Blanca has better taste than that.”

Kacey said, “If I let everyone trigger me the way you do sometimes, Alene, I swear I’d be so twisted in knots I’d probably throw myself in the lake and let the rip tide carry me away.”

Alene hated hearing Kacey speak so casually about suicide after everything she’d been through, the drugs, the overdoses, the rehab programs, and then her father’s murder. “I don’t let everyone trigger me,” Alene replied, trying to convince herself that it was true. “Well, most of the time, that is.”

“Ruthie would yell at you for listening to Sylvie’s gossip,” Kacey said. Ruthie never yelled, but she would have been disappointed.

“Blanca is. An exceptional person,” said Cal. “I can’t wait to be able to take a walk with her. Play a couple of games of chess. Talk about news. Of the day.” He looked wearily at Kacey and Alene, and added, “It’s nice to have the two of you here, but I want to go home.”

Kacey gave him a rare smile. She stayed in the room chatting with Cal, telling him all about Kofi, until Lydia and Theo came. Kacey got up to leave. Cal, looking disappointed, said, “Plenty of room. For everyone to sit down. Kacey, honey.”

“Plenty of room for everyone to sit down,” Theo repeated as he pulled a chair closer to the bed. Alene sincerely hoped he made Lydia happy. “How are you doing, Cal?” Theo continued. “My mother sends her regards. Maybe I should get her on the phone.” He pulled out his cell. “She’ll probably tell you all about the incredible weather they’re having in Naples.”

“Glad to hear she’s doing well, Theo,” said Alene, reaching for Kacey’s hand. They were all used to hearing about his mother. It was nice how much he cared about her, compared to Neal, who only called his mother when he needed her help with the kids. And even though Alene didn’t have anything in common with Theo, he did all the grocery shopping and cooked dinner when they didn’t go out to a restaurant, and he’d put up with her sister’s narcissism for nearly four years. She should be more grateful to him for marrying Lydia. She couldn’t’ imagine how unhappy Lydia would be on her own. “Kacey and I are going to leave now so the two of you can have some time with Dad.” She said it in as cheerful, friendly a tone as she could manage, and dragged Kacey out the door before Lydia or Theo had time to look up from their cells.

Kacey headed outside while Alene turned to the reception desk to get Lawrence’s room number. When she got there and peeked in, she saw that his face was swollen, pallid, and covered in tiny bandages. The accident must have shattered his window but not Lillian’s. He was asleep and alone in the room, so Alene didn’t linger. She’d come back when Lillian was there. He looked old and fragile, no longer a murder suspect, but he could still be on the murderer’s list of victims. Alene thought again about Stanley’s wills, both the one that included Jocelyn and the one that left everything to Harrison. But wouldn’t Harrison have a lawyer of his own, and wouldn’t that lawyer have explained how inheritance works in Illinois?

Real life wasn’t like in mystery novels, where the suspect soon makes another move that gives the detective enough information to zero in. Maybe she had to go back to the most logical explanation, that Stanley’s death was an accident. Somebody came to his office the previous Friday night, started fighting for any number of reasons, and Stanley had a heart attack.

Lydia and Theo were on the way out and greeted her as she stepped off the elevator on the tenth floor. “Neal’s mother came,” Lydia said, “so we figured we might as well leave. I guess it’s really good that they’re friends.” At least Lydia, who initially thought Alene’s ex-mother-in-law had nefarious designs on their father, had come around to appreciating their relationship.

Theo repeated his wife’s last words, “It’s really good that they’re friends.”. His repeating was a tic of sorts, and Alene tried to be more accepting of it. “Because it isn’t easy to be alone at that age,” he added. “My mother never found anyone after my father died seventeen years ago. If she lived in Chicago, I know she and Cal would be close friends. She’s happy with the weather in Florida, but she’s lonely. I’d never give up family for the weather.”

“I hear you,” said Alene. That was the first time her brother-in-law had said anything even remotely negative about his mother. He hardly ever said anything negative about anything – maybe it made him feel vulnerable to admit that his world wasn’t perfect. Or maybe he was just an optimist, which had its pros and cons. What if he was incapable of commiserating with Lydia’s suffering regarding her infertility, and she’d had to face all that disappointment on her own? That would explain some of her recent prickliness. Alene wondered how she could help her sister going forward. She wasn’t disappointed that Theo and Lydia left so soon after they arrived because it meant more conversation with her ex-mother-in-law.

Mitzi was sitting next to Cal, holding his hand. He loved having his hand held while he dozed. Alene had to remember to do it more often. She and Mitzi started chatting about the children and the café, while Cal nodded and smiled, clearly happy to have them sitting by his side. Alene always thought of Mitzi Dunn as her consolation prize for divorcing Neal. She was loving and generous with Alene and the children and demanded better behavior from her son. Alene was grateful every time Mitzi smoothed over a problem that Neal caused by forgetting to pick up the kids, neglecting to feed them, or disregarding their needs in some way.

When Frank came in a while later, Mitzi whispered to Alene that he seemed like a good guy and shooed the two of them out into the hall. “You could at least give me some time alone with your father,” she said with a wink.

In the hallway with Cal’s door closed behind them, Frank kissed her forehead, which was comforting, and asked how both she and her dad were feeling. They spent a long moment gazing at each other until a noise behind her made her jump. It was just someone pushing a cart filled with drinks. Until the distraction, Alene had felt like they were both trying to see into each other’s souls. Was that what love felt like?

Frank swept a stray hair off her face. “You look beautiful, but tired,” he said.

“I’m all right. Thanks for going to visit Lillian this morning,” Alene said. It always embarrassed her when someone called her beautiful. She knew it wasn’t true. “I know she was grateful.”

He wrapped his arms around her. “We never got to say a proper goodbye,” he said into her hair. “And you smell good.”

“Thanks,” said Alene. How could she smell good after a morning at the café and several hours in a stale hospital room? “Did you learn anything from Lillian or Lawrence?”

“Lillian reminds me of my mother,” said Frank, ignoring her question. “She’s so competent and calm about everything. Lawrence slept through the whole visit. Apparently, he volunteers at the hospital and people adore him, so there were several other visitors while I was there. I was sorry I couldn’t do anything to help regarding the accident, but nobody called in a witness statement. We had nothing to go on.”

It felt so good, she wanted to stand there for hours with her face resting against his shoulder. “I need you to be honest about what’s going on, Frank,” Alene said. “What if Jocelyn isn’t the only one in danger?”

“I think you’re pretty safe at the moment,” he said as he ushered her away from Cal’s room, “but the world is a dangerous place.” He was probably right, but she’d hoped to hear that they’d figured out who murdered Stanley. It was too late to remember Sylvie’s open door.

“You might be interested in this, Detective Shaw,” Sylvie hollered from her bed. “Alene didn’t let me finish telling her before, but it’s important.”

Alene hung her head. She should have warned him about Sylvie’s latest outburst, but Frank said, “Hello, Mrs. Huff, I hope you’re feeling better.”

“You have no idea,” Sylvie retorted. Her voice sounded much smaller than usual.

“Is there something you need to tell me?” Frank asked, still standing just outside her door.

“Well,” Sylvie narrowed her already half-closed eyes. “I tried to tell Alene, but she refuses to believe me. I have proof that her cleaning lady was having an affair with my husband.”

Frank just stood waiting for Sylvie to continue. Alene said, “She’s speaking about Blanca, my dad’s caregiver.”

“It’s about the earrings I saw her wearing,” said Sylvie as if that settled everything.

Alene said, “Blanca’s earrings only prove that she’s an excellent shopper.”

“Oh, no,” Sylvie said, who then blathered about the diamond studs she probably lost while pulling a shirt off over her head. How could she have recognized her earrings from ten feet away while Blanca was hurrying past her room? It was absurd, and not just because most diamond studs looked the same.

Frank nodded thoughtfully and said, “Thank you, Mrs. Huff.” He took Alene’s hand and pulled her away from Sylvie and towards the elevators. After a few yards, he whispered into Alene’s ear, “I’m on it, Alene. No worries.” He squeezed her hand, and they walked out together, not speaking until they were outside the hospital.

“First, don’t let her get to you,” said Frank, as they headed across the street towards the mini-golf and the outdoor bar at Diversey, where he bought two beers. “She’s an unreliable witness.”

Alene said, “No kidding.” She started to tell him about Julian cheating during the jiujitsu tournament. Frank said that several people had mentioned the tournament, including Julian, who hadn’t said anything about cheating or being tossed out. Frank didn’t think it was significant to his investigation.

Alene disagreed and would not let go of the subject until he told her that he’d check into it. “Now we get to relax, right?” Frank asked. They sat back in Adirondack chairs and sipped their beer. It was after five, but the sun was still high and the air still hot and still. Could Frank see the sweat stains under her arms?

“Can I ask you just a few more questions?” she asked.

“You can ask as many questions as you want,” he said, his expression warm. “But I thought you’d been compiling evidence this whole time and I also thought you were going to let me rest for a while.”

It was hard to concentrate when he looked at her in that way. She shook herself and counted off using her fingers, “You said there were signs of a struggle in Stanley’s office, but I want to know what they were, and did any foreign substances show up in his lungs?”

Frank said, “Chair tipped over, papers strewed, clothing messed. Nothing in his lungs. Did I mention initials in the nine o’clock slot on his calendar? We haven’t figured them out.”

“So that’s why you wanted my employee list,” said Alene. Why had he taken so long to tell her? “What were the initials?”

“Three letters, R.G.S.” He’d closed his eyes and was basking in the still-bright sun. “This feels good to be out here, doesn’t it?”

“It wasn’t one of my employees,” said Alene, her mind spinning. Was it anyone she knew? “And yes, it is nice to be here. I promise I’ll stop bothering you soon.”

“It’s no bother, Alene,” Frank said. “We don’t know if the initials are for a name or several names. The R could have been for retirement plan or register to vote.”

Alene smiled, “But it was nine o’clock on a Friday night.”

“True,” said Frank, sinking deeper into the chair. She wanted to read his face with her fingers, especially to outline his mouth and rest her hand on his cheek. She’d never dated such a handsome man before.

Alene said, “I guess you’ve already checked Better Be Fit’s client list.” His answer was to reach take her hand. A squirrel scampered across the path, causing a tiny tan-colored dog to bark uncontrollably. It was ridiculous to think that she’d come up with an answer, especially as he brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it.

They leaned back in their chairs as the soft breeze relieved a bit of the heavy heat. There was a clinking of glasses from a nearby table and another squirrel dashed up the trunk of an old oak tree. Leaves of all shades fluttered in the surrounding trees. Listening to the uninterrupted chattering of squirrels and other people in the park, they sat side by side, sipping their beer.