Chapter Twenty-Six

WE DROVE TO Twelfth District, where we finally got a look at Mary’s credit card records. Not surprisingly, they weren’t, in the strictest sense, Mary’s records. The card Mary used belonged to Mrs. Isabella Supinsky, and Detective Roberts had already tracked her down. Seventy-years-old and living in North Olmsted, Mrs. Supinsky had had her wallet stolen while walking through the mall in the early afternoon of April 17th.

A frequent visitor to North Olmsted’s Great Northern Mall, Mrs. Supinsky noticed her wallet was missing when she attempted to pay for some clothing items at Target. Alarmed, her husband suggested they stop at the mall lost and found. When they did so, the Supinskys were relieved to find someone had brought the wallet back. More shockingly, her billfold still contained all of the cash Mrs. Supinsky had brought with her to the mall.

While marveling at the virtue of their fellow shoppers, the Supinskys failed to notice one of Mrs. Supinsky’s five credit cards was missing. The stolen MasterCard, stuffed well behind the first four, was not one she typically used. Mrs. Supinsky didn’t notice it was missing until ten days later when the credit card bill arrived in her mailbox. The location of the theft was notable. North Olmsted was an upper-class Cleveland suburb within a few minutes’ drive of Westlake, the home of Saint Edmund’s Church.

The charges on the credit card were a revealing mix. They included a two-hundred-forty-dollar expense for a Hertz car rental as well as a fifty-three-dollar charge from the Greater Cleveland Cab Company. The car rental charge had occurred on April 18th, the cab charge on the day Mary arrived in Cleveland.

The other items on the bill were a more eclectic mix. Most were gardening tools and cleaning supplies, though there were two additional items relating to a prescription and deodorant.

I wondered about the absence of an airport parking charge; then I remembered Mary had abandoned Drew’s car and never checked out through the parking lot exit. I also noted there were no charges after April 23rd. Grieve likely had discontinued using the card under the assumption Mrs. Supinsky would notice its absence much sooner than she did.

“We know which cab company they used,” Hannah said, “and we also know how much it cost. Allowing for a tip, that should give us a pretty good idea of mileage from the airport.”

“This also might tell us something else,” I said. “The New Orleans police report said Mary liked to garden. Other than working with animals, gardening was her only form of relaxation. Mary’s not the most mentally stable person. With her whole world turned upside-down, it’s natural she might return to her favorite hobby.”

“Agreed, but what’s your point?”

“Look what she bought—a hoe as well as some general gardening tools. My mother is a gardener. A hoe isn’t the kind of tool you’d buy for an indoor or terrace garden. Wherever they’re hiding, I think it’s in a house.”

Our discussion was interrupted by a package delivered to Hannah’s desk, the promised second copy of Drew’s hard drive. Hannah gave it to me with a reminder she was going out on a limb by handing me police evidence. She again made me promise not to take any action without her approval. I agreed, and Hannah returned to looking at the credit card statement.

“Do you wonder about the car rental?” she asked. “We need to check with Hertz, but renting a car in Grieve’s situation was taking quite a risk. After everything else they’ve done, why not simply steal one? The dollar amount for the rental is also odd. Depending on the type of car Hertz gave them, two hundred forty dollars will get you two to three days tops. Why rent a car for such a short period of time?”

“For all Grieve’s intelligence,” I replied, “maybe he simply didn’t know how to steal one. We’re dealing with a psychotic educated in psychiatry and a schizophrenic Southern woman who, before this episode, hardly stepped out of her parents’ home. That might qualify them to kill, but car theft demands more technical expertise. You or I could steal a car because we know how. I’m not sure either of them could.

“As to the length of the rental,” I continued, “if they’re living in someone’s house, they could now be using the homeowner’s car. Why hotwire or continue renting a car when you can simply force your captive to hand you the keys?”

We’d gone as far as we could with the credit card statement. We decided to try to find the cabbie who’d driven Mary from the airport that evening.

The Greater Cleveland Cab Company was located on West 140th Street, a section of Cleveland dominated by older manufacturing firms. Even in the age of Uber, the ninety-year-old company still provided most of the city’s taxi services. Whether that was due to the efficiency of its operation or the old-school nature of most Cleveland residents depended on whom you asked. That aside, the GCCC building was more modern than I expected, particularly when compared to its more industrial neighbors.

Hannah flashed her badge at the entrance, and we were taken to the office of Jack Tatum, manager for the daytime 10:00 to 6:00 p.m. shift. Jack, a gray-haired, African-American gentleman, greeted us with a surly hello. His mood changed when he learned Hannah’s last name.

“Any chance you’re related to David Page, the congressman?”

Hannah, immediately guarded, said, “Yes, he’s my father.”

Jack laughed, rose from his chair, and extended his hand. “You tell the old SOB Jack Tatum said hello. Your dad and I went to high school and college together. I would never have made it through either one if your father hadn’t pulled me along with him.”

Hannah was speechless. I think she’d always assumed her father was the one who needed pulling along in school. The thought of him helping someone else seemed beyond belief.

After some hesitation, she said, “I’ll tell my father we met. You two were friends in school?”

“We met at Saint Bellarmine’s. It was the mid-1970s, and I was the only Black kid there at that time. The way they looked at me, teachers as well as students, you’d have thought I had two heads. The people there weren’t particularly prejudiced; I just don’t think they’d ever run into a Black kid before. Your father was the only one who took the time to be friendly and help me with some of my classes. I went to public grade school before coming to Saint Bellarmine’s, and the transition wasn’t easy. Without his help, I never would have made it through.”

Hannah still looked astonished. As kids, we secretly assumed our parents appeared in this world the same time we were born. The notion that her father had a pre-asshole life seemed difficult for Hannah to process. While she was collecting her thoughts, I introduced myself and explained what we were looking for. I also mentioned I went to Saint Bellarmine’s.

Jack gave me a closer look. “You went to Saint Bellarmine’s? I thought I had it bad being Black.”

“It wasn’t as terrible as you think; I hadn’t transitioned back then.”

“Fair enough. So, you two are looking for the cabbie who picked up a blonde on April 20th sometime after 10:00 p.m. and paid fifty-three dollars by credit card. That should be easy enough to check. Is the cabbie in any trouble?”

“Not at all.” Hannah had finally found her voice. “We want to see what he or she remembers about the woman and her destination.”

Jack checked his computer and found the driver of Mary’s taxi was Lisa Estevez.

“You’re lucky,” Jack said. “Lisa switched from the evening to the afternoon shift about three weeks ago, so she’s on duty now. Let me see where she is.”

Jack contacted Lisa through the company’s dispatching system and found she had just dropped off two customers at the Cleveland casino. Jack asked us if we needed her to come into the office or if we’d be okay communicating by phone. While the phone option would have been faster, we figured Lisa might need to see Mary’s picture to jog her memory.

Lisa arrived at the company headquarters in thirty minutes. She seemed a little intimidated speaking to the police, so Hannah assured her she’d done nothing wrong. Without going into detail about the case, Hannah then showed her Mary’s picture and asked if she remembered picking her up from the airport in late April. The odds of her placing a customer from two months ago were slim. To my surprise, Lisa did just that.

“I remember that face and the blonde hair. Most of all, I remember she was in a real hurry. That’s not unusual for a customer, but she said she was in a hurry because someone was after her. That made me nervous because I half expected an angry ex-husband to come running after my cab. When that didn’t happen, I thought the lady would relax.

“If anything, she got even worse. She spent the whole trip looking all around and saying, ‘They’re coming. They’re coming.’ The way she talked, I started to think of my cousin, Tina. She was always jumpy when she was off her meds.”

“Do you remember where you dropped her off?” Hannah asked.

“I dropped her off at the Great Northern Mall. I asked if she was sure—except for the cinema, the mall closes after ten o’clock. She told me to mind my own business, so I let her off in front of the theater.”

“Do you remember anything else she said while she was in your car?”

“Yeah, she asked me how far Elfin Street was from the mall. I told her I’d never heard of it, but I offered to look it up. She told me not to bother. She said she’d find it on her own.”

“Are you sure Elfin was the street name she mentioned?”

“I’m sure. The name stuck with me because of the commercial—the one about the cookies.”

I looked at Hannah. “Before parking Drew’s car at the airport, Mary must have met Grieve to pick up the stolen credit card. Mary originally assumed they were staying at the Lakeview, and that meeting may have been the first time she heard there was a change in plan. With everything else going on, she never bothered to plot out the new address.”

Hannah nodded, and I looked up Elfin Street on my phone. It was a small residential street in North Olmsted, about five minutes from the mall by car and twenty minutes by foot. If Elfin was Mary’s current location, we needed to find the specific house. I needed Tomas, but I couldn’t speak to him in front of Hannah.

We thanked Jack and Lisa for their time, and Jack made Hannah promise she would give his regards to her father. Hannah looked thoughtful as we walked to the parking lot. I asked if she was starting to reevaluate her dad.

“My father is still an asshole. I just always assumed he was born that way. I wonder what changed him?”

“The Manhattan cop I spoke to this morning said power brings arrogance. That’s not exactly an original thought, but it is true. I think most politicians enter the field for the right reasons. Sadly, most of them stay in it for the wrong ones.”

“Do you suppose there’s any good left?”

“There could be. Maybe that’s why he and your mother asked me so many questions about what I wanted from life. Maybe he does want to help. It could be the Catholic in him.”

“You noticed he went to your high school? My mother did too. As to whether there’s any good left in him, I guess stranger things have happened. That being said, how much do you want to bet he doesn’t even remember the guy?”

Our next trip was to the car rental agency. The Hertz office listed on the stolen credit card record was located in the suburb of Avon. Beyond being the location for the second Cleveland-area murder, Avon was only one freeway exit west of Saint Edmund’s. If you exclude the New Orleans’ murders, almost all of our activity in this case involved a small, three-suburb area in Greater Cleveland.

Like many car rental outlets, the one used by Michael Grieve operated out of a hotel. The agent on duty at the rental desk introduced herself as Karen, and Hannah went through the routine of presenting her badge and explaining what we were looking for.

Karen was clearly new at her job and eager not to make any mistakes. Never having faced this situation before, she told us she couldn’t provide any information without a warrant. Hannah, impatient in the best of circumstances, did not react well.

“Are you insane? I’m not asking for medical records or to search their home. I’m asking for information on a car rental. Are you going to give me what I need, or do I have to shut this whole goddamned place down?”

Completely nonplussed, Karen looked at me for support. Not finding any and unsure of her legal ground, she wisely chose to look up the information we requested.

All in all, we didn’t get much. Isabella Supinsky, or whoever was playing Isabella Supinsky, had rented a panel van on April 18th at nine o’clock. This brought another question.

“I assume Mrs. Supinsky had to show her driver’s license,” I said. “Do you have a copy?”

Karen looked in her files and eventually came up with a copy. The picture was of a woman in her early seventies who I could only assume was the real Mrs. Supinsky.

Hannah looked at me. “Why didn’t Mrs. Supinsky tell us her license was missing?”

“Maybe she never uses it and didn’t realize it was gone. A lot of people that age just renew their licenses for identification purposes. I bet her husband does all the driving.” I turned to Karen. “Were you working the desk for this rental?”

“No. We’re all part-timers, and I wasn’t on duty that day. Someone else processed this request.”

“When someone rents a car, do you look at their license picture to verify it’s truly theirs?”

“We’re supposed to, but no one really looks like their driver’s license photo. Sometimes, you take it on faith.”

I looked at Hannah. “Do you suppose Grieve paid or coerced someone else to come in and fill out the paperwork, someone old enough to fit the picture on the license?”

“It wouldn’t be hard to do. There are a lot of elderly homeless walking around downtown. For the right price, I bet one of them would do it. About the car,” Hannah said to Karen, “did the woman request a van, or was that the only car available?”

“It looks like it was the only one we had. There’s a note here that says Mrs. Supinsky’s nephew wasn’t thrilled with that option.”

I had a feeling I knew the identity of that nephew. I had one more question for Karen. “What was the address she gave for the rental?”

I expected a phony location, and I wasn’t disappointed. The address listed was 2401 Ontario Street in Cleveland, Ohio.

“She must have a difficult time sleeping with all the noise,” I said, and now both Hannah and Karen looked confused.

“We’re in the middle of baseball season,” I explained. “That’s the address for Progressive Field.”