“I’ve got him,” said Spidermonkey.
“Who? What?” I asked.
“Morty. ICU. Got him.”
I should’ve known he’d go straight into the hospital and grab up Morty’s chart, but it startled me anyway. My mind was on Maggie and the dread of telling the two of them her story was weighing on me, especially with Elizabeth sharing her opinion if I took a wrong turn.
“Okay. Great,” I said.
“What do you want? I’ve got results.”
“Lay ‘em on me.”
Spidermonkey gave me all of Uncle Morty’s numbers, so fast I could hardly absorb them. He had damage, but it was recoverable. That much I understood.
“Anything else?” Spidermonkey asked.
“No. That’s good. Thank you.”
“He’s okay, isn’t he?” That soft voice nearly brought me to tears again. He cared. Uncle Morty considered Spidermonkey a mortal enemy. Competition was not acceptable. Period. But even with that, he cared.
“I think so, but he’ll have to change,” I said.
“That’s a tall order for Morty.”
“You said it.”
“Now let’s talk about this case, you obviously didn’t go to Greece.”
“I wish.” I gave him the lowdown on what happened, leaving nothing out, and listened, as I spoke, to the comforting sound of keys being struck and information being gathered.
“What do you want first?” Loretta asked. They were on speaker, but I could barely hear her over the rain. We were all in storms of various types.
“First. Hm. Let me think. Let’s go with Bertram Stott.”
“Got it. Anything specific?”
“I want to know his connection to the area and if he was here in 1965. If you can see what he was up to after his release that would be helpful.”
“You’re thinking other crimes.”
“I doubt he was reformed in the prison system, especially back then,” I said.
“Agreed. You’re thinking what? Other murders? Rape? Stalking?”
“All of the above, but I think he learned from his conviction and got better. The best you’ll probably find is his name on interview lists, suspicions but nothing concrete. If you find a living cop who liked him for something, I can have my dad make a call.”
“Hold on,” said Loretta. “Tommy’s on board?”
So I did leave something out, but I did it on instinct. Hiding what I was up to went right to the bone. “Yeah. He knows I have someone for research besides Uncle Morty. He told me to call you.”
“I’m surprised. Tommy’s all about the family from what I’m told.”
“He is, but the family usually means him.”
“That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?” Loretta asked.
“But accurate. He’s working on it and he’ll talk to whoever we need info from,” I said.
“Well, that’s unexpected,” said Spidermonkey. “Tommy is a great resource. There’s only so much I can get from the internet and it’s not like you can hop over to Tennessee to charm them.”
“Not this week,” I said with a laugh.
“So about the church, you said Morty cleared them on the pedo stuff. I want my beloved to recheck. Is that a problem?” Loretta asked.
“Nope. Do it. He wasn’t exactly focused. Once he saw Nikki with that guy, it was really over. Brain off. Crazy jealous monster on.”
“And there was money,” said Spidermonkey. “I like that. I’ve got a feeling that’s what we’re going to nail them on.”
“We’re not trying to nail the Catholic Church,” said Loretta.
“If they caused a nun to be murdered, you bet your pretty little britches I am,” said Spidermonkey.
“I’m sure they wouldn’t do that on purpose.”
“Really? You’re sure?” he asked.
“Don’t get sarcastic with me.”
The two of them started bickering about the church and the pedophile coverup. Even though they weren’t directly affected, it pained them both in many ways and the discussion gave me time to think, but Elizabeth wasn’t having it. The wardrobe began rattling.
“Alright,” I said. “Alright.”
“What was that?” Loretta asked.
“Oh…um, I was thinking out loud. There’s just so much to research.”
“And here we are talking about unrelated crimes.”
“Might not be unrelated,” said Spidermonkey.
“You’re determined to think the worst.”
“I wonder why.”
“It’s a good thing you’re so attractive,” said Loretta.
The wardrobe’s doors burst open and Maggie’s box looked like it had a couple of wild dogs fighting inside it. “The asylum!” I yelled and the box went quiet.
“Oh my God, Mercy,” said Loretta. “Why are you yelling?”
“I’m excited?”
“Are you asking us?” Spidermonkey asked.
“No. I’m excited. I…uh…thought of something. Can you find the layout of the asylum where Maggie worked?”
“I should be able to. What specifically? The interior?”
“No. More exits and the nearest bus stop. I want to see how it would’ve gone down, assuming I’m right.”
“But it could’ve happened at the Cardinal Rigali Center since Maggie was going to her appointment there,” said Loretta. “If Bishop Fowler knew Maggie was about to report something that he didn’t want reported, that’s another possibility.”
“If you can get the layout for the Center, too, it would be good, but my dad and I both think this was a spur of the moment thing. Lying in wait says plan.” I explained what Dad and I were thinking, including our theory on the body being abused. It turned out to be too much for Loretta. She left the room under the guise of checking on a crying grandbaby, but I wasn’t fooled and I didn’t blame her. Excusing myself from Maggie’s case sounded like a swell idea.
“Is she okay?” I asked.
“She will be,” he said. “This is a lot different than watching 48 Hours.”
“Or 20/20.”
“If they do one more story that trashes you, I will give them a virus that they won’t soon forget.”
I laughed and laid back on the bed. “Don’t do that. They might trace it to you.”
He snorted the way Uncle Morty did but somehow made it sound elegant and I pictured my handsome hacker sitting in a wicker chair all silver-haired and buttoned up. “That will not happen, rest assured.”
“Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”
“Deal. I’m pretty good with taxes. I’ll get the church’s filings and see what I can make out. That’s where it shows.”
“And the asylum,” I said. “That was probably a non-profit.”
“Yes, yes. Now we’re cooking with gas,” said Spidermonkey. “And this Bishop Fowler was involved, plus the doctor.”
“I forgot about him.”
“The doctor?”
“Yes.” I told him about my feeling on the doctor’s untimely accident four days after Maggie disappeared. “I originally thought she would’ve been with him, but in light of his health and the accident, I doubt it.”
“Let’s see where Dr. Desarno practiced,” said Spidermonkey.
“I’m sure he had an office at St. Vincent’s.”
“He probably did. I’ve got the obituary and the newspaper story on the accident. Would you look at that? Green Dodge pickup.”
“I need to be taking notes. Two pickups so far.”
“Or one,” said Spidermonkey, just a little bit ominously.
“Do you have a feeling?” I asked.
“I don’t think it’s a coincidence that we have a truck at both scenes four days apart at the same place.”
I got the pictures that I printed at the Sentinel and looked at the tire tracks. “Is there any way to identify tires from that far back?”
“Not to a specific model of truck, if that’s what you’re thinking. But we might be able to tell by how big they are. That will tell us which models they’d likely have been on.”
The pictures were good but not that good. “I can tell they’re big, obviously not for a sedan, but we don’t have a closeup on markings.”
“I can try. Do you have a scanner?” he asked.
“I’ll ask if they have one, but trucks aren’t rare, even if we think the truck used to dump Maggie was a Dodge that doesn’t mean it’s the same Dodge.”
“Sometimes I forget how young you really are,” said Spidermonkey. “Back then trucks were tools. They weren’t stylish. The average man didn’t drive one just in case he needed to carry home a bag of dirt. Trucks were for farmers or contractors. People who needed them for work.”
“So?”
“There weren’t a lot of trucks running around downtown St. Louis in the 60s. That came later when trucks got comfortable. You’ve got a truck at two related crimes within a week. That’s not a coincidence.”
“Tank said everybody had a truck,” I said.
“Well, you’re in farm country, aren’t you?” he asked.
“Definitely. So we need to know if Bertram Stott had access to a truck, too,” I said.
“You feel that strongly about him?”
“I do and so does my dad.”
Spidermonkey kept typing away. “I’ll find every vehicle he’s ever had. Don’t worry about that. What else did your newspaper guy say?”
“We’re starting to think the flooding excuse is a little hinky.” I asked Spidermonkey to look into that and gave him the names of Candace Stratton and Dallas Mosbach. He was particularly interested in Dallas, since he showed a hint of displeasure.
“And let’s take a look at Barney Scheer, our reporter at the time,” I said. “He changed his tune. I’d like to know why.”
“Mercy, you are my favorite person right now,” said Spidermonkey.
“Oh yeah? That seems unlikely.”
“This is a pile of work.”
I’d just been thinking I’d gone way overboard and there might be a family issue. “Your kids won’t be happy.”
“Are you kidding? They barely know I’m here. I’m the swimming, bonfire-building grandpa. Right now I have no use.”
“It’s a lot of stuff.”
“And we’re not done.”
“No?”
“You haven’t filled me in on that historian, Dr. Wallingford,” he said and, despite his soothing voice, I could tell he didn’t like being out of the loop, even though he asked to be.
“So you have been working,” I said.
“Perhaps a smidge.”
I snorted. “A smidge? You’ve been checking up on me and The Girls.”
“It’s what I do,” he said.
“I don’t know if you have the time,” I said in a self-sacrificing tone. “What with all those babies crying.”
“Mercy Watts, tell me what was said or I’ll—”
“What? What are you going to do, Mr. Cashmere Sweater?” I asked with laughter.
“You don’t think I’m tough,” he said petulantly.
“I think you’re elegant and brilliant. That’s better.”
“Alright. I won’t freeze your bank accounts. Today.”
“Thanks. You’re swell.”
“I think so.”
I teased him for another minute until Loretta came back and demanded to know what the historian found. I gave them the short version of how I connected the initials C.M.B. with Bickford House.
“We have to look into that family,” said Loretta.
“Dr. Wallingford knew a few things about them.” I told them what he said and they were particularly interested in the break-ins like I was. Spidermonkey said he would see if he could get the Kindertransport lists for the Bickford House area, but he doubted they would help us with identifying Constanza Stern.
“Why not?” Loretta asked. “She was a child, Jewish, and that’s the time.”
Spidermonkey kept typing and talking. His ability to split focus was amazing. I could barely spell and talk. “Because Constanza was special. Josiah and Stella didn’t pick out some random girl and take a photo with her.”
That was true and how Constanza became intertwined with the Bleds fascinated me nearly as much as The Klinefeld Group and whatever they were looking for.
“I want to know how that little girl ended up in Auschwitz,” said Loretta. “She was safe in England. Why on Earth would she ever leave?”
“That’s the million dollar question,” said Spidermonkey. “I think Bickford House is our way in. The earl leaving his ambassadorship in November 1938 tells us that.”
“We need to know why,” I said.
“I’ll see what I can do, but you need to talk to Dr. Bloom. Find out if the earl or his family showed up in his research on the Resistance.”
“I will when I get a chance.” There was a timid knock on the bedroom door and I glanced at the clock. “Dinner time,” I said. “I have to go.”
“Good luck,” said Loretta.
“Mercy?” Spidermonkey asked.
“Yes.”
“Do you have a weapon with you?”
“I brought the Mauser.”
“Do me a favor and keep it on you.”
I agreed to carry the Mauser any time I left Miss Elizabeth’s and a knot formed in my stomach. Spidermonkey had never asked that of me before. He had a feeling and it wasn’t good.