The Babbling Brook Naked Poker Club - Book One (21 page)

As I stood watching, William rallied and
whispered in one of the EMTs ears words I couldn’t hear, but they
made the man send me a piercing look. Then William lapsed into
unconsciousness.

He had a broken nose and he’d fallen,
hitting his head on the edge of my kitchen counter. When the police
interviewed me, I learned that William had told the EMT I’d
attacked him when he asked me to give him back his ring.

He was in a coma for a week, and then he
died. His brother, Harry, accused me of assault, and when William
died, of murder, and he threatened to kill me in revenge for
William. Remembering how William had morphed before my eyes from my
lover into a man with a gun in his hand and the clear intent to use
it, I had no doubt Harry was capable of a similar
transformation.

Although the police told me not to leave
town until they finished their investigation, I emptied my bank
account, and with a single suitcase, climbed aboard the first
Megabus that came along.

It was going, it turned out, to
Cincinnati.

~ ~ ~

While I told Abigail about William Garrison, she sat without
moving, her pen held against her lips. I stopped speaking, and
Abigail pulled in a deep breath and sat blinking for a time.

“Yes. Well. You never told me why you
decided to learn tae kwon do.”

I thought it was an odd segue, but then
remembering my reason, I realized it was the right question after
all.

“I had a roommate in college. She was
assaulted. She said she never wanted to feel so helpless again. We
took the classes together. It helped her heal.”

I realized I’d spoken in short staccato
bursts, as if I were having trouble catching my breath. Which I
supposed in a way I was. Because those memories also meant
recalling a time when I let fear take over my life.

“Were the police planning to charge you in
William’s death?”

“I don’t know. They called me a person of
interest. I think they were investigating about the gun before they
decided what to do. All I know is, the last time I spoke with them,
they said not to leave town.”

Although I tried to minimize it for Abigail,
I was almost as terrified of the police as I was of Harry. William
was wealthy and influential. Why wouldn’t they believe he was
breaking up with me rather than the other way around? Although, if
they had decided to arrest me, it would have been easy, once I
started working at Brookside, for them to find me. Accepting
employment had been both a necessary and a calculated risk on my
part. After all, Chicago has so many murders, I was counting on
being able to fall through the cracks.

“Yet you left.”

“I was convinced Harry intended to hurt me,
possibly kill me. I thought it was safer if I disappeared for the
time being. That it would give him time to calm down
. . .”

“Do you plan eventually to go back to
Chicago?”

“I’d need to know whether the police
. . . well, whether they’ve ruled William’s death an
accident. But I’d still worry about Harry.”

“I think we’d better move carefully, then.
But if you want, we should be able to find out if the police have
filed any charges against you.”

I shivered. Then I nodded.

Josephine

Saturday morning, I got up late and puttered around before finally
deciding I didn’t feel like going to the dining room for breakfast.
I’d just sat down to eat a bowl of cereal when there was a knock on
the door.

I opened it to find Jeff standing there.
“You really need to answer your phone occasionally, Mother.”

“Oh, did you call?”

“I did. Several times, as a matter of
fact.”

I was blocking the way into the apartment,
but I really had no choice but to let him in. Since I was still
wearing my robe, I couldn’t very well suggest we go to the lobby to
talk.

He walked in shedding his coat, which he
threw on the couch.

“I was just eating breakfast,” I said.
“Would you like something?”

“No. I’ve eaten.”

“At least sit down.” He had started to pace,
and it made me cross.

He stomped over to the table and pulled out
a chair.

“You say you’ve called? About something in
particular?”

“Yes, something very particular. The money
Dad left is about to run out.”

I sat staring at him. It just wasn’t
possible.

“Mother, are you okay?”

I blinked and shook my head to clear it. The
news had momentarily blocked my ability to think.

“Of course I’m okay.” More okay than I
wanted him to know.

“I’m sorry to be the bearer of such bad
news. It means you’re going to have to move out of Brookside.
Before January first. I’m afraid I can’t afford the monthly fees to
keep you here.”

“And where do you propose to put me?”

“You’ll have to live with Lynn and me.”

The phrase
over my dead body
came
immediately to mind. “How can all the money be gone?” I said
instead.

“There never was as much as you seemed to
think there was. Dad bought a lot of speculative stuff that could
have paid off big, but didn’t. Junk bonds, that sort of thing.
After Dad died, I tried to stem the losses, get you reinvested in
something more solid. But, well, one of the investments, a sure
thing if there ever was one . . . it tanked.”

“Like Enron?” I said.

His jaw clenched. “Something like that.”

“I see. So the estate is kaput.”

“Yes. That’s the perfect word for it. The
remaining stocks aren’t worth what it would cost to recycle the
paper they’re printed on. I’m sorry. I did try to fix it.”

“I’m not coming to live with you,” I
said.

“You can’t stay here.”

I thought about what I would do if Thomas’s
money were the only source of income I had, but the thought was
simply too dire to contemplate. Instead, I needed to work out how
to convince Jeff to let me figure things out on my own without
revealing the extent of the resources I had at my disposal.

“You say I have until January?”

“Which means we need to start planning
immediately.”

“And I will.” I decided maybe a partial
truth would work. “I have a small inheritance I never told you
about, and since your last visit, I’ve been economizing. I’ve found
I can be quite comfortable on what I’m receiving from Social
Security.”

“But this place costs six thousand a month.
No matter how you slice it, you don’t have that kind of money.”

“I think I have enough to live here a while
longer, at least.”

“But after January, you won’t be eligible
for a refund on your buy-in.” He jumped to his feet and paced, head
down.

Then his head came up, and he came to an
abrupt halt in front of the Hopper painting. Before I could
distract him, he stepped closer. “Wait a minute,” he said. “This
painting wasn’t here last time.” He leaned forward, squinting at
the tiny line of printing in the lower right-hand corner. “Edward
Hopper. I think I’ve heard of him.”

Before I could stop him, he’d clicked my
laptop awake and was obviously doing a search. After a couple of
minutes, he looked at me.

“Do you think I’m an idiot, Mother? You have
a small inheritance, do you? And it was what? An Edward Hopper
painting worth millions.”

He was furious, although I didn’t see why he
should be. I purchased the painting back in the 1970s because I
liked it and I had enough money to indulge that liking. It was none
of Thomas’s business then, nor was it Jeff’s business now.

“You didn’t think to mention this, for
example, when I came to you, worried to death, and told you money
was running low? In fact, you still weren’t going to tell me, were
you?”

I debated briefly whether to try to convince
him the painting was merely an excellent copy, but decided it was
too late for that.

“I want you to leave, T— Jeff.” It shook me
to realize I’d almost called him Thomas. But right then he looked
and sounded exactly like his father. “I absolve you of all
financial obligations for my upkeep and welfare,” I continued.
“Just leave me alone to live my life, and I’ll leave you alone to
live yours.”

“Does the management of this place know you
have a painting worth millions of dollars hanging on your
wall?”

It was an echo of one of my first
conversations with Devi. Devi, who was now dearer to me than
. . .

With a start, I refocused on Jeff. His face
had turned an unhealthy-looking red and he was breathing in short
gasps. With him that angry, I didn’t know what he might be capable
of.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, they are aware.”
It wasn’t a lie. After all, Devi was part of management, and she
did know about the painting.

Jeff and I stared at each other for a time.
Gradually, his color returned to normal.

“Fine. Okay then. I’ll be notifying the
business office that the payment responsibility has shifted to you.
As of today.”

He stared at the painting for another thirty
seconds, then he grabbed his coat and left.

~ ~ ~

I did some pacing before I got dressed and went to see Lill.

She took one look at me and opened her door
wide.

“My son came to see me this morning,” I told
her.

“Oh my. Not a good visit?”

“No, it wasn’t. He knows about the
painting.”

“Oh?” Lill said, and I realized that
although she’d seen it, she might not know what it is.

“The one in my living room,” I said.

“The Hopper, you mean.”

“You know?”

“I thought it looked . . .” She
shrugged. “It reminded me of something I saw in a museum once. But
I just thought it was a copy. I take it it’s an original, which
makes it quite valuable.”

“Quite.”

“And you didn’t want your son to know about
it?”

“I have resources my son knows nothing
about. If he did, I have no doubt he would have me declared
incompetent so he could take them over.”

“Oh dear. That doesn’t sound at all good.
Although, I expect there are ways to protect those resources, and
yourself?”

“I’ve taken some of them. But if Jeff
mentions the painting to Mr. Souter, well, it could be
disastrous.”

Lill made us both cups of tea using
commercial tea bags. It was difficult to drink it, but I sipped
steadily since I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. As a
distraction, between sips, I brought up for discussion our
suspicions that Edna might be our thief. But we came to no
conclusions about how we might prove it.

“We could search her place,” I said.
“Sometime when we know she’s out.”

“But if we did find something, it wouldn’t
be admissible.”

I sighed and finally gave up on the tea. I’d
managed only half, but that was still more than I wanted. I carried
my cup over to the sink, dumped the tea, and rinsed the cup. Then I
told Lill I’d see her at lunch and returned to my apartment.

When I opened the door, I found Mr. Souter
and Jeff sitting in my living room.

“Get out!” I couldn’t remember the last time
I was so furious or so frightened. Maybe the day I was forced to
sign over my stocks to Thomas.

“Umm, yes, well, Josephine, we can’t do that
until we speak with you.” Mr. Souter had stood and now he shifted
his feet, refusing to meet my eyes.

“Mrs. Bartlett,” I snapped.

“Yes, umm, Mrs. Bartlett. You see, it
appears you have violated one of the terms of your lease.” Mr.
Souter’s tone had the sickening quality of too-sweet syrup.

“And that is?”

He pointed at the painting. “As one of the
conditions of your living here, you had to disclose any items of
jewelry, collectibles, or paintings worth more than $250.”

“What? So you could arrange for them to be
stolen?”

When he gave me a startled look, I pressed
my advantage. “I know all about what’s going on here. People put
things on their lists, and then you decide what you’re going to
help yourself to later.” I was so angry I completely forgot that
all the signs of guilt pointed to Edna.

“Wow, I have no idea where you got a bizarre
idea like that.”

I was practically panting with fury. “I want
you both out of my apartment, right this minute.”

“Your car is also in violation,” Mr. Souter
said.

“What car?” Jeff said.

“Why, that one.” Mr. Souter pointed out the
window. “I only recently discovered she had a car. She should have
reported it and paid the parking fee.”

“Do you mean that green one?” Jeff said,
peering in the direction Mr. Souter was pointing.

“Yes. Hard to miss, isn’t it.”

“Have you completely lost your mind,
Mother?” Jeff said, turning to face me.

“I most certainly have not. And if the two
of you do not remove yourselves from my apartment this instant,
I’ll call the police.”

“And tell them what?” Jeff said.

“That you’re trespassing.”

I knew, though, even if I managed to get
them to leave today, that wouldn’t be the end of it. The Hopper
would have to leave as well. I wanted to howl at the thought, but I
was determined not to give my son and Mr. Souter that
satisfaction.

As we stood glaring at each other, I picked
up my phone and dialed Mac.

“I need your help, right now, Mac. There are
people in my apartment, and they won’t leave.”

He said he’d come immediately.

“Who’s Mac?” Jeff asked.

I refused to answer him. Instead I turned my
back on them and called Lill, who agreed to stand by and open the
back door for Mac.

The next fifteen minutes were some of the
longest of my life since they were passed in silence. When Mac
arrived, he was dressed in jeans and a parka, and he had a young
boy and a dog with him.

I gestured for them to come in.

“Sorry, Josephine, I had to bring Teddy. His
mother’s at the store. And this,” he pointed to the dog, “is
Bruno.”