The Apple of My Eye

by Mary Ellen Bramwell

  But somehow, it wasn’t enough. “Why?” I cried out, “Why? Wasn’t our family enough for you? Why did you go looking for something else? Didn’t you know I loved you?! Still love you!”

  He looked up at me again, his face etched with the devastation of my accusation. “Do you love me, Paul? Did you ever love me? And what about Noah?” But when I looked for the answer in his eyes, he was gone.

  . . .

  I roused with a start. Looking around me, I could see that the dawn was coming, beginning to penetrate the dark night. Thoughts of Noah came to my mind. How would his father’s actions affect him in the future? I wondered if this would follow him for years to come, if not publicly, at least internally. Why couldn’t he go through life with a father who simply died a hero? His death, alone, was certainly bad enough. Why make it a burden that he would always carry?

  I realized with acute clarity that what I knew could remain my knowledge alone. Paul was dead. I think few would argue that he hadn’t already paid for his crimes. Let Noah at least have a good image of who his father was. That might be the best present I could give him.

  Resolved, I stood to greet the early day. I opened my office door, and as I did so, my father and mother came from the great room to meet me. I hadn’t realized they had stayed up all night with me, but there they were, still dressed in yesterday’s clothes, as was I.

  I looked in their eyes, eyes of love and concern. Yes, I would indeed give Noah a gift this day, but it would be the gift of a mother who tried to live as honestly as she could. If I stopped being that person, I would rob Noah of both his parents. I whispered, “I need to call the police.”

  They both simply nodded.

  MORE

  We all retired to our beds to grab a little shuteye before Noah demanded our attention. I needed to compose myself before calling Lentus with my latest theory of events. I knew inside that I was right, even though every ounce of me wanted to be wrong. Still, I was uncertain what the detective would think. A little more sleep wouldn’t hurt about now.

  We all got a few hours of sleep before Noah, unaware of our long night, decided he was ready to play. I got to him first, but Mom and Dad weren’t far behind. Their eyes told me what I’m sure mine reflected, that what sleep we had gotten had been restless at best.

  Mom went to take a shower while Dad and I descended the stairs. I took Noah into the kitchen to feed him while my dad retrieved the morning’s paper from the front steps and then retreated with it into the great room.

  As I was finishing washing the last of Noah’s fingers at the end of his meal, Dad entered the kitchen with a grave expression on his face. He was holding the newspaper. “Brea, there’s been another grocery store robbery. It sounds eerily similar to the one where Paul was killed. This time, thank goodness, no one was injured.”

  His tone of voice told me I should take this seriously. “Okay, so tell me about the robbery, as much as you have learned so far.”

  Dad pulled a chair out from the table to sit down while I finished separating my little boy from the cereal layer on his face. He waited until he had my full attention. “The robbery occurred at about 12:30 this morning. It took place at an all-night corner grocery store in an older neighborhood of town. It was described in much the way you described the neighborhood around, what was it, Harper’s Market?”

  “Harper’s Mart. But, go on.”

  “Well, two men wearing masks entered the store. One of them was carrying a gun. The owner’s brother, who was the only other person in the store, was behind the cash register.” Dad paused to consult the newspaper article in his hands. He had a pained expression, as if he was reliving Paul’s death.

  I picked Noah up out of the high chair as Dad started again. “One of the men spoke and told the owner’s brother to open the till and then lie down on the ground. He did as he was told. One of the two men reached across the counter, it appeared, and grabbed some cash out of the open register. Then apparently they left.

  “But here’s the strange thing, in my opinion, anyway. They didn’t actually get away with very much money. The store just doesn’t keep much loose cash around at night. They have one of those time safes, where you can put money in the slot but can’t retrieve it until morning. So here you have two guys who have gone to the trouble to swipe some money. They don’t get much, and they don’t react in any particular way.”

  “What do you mean, Dad?”

  “Well, wouldn’t you think they would be upset or disappointed? Maybe they would shoot the cashier or shoot up the store, maybe grab a six-pack or some other kind of merchandise? I didn’t say anything to you before, but I always thought it was a terrible shame that Paul was killed over a small sum of money. Although, given what we have learned lately, I’m not sure what to make of the whole situation anymore.

  “That aside, I know stores have taken safeguards against having lots of money hanging around at night, but still, I would expect some kind of reaction when they don’t get much cash, anything. You know, like at Harper’s Mart demanding the old man’s wallet or taking something else. I’m not a criminal, but if it were me, I think I’d do something like that, don’t you?”

  I hadn’t been asked the question before of what I would do if I were one of the thieves. I didn’t think I could put myself in their shoes. I suppose I could understand Dad’s point, though. Why would you walk away calmly from a penny-ante take?

  Could the two robberies actually be connected? There were similarities, but not everything was the same. I wondered if those things were enough to connect them. How many different ways would you set up a robbery anyway?

  Mom came downstairs, combing her wet hair. She saw the looks on our faces and immediately asked, “What’s up?”

  Dad filled her in while I changed Noah’s diaper, all the while thinking about what was ahead of me. Did I want to learn any more about what had been going on with Paul? I wasn’t sure if I was ready to deal with the information I might found. I didn’t want to go further into the darkness, but could I find the light if I didn’t? Too many questions plagued my mind. The whole thing had an uneasy aura about it, as if it were important, only I didn’t know why.

  Breaking out of my trance, I announced, “I need to go to that grocery store. If Paul was involved in the one at Harper’s Mart, and this is related, I need to know. I’ve been thinking, too, that I need to solidify my theory of Paul’s involvement before I call Detective Lentus. Dad, did they mention the name of the store or enough of the location that I could find it?”

  “I don’t recall, but I’ll go check the internet and find it for you,” and he got up and left the room.

  Mom suddenly spoke. “I’m going with you, Brea.”

  I turned to look at her in surprise. She was the one who pledged that they would stand back and let me do things on my own, but I saw in her a determination, and I knew not to refuse her. I resorted instead to asking, “Why, Mom?”

  “I’m going stir crazy in this house. Time to get out,” was all she said.

  I raised my eyebrows but simply replied, “Okay, I’m sure Dad can handle Noah. I’ll go shower and we’ll head out.” I called into the other room, “Dad, any luck with an address?”

  “I’m on it. Got the name, and I’m just writing down the address for you.”

  “Thanks, Dad. Can you keep Noah? Mom wants to go with me.”

  Without missing a beat, he called, “Sure.” He was so quick to respond I wondered if Mom and Dad had been plotting this intrusion. I turned to give Mom a questioning look, but she had already retreated upstairs to finish getting ready.

  . . .

  An hour later Noah was bathed and dressed, and so was I. Dad shooed us out the door as if we were head
ing out for a shopping trip instead of what we were really doing, investigating a murder. I chuckled to myself wondering what Detective Lentus would think of me now.

  Mom turned, “What’s funny?”

  “Nothing really, Mom. This is just so absurd, isn’t it?”

  “Well, that’s one name for it,” she said as she grinned at me.

  I found that this felt more like a fun excursion with Mom along. She was putting me at ease. Maybe that was exactly what I needed and the whole reason she wanted to join me.

  “Mom, which car would you like to take on our adventure?”

  “Why not take Paul’s SUV? I’ve already reset the radio stations.”

  “Are you serious? You mean we’re going to listen to your oldies this whole trip?”

  “Yes, do you have a problem with that?”

  We were smiling as we got into Paul’s car. I was glad that my parents had been using it. They had only made runs to the store and probably the toy store, but it was enough to affect a change - it no longer smelled like Paul. This thought, I quickly acknowledged, was both sobering and relieving. I was losing memories of him already, and he had only been gone two months. I wanted to get over his death, but I wasn’t sure I was ready to let go of things like his smell. All the questions I had about Paul made this even more confusing.

  Mom broke into my thoughts, “Brea, it’s okay to move on. It’s what Paul would want you to do.”

  I gave her a puzzled glance. “How did you know what I was thinking?”

  “Brea, it’s not too hard to guess. You’re getting into Paul’s car for the first time since he died. That can’t happen without a flood of memories and emotions.

  “I want you to figure out what’s been going on just as much as you do. Only I have a different focus. I know you need to find answers, and you are searching hard to find them. Personally, I don’t really care what they turn out to be, but they are a means to an end. I’m hoping you find those answers so you can move past them, and I know ultimately that’s what you’re really searching for anyway.”

  We held each other’s gaze for a silent moment. I did want to move past this, to feel like I could move past this, but it had become so all-consuming that I had forgotten to think about what would happen afterwards. I didn’t like to admit she was right, but she was. “Okay, then. Let’s go figure this thing out.”

  GROCERIES AND OTHER THINGS

  The robbery took place at the uniquely titled All-Nite Grocery. I noticed right away that the neighborhood was similar to the one surrounding Harper’s Mart. Dad would be pleased to know that his instincts were already panning out. All-Nite was a little store in a mostly residential area, but low income residential. The parking lot was also just about as beat up as the one surrounding Harper’s Mart.

  I hesitantly got out, but Mom leaped out as if we were heading to Macy’s. Trust Mom, I thought. She was going to make this an adventure. There were a few other cars in the lot, and we wove through them to get to the front door.

  All-Nite Grocery was built to last, but in a run-down looking way. It was a red brick building, but the mortar looked like it was a home done job – uneven and often on the bricks themselves. A large wooden doorjamb surrounded the more modern glass door. The jamb looked like it had been made out of posts as big as old railroad ties, solid looking but dirty. On closer inspection it wasn’t so much dirt as community message board, written in various colors of ink – “Jay - see you at Sues”, “Gone fishing”, “Schools closed for lack of interest”, “I know where you been”, “Sally now gives haircuts” followed by a phone number, etc.

  I hesitated at the door, but Mom yanked it open and strode on in. I had no choice but to follow. Once inside, I wondered what we were supposed to do now. I started to take in the store. It was similar in layout to Harper’s Mart. There were a few aisles of convenience foods, a cooler at the back, mostly packed with beer, and the checkout counter by the front door. A logical layout, so the resemblance was not a surprise. It looked like the cash registers and other equipment were the same vintage as well.

  I was disappointed, but I wasn’t sure what I was expecting. Did I think there would be writing on the wall giving me a message?

  Now that I was here, I wandered around the store a bit and picked up some goldfish crackers for Noah. Mom grabbed us something to drink.

  I had brought a photo of Paul with me, so as we checked out I showed it to the cashier. He didn’t remotely recognize the face. If Paul had done a cursory check of Harper’s Mart a few nights before the robbery, I wondered if he had checked out this store at the same time. I knew it had been a long shot since this was a couple of months later, but I was grasping at straws.

  A few dollars and fewer minutes later we walked out the door. I was tempted to add to the community doorjamb, but nothing witty came to mind. Dejected, I made my way back to the car, a few steps behind Mom.

  As we were fastening our seat belts, my cell phone rang. It was Dad.

  “Brea, I’ve been doing some checking on the internet. There were two other corner grocery robberies in the last two months. They fit the same pattern. They’re in quiet residential areas, and each time it’s two masked men with a gun, and they tell the clerk to lie down. The type of mask varies, but that’s about it. One doesn’t say how much they got away with, but the other one says it was under $200.”

  “Thanks, Dad. I hadn’t thought about that. What about earlier? Do you think there might be some others before Harper’s Mart?”

  “Already checked it out. Nothing.”

  I laughed. “Trust you to be two steps ahead of me. Okay. Do you have any addresses?”

  Dad had both addresses, so we wrote them down and headed to the closest. It was called Stan’s Emporium.

  Apparently Stan had a sense of humor or a high opinion of his establishment since it was a corner grocery, just like the other two. Determined not to walk away empty handed, I brazenly asked for Stan or the current owner once I entered the store. Mom turned to wander the few aisles.

  A man who looked to be 80, but might be 100, slowly stood up from his stool behind the counter. “I’m Stan the Man. How can I help you?”

  I went with the assumption that the police wouldn’t spend much time on this robbery from a month ago. So hopefully my questions wouldn’t get back to Detective Lentus. “Stan, glad to meet you. I’m Brea. I was wondering if you could help me. There’s no easy way to say this, but my husband was killed in a store robbery much like yours. I’m trying to make sense of it all.”

  “No sense to be made outta killin’, young thing. No sense at all,” he responded, shaking his head.

  “You’re right. There isn’t. I guess I’m searching for whatever answers I can find.”

  “Fair ‘nuf,” he responded. “How can I help?”

  “Can you tell me anything about your robbery? Anything unusual or different?”

  “Well, let me see. You know, I told the police those two men seemed to take their own sweet time getting money out of the till. I thought they would be in a hurry, but not so. The police thought I was nuts for even mentioning it. Now, I don’t know if it meant anything or not, but it was just somethin’ I noticed.”

  I liked this man. He was thinking. “Thanks. Maybe that will help. I assume they didn’t get much cash?”

  “No. It was only ‘bout $100. I’ve been robbed before, but this time was different. They didn’t even ask if I could open the safe. It may sound strange, but I don’t think they were after the money.”

  This was something I hadn’t even considered before, but it started me thinking. If they weren’t after the money, what did they want?

  I was so wrapped up in the conversa
tion that I almost forgot about Paul’s picture. I pulled it out to show Stan. “Have you ever seen this man before?”

  He opened his eyes wide to take a good look. “Yes! I have.” He sounded surprised himself. “I didn’t realize that was your husband.”

  “How did you know it was my husband?” It was my turn to be surprised.

  “Well, you just told me your husband was killed in a robbery. I didn’t make the connection right away, but I remember the robbery that took his life. You know, anytime a fellow owner suffers, you suffer with him. So, I followed it in the paper. I remember the picture of your husband, ‘cause he had been in my store the night before that robbery. At the time I was thinkin’, ‘Boy, if he had just stuck with my store, he wouldn’t have been in that other place and gotten shot.’ Like I said before, no sense to it.”

  I was appreciating this man more and more by the minute. “Do you remember anything about him from the night he was in your store?”

  “I’m sorry, but there wasn’t much to remember. He just bought a few things. You know, in the middle of the night people are either talkative or silent, as if they’re half-asleep. He was the chatty type. He asked me about the store, pretty standard stuff, nothin’ special.”

  That was more “special” than he could know. It was showing a pattern. Much as I didn’t want to admit my husband was a thief, I was getting excited by the thought that I might finally be on the right track.

  There didn’t seem to be much more to remember. Mom had stayed back, letting me have my space to talk to Stan, but when she could tell I was done she was at my elbow. This time she had sandwiches for the two of us and a couple small bags of snacks. Stan rang up the purchase, but when he saw she was with me, he refused to take our money. He reminded me of Walter from Harper’s Mart, which made me smile.