“Pop, you okay?”
“Persephone.” His persona changed abruptly, his tone bright and loving. “Come on out, my girl. I’ve been waiting for you to come to the party. How was Staten Island? You were there a long time.”
“What are you doing out here, Pop? Something wrong?”
Pop looked surprised. “Nothing’s wrong, Persephone, nothing at all. In fact, everything’s right.”
“You mean Sera and Bobby getting married? They told me on their way out. Who would have figured?”
“Come on over here and take a seat next to me.” He tapped the three-legged stool next to him.
Percy took the two steps that brought her to her father’s side and sat on the stool. He took her hand and caressed it, but said nothing.
“Pop, are you okay?”
“I am. Just reflecting. Robert Evans is a good lad. Wants to be a teacher, you know. Bright future. They’ve known each other since grammar school. Been seeing each other on and off for four years now.”
“Yeah, but I thought it was more off than on, Pop.”
“We all know love can take some strange turns. But the long and short of it is, Robert asked Serendipity to marry him, and she said yes. The Coles and Evans, we’re giving them two nights at the Astor Hotel as a wedding present. The rest of his leave they’ll stay at a friend’s cabin on Long Island.”
He fell silent, wrapped in an air of contentment. Percy, however, grappled with how she felt.
“I can’t believe it. I go to Staten Island to sign a deposition and all hell breaks loose back in Manhattan.”
“Our Serendipity knows what she wants. Always has. Him. I suspect that’s why she’s been a bit on the wild side. But no more.”
“I guess that means when the fleet’s in, they’ll have to make other plans.”
“Now, you behave, Persephone. She’s a good girl at heart.”
“It wasn’t what she was doing with her heart that had me worried, Pop.”
They both laughed before her father spoke again.
“Those days are over now. Serendipity and Robert will get married. After the honeymoon, he’ll return to his troop, and she’ll continue living here until the war’s over. When he comes back, she’ll have a full and happy life with him.”
Percy thought for a moment then let out a chuckle. Her father looked at her, puzzled.
“Seems like you can’t get rid of your daughters even when we get married.”
“We wouldn’t have it any other way.” He stroked her hand lightly. “Mother and I are blessed.”
“Speaking of Mother, I hear she and Mrs. Goldberg are in the kitchen going at it hammer and tongs.”
“Their children are well and happy, finally. Now those two can go back to doing what they do best.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “Sparring with one another.”
Percy sat for a moment, while Pop lit a cigar. He let out a deep sign of contentment.
“It’s been a day of revelations and changes, but all good.” Pop studied Percy’s face for a moment. “Anything you want to tell me, daughter? Anything going on with you I need to know about?”
Percy hesitated for a split second. “Nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow. You enjoy your cigar.” Percy stood, squeezed her father’s hand and dropped it. He looked up at her with a grin.
“Mother gave me a box of them for Valentine’s Day. When the all clear sounds, Persephone, go into the kitchen and see the broach I got your mother. It’s small, but it’s gold and got a ruby in it. A real one.”
“Where’d you get that, Pop?”
“Had it on lay-away since November. Finally paid it off this week. Mother cried like a baby when she seen it. Says she’ll never take it off.”
“I’ll bet she won’t. Happy Valentine’s Day, Pop.”
Chapter Forty-three
“Morning, Rendell. Or should I say, good afternoon?“ Percy stepped from behind the Peacock screen and into the office.
“Yes, ma’am. It’s a quarter after twelve. Lots of phone calls while you were out. Two new possible jobs. I told them you’d be in touch. Your brother, Jude, phoned a short while ago. Said to call him.”
“Have a donut.” Percy tossed a small brown bag on his desk. “The bag absorbed most of the grease. Too bad.”
“Smitty’s Donuts?” He stopped his filing to read the side of the bag then reached inside with his one good hand. Percy winked at him good-naturedly.
“You bet. They’re the best.”
“I thought they only had a store in Brooklyn.”
“You thought right, Rendell. I was there for Marianna Christensen’s sentencing.”
Rendell watched Percy remove her fedora, shake out her mane of hair, and sit behind her desk before he spoke.
“The radio said the jury came back pretty fast.”
“It was short and sweet. They weren’t out fifteen minutes. Death by electric chair.”She paused. “Any coffee?”
“I made a fresh pot just a minute ago, ma’am.”
Percy rose from her chair and stepped to the small file cabinet that doubled as the coffee set up. She poured herself a cup, while Rendell went on.
“I want to thank you for taking me on permanently, ma’am. What with the new baby on the way, Sylvia and me, we --”
“I did it for myself, Rendell,” she interrupted then took a long, satisfying gulp of coffee. “In two months time you know more about this office than I do. You type faster than me with only one hand, and you make a good cup of coffee. Just keep it up. No need to mention it again.”
“No, ma’am.”
Her assistant turned away with a smile. The phone rang. Rendell put down the remnants of his donut, brushed off his hand, and picked up the phone.
“Cole Investigations. Fred Rendell speaking.” He turned to Percy. “It’s your brother again. You in?”
“I’m in.”
She stretched across the short space that separated their two desks and took the receiver, the cord being just long enough to reach.
“Jude, I saw you in court not an hour ago. What’s up?”
While she listened, Rendell picked up the telephone base, and set it at the end of his desk closer to Percy, and returned to his filing. Percy hardly noticed. She was busy listening intently to the conversation on the other end of the line and did so for the better part of a minute. Then she continued to sit in silence.
“Yeah, I’m still here,” she finally said to her brother. Putting her hand over the mouthpiece, she turned to her assistant.
“Rendell.”
At the tone of her voice, the man stopped what he was doing and looked at her.
“Take lunch. Be back in an hour.”
He nodded, shut the file cabinet drawer, and left the parlor, closing the door behind him. Percy waited a beat before she removed her hand from the receiver and spoke again.
“When did this happen?” She listened. “They weren’t watching her? Nothing?” She listened again. “No, I guess they didn’t. I didn’t figure she was the type to hang herself, either. One of these days, they’re going to take things like belts and shoelaces away from condemned criminals. Not that it’s going to do Marianna any good. Okay, okay. I’ll shut up and let you talk. What?”
She listened then rose, more thrown than agitated. “What you do mean, she left me her diary and a letter? Why did she do that? I’m the reason she got caught.” Percy sat back down or rather fell into the chair. “What does it say? Okay, okay. So you don’t know. Tell me what you do know. She left instructions for them to be sent to me? Now?”
She heard the front doorbell ring followed by a loud, impatient knock.
“They’re at the door. I’ll call you back if I need to tell you anything. Thanks, Jude.”
She replaced the phone and hurried out into the hallway, yelling toward the kitchen. “It’s all right, Mother. I got it.”
She opened the door to see a young, skinny teenage boy dressed in a brown uniform, complete with cap.
> “You Percy Cole?”
Said with an air of boredom, he looked directly at her, raising his eyebrows. She nodded. Satisfied, he thrust a clipboard at her.
“Sign here, lady.”
Percy scribbled her name on the proffered document and returned it to the waiting boy. Out of the worn, leather pouch slung over one shoulder, he removed a small brown paper package neatly tied with a string followed by a white letter-sized envelope, both addressed to her. Meanwhile, Percy reached into her pocket for a dime. They exchanged items and the boy finally smiled.
“Gee, thanks, lady. They usually give me a nickel.”
“You could give me change.”
Pretending he didn’t hear her words, he grinned, touched his cap in a salute, and clomped down the stairs.
Percy returned to her office, sat down, and placed the book-shaped package on her desk. After sitting for a full minute, she sliced open the top of the envelope with her letter opener. She read the handwritten note not once, but twice before fully absorbing it.
Dear Percy Cole,
If you’re reading this, it means I’m already dead. The State’s offer of the electric chair didn’t surprise me, but that’s not how I’m planning to die.
I’m glad Howie took Poopsie and will give him a good home. That almost makes me sorry I tried to frame my neighbor, because the dog is the only living thing I ever loved. Not one person measured up to his devotion.
As for you, you gave me a run for my money, but I never thought you would outsmart me. I guess if we were really Holmes and Moriarty, I’m the one went over the falls, just like in the books.
Speaking of books, I’m sure you noticed the bookshelves in my room at the cottage when you called the police that day. Many of them are rare or first editions. I have left instructions for the contents to go to the New York City Public Library on 42nd Street. Maybe it’s the two lions guarding the entrance, but I’ve always been drawn to that place. Any peace I’ve had I found there.
However, with your permission, I would like to leave my copy of “The Little Engine That Could” to your son, Oliver. I always liked your boy; I never faked that.
The book’s not worth more than a couple of bucks, if that, but it meant a lot to me. There was a time in my youth when it gave me more hope than anything else in my life. I won’t tell you what I traded for the book’s ownership back then, but the world can be a wicked place. I found the truth of that more often than not.
I am also sending you my diary. I trust you to dispose of it and not let it get into the hands of people who may want to study the ‘criminal mind’. What I’ve written is deeply personal and I don’t want to share my thoughts with anyone. I know I can count on you to honor this last wish.
No matter what I did, I hope you will remember me with some measure of understanding.
Most sincerely, Marianna Christensen
Chapter Forty-four
Percy sat for a time thinking. She got up and went to the small fireplace in the parlor part of the room and lit a fire. After waiting for it to catch, Percy returned to her desk and picked up the brown package. Without unwrapping the diary, she tossed it onto the flames, prodding it with the poker until it was consumed. Only then did she return to her desk, reading Marianna’s letter again and again.
Ten minutes later there was a soft knock on the door and her mother entered. She leaned around the screen, her nose lightly dusted with flour.
“Persephone, who was at the door?”
“Just something for me, Mother.” She turned around in her chair and gave her mother a brighter than normal smile and changed the subject. “What are you baking?”
“An apricot-sweet potato pie.”
“Sounds different, but good.” Percy added, folding the letter and replacing it inside the envelope.
Instead of leaving, Mother stepped into the section of the parlor partitioned off as the office. As she rarely did this except when called upon to be the temporary secretary, Percy was surprised. She watched her mother sit down in Rendell’s vacated chair, and smooth out her apron as if she wanted to say something, but didn’t quite know how to start.
“You look like something’s on your mind.”
“Persephone, dear, I’ve done something you might not like, but I felt it was the right thing to do, so I did it.” Mother straightened her back and faced Percy with an almost defiant look. “I was only thinking about Oliver’s well-being.”
“Oliver seems to be the subject of a lot of people’s thoughts recently. What did you do?”
Mother took a deep breath and plunged in. “Two days ago I wrote to Kathleen Donovan and sent her some pictures of Oliver, grandmother to grandmother. I invited her to come for a visit.”
Mother went on in a rush, not allowing Percy to interrupt.
“After all, he’s her grandson, too. And my thinking was, Persephone, my thinking was, that if she just saw the boy, saw what a sweet, loving child he is, she might want to be a part of his life. She might not be such an unhappy, miserable old woman.” Mother took a deep breath and reflected. “Of course, she might not come around, but I wanted to give her a chance, a chance to --”
“Be a bigger and better person?”
“Don’t you dare make fun of me, young lady, or say I didn’t have the right. I’ll --”
“I’m not making fun of you, Mother.“
“After all, Oliver is an important part of our family. Look how much we love him and…” Mother broke off and stared at her daughter in disbelief. “You’re not upset with me or think I was wrong to do that?”
Percy tapped the envelope containing Marianna’s letter against her free hand.
“No, Mother, I’m not upset. I might have been yesterday, but not today. Redemption, that’s what you’re offering Leo the Louse’s mother. Redemption. And if someone had offered a little to Marianna Christensen somewhere along the line, her life might not have taken the turn it did. So if Kathleen Donovan wants to be in her grandson’s life and it makes Oliver happy, I’m all for it.”
Percy opened her desk drawer, dropped the envelope inside, closed the drawer slowly, and locked it with a key. She turned to her mother.
“But don’t expect me to be nice to her at all costs. She can be a real pill.”
“Now, Persephone, I think we should give her the benefit of the doubt.”
“Everyone deserves a second chance. Let’s not mention this to Oliver just yet, though, in case she runs true to form and doesn’t show up. I don’t want him to be disappointed.”
“No, of course not. Thank you, Persephone, for agreeing to this. I don’t know what else to say.”
“Then say ‘I’m going back to the kitchen to bake my pie now, Persephone’ and let me get back to work.”
Mother rose to leave, but hesitated, turning to her daughter. Percy looked at her in an open and guileless manner. The older woman smiled.
“There’s a part of you that’s glad I wrote her, isn’t there?”
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
“I would. You can fool others, but I know you are a very sweet, loving person.”
“If you say so, Mother. Just don’t let it get around the neighborhood. It can be bad for business.”
~
About Heather Haven
After studying drama at the University of Miami in Miami, Florida, Heather went to Manhattan to pursue a career. There she wrote short stories, novels, comedy acts, television treatments, ad copy, commercials, and two one-act plays, produced at several places, such as Playwrights Horizon. Once she even ghostwrote a book on how to run an employment agency. She was unemployed at the time.
Author of the multi-award winning Alvarez Family Murder Mysteries, Murder is a Family Business, A Wedding to Die For, Death Runs in the Family, and DEAD….If Only, Heather is currently working on the fifth book of the series, The CEO Came DOA.
In Death of a Clown and as the daughter of real-life Ringling Brothers and Barnum and Bailey Circus folks, Heather
brings the daily existence of the Big Top to life during World War II. Embellished, of course, by her own murderous imagination, this stand-alone noir mystery was inspired by her trapeze artist/performer mother and her father, an elephant trainer.
Corliss and Other Award-Winning Stories is an anthology of her own favorite short stories, short-shorts, and flash fiction.
Heather lives in the foothills of San Jose with her husband of thirty-plus years, and two cats, Yul Brynner, King of Siam (Yulie) and Elphaba, Queen of the Nile, (Ellie).
Also by Heather Haven
•Death of a Clown – A noir mystery
The Alvarez Family Murder Mystery Series
•Murder is a Family Business – Book One
•A Wedding to Die For – Book Two
•Death Runs in the Family – Book Three
•DEAD….If Only – Book Four
The Persephone Cole Vintage Mystery Series
•The Dagger Before Me – Book One
•Iced Diamonds – Book Two
•The Chocolate Kiss-Off – Book Three
Read on for a sample of
Murder is a Family Business!
Book One of
The Alvarez Family Murder Mysteries
Murder is a Family Business
Chapter One
The Not-So-Perfect Storm
“God, surveillance sucks,” I griped aloud to a seagull languishing on a nearby, worm-eaten post, he being my only companion for the past few hours. He cocked his head and stared at me. I cocked my head and stared at him. It might have been the beginning of a beautiful friendship, but a nearby car backfired, and he took off in a huff. Watching him climb, graceful and white against the gray sky, I let out a deep sigh, feeling enormously sorry for myself. I eyeballed the dilapidated warehouse across the parking lot hanging onto the edge of the pier for any signs of life. I didn’t find any.
The Chocolate Kiss-Off Page 20