A Glimmer of Death

by Valerie Wilson Wesley

  A gray file cabinet stood near another wall, and Vinton headed there next, pulled it open, quickly picked through the folders, and handed one to me.

  “Vinton, I don’t . . .” He snatched it back, tossing the contents on the grimy couch beside me.

  “Let me tell you what’s in it, Miss Dessa, since you don’t want to get your hands dirty.”

  His harsh tone angered me. I’d had enough. I stood up, brushed the dust from my clothes, ready to stumble out of this small, sad space and go home. He grabbed my hand, his touch a marked gentle contrast to the anger in his voice.

  “Dessa, I’m sorry I brought you in here, and I apologize for that, but I don’t have anyone else to share this with. Juda was the closest person I had after Stu, and you’re . . .” He paused but didn’t have to finish it. I knew what he was going to say: that I was the closest person he had now, the only friend he had, and the only one he could trust. I sat back down. I was here now and had to ride it through to the end.

  “You need to know some of what was going on. I told you about the scams; he got some things legal. The cops asked you about Avon Bailey? This one.” He held up a fragile document and waved it in my face. “This is a deed to one of the places belonging to old Avon Bailey, the father. Charlie got his house like he got so many others.

  “Scamming folks out of their property, taking advantage of their weakness, using young pretty girls to fool them into putting their hearts above their heads. Left that old fool nothing. This place, where we’re sitting, this was his, too. May have been one of the houses Avon Bailey used to own. Juda didn’t own it, just lived here, along with all these cabinets filled with secrets that belonged to other people.”

  I sat back down, too curious to leave. He pointed to another file cabinet next to the one he’d just been rifling through.

  “That one, too. The one marked with Charlie’s name.” He went over and tore it open, tossing more deeds and documents onto the floor. “Everyone he touched was dirty, and he kept something on everything and everybody. Everybody.”

  “Even you?” I asked because I needed to know.

  “Even me. It doesn’t matter anymore. He’s dead. Juda’s dead. Stu is dead. Nothing can touch me now. I don’t know what’s in there, and I don’t want to know.”

  We sat there for a while without saying anything, tired and silent in this room haunted by death and filled with ugly things. Charlie Risko was still here. And Juda, and Tanya.

  “It all belongs to Mrs. Tanya Risko now. Whatever it is, whatever secrets he had, whatever he had on other people, including her,” Vinton said, as if he could read my thoughts.

  “Do you think she knows what’s up here?”

  “I doubt it. Charlie Risko kept these women separate for a reason. Tanya was one thing, Juda was another. He probably had stuff on Juda, too, packed in here somewhere. Maybe that’s why Juda wanted me to come up here if she died. She said once she was a wild, crazy little thing when she was a kid, around the time she met Charlie. Her secrets are in here, too. Maybe those are what . . .” He didn’t finish the sentence because he didn’t need to.

  In the distance a dog howled, always a scary sound in the middle of the night, and it was going on midnight. I touched my mother’s amulet. Vinton watched me, an amused smile playing on his lips.

  “What you got around your neck that you keep touching? You’re as bad as Stuart with that kind of stuff. As if charms can protect you from evil.”

  “It belonged to my mother. Sometimes charms can protect you from evil.”

  “If you’re a witch,” he said with a half-smile.

  I left that alone; it was a secret for another day.

  Quietly and deliberately, Vinton returned the folders to the file cabinets and sealed them up as best he could.

  “What did Juda want you to get rid of?”

  Vinton looked around the room and shook his head in exasperation, his shoulders slumping with exhaustion. “Everything, I guess, but I can’t throw this junk away tonight. Or even tomorrow night. Wherever my dear Juda is, I hope she will forgive me for not being there for her yesterday, for letting her down again tonight. Going through this stuff will kill me as sure as it killed her.”

  “When do you think the cops are going to get in here?” I asked. He shrugged, offering his hand to pull me up.

  “Cops being cops, they’ll get here when they get here, find this stuff when they find it, and that’s when Mrs. Tanya Risko will get what’s due her.”

  “You’re not going to say anything to Tanya?”

  “We’d best be on our way, Dessa. Like Mr. Ray Charles used to sing, don’t let the sun catch you crying,” he said, without answering my question.

  Chapter 15

  Despite Vinton’s warning, the sun did catch me crying, long and hard before I fell asleep. I cried for Juda, for Vinton, but most of all for me, and that I was as alone as Juda had been, and this loneliness would always be part of my life. I cried about how unhappy she must have been, surrounding herself with other people’s secrets, tying herself to a man who didn’t love her. My first impression had been right: She was a liar, but mostly to herself.

  I woke up the next morning with the sun in my eyes, and Juniper’s rough little tongue licking the side of my face. It was time for breakfast, and he wasn’t about to let me forget it. I shoved him off the bed, pulled the cover over my head hoping he’d go away, yet at the same time grateful he was here. He could be a pain in the neck, but he was my pain in the neck.

  The previous night felt like a nightmare. When I dropped Vinton off, he looked as beaten down as I’d ever seen anyone look. His gait was unsteady and so tottering I feared he wouldn’t make it to his apartment. I waited until his lights went on before I left. I sat in my driveway when I got home, too tired to get out of the car and wondering if Juda’s suicide had really been that. Could murder be mistaken for suicide?

  Vinton had been alone when he went into Juda’s bedroom, then insisted that I go upstairs with him. Was there something he didn’t want me to know? Could he be more involved with things than he let on? His wounded spirit and sense of humor made it easy to like him, but maybe I was too trusting and as gullible as Lennox Royal believed me to be.

  Was Vinton the last person to see Juda alive? Or had that been Tanya, dropping off Charlie’s “crap”? Or had there been someone else? My errant gift gave me no help, of course. For a moment, I considered reaching out to Aunt Phoenix, and then remembered she and Celestine had headed down to Atlantic City to “try their luck,” as she put it. I doubted that they were back. There wouldn’t be much they could tell me anyway.

  Juniper jumped on my stomach, nipped my big toe, and began his woeful, wounded mewing, which always got my attention. I stumbled out of bed, blindly poured cat food onto his plate, tossed him a few Temptations, and made sure his water fountain was full. I made some coffee and toast, watched a half hour of The View, and tried hard to chase the night before out of my head, but it was no use. The last place I wanted to go was Risko Realty, but I had those short sales to follow up on and a meeting at 3:00 with a mysterious couple who had called the office and specifically asked for me. That had never happened before, and I couldn’t miss that.

  Before I left home, I called Vinton to make sure he was okay. His voice was hoarse and scratchy; he’d probably spent the night crying, too. He told me he’d called Tanya earlier that morning to tell her about Juda and that she’d taken her own life because he didn’t want Tanya to think there had been another murder. Tanya told him she was sorry about Juda’s death, and that she’d let the rest of the staff know about her. She also said to let her know when Juda’s family made arrangements because she wanted the company to contribute. “Nice gesture, since the company killed her,” Vinton had said. “I’m Juda’s family now. I really am all she had.” I tried to reassure him that somebody from her past was bound to show up sooner or later, but we both knew that wasn’t going to happen. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this, Dess
a,” he said before he hung up. I didn’t say it, but so was I. After talking to him, I was ashamed I’d suspected him of having something to do with Juda’s death. If it was suicide, it had been Juda’s decision, I reminded myself, no matter who had seen her last.

  It was noon by the time I got to the office. Tanya’s door was closed, bringing back memories of her late husband. Dennis Lane was chatting up some unsuspecting client in his charming, seductive voice. He put down the phone when he saw me, rearing back like a predator prepping for attack. I touched my amulet.

  “Too bad about Juda Baker,” he said, his voice betraying what he really felt. “Guess she couldn’t take it. How did she do it? Gun? Pills? Rope? Man, there’s something about this place that sends folks over the edge. Better watch yourself, Mrs. Jones. But that Juda Baker was an odd bird. Never understood what Charlie saw in her.”

  “Go to hell!” Bertie said, with a quiet rage that seemed to come from nowhere. “Someday you’re going to pay for your meanness. You truly are an evil man!”

  Her words didn’t seem to bother Dennis. He chuckled, as if taunting us both. “Not in this lifetime. You know what they say, Bertie. The good die young, and I’m not that young and you can ask ladies who know me about my goodness.”

  A slow, cruel smile spread across his lips. “Stare at me all you want, Mrs. Jefferson. I know more about you and your family than you think I ought to know, and that’s the truth.”

  He was talking about Louella and we knew it. Bertie looked as if she’d been struck. I wished again for the skills of my distant cousins.

  “Leave her alone,” I said, protecting her as Vinton had when Dennis was picking on me. “Just be quiet, out of respect for Juda if for no other reason.”

  “Juda? She didn’t respect the two of you. And by the way, Tanya’s upset, in there crying. Juda doesn’t deserve any of your sympathy. The woman took herself out. Just like Stuart Risko did. You can’t feel too sorry for folks like that.”

  I was glad Vinton wasn’t there to hear him. He was carrying too much guilt about both Stuart and Juda to have to listen to Dennis Lane’s vicious words. Those who love suicide victims often blame themselves, and Vinton already did. I moved closer to Bertie, reached over to hug her, but it was as if her anger had created a barrier around her. I could feel her rage inside me, like I had that day she fought with Louella, and it was frightening.

  “Juda’s not supposed to be dead. She’s not one of those who should be dead. She didn’t do anything to deserve to die,” Bertie whispered, more to herself than to me.

  “She was just very unhappy,” I said, even though my words meant little; she barely heard them.

  The last week and a half had taken a visible toll on Bertie. A heaviness, not unlike a glimmer, was weighing her down. She’d always been an optimist, picking me up when I was discouraged, teasing Vinton when it suited her, but that was gone now. She was stuck here at Risko Realty, more so than the rest of us, and maybe that truth was affecting her. It would be hard for her to find another job, and as far as I knew she was the sole support of Louella and Erika. Everyone depended on her. She came here every morning, working as much as she could, doing the best she could do, despite Dennis’s cruelty. He seemed strangely unaffected by all the things that had happened.

  I wondered why he just didn’t leave and go somewhere else. He had more commissions than anyone else and would be welcomed by any company looking for a top-notch salesman. Yet he came in here every morning, chatting seductively to his female clients, seeming to take pleasure in picking on those more vulnerable than he. I was even more convinced that he was running what Lennox called a long con on Tanya—unless she was more involved with Charlie’s death than I knew.

  If you ask me, the wife had something to do with it. It’s always the spouse. Lennox’s words came back again.

  Before my clients came, I knocked on Tanya’s door to check on her. She had been crying like Dennis said, her eyes swollen and her nose running. Every time I saw Tanya I changed my mind about her, as if she were an optical illusion that changed shape the longer I stared at it. But that was nearly the case with all of my coworkers. Bertie had been easy when I met her. She’d worn her pain like an old sweater and I felt sorry for her, but now her flashes of rage puzzled and alarmed me. Dennis probably was a crook running a con, but what did I really know about him? I could be as wrong about him as I was about Juda. I hadn’t seen how lonely she was, how much pain she was in. Vinton I thought I knew, but sometimes it was just for the moment we were in. I’d had my doubts after the previous night yet believed in him again that morning. And Harley, well, that remained to be seen. As usual, I could blame the failings of the gift, which showed itself through nutmeg only when death was in the air. I’d stopped using the spice altogether these days, to the detriment of spice cake, French toast, and hot cocoa.

  I thought about all those things and the part the gift played and didn’t when I sat down on Tanya’s couch, watching her dab her eyes with a paper napkin. When she saw me, she sniffed and started right in.

  “I took all that stuff over to her on Sunday, and she must have killed herself that night. I thought she’d want it. Do you think it was my fault, Dessa?”

  She hadn’t shed a tear at Charlie Risko’s memorial. Who could forget that red pantsuit or her confession to me that she’d never loved him? These tears were real, despite the dramatic dab with the napkin. Or was it guilt?

  “No, I don’t think you had anything to do with Juda taking her own life, if that’s what she did. It may have been an accident, nobody will really know until they do an autopsy.”

  “She wasn’t upset when I saw her.”

  “Tell me what happened.”

  “Well, I went over there to her place, rang the bell, gave her all Charlie’s stuff in a black trash bag.”

  “Did you go upstairs?”

  “Upstairs? Why would I go upstairs?” she said, sounding surprised.

  “But you know what was upstairs, right?” I said, deciding not to take her at her word.

  She shrugged. “Her tenant, I guess. Charlie told me she owned the building. I assumed she rented out the top floor. Were they there when she did it? Maybe they could have stopped it!”

  “I don’t think so,” I said quietly.

  “Why did you ask if I went upstairs?” she said again, puzzled.

  I shrugged. “Something Vinton said.”

  “What did he say?”

  “Nothing much. You know Vinton.”

  She smiled slightly when I said that. “Vinton and Juda were good friends. They didn’t talk to me all that much, but I could tell they were close. When he called me this morning, he was really broken up. I feel like I want to do something for her. Charlie and she were together for a long time. I don’t know much of what was between them now, except that she knew stuff about him I didn’t know. I want to pay for a memorial service if her family will let me. I feel like Charlie owes her that.”

  “Yeah, he does. But it’s not your debt to pay.”

  “I was never that nice to her. I should have been.”

  “We all should have been,” I said, saying the truth as I saw it now. “I’ll remind Vinton to let you know about a service.”

  She nodded and wiped her nose. There would be plenty of time for her to find out who really owned that house and what was in it. That would have to play out in its own time.

  “Dennis said I shouldn’t do anything for Juda, but I want to anyway. He said it wasn’t my place,” she said after a minute.

  “Dennis is still giving you advice?” Her expression said he was. “Don’t trust him, Tanya. He may be taking advantage of you, and he doesn’t mean you any good.”

  She smiled a tight, weary smile. “I can handle Dennis Lane the same way I handled Charlie Risko.”

  “We both know that didn’t turn out that well, don’t we?” I said, which seemed to surprise her.

  “You know what’s funny? Bertie said the same thing to me this mor
ning, about not trusting Dennis. Said he meant me trouble, just like you, and that sooner or later his stuff would catch up with him, and that I didn’t want to be around him when that happened.”

  I understood now where Bertie’s rage came from. It must have been left over from her conversation with Tanya.

  “Have you heard from Harley?” Tanya asked out of nowhere, surprising me the same way she had when she’d taken me to lunch. “He’s been out and nobody has heard from him. I’ve been calling him, leaving messages, but he doesn’t answer his phone. What do you think about that?” She searched my face, looking for an answer that I didn’t have. “Do you think Harley killed Charlie, like the police say he did?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Then why hasn’t he called anybody?”

  “Maybe he needs time to himself,” I said as convincingly as I could.

  “I don’t know who to trust anymore.” Her voice turned into the little lost girl. “I used to have so many people I could trust. Dennis, my grandfather, Harley, even Charlie.”

  “Yourself. Learn to trust yourself, Tanya,” I told her, passing on a homily that I only half expected her to believe. I stood up, getting ready to leave. “Well, Tanya, I have an appointment in a few minutes and I . . .”

  She stood slightly and grabbed my arm from across her desk, her grip stronger than I expected it to be. “Do you think somebody killed Juda, like they killed Charlie? What if it wasn’t a suicide or accident?”

  I sat back down to listen; the desperation in her voice wouldn’t let me leave.

  “That’s ridiculous, Tanya,” I said firmly, even though the thought had crossed my mind that morning. “Don’t let yourself go there.”

  “I don’t know. Something about it, her dying like she did.”

  “The medical examiner told the cops it was probably suicide or an accident, not a crime scene,” I said, repeating what I’d been told.

  “I hope they’re right,” she said.

  I do, too, I said to myself, but left her office, more disturbed than I should have been.