by Una Tiers
I guess if I had to answer him, I would say yes and no. Yes I’m being cautious and no, the life of a probate lawyer is simply not dramatic. However, hollering at this point in our relationship was not okay.
“I am not nearly as stupid as you seem to think I am.” I can be eloquent without trying.
David fumed, giving me I can’t believe you looks and paced, (only three steps for the size of my office) while I glared at him.
When he declared that he would drive me home, I sweetly told him where he could go.
LIL (Ladies in Law) had a meeting that evening and I ruined my otherwise perfect attendance record and went straight home where I worked out until I almost fell off the treadmill.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The day after the argument, I felt more stupid than angry because I simply could not concentrate. Early in the morning I picked up the keys for the sublet, still not letting my aunt in on my escape plan.
When I returned, I found a note from my Aunt saying she would be away for a few days. She never mentioned going away and didn’t believe in cell phones. Was she staying with a friend? She didn’t say where she was going, when she would return or how she was traveling. Her car was still in the garage.
Was she just trying to get away from me? Was I a horrible guest?
Furtively, I took a load of stuff over to my new apartment before I headed to work.
My new place is a studio and it is mine all mine. The kitchen is small and the bathroom has a stacking washer and dryer. There are two windows facing south.
I love the fresh start you get when you move. I renewed my usual new place vows to stay current with laundry, and never have slimy green things or dehydrated turnips in the refrigerator. The place would always look like a magazine. After I had everything in I would paint the kitchen. Yes, I know things are usually done in the reverse order.
Included with my new “living space” was an assigned parking space. It was about a mile from my Aunt’s house and we would probably get to be friends again once I moved out. Our conversations had changed since I moved in with her.
It was only three blocks from Clark Street where I could easily catch the bus to get downtown to the office.
The building was tall and narrow with mostly singles living there. It almost felt safe but I would have to get used to being alone again. I thought I could manage with the futon as my bed for a while until I took a nap on it.
After washing up and changing to work clothes, I made a list of things that I needed. It was more than I could buy.
Late in the day I could feel a slight aching in my arms from moving the boxes, and it felt good. Maybe I would be able to work off the scone pounds.
At the office things felt different. The hall way door was locked. I startled Annette when I unlocked the hallway door.
“Hi Fiona.”
“Hi, why is the door locked?”
“Paul’s away for the week so everyone scattered.”
This would be nice, Paul and I weren’t getting along as well as we had at first. Maybe his disposition would change after a vacation.
“Fiona?”
“Yes?”
“I planned on keeping the hallway door locked.”
“Okay, no problem.”
After an hour I had checked out prices for mattresses on the internet and wanted to flee. I had a few small things that I could do for clients, but they could wait. I went “home” for my car, music tapes and water. I got gas (for the car), checked the tires and headed north to work on my list.
My attitude improved as soon as I spotted the first mall. After an hour I had power walked in and out of almost every store but the hardware store. I found new slippers, kitchen things and pajamas. Down the road at the next mall I bought a business card holder and more kitchen stuff. At the last mall, I was having trouble picking up my feet, so I headed home. Even Thelma and Louise needed a rest now and then.
The trip was successful for the economy and my perspective. My small safety net of money was gone, but the trip gave me a centering experience because I hadn’t shopped much since I moved out of the house.
After scouring the closets at my Aunt’s house, I found wrapping paper for a robe I bought for her. I also found men’s clothing on my search. Yes, in the linen closet. Why didn’t she simply introduce me? Did she elope?
Taking one of the late showers I had mostly given up when I moved in with Tessie, I fell asleep easily. I dreamed that I was driving on route 41, the same route the day’s shopping expedition followed. I was passing the Wisconsin border when I noticed the malls were gone and only cheese stores, fireworks stands and peep shows remained.
The office was deserted in the morning. The lights were off and Annette wasn’t even there. I checked messages and was disappointed that David hadn’t called.
Returning to my new apartment I cleaned the sink and counter and performed the official lining of the kitchen cabinets. I washed my new set of dishes and settled down on the futon with complimentary coffee from the office. When I woke up it was almost dinner time so I headed back to my Aunt’s house, hoping she had returned and to eat some of her food.
Her house was still empty.
After a long bath, I fell asleep until 5 AM. There isn’t a whole lot that you can do at that time of day. I decided to risk going out before it was light. An hour later it started to rain so I went back to my place to take a walk.
The next morning, I waited until it was light out and walked all the way to the lakefront. It was a sunny day and I was well dressed for the cold lake breeze. I also think I looked especially cool in my red sunglasses.
In Chicago we are blessed to have the most magnificent shoreline. It has miles of paved walkways. It’s busy in all seasons with a variety of activities and people, people people. Sometimes it reminds me of a giant gym because of all the rollerbladers, runners, walkers and bikers.
Walking, I tried to picture the people I heard talking about the judge’s heart condition at the funeral reception, without luck. They were all suits holding coffee cups. Their heads turned into giant erasers.
The reception at the Water Club wasn’t any more clear except for the foodies at my table, Mildred and Charlie. I remembered learning Holadollar lied to Judge Curie, and oh yes, the breakdown of my marriage.
I imagined a judge, passed over for promotion, dropping liquefied peanuts into the food on Judge King’s dish. I put Peur at the top of my list since she made me miss court.
A crime of passion was also suitably judicial. For that scenario, Judge Dorothy was at the top of the list because she was the only one I could picture with King.
Her alibi was that she was in Kansas City the night of the reception, (about five hundred miles or eight hours away by car), visiting relatives. That’s close enough to drive back unnoticed. Of course she would need to drive back to Kansas City in order to use her return trip airline ticket to keep the alibi intact. And if she rented a car in Kansas City, would she have paid cash? Would they take cash for car rentals? Could David check credit card receipts for a judge?
Judge Curie was simply too nice a person to murder anyone. Besides, with his level of clout he would have more painful means of evening up the score for any offense at his fingertips.
Montreel had the opportunity to murder Judge King when he drove the two judges home after the reception. Maybe he helped Judge King all the way up to his apartment? Even Fullhammer could have helped King and then, then, what?
They had opportunity, but my theory petered out. Did he die in the car and they put his lifeless body back in his apartment? That wouldn’t explain the locked door unless it was an oversight made in the panic of disposing of a body.
Did Judge King have another coffee with Fullhammer after he got home, laced with peanuts? Would he eat or drink anything if he was sick an hour earlier?
Thinking hard I wasn’t even sure all of the judges were at the reception. Maybe I could call Melanie on Monday and offer to pick up the picture
s and guest list.
The biggest problem I had was I didn’t know much about the judges, hadn’t been around very long. What kind of an argument could they get into to make one of them murder one of their own?
Did he refuse to support the appointment of some political person? Was Judge King about to transfer someone out of probate?
When I completed my review of the facts as I knew them, I had walked all the way to Navy Pier, about four miles from my starting point. What would Freud say? I thought about the picnic with David and wondered if the same shore birds were around. Was that afternoon a fluke?
I could see the yacht club where the reception was held and the empty boat slips from the end of the pier.
The Grand Avenue bus lumbered past and made a wide circle to head back in a westerly direction. I took it as a sign to board and head back. My legs felt like jelly.
After a nap and shower, I did laundry and decided to go through some of the boxes of paperwork that I brought from home. Nothing was organized. When I was done, I emptied wastebaskets and bundled newspapers for recycling.
As I dragged a large garbage bag out to the alley I saw a plume of smoke where a few smokers gathered. While I am happy they can’t stink up the insides of places now, I feel a little sorry for them. Some of them are too dumb to put on a jacket and prefer to shiver and puff.
One of the guys looked familiar, but before I could say hello, he turned and walked away. That seemed to happen to me regularly. Maybe I need new glasses.
The pilot I didn’t have dinner with called and left a message inviting me out for cake in a playful, provocative voice. I didn’t return his call.
David hadn’t called. All those plans I had for the summer were slipping away. David and I could ride our bikes over to Navy Pier and watch the fireworks. We could even take the sandwiches he liked instead of waiting in line for a table at a restaurant.
Around four in the afternoon I decided to check the office. Annette gave me an odd look and I coughed a little and pointed to my throat. I was opening the mail when he walked in.
He smiled tentatively making me forget the substances of the argument although I know he started it.
“I hear that Navy Pier is pretty nice when it’s a little warmer,” he looked for my response.
I smiled and nodded in agreement but decided not to tell him about the fireworks plan. The poor man looked so uncomfortable. I wanted to butter his bread naked again.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have yelled, but I don’t think you realize the chance you took.”
Although I had issues with his reasoning or apology, I held them in. We were on the road to New Mexico again.
When we got in the car, I asked if we could go to Chinatown instead of Navy Pier, knowing what a powerful, post argument position I had.
Chinatown is south of the loop and beautiful. It has older ornate buildings, loads of restaurants, a pagoda, a wall of dragons, gift shops and bakeries. There is a funeral parlor in the middle of the main street. In February they celebrate Chinese New Year with a parade. The length, about eight minutes is just about commensurate with the bitter winter weather.
In the summer there are dragon boat races that are short but sweet. It’s the only place in town where women carry umbrellas against the summer sun.
We didn’t talk much, but the dinner was relaxed. Maybe it was because we didn’t talk much. He explained that fortune cookies originated in San Francisco and not in China. My fortune predicted that I would be showered with gifts. My lucky number was 7.
David’s fortune said he would find the answer to a difficult question. His lucky number was two.
I had hoped for love fortunes.
He is a clean your plate kind of person and I like that. Kind of stuffed, we walked at a slow pace back to the car. I loved that he walked with his hand on my back.
We stopped at a bakery, not able to resist. That’s another thing I love about Chinatown, the bakeries and a few gift shops stay open late. The bakeries have cool things like taro biscuits and something mysteriously wrapped in a banana leaf and tied with string.
The bakery had a refrigerated display case with chocolate éclairs topped with chopped nuts and we exchanged a glance with four raised eyebrows.
The gift shops we passed had rice bowls, feng shui mirrors, wind chimes, mysterious foodstuffs and bulk bags of fortune cookies in the window. They also had woks of all sizes.
David wanted to stop in a gift shop to fill my fortune, but I declined. Graciousness is not always my forte. Besides, we seemed in a weird spot. He seemed to be moving forward and I seemed to be building a wall between us.
The next day I was back at the office all day. There was frenetic activity, Paul was due to return on Monday. Everyone seemed stressed, Claude only waived hello. No one mentioned my absence. I sniffed a little and coughed to maintain the charade for Annette. She rolled her eyes in disbelief.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Outside the office, I heard the scratching and crunching of glass.
“Fiona, I brought all of this for you.” Bob lugged in a topless box with the lawyer stuff, including glasses, mugs, a pillow, neckties and an ashtray from his father’s apartment.
“Did your father smoke?” I asked seeing the ashtray on top.
“No, it was probably a gift.”
After thanking him, I washed the mugs and decided to use the scales of justice glasses in the office. They would look pretty on a tray. As I unwrapped them I was disappointed that there wasn’t a set, just three of what was likely four. Still, with only two office chairs they would appear as a set. I put the ashtray under a plant.
David appeared the next day at noon with sandwiches and I served soda in the new tumblers.
“These are kind of fancy. Is this a monogram?”
“No, just gold etching.”
He shrugged.
We talked about museums and food. I invented a badge exhibit to tease him. We didn’t talk about murder. Although I wanted to introduce him to Claude, he was off for a few days for exams. I was still trying to understand why they reminded me of one another.
Annette noticed the glasses when I was washing them.
“What did they cost?”
“Garage sale.”
“That explains the monogram.”
Looking closer, she was right they were monogrammed with the letter “K”.
“Are you going to put them in the kitchen area?”
“No, probably not.”
The next day David appeared again. I could get used to this. Before I realized he wasn’t going to feed me, he hung his jacket on the back of a chair, closed the door and sat down. Instead of a bag of lunch he had a large white envelope he tapped against his knees.
“Do you want me to bring you up to date on our investigation?”
“Finally,” I laughed.
His face lit up when he talked about the murder investigation. His words were flowing because he was in his element.
“You raised questions about that lawyer from the Water Club, Robert Line, so I interviewed him again.”
“The guy who ordered the food?”
“Yes.”
“Hey what’s in the envelope,” I interrupted.”
“I’ll get to it. Line is the treasurer so he orders the food based on early ticket sales and the budget. This reception has about the same food every year.”
“Did he lie to you?”
“Yes, when I talked to him the first time, he said how nice the dinner buffet was and how much Judge King appreciated the award. Although I can’t quote him, he certainly suggested he was there all evening.”
“Did he buy a ticket?”
“Yes, he offered to show us his canceled check and train ticket. That was being a little too helpful.”
“So he didn’t buy a ticket?”
“He did, but he wasn’t at the reception all evening. We noticed he wasn’t in any of the dinner pictures and he didn’t know about the late coffee.”
“You can have your own set. Anyway, when I talked to Line the second time he couldn’t remember exactly when the party ended. He said that he was on the 9:35 North Line Metra train. I asked if he stayed for late coffee and he said coffee was only available during dinner and dessert.”
“There was late coffee?”
“Only for the judges. They ordered coffee because Judge King looked like he had a few too many drinks.
When I compared my notes,” he continued, “quite a few people said that they were on the 8:35 or 8:30 trains. And Line insisted that everyone took off at the same time, he said it’s always like a mass exodus.”
“Could he have stayed late?”
“That wasn’t what he told us. The train ticket didn’t click until someone mentioned buying a monthly pass. If you ride every day, you don’t use one way tickets.”
“And he had a ticket for a single ride?”
“Exactly, but he’s not the guy.”
“Why not?”
“All he’s guilty of is lying. He left early after he made the checks, the caterer said the treasurer pestered him for the bill before they served the food. Usually they get paid at the end of the night. They had to send another bill for the late coffee the judges ordered after most of the crowd left. And after Line left.”
“Was the hot food set up before he left?”
“No, it wasn’t put out until 6:30.”
“Couldn’t he have tampered with it earlier?”
“We don’t think so. The food is transported in large aluminum containers that are set in the oven when they arrive. Later they transfer the hot food to the serving tureens.”
“Why did he lie?”
“It sounds like he’s having an office affair.”
“Really?” I wished I could turn the conversation to the ethics of cheating in a relationship. This was the second time it came up in discussion with David.
“At the reception, Lion excused himself to take a cell phone call right after he made the checks out. He told the other lawyers at the reception table he had to get home. His wife confirmed he came in on the 9:35 train and that he said he was started. She didn’t think about it until later, he was at a dinner reception that evening.”