Caraliza

by Joel Blaine Kirkpatrick

  He found police reports listing all the named suspects. One was an unknown person, someone they pulled from nearby alleys in their hope to find any clues. The Kogens were interviewed nearly a dozen times, and the last few reports were brief, the family too distraught to give more information. A report written two months after the crime, the Kogens were leaving their grief in the slums. They were moving to Chicago, and they would not allow more questions about their dead son. Papa was interviewed daily it seemed until his health failed. But deep inside one page, from just a few days after the crime, a suspect was mentioned as a person of intense interest, but that person vanished. The report only listed the number for another case and report file, those were from the month before the incident in the shop. Evan begged to see that set of reports as well, and found Papa Reisman again in the list of witness names.

  The suspect lived in the basement apartments in the building right across the street. Evan wrote down the name. No evidence was found that the man had been involved in the disappearance of the other sixteen-year-old boy. The boy never returned to the neighborhood and was believed dead; a body was never found, never recovered. The tenant across the street from the shop was repeatedly questioned, and was always brutish and vile, but the man was never charged, his apartment searched nearly a dozen times. Evan took his notes and returned the file. He went back to the Reisman case and continued to read.

  Not once did any document mention disturbance of the garden area. The crawlspace under the building was searched twice, the floorboards checked, and the basement apartment under the stoop on the other side of the street was searched again, twice more. The tenant, unnamed, again only the case number, was no longer anywhere to be found. And never the garden

  Evan felt chills from the emotions and he was drained when he left the archives with his notes and photocopies. He returned home to his den and began to lay the papers on the floor, in the order of the dates they were published. The photo of the girl graced his wall behind his couch, and he was thankful it would lie a bit to his eyes at every glance. Only when he stared, and refused to be fooled, would the angel let him see into the glow, and find the damaged skin beneath.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Grandma Sareta did not know any reason Yousep and his girl were in danger and hiding in the shop. Her own mother-in-law insisted she was shocked to learn of the deeds on the morning of the crime. Sarah had not known Yousep was hiding anyone in the building at night. Sareta’s husband, Menashe’s oldest son, was never told why; even in all the years Papa lay in the studio on the divan, talking to people who were never there. If there were some reason to fear a person who lived across the street, that reason was lost forever in the horrors of the crime. Evan suddenly remembered the deeds in the chest, and his thoughts exploded into so many questions he could not sort them out.

  “Did Shelly tell you we found the original deed to the building, when Papa purchased it in 1889?”

  “Yes, we were thrilled to learn it survived. Do you promise to share it when you have put an end to your searches?”

  “Yes, Sareta, you have my word. Nothing will be lost when I am done.”

  She did not know. Shelly had not told her.

  Papa owned the building across the street. He may have owned it still, when the children were murdered. Evan thanked Sareta and rushed to catch the county archives before they closed.

  It was little better than looking at the police archives. The oldest books were no longer there for the public to abuse and destroy. They were microfiched as well. But at least they used a cross reference, built of the deed book and page numbers, so any deed could be found if connected to another such document. He carried the original deed in his hands and soon found Papa had not sold the building across the street, or the one beside, until he died.

  His estate sold the properties. The one across was sold for a fraction of the possible value; it was a slum still and in decay. The one beside, which never offended the windows, fetched a modest price and the family earned some money because of it. It was likely the source of their support until fame alone began to make them wealthy. What hurt Evan to realize - another secret, which had never been suspected; the family buried it too deep to ever let it surface; Papa owned the slum until the day he died. More than three dozen tenants paid him monthly rent, and he was barely able to keep his family fed, and the shop open. Of what use was the money? Of what disuse was it applied? Evan was lost and confused.

  ***

  The darkroom closet was the safest place Caraliza had ever been. She would stand for hours behind Evan as he developed the plates they longed to see. Her arms against his bare skin under his shirt, feeling the pressure of each breath, every beat of his heart. And he would sing her name in whispers so she could hear it from his breast. “Shelly,” he would sing, and the notes would circle his heart. When she was warm again finally, and full of his breath, Shelly would step from the closet and sink to the floor beside it. It was so very wrong to give herself that way. It drained her as it filled her heart with Evan. He would not come to her, he refused, but the Reisman Portraits understood. Shelly was starving for Evan, so it gave her Yousep to hold. Caraliza brought him there, and took Shelly inside to hold him again, whenever she wished. What did the spirits want in return? Shelly did not know, as she removed the damp blouse she wore. She was drenched in sweat again, from the visit in the closet. She could still feel the tingle in her arms, which always took her there for the comfort she would find. Had she stayed long enough this time? The tingle said no, she withdrew before she was fed enough to keep her heart alive. Shelly smiled a very tiny smile, removed her remaining clothes, and stepped back inside to feel his body against her skin.

  ***

  The plumbing was nearly complete; all the electrical conduits were in place. Wiring was ready to be sealed at both ends and the building lay in partial readiness for the renovation to begin its final work. The new basement needed to be dug and poured. It would take nearly the entire garden, but would be low enough that it could be hidden under a deck from the back porch. There would be enough room for a lovely patio area and a few more tables for the guests. A brace of trees would shield the patio from the lot behind, but they could not be planted until the basement was dug.

  Shelly only allowed workers in the building in the afternoons, something which caused endless hours of argument on the phone with her contractor, when she would answer the phone. She spent her time in the closet every morning, until she was wet with desire, and tearful at the pleasure of holding something warm.

  She only spoke to her father, and only about the expenses and their reasons. Grandma Sareta thankfully left her alone, after that tearful visit, when Shelly told her all the awful things that happened between them, to her and Evan. Sareta understood, Shelly could not part with the building, and survive the parting. It seemed the clan would wait, to see if Shelly emerged with the Reisman Portraits, to live in the present, and no longer the past and the darkness still within it. Shelly felt Evan on the edges of her life, and it was a wound she couldn’t bear. So she worked when her heart would be silent, and the closet would bring it some peace.

  The one room she would never enter, the attic storeroom. Whatever was there, it did not call to her, it called to Evan, she might hear it, but he would never listen again. Her voice would call to him from that room. She would sit in the corner, pressed into the two walls until it caused her pain, and she would weep that he would not come to her and protect her, hold her, love her. Shelly refused to walk up that stair. Caraliza would go in her place and weep for her, calling for him, begging him to hurry. Something was finding its own way to the storeroom where she was hiding. If it reached her first, all would be lost. Shelly would sit at the closet her eyes slammed in fear, and listen to the heavy footsteps as they rose on the stairs to the place where Caraliza wept.

  Permits were being approved. The basement could be dug when Shelly could arrange to have permission to cross the vacant lot behind. The owner was f
oreign, and very hard to reach. Shelly’s contractor kept calling with complaints, the lot owner was making it difficult to schedule any time to break the garden ground. She did not know it, but her frustration on the phone was giving Evan some needed time, to read and understand the tales hidden in the print. He nearly understood enough to make his last request, for the favor from Grandma Sareta. When Shelly was called, and asked to abandon the building for an entire week, she protested and was awful to Sareta, who remained calm, and very unmoved.

  “I will not leave now! Ik ga niet weg nu!” Shelly raised her voice.

  “You will leave, or we will stop your work. This is not a choice you can make. Too many in the family are tired of this dangerous plaything, that is near to killing you.”

  “Grandmother Sareta, I cannot leave now, we are about to dig the basement, and we finally are able to make this last thing happen. Why are you doing this to me now? U heeftt geen recht dit van me af te pakken!” You have no right to take this away from me - Shelly pleaded.

  “You. You Shelly are finally able to make this happen. We do not agree it is safe to do. If it were safe, you would be sharing more than this with Evan. That cursed building has driven him from your life; it is driving your life from you. Have you not heard the speech you use? If you do not consent, I will stop you tomorrow and you will never walk into the building again.”

  “Sareta, you awful witch! You cannot do this. I will not be taken out! Ik zal niet weggaan!” and the screams were filled with such pain Sareta covered her phone so Shelly couldn’t hear what the screams did to her heart as well.

  “You will leave tonight, and stay at home with your parents for the week. If you break your trust with us, Shelly Reisman, that building will come down. Do you understand? You will obey us.”

  “Sareta, please!”

  “Leave tonight, and go home. Your father will tell me you arrived. Farschtein?”

  Shelly’s cries fell into the empty phone. They were delaying the garden. The garden was the key to it all taking place. A week away from the garden and the contractor might bolt the job. A week away from the closet, and Shelly might die as Caraliza had, without Yousep, without Evan. There was laughter upstairs, and Shelly nearly broke her hand screaming back and pounding her fists on the floorboards. She lifted her head and opened her eyes when the laughter stopped and the attic door closed softly.

  Caraliza came down the stairs and smiled as she held out her hand. Shelly understood how Papa could go mad, she was going mad, and this girl moved the dust that hung in the air. So slight, so fragile. Shelly wished she were as beautiful to look at. Fearful, hungry, tired and dirty, yet Caraliza was so beautiful it calmed Shelly’s heart. The fragrance of fine cedar dust came with her as the angel sat next to Shelly and held her trembling hand. The dead girl smiled at Shelly and she knew in her own heart, her madness was Papa’s madness.

  They sat together for a time and Shelly understood it was sometimes a week that Caraliza would wait to see Yousep in the window. It was not impossible to wait a week. There was strength enough for it, to wait for him. And delicate, dirty hands took Shelly’s arm and brought her into the closet again for the comfort she needed. Wouldn’t Yousep be cross, to have Shelly’s arms embrace him and not his love? But no, he understood, and would love her, and Caraliza understood and would leave them alone, as alone as Shelly wanted them to be. As the door closed behind her, Shelly felt Yousep turn and Evan kissed her mouth. This madness was sweet and she was thankful the dream became so real for her. The week would be painful and she would wait but this pleasure would be missed, Yousep would be as gentle as he had ever been with Caraliza.

  “Shelly, do you ever think what trouble you cause when you upset your grandmother? You should have left here three hours ago!” her father chastised her as she got into his car. He was ready to push his way into the building, but she stepped out of the darkened door just as he pulled to a stop.

  “I’m sorry you had to come get me, Dad. A week was hard to arrange, and the contractor is pissed like you would not believe.”

  “He’s hired help and I don’t care what he gets upset about, Shelly. You do not go against Sareta. I had to beg my own mother to be able to come and get you!” He glared at her. “How many times have I been sitting in this seat, saving your ass from another disaster?” Shelly just smiled at him in a very familiar, guilty way. “Will I ever be released from this tired routine?” he pleaded.

  “I don’t know, Daddy. There seems to be no one to take your place. I think you’re stuck with the trouble I cause.”

  She tried to seem older than she felt. She felt the awkward teenager again, in trouble for something devastating and normal for Shelly Reisman.

  “Evan was the one who could take over for me. I could trust him. You’ve never had anyone to trust before, and suddenly he was there like magic.”

  “Can we not talk about that, Daddy? That hurts. You’re not supposed to say anything that hurts your daughter. Don’t you know that?”

  He drove home and let her cry quietly the whole way. Whatever Sareta was doing, Richard really hoped Evan was at the end of it. His daughter was grieving for a living person.

  Sareta stood in the garden at the back of the shop looking at the patch where the roses had grown. She still remembered them; they grew lush and fragrant until she raised children of her own, nearly until the shop was closed and the roses died from lack of care. Nothing was left of them. She could not believe they were about to open the ground there, and it was expected to be a grave. The years nothing was done there; protecting the horrors that came before the silence and neglect. Sareta waited for the police, and for Evan. An operator with a tiny digging machine arrived well before the others. Sareta explained where they would be digging, and the trailer could be pulled across the vacant lot. The police department hired him and he would wait until they arrived to move anything, lest he get into serious trouble. That meant he sat on the porch and waited, while she gazed into the empty windows on the back of the building, waiting and dreading. The Reisman Portraits had nothing to say as Sareta waited.

  Shelly would not understand this, this horrible digging to find bodies. Sareta hoped they found nothing, but feared what that might mean as well. No good outcome. She hated such things. She was there an hour, and impatient as hell when the others began to arrive. Evan was the last to come through the alley. He waited on the street until he was certain Shelly had not come back. Oddly enough, he and Sareta were read their rights, which amused Sareta a great deal and seemed to lighten her mood. If this were indeed a grave, it would become a crime scene again.

  The small backhoe was being brought into the vacant lot and the police asked Sareta to give her statement, to explain why she believed there were bodies located at the back of the old family building. She introduced Evan and explained his research into the history and the crimes, which occurred seventy-five years before. Evan produced copies of the police reports, and the photograph of Yousep, smiling at this spade in the very spot where they now stood. The authorities considered his work thorough, and insightful enough they were ready to begin. But they had not been told why. Why did the family now need to know the answer to this riddle? Because, Sareta explained, this garden was about to be excavated in a renovation, and the secret still existed; she could not bear the damage to her family if a renovation turned up a body where none was supposed to be. It would halt family plans, which were more than half a year in motion. She would rather the police have their way, and find something, than for anything be accidentally found. It was properly planned. Evan was sickened again from the thought of what they might see.

  The operator began his work by mere inches at a time; the ground was stripped away and scrutinized for human remains as each pass was made. It was going to take hours.

  Sareta invited Evan inside, but he declined, as she suspected he might. She went no further into the building than the studio, he watched her as she peered out the window at the work being done. Once he
saw her at the window, talking on the telephone. The backhoe removed nearly two feet of soil the entire width and length of the rose bed. Nothing had been found but some bricks and bits of wire. As the machine was making gentle passes, which would lower the hole to nearly three feet, one of the officers at the edge near the shovel sang out. The ground was distinctly different from the layers above. Evan wondered what that might mean as two other gentlemen waved the shovel back, and they stepped into the hole, to prod the ground with long slender poles. They passed back and forth, talking quietly as they pushed the poles into the ground and discussed what they felt with their fingertips on the poles. They marked an area on the soil, took a few samples of it into some bags, and directed the operator where to make his next strokes. Two feet further down into the area they probed and marked, something was seen which Evan did not want to hear mentioned. They pulled up a portion of bone.

  Sareta came back out onto the porch, and peered into the hole from above. The shovel was again pulled back and the operator was asked to turn it off and wait. Several people climbed into the pit and Evan saw photographs being taken and very small scoops of dirt being removed every few moments. Every activity stopped suddenly, and another person was called over to the side of the garden pit. He nodded his head; he was the district coroner. They unearthed a human skull. They covered it gently with dirt, marked the spot with lime dust, and brought the shovel back into the area. The operator made more strokes and enlarged the area either side, to the size one might suspect would contain two human forms. Nothing more was found, down to the level of the skull. The police released the operator a final time and bid him wait until the surrounding area was probed, within half an hour he was loading to leave, and Evan watched as more digging was done by hand and more photographs were taken inside the grave.