River Mourn

by Bill Hopkins

Chapter 37

  Monday Night

  "You go outside to chew the weeds," Mrs. Bolzoni commanded Jim Bill after he'd finished supper and reached for his tobacco pouch. She blessed him with two forefingers pointed at his eyes. "No spit on my flowers. Or I cut you like I'd cut a frog."

  "Yes, ma'am."

  "Or the sidewalk. I keep a clean house in The Four of the Bees, as the frogs call this place."

  "Yes, ma'am."

  Rosswell whispered, "You're learning quickly."

  Jim Bill held his hands out to Alessandra and Rosswell. "Care to join me outside? I promise not to make you chew."

  Settled on the front porch, Jim Bill jumped straight to the point. "Alessandra, do you want to help us find Tina?"

  Rosswell added, "You and she bear a remarkable resemblance."

  Crickets chirped, sounding exhausted from the heat wave. A rabbit hopping across the lawn stopped to give the trio a stare. Not finding anything threatening, it wiggled its nose and nibbled at Mrs. Bolzoni's flowers. The lower the sun sank in the sky, the more bats began swooping through the air, munching on every flying critter they could find.

  Alessandra huffed. "Certainly." Decked out in a pink peasant dress, low-cut and short, Rosswell calculated that the crinkly cotton covered her with twice as much fabric as her breakfast outfit. "I already told Rosswell that." She winked at Jim Bill.

  Rosswell decided to be helpful. "What do you want her to do?"

  Jim Bill bounded from the porch, sprinted until he reached the street where he spit, then walked back. Three rabbits hightailed it for safer territory. "I want her-and you, Rosswell-to go with me to Mrs. Bolzoni's parlor."

  Rosswell switched on the bright chandelier and locked the parlor door when all three of them were inside.

  After they had situated themselves on the long couch, Jim Bill began. "Alessandra, do I have your permission to ask you some personal questions?"

  "I don't know." Alessandra, sitting between the men, rubbed her hands together, as if she were Lady MacBeth trying to rid herself of a damned spot. "What about?"

  Jim Bill ran his fingers through his thinning hair. "I'm trying to find Tina. Rosswell's had a lot of personal problems. And I hear you've had a lot of personal problems."

  "That's true."

  "I want to ask you about those problems."

  Rosswell tried to comfort Alessandra. "We don't want to embarrass you. Jim Bill thinks you might have some information. If you don't have the info, then nothing's lost. I assure you that neither of us will ever repeat anything we hear from you in this room."

  "You may have information you don't know you have."

  Alessandra commenced her hair straightening routine, the one that reminded Rosswell of Tina. "You know I'll do what I can to help you find Tina."

  Jim Bill opened his tobacco pouch, stared inside, then closed it without dipping any chew. "Did you ever see Tina at Nathaniel's mansion?"

  "Never."

  "Or anyone who looked like her?"

  "No. Except for me."

  "Did you hear anyone say that Tina was there?"

  "No."

  "Did anyone give you any kind of indication at all that Tina was there?"

  "No."

  Rosswell worried that Jim Bill was going to wear out Alessandra with his machine gun questioning. A long stare at the fire marshal worked.

  Jim Bill's tone of voice softened. "Rosswell is an alcoholic." Alessandra glanced at Rosswell, who nodded. Jim Bill continued, "Rosswell told me that he had an episode in the park across the street."

  "Judge, Momma told me about that. I'm sorry that happened to you."

  "As I explained to Mrs. Bolzoni, I did not drink one drop of booze. I was exhausted and fell asleep in the park."

  A beat or two passed before Jim Bill resumed his questioning. "Has anything similar happened to you?"

  The question seemed to relax her. "Have I ever fallen off the wagon?" She laughed, a high giggle. "Lots of times. There are whole days I don't remember. I'd wake up with empty bottles all over my apartment and not remember drinking."

  Jim Bill shook his head. "Pardon me for not being clear. Did something happen in Nathaniel's house that didn't include booze?"

  Alessandra glowered at Jim Bill. All at once, her face took on a look of surprise. "Rosswell?" She said nothing more.

  "Yes?" Rosswell scooted forward in his seat. "What is it?"

  "I remember something out of place."

  "Where?" Jim Bill straightened and leaned forward. "While you were at the house? River Heights Villa?"

  Rosswell felt she was on the verge of a revelation. "That didn't involve alcohol?"

  "I'd been there two weeks without a single taste of liquor."

  Rosswell waited for her to continue, but when she didn't, he prompted her. "What was out of place?"

  "I'm not sure. There was something strange, but it's hard for me to remember."

  "Perhaps we can jog your memory." Jim Bill nodded in the direction of the bookcase. "Rosswell, please do the honors."

  According to plan, Rosswell stood. After he reached the back wall, he rubbed his hands along the piano hinges on the bookcase. "Have you ever noticed these before?"

  Alessandra peered closely. "They're some kind of decoration. Copper or bronze."

  "Brass. They're hinges." Rosswell poked the spot that mattered and the bookcase door swung open.

  Alessandra shot up, only to stumble backward, press her palms against her cheek, and moan. "What is that?"

  Jim Bill rose and stepped into the passageway. "A real secret tunnel!"

  Rosswell had to spill the information he'd learned. "It's not secret. You can visit the courthouse where its existence is documented. It goes straight until it ends at a brick wall down there. That's where I found the map showing the tunnels running from Karyn and Jill's houses to Nathaniel's house."

  Alessandra said, "Karyn and Jill? Who are they?"

  Rosswell said, "They're waitresses who work for Mabel. They're also midwives."

  Alessandra's throat clicked when she swallowed. "The passageway triggers a memory. One night I awoke and saw something."

  Rosswell stepped closer to Alessandra. "Do you remember what you saw?"

  "Now I do. I got up out of bed and opened the door." She wiped her face, blinked, and drew in a deep breath. "That was unusual because I was on lockdown. If you're on lockdown, the rule is your door is bolted from the outside. The only way to get out is to ring a buzzer and somebody comes and opens the door. That night there was a thunderstorm and all the lights were out. Dark everywhere. The only light was when the lightning flashed. The place is supposed to have a backup generator. I heard people off in the distance arguing about why the generator wasn't coming on."

  Jim Bill held up a hand. "You were fully awake by then?"

  "Definitely." Alessandra rubbed her head. "I wandered the halls in the dark. I tried every door but they were all locked. Except one. I went in a room where I could see someone on the other side of a glass."

  Rosswell kept his peace. This was Jim Bill's show and he didn't want to screw it up.

  "A window?"

  "A window in a wall that looked into another room."

  "How could you see if the power had been cut off?"

  Alessandra said, "One of those night light things that comes on when the electricity goes out was in a wall socket. It was dim, but I could see someone through the glass. It was me. I was pregnant. Asleep on a bed in a room. It was a nice bedroom. Clean. Whoever had me in that room cared about my baby. Not like a prison, except it was plain. No decorations. No pictures on the wall. Then I realized that it was a one-way mirror I was looking through."

  Alessandra walked to a window and pressed her hand against the pane. When she returned to Rosswell and Jim Bill, she was crying. "Then it was morning and I was in my own bed."

  Rosswell said, "Were you pregnant when you were there?"

  "I've never been pregnant in my life."

  Jim Bill co
ntinued the interrogation. "What did it smell like? The room with the mirror. Did it have an odor?"

  Alessandra stared down the passageway, as if that would help her remember an aroma. "Yes." She focused on Rosswell. "I'd forgotten about that. It smelled damp. Like wet dirt. The air was cool-not stale, yet not fresh-and it was a wet smell. Not like a river. More like a?I don't know?a-"

  "Cave?"

  "Yes!" She smiled. "That's it exactly. It smelled like a cave."