Murder Ink

by Betty Hechtman

  ‘You, too?’ he said glumly. ‘He’s got it all. Charm and good looks. All the women fawn over him.’

  ‘You misunderstood. I’m not interested in him. I thought the hero thing was something I could use in a note to Sally – that is if you’re going to keep on going with your quest.’

  ‘I’m not giving up,’ Evan said. ‘I don’t think you could use what Luke said in a note to Sally. She already called me her hero for the same reason. It’s really a stretch. It’s not like I saved anybody’s life, or anything. It’s just because they don’t understand computers. We all work at the same place – the Bellingham Hotel. He’s the bartender at The Top of the Town. The name seems silly now. The building is dwarfed by the ones around it, but back in the day I guess it was considered to have the primo view. The register keeps freezing up and Luke thinks I’m amazing because I can fix it.’ Evan stopped for a beat. ‘I could show him how to fix it, but I like having a reason to go up there. Even now the view is pretty amazing.’

  ‘Does Sally know him?’ I asked. ‘You all work in the same place.’

  ‘I don’t know – I don’t think so. The bar is on the top of the hotel and her office is in the lobby.’ I heard him suck in his breath. ‘Is that what you think happened? Sally took one look at him and I was like yesterday’s lunch in comparison.’ He seemed to be almost talking to himself. ‘He’s single now, too.’ Then it seemed he was back to directing his words at me. ‘His wife died in some kind of accident. We all signed a card.’ I heard him sigh. ‘We just have to come up with something great for our next outing. I’m not sure Sally understood it was a date. Whatever I do next has to be more date like than a walk through the zoo.’

  It was pretty clear that he was starting to have doubts how their date had gone. I felt for him knowing how much he seemed to like Sally. And I was sure if she got to know him, she’d appreciate his basic niceness. How common was that these days? He wanted a relationship. He wanted to get married. I just hoped she wasn’t one of those women who loved bad boys who were indifferent to them. He was sunk if she did.

  My job was just to write missives, so I let him talk on about potentials for a second date.

  ‘I still want to do something during the day, so we can spend time getting to know each other. At least, I want her to get to know me better. I already know she’s amazing. Do you think brunch would— no, that’s too ordinary.’ He lapsed into a nervous silence. ‘What do you think?’ he asked, when I hadn’t said anything.

  ‘Remember, I’m not a matchmaker. I just handle the message.’

  ‘I know, but you’re a woman and you know what women like, and I’d really like your advice and your words to carry it off.’

  ‘OK,’ I said slowly. I really didn’t want to become his date planner, but he seemed a little panicky. ‘We could work on a note saying how much you enjoyed her company and something about why you enjoyed it. We could say you feel happy when you’re with her and then suggest another date. I think another daytime event is a good idea. It stands out. What about the Architectural Boat Tour?’ It was still running for a few more weeks until the weather turned too cold. ‘It goes down the Chicago River and there’s a fun guide who points out interesting buildings and sites. Plus, there’s a snack bar with wine.’ And, I thought, she couldn’t leave in the middle.

  ‘I like it,’ he said.

  ‘And this time instead of a flower, you could leave a toy boat. It would make you seem playful and fun.’

  ‘Do you think it would work? Would she believe I was playful and fun? It could be false advertising. Honestly, I don’t have a clue how to be playful and fun.’

  ‘Maybe that’s not your strong suit,’ I said. ‘But from what I could tell, she certainly liked talking to you. I thought it would be good to put something about what she said in the next note – so she would know you really listened.’

  ‘Listening to her was easy to do. I loved hearing her talk. It was mostly about work and the difficult people she encounters. It doesn’t sound like anybody ever says she’s their hero, more likely they’re complaining that the hot appetizers were cold.’

  ‘Was there anything else? Something that wasn’t a complaint? Maybe something she liked.’

  ‘That’s right. She said she wanted to go on a cruise through the Panama Canal.’ His voice lifted as he said it. ‘Your idea of the Chicago River cruise is perfect. It’s not the Panama Canal, but there is a lock that keeps the water from flowing into Lake Michigan,’ he said.

  ‘I don’t think we need to mention the lock, but I could certainly come up with something that ties what she said into the plan for the boat tour. I’d put in something about how much you enjoyed her company. How everything seemed nicer when you were around her.’

  Evan sounded all smiles by the time we hung up. I’d promised to email him the final note once it was ready. If it was acceptable, he’d print it up and deliver it to her office along with a toy boat.

  I sat back after I hung up. Now I had an idea why Camille Parker had regarded Luke so coldly. It wasn’t very impressive to have Rachel marry a bartender, even if the view was great.

  TEN

  In addition to my paid gigs, I did some pro bono work for a downtown pet shop, the Pet Emporium. Instead of selling pedigreed dogs and fancy cats, all the animals in the shop were rescues and were available for adoption. They were brought in by local shelters and were generally the most adoptable they had. That meant small cute dogs and cats with a wow factor like being Siamese or Persian. My job was to use my way with words to write pieces for the cats and dogs they had up for adoption. Something that gave them personality and would tug at the heart strings. I never worked from pictures or online videos. It was all in person for me and I always spent some time with the animal I was writing about. So when I got a call from the pet shop manager Monday morning about a hard-to-adopt cat that really needed something compelling and quick to find him a home, I agreed to come to the shop that day. I was always glad for a reason to get out in the world.

  After the phone call with Evan, I had made myself some dinner and thought about what I’d put in the next letter to Sally. It would be easier to write than the first one, but I was less sure of the outcome. I was still a little uncomfortable with her abrupt departure and unsure what it meant.

  While I chewed on my salad my thoughts went to the time I’d spent with Luke. I couldn’t shake seeing the photo of Rachel he’d had on his phone. She barely resembled the beaming woman in the wedding photo I’d chosen for the book. In his, she looked broken.

  The time I’d spent having coffee with Luke had altered my opinion of him. When I’d been working on their vows he’d stayed in the background as he had when I met him at his mother-in-law’s, and I’d viewed him as being kind of like a human Ken doll. Nice-looking with a bland personality. But after being one on one with him, I found I liked him – not the way Evan thought, of course. It would have been totally unprofessional under the circumstances and, well, he was a little too perfect for me. I had a soft spot for flawed types.

  I’d ended my Sunday evening by focusing on the writers’ group. They’d all left pages with me for me to look over. I had been in their place and I knew how sensitive they were, so I was deliberately cautious in the comments I wrote on their pages after reading them. I went for the positive, though honestly it was sometimes difficult, particularly with Ed. His didn’t have much story. They were really just sexual fantasies and way too graphic for my taste, though we’d all prevailed on him to stick to euphemisms. That ended up making it seem funny, particularly when Ben read them in his police report voice. How he didn’t crack a smile when he said throbbing member roiling in a wave of passion out loud, I didn’t know. All I could say was that I was glad that I didn’t have to read Ed’s work out loud when the group met.

  There was no doubt that it was a weekday when I went outside to catch the Metra train downtown the next morning. 57th Street was clogged with traffic, all trying to get around a truck m
aking a delivery to the small grocery store on the ground floor of a red-brick apartment building. I had to thread my way through groups of students on their way to campus. A gaggle of gazelle-like joggers went past me on their way to the lakefront path.

  I got up to the platform just as I heard the clanging sound as the train announced its arrival. It was an express train and barely fifteen minutes later I was walking through Millennium Station past the Starbucks with its scent of fresh-brewed coffee and the popcorn shop touting their special Chicago blend of flavors.

  The wind hit me as soon as I got outside, cutting right through the fabric of my jacket. It was lunchtime and the sidewalk was bustling with people. Despite all the tall buildings, there was an open feeling thanks to the extensive park area and then the lakefront.

  I walked down Randolph Street thinking I’d stay on it to State Street, but at the last minute I turned on Wabash. It was a quicker route as there was a lot less foot traffic to deal with, but it was also less scenic. The El tracks hovered over the street, held up by giant metal legs that looked like they belonged to some prehistoric insect and cast the street in shadow. A train rumbled overhead and squeaked as it stopped at the station.

  It made me think of something Luke had said about the possible location of the dance place Rachel had gone to. He’d thought it might be on Wabash because she’d mentioned the sound of the trains. I started checking the businesses with new interest as I passed by until I got to a big display window. At first I thought the place was vacant, since the interior appeared almost empty.

  Then I noticed the sign over the doorway that said Dance with Me and a plastic holder with a stack of sheets. I grabbed one and saw that it was a schedule of classes. I peered through the window and after a moment noticed a dark-haired woman peering back at me. She motioned for me to come inside.

  The doorway was quite grand. I suspected the space might have had an earlier incarnation as a high-end preppy clothing store. For now it was a mostly open space with mirrors on the side walls. The woman who’d waved me in came from behind a reception counter to greet me. She looked at the paper in my hand. ‘If you want to dance, you’ve come to the right place.’ She was dressed in a short wrap-around skirt over leotard and tights and bore a friendly smile.

  ‘Actually, I’m looking for information on someone I think was a student here. She might have gone by Rachel Parker or Rachel Ross,’ I said. The woman’s smile waned a little.

  ‘Are you some kind of investigator?’ she asked. This time I smiled.

  ‘Hardly, well, I wrote a mystery with a detective in it and I guess I did pick up a few tricks. You know, like if someone claims to have been inside all evening on a rainy night and their shoes are wet, I know they’re lying,’ I said in a fun tone. I let out a sigh as I got more serious. ‘I’m working on something else right now. I’m putting together a memory book for Rachel, for her …’ I faltered, and finally said, ‘funeral, well really her memorial service.’

  ‘Oh dear,’ the woman said with a concerned look, ‘let me check.’ She went to her computer and typed something in.

  ‘I have sort of a connection with her,’ I said, feeling the need to make conversation. ‘I helped write her wedding vows. I’m trying to capture who she was for the memory book with anecdotes and things she liked to do. I thought I could put something in about dance lessons she took. Rather than be generic, I’d like to know what kind of classes she took.’

  ‘I think I’ve found her name. I didn’t realize who you meant at first. She called herself Ray here.’ She turned and pointed to a wall next to her that was covered in small photos. ‘She must be here somewhere.’ She turned to me. ‘Do you see her picture?’

  I scanned the wall of photos and was amazed how much alike all the women looked. I finally located her picture. She’d struck a pose pointing at her tap shoes and had a happy smile. It was eerie seeing her looking so lively and knowing she was gone.

  ‘That’s her,’ said the woman, recognizing her face. ‘What happened to her?’

  ‘She fell from the balcony on one of the high rises near the lake.’

  ‘Oh,’ the woman said, taken aback. ‘How terrible. I’d be glad to help anyway I can.’ She moved away from the computer. ‘Darcy Miller,’ she said, reaching out her hand. ‘I’m the owner along with my partner. You referred to her as a student. We’re not a dancing school. I like to think of it as a dance gym. All the classes are just drop-in and it doesn’t matter if you’re a beginner or have been going here for a while. We have it all: tap, ballet. hip-hop, western line, the jitterbug – if there’s moving to music, we do it here. It’s all about having fun while you get some exercise.’

  ‘What an interesting concept. I had no idea,’ I said. I looked at the sheet in my hand. It just listed names of classes and times. ‘It would be better if you had some more complete descriptions of the classes.’ Her expression dipped and I realized I might have said the wrong thing. ‘Sorry, but I write things like this for a living, so it’s like second nature for me to notice when some things feel like there’s something missing.’

  ‘Really? Maybe you could do something for us. My partner and I wrote all the copy and we’re not professionals.’

  ‘With a place like this, the story is important. Who you and your partner are. What your mission is. And more colorful descriptions of the classes.’

  ‘You’re absolutely right. If we had some good press releases, we could post them online and get them to the local talks shows.’

  I reached in my purse and pulled out a card to hand to her. She held it in her hand. ‘Why wait,’ she said. ‘Yes, I’d like to hire you. But if you’re going to write descriptions of the classes you really should take them or at least watch them.’

  ‘I’ll go with taking them. It’s the best way to capture the experience. Plus, writers sit too much, so the exercise would be good.’ I felt enthused at the prospect of an entertaining project. ‘As a bonus, maybe I’ll be able to pick up some color to add to the piece I’m doing for Rachel. I mean Ray.’

  We agreed on a price and she said she’d throw in a membership, and we shook on it. It was the quickest I’d ever gotten a gig. ‘Now that that’s settled, let me give you the grand tour.’ I took that as a joke, as it was really just a big empty room. There was a bathroom in the back and a small room for changing. She showed me a rack of hooks for coats, explaining that most of the members came dressed for class. ‘The cubbies are here for phones and small stuff,’ she said, showing me how they could be accessed from the back or the front.

  ‘Ray’s husband said she talked about hanging out with somebody a lot.’

  ‘It could have been my partner, Debbie Alcoa. She teaches a lot of the classes. But it also could have been one of our members,’ she said with a shrug as we got back to the alcove. ‘Do you live downtown?’

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘I live in Hyde Park, but I’m downtown a lot. It’s, like, fifteen minutes on the Metra train line.’ I explained meeting clients and told her about my work for the pet shop. We seemed to have an instant rapport.

  ‘I take the El,’ she said, pointing at the tracks that hung over the street. ‘I almost forgot,’ she said, grinning, ‘there’s always paperwork.’ She handed me a membership form to fill out and a waiver to sign.

  I filled in a standard form with my particulars and signed the waiver that absolved them of liability and handed it back to her. She looked them over, pushing back a strand of her dark wavy hair.

  ‘I have a few minutes,’ I said, as I pulled out my notebook and a pen. ‘I might as well start getting some background information from you.’ I saw her look at my tools, and I smiled. ‘I know – it’s old-fashioned but I like take real notes on real paper.’ I held the pen poised. ‘Why don’t you give me a little background on yourself and how you came to open this place.’

  ‘I don’t know how much you want to put in about me.’ She looked down at her outfit. ‘This is mostly for show. Debbie’s the real dancer of th
e two of us. I was going through some big changes in my life and I was looking to get a fresh start and reinvent myself. I’ve always liked to dance, and I thought the combination of exercise and fun would be good for people’s heads.’ She laughed as she added, ‘Well, and the rent was right.’ I glanced around the open space which I now remembered had been a high-end shop that had sold tailored clothes. ‘We didn’t have to do much to the place beyond put up the mirrors.’

  I looked at my watch. ‘I guess that’s it for now. I have to get to the Pet Emporium to meet a cat,’ I said, and explained my next task.

  ‘That’s really nice of you,’ she said. ‘If you want to stop back afterwards, we have a tap class starting in an hour.’ I gave her a thumbs-up as I headed to the door.

  Back on the street, I thought how life was full of surprises. I’d gone there hoping for information and left with a membership card and a gig.

  ELEVEN

  The Pet Emporium was on State Street. As always, the sidewalks were clogged with foot traffic and had a circus-like atmosphere as street musicians serenaded passersby and a preacher with a microphone warned people to repent before it was too late. When I was growing up, this part of downtown had been a shopping mecca and the center of business. You shopped, you worked and then you went home. No one lived in the area. Then things began to change. The department stores that had lined State Street kept closing until the only two left were Marshall Field’s and Carson Pirie Scott. And then there was just one when Carson Pirie Scott closed. By then Macy’s had taken over Marshall Field’s and the only remnants of the elegant store were the iconic clocks on the outside corners and the Walnut Room restaurant on the seventh floor.

  People still worked downtown, but more and more people had chosen to live there as high-rise housing popped up and some old commercial buildings were repurposed into lofts and condominiums. The number of colleges and universities that had vertical campuses in the heart of the city had grown and they’d built dormitories. There were still plenty of shops along State Street, but many of them had changed to cater to the residents’ needs. The Pet Emporium was one of them.