Masquerade in Blue, page 9
“Why did Martin leave Foxport?”
Guthrie frowned. “That’s probably a good question. Apparently they had some kind of falling out and it must have been a bad one. One day Martin was coming around the office, helping out when his dad would let him and the next day you say the kid’s name and it’s like he doesn’t hear you.”
“Is that when Martin moved out to the Coast?”
“Think so. And I also don’t think it’s a coincidence that in the time he’s been gone – at least ten years – Martin’s only been home two or three times, and I guess it’s always been when Leonard was away.”
“Didn’t all this happen before you and Leonard became partners?”
“Yeah, I heard it all second hand. Mary Mulkey, you know, Len’s secretary. When I was working with Len I’d take her out for her birthday. Still do. She’s a sweet lady. She likes to talk.”
“She know what the falling out was about?”
“Nope. Who’s to say?” He shook his head. “The whole family’s a strange lot.”
“Anything to do with the reason you and Len split up?”
“Indirectly I guess. A lot of the property we were handling belonged to his wife’s family. Maybe you knew that,” he added. “Well, that’s one family I don’t care to deal with. Catherine – the one who’s dying – she’s all right. But Amelia,” he shook his head. “She’s a winner. Len was married to her so he had to put up with her, but I didn’t. Thank God.” The sun was just touching the tops of a ridge of trees in the west. Guthrie squinted in that direction and added, “But I guess in the end it was the falling out we had over a choice little piece of property we’d been trying to sell. Wasn’t big enough for the kind of developing we were interested in. Got a nice offer for it, then Len got a whiff of some plans to turn the adjoining area into a landfill. Just a rumor and I figured if Len heard it, this buyer, who was no babe in the woods, would have heard it too. I said go ahead and sell, but Len made a big deal out of this landfill rumor and scared the guy off.” He shrugged. “Five years later and they’re still arguing about the landfill. It’ll never happen. Well, between the two of them – Amelia and Len – I’d had enough.”
“Mind if I ask how you financed your own business?”
“Yeah, I kind of mind. Don’t know what you’re trying to get at.”
I shrugged. “I’m not sure myself, so I tend to ask a lot of questions.”
“Well, it’s on public record anyway.” He pulled his gloves off. “Len bought out my part of the business and I used that money to make a couple purchases, then I managed to get a few investors interested in my vision of this area. So far they’re not complaining. Once you’ve got a track record, some bank will come through for the really big loans.”
“How well do you know Rebecca Novotny?”
He bent to open a large case, which turned out to be lined in felt with recesses molded for the bow. “Little Rebecca. She’s not so little anymore. Used to come around the office all the time.” He fit the bow into its case, gently lowered the lid, and snapped it shut. “She’s okay. She’ll do all right by Len.” He paused and added, “Poor kid, she got stuck with her father’s looks. Now Martin’s his mother’s son. He’s got her good looks and her attitude.”
“Have you seen him since he’s been back?”
Guthrie had unbuckled his belt and was drawing the quiver off it. He stopped. “Yeah, I ran into Martin at O’Hare a few days before the shooting. I was flying in from a meeting in Boston.”
“Did you talk to him?”
He shrugged and said, “Sure. Just to say hello.” Guthrie buckled his belt and gestured toward the target. “I’ve got to collect my arrows.” I walked with him.
We were halfway there when I asked him about Leonard and Amelia’s marriage. “I don’t think it was much of a marriage. Though I heard it got worse after Martin split. I think they both just went their separate ways.”
“Why’d they stay together?”
We had gotten to the target. “You’d have to ask Amelia.” Bracing his open palm against the target, with his other hand he twisted and pulled an aluminum arrow out, repeating the procedure for each of the others. The one I’d inflicted on the target didn’t require much effort to extricate. Finally Guthrie continued. “Though my guess would be there were benefits in that marriage for both of them. Len got all that land to play with and Amelia had someone people respected to take her to social functions. Her older sister, Catherine, had a pretty high opinion of Len. I got the feeling she preferred Len to her own sister. Though who could blame her?”
Guthrie picked up the bow case as we walked back toward the clubhouse.
“Do you think Novotny might have been seeing anyone?” I asked.
His laugh was unforced. “That’ll be the day. You’re talking about Mr. Self-righteous himself. Not only that, the guy was a workaholic, so I don’t know where he’d find the time. I don’t know. I guess I like my free time too much. What’s the use of making all kinds of money if you don’t take the time to enjoy it?”
“That’s exactly how I feel.”
As we walked through the clubhouse I asked him about Yorkshire Estates. He smiled as a proud father might. “That’s the development I’ve always wanted to build. Full of dream homes. The one in the photo in my office is the top of the line. It’s featured in the Fall Festival of Homes this year.”
“What does it sell for?”
“Six fifty.”
I whistled softly. “At some point, when I wasn’t looking, a monarchy must have evolved.”
He chuckled. “You’re right. And, you know, they’re willing to pay that kind of money and more so their wealth shows.”
We suspended our conversation as Guthrie greeted several country clubbers. He seemed to know everyone. Then we descended the clubhouse steps and Guthrie stopped next to the circular drive. “You know,” he said, “I’ve got to hand it to Barlowe. Takes guts to stick that kind of thing out.” He looked down the curve of the drive, as if watching for something. “I’d hate to be the one to tell him his loyalties are misplaced.”
“You think it was the Fox?”
He shrugged. “Those two had been clashing for a while. Something was bound to happen.” He watched a silver Mercedes convertible make its way up the drive. “Too bad Len didn’t get the last word. He really wanted it.” The Mercedes came to a stop in front of us. Its driver, what I could see of her, had long, blond hair. She wore a red and black scarf draped around her neck, a black jacket, and dark sunglasses. For all I knew it was Faye Dunaway. She kept her gaze straight ahead, not acknowledging either one of us. Even when Guthrie said good-bye, inserted his bow and quiver into the small back seat, and climbed into the front, she moved the car forward without checking to make sure she’d picked up the right guy.
I watched them disappear onto Route 41, then got into my Honda, started its engine, and sat for a few minutes. When I first take a case, I like to question as many people as I can without making any judgments, shuffle together what I’ve got and see what kind of hand I come up with. Right now it was looking a lot like fifty-two pick up. Then I recalled how Elaine liked to help me puzzle things out, and how good she was at it. And it occurred to me how hurt she must have been when I completely shut her out of this one. Not that I’d had much of a choice. Still, there were other aspects I could have discussed without revealing the identity of the Fox. Maybe it was worth one more attempt to find her. It’s amazing how a few minutes on the archery range can cool you off. I pulled out of the lot and down the drive, waving at the security guard as I passed him.
I wasn’t having much luck at figuring out who killed Leonard Novotny, so why not set my deductive abilities to work on finding out where Elaine Kluszewski had gone? The clerk at the Fleetwood hadn’t mentioned anything about her being forcibly thrown into the car, so wherever she was and whoever she was with, it was of her own doing. Most of Elaine’s friends were in Chicago. Then there was her father and two brothers. One brother was a lawyer and the other taught high school – computer science or one of those subjects they hadn’t even thought of when I was in school. Though Elaine got along with both her brothers, she didn’t much care for the lawyer’s wife – she’d been bitten early in life by the Phyllis Schlafly bug and never missed the opportunity to tell Elaine she should settle down, marry a six-figure professional, and have children (in that order). Her other brother’s wife was another story. In fact, she might have been a friend of Elaine’s before she met Jack. But where did they live? We’d had dinner with them once, but met them at Ed Debevic’s on the north side. Jack was a sucker for their fries and gravy. It showed too.
It seemed to me that they lived in one of the northwest suburbs but, for the life of me, I couldn’t recall which one. What I needed was a phone book. How many Jack Kluszewskis could there be in the northwest suburbs?
Chapter 8
I’M ALSO A FIRM believer in the element of surprise when confronting women who might turn on me. I guess work has rubbed off on the rest of my life. That was why I was driving northeast toward the “land beyond O’Hare” with Peanuts in the back and a song in my heart. Or something like that.
There was a Jack Kluszewski living in Schaumburg. I didn’t even want to think about the very real possibility that he wasn’t the Jack Kluszewski. I’d hit the end of rush hour – which in that area tends to conjure up new images of eternal damnation – and it was more than an hour before I got to Schaumburg. It also took the directions of two gas station attendants – one of them confused – before I found Jack’s street.
Sommerset Place was lined with homes that looked like they’d been cut out of the same mold and given slightly different window treatments. Every fifth house seemed to be painted the same color.
Before I saw the number of Jack’s house, one of the gray ones, I saw his car – a late model black Oldsmobile with shaded windows. I pulled up behind it in the driveway and before I could change my mind, told Peanuts to hold down the fort, and walked up to the door. I drew in a deep breath, said a brief prayer, and just as my finger hovered over the doorbell like an indecisive bumblebee, the door opened and a small person wearing a sweatshirt and a baseball cap came hurtling out, ramming me on the way. Staggering back, I groped for something to hold onto, but those houses don’t come with porches or anything like that. By the time I’d found steady ground, the kid was looking up at me from behind dark-framed glasses. He reminded me of a raccoon staring into a pair of headlights. Then two more figures emerged from the door. One of them said, “Nathan, watch where you’re going. Say excuse me.”
“ ‘Scuse me,” he said, mouth agape. I noticed his sweatshirt bore the Chicago White Sox’ logo and his cap the Cubs’. No wonder he looked bewildered. I turned to the woman who’d spoken and, recognizing her as Jack’s wife, was elated.
“Hi, Judy. I’m Quint McCauley. Elaine’s friend.” Her eyes shifted away for a half second, but I was watching for it. “I was wondering if she might be here.” Judy was a small woman, not much taller than her son who was still gaping at me. She wore her hair short and her jeans tight. Both looks worked on her. As she glanced back into the doorway, Jack stepped out.
“Hey, Quint,” he extended his hand. “Long time no see.” It really hadn’t been that long. It just seemed that way. “You remember Quint, Judy. Where was it we ate?” He stepped down and pulled the door shut behind him.
“Ed Debevic’s.”
“That’s right. Gravy and fries. Great stuff.” Judy was smiling now, nodding. Both gestures seemed forced. Jack looked the same – a little on the heavy side with thinning hair and an infectious smile. I noticed they both had jackets on and Judy carried a purse.
Placing her hands on her son’s shoulders, Judy turned to her husband. “He’s looking for Elaine,” she said as though he might not have heard. I could tell from the way he wouldn’t make eye contact with me that either Elaine was there or he knew where she was. And he wasn’t used to lying.
“Gosh, Quint. I don’t know where she is. I thought she was still in Santa Fe.”
Nathan turned his little uplifted chin in his father’s direction. “Dad, Elaine’s – “ he stopped short, possibly due to the pressure Judy was exerting on his shoulders.
Playing along, I shook my head. “No. She flew in yesterday.”
“That’s odd.” He tried to look distressed. “Wonder why she didn’t let us know.”
I returned his look. So this was how it was to be. “I don’t know either.” I let the conversation lapse. After a few seconds, Nathan looked up at his mother. “Mom, I’m hungry. What are we waiting for?” Judy loosened her grip on him.
Holding up my hands, I said, “Won’t keep you folks any longer. If you do see Elaine, just ask her to call me.”
“Sure, Quint.” Jack said. “Nice to see you again.”
As I retreated to my car, he yelled after me. “You should have called first. Saved yourself the trip.”
“Just felt like a drive tonight,” I called back and got into my car. Peanuts’s nose was pressed to the window, trying to get a better look at the Kluszewskis. “Let me know if you see her,” I said.
I backed out of the drive, waved, and drove around the block. The blocks were long and I drove slowly, but by the time I’d made the circuit, their car was still in the drive. I circled again and saw the three of them climbing into the Olds. On my third circuit, they were gone and I pulled right up in front of the Kluszewskis’ house, parked my car, and began the wait. I knew she was in there. If I sat here, she’d be forced to play her hand. She’d either come out and talk or call the police and have them chase me out of the neighborhood. Either way, I wasn’t leaving without an answer.
A half hour went by and I was beginning to worry about one of the neighbors calling the police before Elaine did. I kept an eye on the windows. If she was spying out of them, she was doing a good job. I saw no shadows or movement in the curtains. But as the windows gaped at me, dark and uninviting, I had the feeling I was being observed. Finally, after almost an hour, the front door of the Kluszewski house opened and Elaine stepped out. I told Peanuts to get into the back seat, which he did with some grumbling, reached across the passenger seat, and rolled down the window.
She wore a bulky white sweater and her arms were folded across her chest as though she were trying to keep the warmth in, even though it wasn’t very cold. Stopping a couple feet from the car, she studied me through the window. Peanuts was emitting soft whines from the back seat. I felt the same way only I was quiet about it. Elaine looked more puzzled or confused than angry. After staring at me for a full minute, she said, “How’d you know I was here?”
“Hey, remember, I’m a P.I. I earn a living doing stuff like this.” Her expression didn’t change. I looked out over the steering wheel, then back to her. “I figured Jack was my best shot. I guess you could say I’m here on a hunch and a hope.”
By now, Peanuts was going crazy with his whining and pacing, and I was beginning to think that bringing him along wasn’t such a hot idea. Just then Elaine bent at the waist and peered into the back seat, placing her hands on the door.
“You brought Peanuts,” she said and almost smiled. What a dog.
“He likes to ride with me. I say car, and he acts like it’s Christmas.”
She squinted at the makeshift window. “What happened to your window?”
“Long story,” I said, adding, “and not of major concern to me right now.”
When she turned back to me, I said, “Why don’t you get in for a minute?”
“Why’d you try to find me?”
“Get in and I’ll tell you.” There was something in the situation – Elaine on the curb and me in the car trying to get her to climb in – that seemed real awkward.
She straightened up again and looked down the street; maybe expecting Jack and his family to return. Maybe hoping. Then she opened the door and got in. Once she was situated, Peanuts began licking her ear. She laughed a little and stroked the white ruff around his neck. So far, he was doing a lot better than me. “That’s enough, Peanuts,” I gently pushed him back into the seat. He snorted, but otherwise played along. Finally it was just Elaine and me in the front seat.
“Why did you come looking for me?”
“I guess I don’t much care for loose ends. You want to end this, you tell me that.” I paused, then went ahead. “Maybe we weren’t together long enough to know what we like on our pizza, but it was long enough for me to know when you’re troubled about something. And right now the trouble detector is going way off the scale.”
She didn’t respond but pulled her elbow in and rolled up the window part way.
“You hungry?” I asked.
“Yes. No. I don’t know.” She laughed a little. “Always the decisive one, aren’t I?”
“I’ll take that as a yes.” I started the car and eased it away from the curb. “We’ll have to make it a drive-in. Peanuts has got lousy table manners.”
“When you get to the corner, turn left ‘til you get to the light. That’s Golf Road. There’s got to be a million fast food places.”
Neither of us spoke as I drove. I was tempted to turn on the radio, but that seemed too obvious a way to fill the sound gap. Fortunately, it was less than five minutes before I turned onto Golf, and her estimate of the number of fast food establishments hadn’t been far off. I pulled into a place that advertised beef, chicken, and fish. Something for everyone. There were about six cars lined up for the drive-in and it seemed like a potentially awkward wait, so I pulled into a parking space. “What do you have a taste for?”
“Um, I don’t know. Beef, I guess.”
“With cheese?”
“No.”
“Fries?”
She hesitated. “Yeah, fries sound good.”
As I walked across the parking lot toward the door, I heard her call my name. When I turned, she said, “If they have chocolate shakes, would you get me one? If not, I’ll have a Diet Coke.”
