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Authors: Jon Demartino

Tags: #Fiction, #Mystery, #Retail, #Suspense, #Thriller

Breaking Point (9 page)

BOOK: Breaking Point
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"Are you driving right back to Oak Grove, Mr. Murdock?" Ms. Gable's voice reached me from somewhere behind a corner file cabinet. Her bouncy hair soon appeared around the near side and her well fitted body followed it into view. She was wearing a red suit with a red and royal blue scarf tucked in around the jacket's neckline. This was a very nice looking lady, older or not.

             
"Not just yet. I'm meeting my sister for lunch at her home in Iowa City. I think she has a lady friend she plans to introduce me to," I ventured. If Ms. Gable, too, were available, she might just take the bait and offer an appropriate remark.

             
She took the bait all right. "Oh, I know how that is," she smiled. "My husband's brother is single and we are always on the lookout for a nice woman for him."

             
Oh. Her "husband's brother" was single, too, was he? I decided that Ms. Gable was one of those married women who choose, for some reason, to not wear a wedding band. Maybe she had an allergy. I offered a pleasant goodbye and went over to punch the elevator button. Before I got to it, I turned and walked back to lean over the desk. I spoke softly to Ms. Gable.

             
"By the way, I didn't want to ask the mayor, but I noticed that mark on the back of his hand. Is that from a burn? It looks painful."

             
"Oh, no. It's not. Painful I mean. It's from before I ever knew him. I think it was some kind of a chemical accident." A tentative smile accompanied her nod of approval as she said, "It was good that you didn't ask him. I think the look of it embarrasses him."

             
We said goodbye one last time and I caught the elevator to the lobby. On the ride down, I pondered the progress of the usage of the title 'Ms.' When that was first introduced, quite a few years ago, the only women who seemed to use it were single ones who were offended by being labeled as such. When I was growing up back in Pittsburgh in the seventies, it was still pretty much true that anyone who was introduced as a 'Ms.' was also a 'Miss.' Then those women went to college and became professionals of one sort or another and the title stuck, even after they were married. Keeping their maiden name was a professional choice that was becoming more and more common. I suppose the pendulum would do what those things tend to do and in a few more years or decades we'd be back at 'Miss' and 'Mrs.' For now though, I was just a little annoyed at the whole process and somewhat disenchanted with the lovely 'Ms.' Gable.

             
Having gotten my thoughts straight on that important issue, I drove back down toward Iowa City for lunch with my sister. I wondered if her mystery woman at the mission was a 'Ms.' also.

Chapter 10

 

              When Maxine and Talmadge had first come to Iowa City back in 1980, they had lived in some sort of low rent housing that was owned by the University. I'd never visited them back then, so I hadn't been exposed to the low end of Professor Heiser's teaching career. They'd moved a few times since those days and had eventually added two children to their family. Tucker, who for some cruel reason had been saddled with the formidable name of Talmadge Winston Heiser Junior, was about sixteen now and Madeline was twelve. They seemed like nice enough kids, although having been long distance relatives for all of their lives until this year, we didn't really know each other yet.

             
The latest house, where the Heisers had lived for the last ten years, was in University Heights, a section of Iowa City that was just south of the University campus. I turned onto Melrose Avenue and passed the Finkbine Golf Course where three or four sets of golfers were taking advantage of the warm November sunshine. When I turned off Melrose into the heart of University Heights, I noticed the difference in architecture from where I lived, just a few miles north in Oak Grove.

             
Here, while the homes were still modest in size, the styles had the flavor of the Victorian era, with several brick two and three story homes in evidence. Some of the wooden Victorians had the big wraparound porches I was used to seeing back in Pittsburgh and had so rarely spotted in Iowa. There were some wood-sided Cape Cods scattered about among the larger houses, as well as the ever present one-story homes. The Capes had the required gingerbread trim and neat little porches or archways attached. All the homes were well maintained and the yards were well kept. Landscaping here was simple but attractive. Large trees shaded the front and side yards, an unusual sight just a few miles north where the town of Oak Grove had sprung up around treeless cornfields.

             
Maxine had chosen a two-story brick and stone Tudor style home that was built around 1940. There was a huge maple tree in the front yard and a wide side porch that she'd shaded with green and white awnings, easily dropped down to block the afternoon sun. She'd told me it would remind me of our aunt's home back in Pittsburgh and it did. They say that buying a home is an emotional decision and this one probably was. It was a great house, though. Max had always had taste for classy looks in houses and decorating, if not in her choices of hair color. I parked in the wide driveway and rang the bell on the side porch

             
"Come in," Max called from somewhere in the recesses of the house. I could smell the rich aromas of tomato sauce, hot sausage and garlic, overlaying the more subtle smell of the eggplant. Suddenly I was hungry. I went in, kissed my sister hello as she lifted a pan from the oven to the stovetop, and pulled up a chair to the kitchen table.

             
The eggplant was the best I'd ever eaten and I wondered why I never tried making that type of meal myself. I quickly realized that now I didn't have to, with Maxine so near.

             
"What's in this stuff again?" I mumbled through a mouthful of rich flavors.

             
"A lot of the usual ingredients for eggplant parmesan. I fried the eggplant then layered it with sauce I had in the freezer, parmesan cheese, and hot sausage. I added sliced elephant garlic cloves that I'd caramelized in olive oil. It really doesn't take long at all. Flouring and frying the eggplant is the hardest part of the recipe."

             
Of course, Max always had jars of homemade tomato sauce stashed in her freezer, which cut a few hours off the cooking time right there. I helped myself to a second square of the dish and dug in like a starving man.

             
"Slow down, Rudy. You'll get sick, “my sister admonished me as she'd done all of my life.

             
"If I slow down, I'll realize I'm probably already full and then I won't want to eat any more. Now what good could that possibly do?" I timed my words so I never missed a forkful of eggplant and sausage.

             
When I was really full, I sat back and accepted a cup of coffee and one small cookie to top off the meal. Max had remembered that I never felt like I'd been fully fed unless I had something sweet at the end of the meal. That was her own fault. When I was a kid at home, she'd always had some kind of dessert ready for after dinner, even if it was Jell-O or canned fruit. So now I was locked into the plan and it was her responsibility. The comforts of childhood are never far away, it seems.

             
I knew Max wanted to ask me about her husband, so I brought it up first.

             
"Listen, Sis, I haven't found anything out about Tal yet, so try not to worry about it so much. Maybe he was really on college business. Just give me some more time and we'll figure this all out, ok?"

             
"I know you're probably right, but I still worry. He was home early last night but he still seemed so distant. Tucker wanted to ask him to explain something about his homework and he had to ask him more than once. It was like Tal just wasn't really listening."

             
"Maybe it's something at work. Have you asked him?" I didn't know how long I could go on playing this game, defending that asshole when I knew damned well what he was doing. I wanted to confront him myself, though, and not do it through my sister. I'd sort of figured out how I'd go about it with the least embarrassment to Maxine. Now I was waiting for my chance to put my plan into action.

             
Just then the telephone rang on the wall beside me. I shoved my chair to one side and Maxine picked it up on the second ring, anxious for her husband to call, I was sure. It was him, and from the sound of her end of the conversation, he was going to be at a late "meeting" tonight. Maxine wasn't taking it well.

             
"What kind of a meeting? Where is it? All the way down there? Why does it have to be so far away? Don't they have meeting rooms at the college?" She was wearing down, though, listening to his long-winded explanation that I knew was a pack of lies. "Ok, then. Be careful on that road late at night. I guess I'll see you when you get here. No, no, I won't wait up, if you're going to be that late." She hung up slowly and looked down at me.

             
"He has some sort of literary meeting down near Pilot Grove somewhere. Some local author is hosting it at his home, I guess. Anyway, Tal said he'll be very late again tonight." Maxine sighed and started back to her chair across from me, then suddenly stopped and threw her shoulders back.

             
"No, I'm not going to think the worst. Even if it is what I think it is, I'll deal with it. I'll just clean up these dishes and we'll go to the mission."

             
She explained where the boxes and bags were and I loaded them in the trunk of her Oldsmobile while she straightened up the kitchen. There were several boxes and a variety of different store and plastic garbage bags. She'd been right in saying they were heavy. She must be giving away half her wardrobe. In the back of my mind, I was thinking about Pilot Grove, where Talmadge's meeting was going to be tonight. I'd have to check my map, but I thought that Pilot Grove was a little town down near Keokuk.

             
Maxine appeared, having exchanged her apron for a jacket, and we were off to the mission. I refrained from both criticizing her driving and from asking if her friend was going to be there waiting for us today. I was proud of my self control.

             
The Riverside Mission was on the eastern edge of Iowa City, about a ten-minute drive from Maxine's house. The one-story concrete block structure sat squarely in the center of a blacktopped parking lot. There was a hand-painted sign over the entrance and another one to the right of the door directing us to the drop-off dock along that side. Max drove around and stopped the car at the edge of the loading dock and reached across me to open the glove compartment and press the trunk release button. I hopped out, and was instantly reminded of a bit of lingering tenderness in my right knee. Maxine was still in the car and didn't notice my grimace and small groan. Another lecture averted.

             
It took only a few minutes to slam the donations up onto the raised concrete dock. By that time, Maxine had disappeared into the building through, I assumed, the side entrance near the dock. I went in and scanned the open expanse.

             
There were no partitions in the room that I could see, just rows of tables and racks of hanging clothes. Making my way between the tables, I noticed that besides clothing, there were stacks of household gadgets, dishes, tools and tons of plastic toys that would be on the earth for the next billion years. I wondered why, if God existed, and if He knew so much, He hadn't made us out of plastic. Maybe He hadn't thought of it. Or maybe He knew the earth would be better off if none of us lasted forever.

             
At the other end of the room, my sister was in conversation with a woman in a blue suit and matching hat. Now when was the last time that kind of outfit was in style, maybe 1945? They were at least a hundred feet in front of me and Maxine hadn't seen me come in. Maybe this would be a good time to slip back outside and wait in the car. She must have read my thoughts, because my sister turned at just that moment and looked right at me. Instead of the wave that I expected, she turned back to the woman and they moved off together toward a long table heaped with clothing at the back of the room.

             
Maybe the woman didn't want to meet me after all. Or maybe this wasn't the one Maxine wanted to introduce me to. Either way, it made this mystery woman from the forties all the more interesting to me. Now I wanted to meet her. I cut across the aisle to my right and walked to the back of the store. I could see Maxine's broad back at the far end of the aisle and the top of the blue hatted lady on the other side of her. I sauntered the hundred feet or so toward them, pausing to look down at the occasional pseudo-interesting item on one of the tables.

             
"Hi, Max," I said cheerfully as I got close to them. "Who's your friend?"

             
When my sister turned to look at me, I could see a pained look in her eyes. She looked like she was about to burst into tears.

             
"Rudy, I didn't know she would be here." She started to speak, closed her mouth and then tried again. "I really didn't know. I promise."

             
I had looked past her and was now staring at the woman's outfit. The dark blue hat did indeed match the dark blue suit. The only decoration she wore was a large silver crucifix that hung from a matching chain around her neck. An alarm went off somewhere inside me, like an electric shock. It wasn't the gray coat and slacks she'd been wearing at the convent, but I knew, in that moment before I looked up, whose face I would be looking into.

             
I glanced first at her hair, still dark brown, shorter than I remembered and flecked now with a few strands of gray. Her eyes were brown, so dark they appeared almost black. They were more beautiful than any I'd ever seen. I don't know how long I stood there staring at her. I'd known the truth for fifteen years and had even seen Caroline from a distance at her convent, many times over the past five months. But I still wasn't prepared to meet her face to face. Caroline. Now Sister Mary Grace. But still Caroline, my Caroline. I stood there, aware of a lump where my larynx used to be.

             
"Hello Rudy," she said, smiling up at me.

             
I swallowed hard. I could feel Maxine's sturdy presence beside me, pressing tightly against my right side in the narrow space. Time seemed to stand still around me. I don't think I could have moved if I'd had to. My voice sounded strange to me, tight

             
"Caroline." I cleared my throat. "Or what do I call you now?"

             
"Sister Grace is what most people call me, but if Caroline is more comfortable for you right now, that's fine." She smiled again and I felt some of the tension leave me. I felt a lessening of pressure against my right arm, as Maxine moved away from us. My mind felt heavy and slow, as if it were immersed in molasses. I couldn't seem to think fast enough to plan what I'd say next. I just had to wait until I heard myself saying it.

             
"I knew you were here... around here, I mean. I wasn't expecting to see you today, though." At least my voice was beginning to sound more normal to me.

             
"I know. Your sister was just telling me that you came along to help her with some donations. She said that you knew I was in Iowa."

             
"Yeah. She saw you at some retreat last Christmas, at your, um, convent. And she called me and told me about it. I don't think she was sure it was you at first, until she thought about it. But, yeah, I knew." I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. God, soon I'd be peeing my pants.

             
"Man, is this awkward or what?" I shook my head and tried to laugh.

             
Caroline nodded, smiling. "I know. I've had the same problem with other old friends. They don't know how to talk to me. I recognized Maxine at the retreat last Christmas, but wasn't certain if I should approach her, for the same reason. Today, I saw her again and just decided to say hello."

BOOK: Breaking Point
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ads

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