Diamonds and Cole (6 page)

“Cole?” she repeated.

He couldn’t face her. He couldn’t bring himself to turn around. Why had he come? There was nothing he could do for her. She was sick. He had no cure to offer. He couldn’t make her family suddenly love her. Why had she called him? What did she think he could do? There was no hope.

He felt Ellie’s hand take his and her head rest against his arm. “Wish I could see out that window. Must be good. There is pretty green paint down here though, kind of.”

“Well...,” Cole began.

“I have read a lot of things you’ve written over the years. You always dig up the adoptive mother, catch the city official with their hand in the cookie jar, get the MIA’s body back, and that thing with the president you did. You’re kind of a detective. What I mean is, you know how to find what you’re looking for, right?”

“Yeah, I’m kind of nosey.” Cole shrugged.

“Find Erin.”

“Your daughter?”

“Yes.” Ellie looked down to steel herself. “It’s Allen, he...”

“Has he hurt her?”

“No, no not like you think. Please sit so I can see you.” She waited until Cole was back in the chair. “When my parents died, an inheritance came to me. I put it in a trust for Erin for college or her wedding or, or something. Anyway, I’m not going to last very long. I want her to get the money. It means a lot to me that she gets what was meant for her. Knowing how Chad and Annie were, my folks, well, they wanted Erin to inherit.”

“That seems easy enough. Do you have a will?” Cole asked.

“That’s just it. It isn’t that easy. You see, when I was really bad, Allen had me sign a, oh what do you call it, a power of attorney. I didn’t really understand. Then, later, when I got some strength back, I realized what I had signed. She can’t touch the trust until I’m gone. The way it was set up, Erin didn’t get it until she was 25 if anything happened to me. So, until then, he could change it. She’s 23 and if she can’t be found and I die...” She looked up and into Cole’s eyes. “Cole, this is important to me, can you understand?”

“Look, these things aren’t as easy to do as you think. He can’t...”

“Yes, he can. He already sold my parents’ home. We had it as a rental. It was in my name, but he sold it. I only found out because I called his office. The secretary congratulated me on the sale.

“Find Erin, Cole. She’s my greatest joy. We, we had a ...” Ellie looked at her hands as they twisted in her lap. “I was a fool. I sided with Allen. I thought I should support him as head of the house and maybe he would consider me in dealings with Chad and Annie. It all went wrong. He could have cared less. It drove a wedge between Erin and me. She wouldn’t listen to me, just shut me out. One day when I was out, they had an argument and he told her to leave. She did, and I haven’t seen her, she hasn’t written or called. I don’t know where she is. Knowing him, he told her I would side with him. I never would have!” She put her hands over her face.

“I’ll find her.”

“And bring her back?”

“I’ll do my best. But she’s a grown woman, El. I can’t force her.”

“You have to tell her I’m sorry, she has to forgive me, Cole. I was wrong, so wrong and it has driven us apart. It was all my fault. You have to make her see how much I love her, how much I miss her. You are my only hope to get her back.”

“I will do everything in my power.” Cole knew it was foolish to tell her not to worry, but he could see her strength slipping away as she spoke.

“I know you will. I have missed you so.” She smiled, but it was colored with sadness.

“I’ve missed you too, more than you’ll ever know. Are you getting tired? I don’t want to wear you out. We will have time to visit later if you need me to go.” Cole was becoming concerned with her obvious weakening.

“I don’t have a whole lot of ‘later,’ so you better not leave or I’ll chase you down with my wheelchair!” Her smile beamed and the color was returning to her cheeks.

“In that case, I better stick around.”

“Can you help me into bed?”

“That’s the best offer I’ve had in years!”

“Aren’t
you
the saucy one?”

Cole folded back the covers. He put his hands under Ellie’s arms and lifted her from the chair. She wrapped her arms around his neck. For a moment, they were face-to-face and only inches apart. Their eyes met and neither could look away. Cole slipped his arms around her and they embraced. Her cheek against his and his heart against hers they stood, neither wanting to let go. She was so thin, but it was Ellie in his arms again, if only for a moment. He ached to kiss her, but, instead, swept his arm behind her knees and lifted her onto the bed.

“What service! I love to be tucked in.”

“Sorry, I forgot the mint on the pillow.”

Cole pulled the chair across the room. He sat with his feet propped on the bed rail. Ellie looked much more relaxed, and her voice had smoothed and seemed not nearly as shaky as before. For nearly two hours, they laughed and talked, reminiscing about their youth. She remembered places and people he had long forgotten. He spoke of places and things they had done, some she could not recall. With all the memories and years apart, they still shared the fondness for their lives together. Little was said of their relationship, parting or love. For now, they were just two old friends, together and bathing in the warmth of what had been.

Cole recounted the story of a trip to the coast of Northern California when they became hopelessly lost outside of Petaluma in the winding roads of the coastal mountains. He had been looking out the window as he talked. When he looked back at Ellie, her eyes were closed. He continued to tell the story until he saw that her breathing had become deep and slow.

“And then he told the beautiful girl at his side how much he loved her and always would,” Cole said softly. He smiled and rose to his feet. Ellie had drifted to sleep. He kissed her gently on the forehead and slipped out of the room.

FIVE

Cole checked into the Palmwood Motel on McAllister Boulevard. It was one of the older motels but still in pretty good shape. He stopped at a hamburger stand called Lucy’s that he was surprised to find still in business. It had been hours since he had eaten, and he couldn’t believe how hungry he was. He nearly inhaled the double cheeseburger, fries, and chocolate shake before he was back in the car and headed for downtown.

He was pleased to see
The Daily Record
had expanded, was remodeled and updated from the small-town newspaper he remembered. He made his way through the thick green, tinted glass doors and into the spacious tile atrium. The ceiling was a glass and steel dome from which hung huge baskets of flowers. The late afternoon sun filtered through the green glass of the dome, lighting the floor and giving everything an emerald tint. The receptionist sat behind a curved wall of glass brick about three feet high.

“Welcome to
The Record
, may I help you?”

Cole smiled and, presenting his press credentials, said, “Good afternoon, I’m Cole Sage with
The Chicago Sentinel
. I’d like to speak with your resident research genius, if I could.”

“That would be Randy Callen. Let me see if he’s in yet.” The receptionist spoke into the thin clear tube that curved out from her headset, “A Mr. Cole to see you. He’s from
The
Chicago Sentinel
.” She paused. “Okay, I’ll tell him.”

“He’ll be right out, Mr. Cage.”

Cole smiled broadly and took her card from the small holder on the counter.

“Wenda Brilliams,” Cole said.

“Brenda Williams,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone.

“Got it.”

An elevator door opened, and a young man in his early twenties approached Cole.

“Mr. Cole?”

“Sage, Cole Sage,
Chicago Sentinel
.”

“Brenda has trouble with names sometimes.”

“Noticed.”

“I’m Randy Callen. How can I help?”

“I need to get some background on a local real estate guy. Thought maybe you could give me a hand.”

“It would be my pleasure. Let’s go down to my office.”

As they entered the elevator, Cole noticed Randy’s right hand was badly withered. The fingers were webbed together and came almost to a point at the middle. Randy pushed the B button with his left hand and they began to descend.

“I’m in the dungeon.”

“Been there long?” Cole asked good-naturedly.

“I graduated last year from Humboldt State. Saw this gig in
The Journalist
and applied. Seems I was the only one, so here I am. It’s cool. Nobody bugs me, and I have the dungeon all to myself. Most of it is the archives. Nobody visits there much since almost everything is on the computers now. So, all in all, it’s pretty cool.”

As the elevator doors opened, Cole could hear music coming from the right. The “dungeon” was well lit and even a bit on the bright side. As they made their way through a series of gray cloth-covered cubicles, however, Cole noticed the lighting seemed less effective. Then he saw that every other tube was out in the fluorescent lights. As they reached the wall, there were none on at all. In the corner of the room was a long L-shaped table. Six large widescreen monitors faced a tall-backed brown leather executive chair. Three keyboards were waiting between pairs of monitors. Next to each keyboard was a small black disc drive. All the wires were neatly hidden. Curiously absent was any sign of a computer tower.

“Welcome to my little corner of the world.” Randy beamed and waved his hand, palm up, like Vanna White revealing a completed phrase.

“Beautiful.”

“When I got here, there was only an old IBM 386. Nobody had spent any of the budget for computers down here during the furnishing of the new building. My boss was smart enough to know he didn’t have a clue what to order. So he let me do my thing.”

“Looks really expensive,” Cole offered.

“See, that’s where I scored brownie points! Instead of buying a bunch of towers and processors and hard drives and stuff that would crash, wear out or get outdated, I had all this wired into the mainframe upstairs with fiber optic cables. They constantly tweak and upgrade, so I don’t have to worry about my stuff having to be replaced. Saved a bundle. What I spent of my budget was on monitors and cool toys. Nobody noticed, they were so pleased that I only spent half of it. Cool, huh?”

“Very cool.” Cole loved the young man’s enthusiasm.

“So, what are you looking for?”

“What have you got on a realtor named Allen Christopher?”

“Christopher, huh?” Randy said as he started pecking at the keyboard. “You’re the second person in the last couple of weeks to ask about him. What’s the deal? He running for something?”

“Not that I know of. Who else was looking?”

“One of the feature writers. She was doing a piece on a survey done of good and bad realtors. Seems his name kept coming up on the bad guy list. That can’t be good for business.”

“What? He a crook or something?” Cole was surprised by this revelation. From what Ellie had said, Christopher sounded successful.

“Seems so...” The computer distracted Randy. “Here you go. Allen Christopher. Sit down; I’ll put it on two.”

The second monitor stopped swirling small red-white-and-blue peace signs to open on a screen of text.

“Well, well,” Cole said as he pulled up a chair in front of the monitor.

“Here,” Randy tossed Cole a mouse. “Cordless and laser.”

“Thanks. Looks like Mr. Christopher is a busy boy.”

“That’s what Carrie said. Tell you what, give me a second, and I’ll pull the piece she’s been working on. Can’t tell her, though; I’ll get in hella trouble.”

The files on Christopher were in three categories: Articles, Unused, and Research. Under Articles, there was a piece from 1992 when he had received a Board of Realtors award. In 1998. his name was mentioned in an investigation of funding for a city program for remodeling homes for the elderly. For August 2000 there was a piece entitled “Realtor Warned about Padding Escrow” and a follow-up stating no formal action had been taken. Nothing after that in the file.

Research had many filings: fictitious name statements for a couple of businesses, birth announcements, his first wife’s obituary, and his license to wed Ellie. Pretty dull stuff, all in all...except for the obituary of the first wife.

“His first wife is dead?”

“O-bit-u-ary. It’s newspaper for dead.” Randy chuckled at his own joke.

“Slow down, hot rod. What’d she die of?” Cole leaned toward the monitor.

“Mmmm...looks like a car wreck about—what is that?—13, 14 years ago.” Randy pointed to a line on the screen.

“Okay, what else you got?”

The Unused file was mostly drafts of articles about the opening of three real estate offices. A copy for an ad announcing “Welcome of Allen Christopher to our office of highly effective agents” was stamped CANCELLED in red. Cole was growing bored with the press releases, most of which were from Christopher about Christopher. Until the last one caught his eye.

ﾠ

“Allen Christopher is proud to announce his association with Malcor Corporation of Fort Lee, New Jersey. Malcor is exploring the relocation to the southeast section of the city. This multi-million dollar project will bring jobs, a new vitality to the area, and will provide a much-needed anchor for further industrial growth in the area.”

ﾠ

Cole scanned the rest of the badly written puff piece until he read the last sentence: “Mr. Christopher is actively involved in rezoning the potential factory site.”
Why would it need rezoning?
Cole thought.

“Hey, Randy, can you tell what the date is on this last file in Unused?”

“Looks like it’s about six months old. Need an exact date? I can dig deeper.”

“No, that’s close enough. Have you got anything on a Malcor Corporation?” As Cole spoke, a file folder appeared and blinked in the middle of the screen. “What’s this?”

“Carrie’s draft of the real estate story. Please delete it after you read it. I’m checking Malcor—”