Lucky Stuff (Jane Wheel Mysteries) (26 page)

Jane and Nellie checked the other cabinets, finding them sparsely populated. A few cans of soup and an ancient box of saltines. There was a fancy jar of strawberry preserves that still had vestiges of a Christmas bow on the lid. Never opened. Jane held it up close and read the brand.

“I gave this to Carl last Christmas,” said Jane. “In a basket with sausages and cheese and stuff. At least he ate the other stuff.”

“Nope,” said Nellie, opening the refrigerator.

Jane looked over her mother’s shoulder and saw all of the fancy sausage and cheese and small jars of mustard set neatly on the second shelf. On the top shelf were two six-packs of beer.

“Why the beer?” said Jane. “Carl didn’t like beer, did he?”

“He kept it for when he quit drinking,” said Nellie, opening drawers and taking out a few old metal advertising trays that Jane was sure had come from the EZ Way Inn.

“What do you mean quit drinking? Beer’s—”

“Maybe twice a year, Carl’d go on a bender and drink himself stupid. Then he’d sober up and quit drinking for a couple months. Then he’d get on an even keel and be okay for a while.”

“I don’t understand the beer,” said Jane.

“It was for when Cark quit drinking,” said Nellie, plainly annoyed that she had to repeat herself.

“But beer’s—” began Jane.

“When you drink a quart of whiskey a day most all your life, switching to beer is quitting, okay?” said Nellie, on her knees looking in the drawer under the stove. “I don’t know why anybody starts in the first place, but once you do, it’s a slippery slope.”

Jane had never heard her mother use the expression “slippery slope” before and was quite sure Nellie had no idea it signified anything other than a hill one shouldn’t attempt to climb. No reason to get into a discussion on semantics with Nellie. It would be a slippery slope indeed.

Jane looked up at the clock above the sink and a small “oh” escaped when she registered what she was looking at. A George Nelson Petal Clock in those amazing four colors read 1:45. The clock looked so perfect in this kitchen that she hated to take it down. Pulling out a small step stool from the pantry cupboard, she did remove the clock. It was the bait she would use to have some fun with Tim before she reeled him in.

“Why don’t you leave it up there?” asked Nellie. “You’ll need a clock.”

Jane shook her head. “I’m not moving in here, Mom.”

Jane thought she saw Nellie’s shoulders relax a little. “It’s nicer than the basement and it’s got all this good furniture in it from Turk’s,” said Nellie. “I wouldn’t blame you.”

“Nope,” said Jane. “I’ve got an idea about a place to live, Mom, but it’s not the basement or here. I’m still thinking about it.”

Nellie shrugged. “Just as well. Your dad wouldn’t like you living over a bar.”

“And you?” asked Jane, with a smile.

“Up to you,” said Nellie. “I don’t interfere.”

*   *   *

Jane had to meet Lucky Miller before the bowling tournament and in her big tote bag, she imagined that the Petal Clock was ticking. She dropped Nellie off back at home and ran inside to call Oh, pet Rita so that her dog might remember who she was, and see how her father was getting along on day two of the EZ Way Inn being closed.

“It’s not bad, Jane, having a Saturday off,” said Don. Quiet voices came from the television. Golfers were teeing up and someone was discussing the Leader Board. Don, however, had left his chair and was scouring out the coffeemaker with some kind of vinegar mixture. He also showed Nellie that he had cleaned out two junk drawers and looked through several old magazines for nonexpiring coupons.

“We’ll save some money on groceries this week,” he said proudly.

“What’s got into you?” said Nellie, sniffing at the coffeepot.

“We’re always cleaning stuff up at the tavern, but we never have any time here. I thought maybe we should spruce the house up a little bit.”

“Why? We putting it up for sale?” said Nellie. She had her back to her husband and was looking over the drawers that Don had organized. When Don didn’t answer right away, she whipped around and faced him.

“You’re not thinking about selling the house again, are you?”

Don shrugged.

“Again?” asked Jane, looking up from where she sat on the floor, rubbing Rita behind the ears. “When were you thinking about selling the house?”

“I’ll tell you exactly when,” said Nellie. “When Milt died. Every time somebody dies, your dad starts cleaning out drawers and closets and starts looking at brochures for places called ‘communities’ in Arizona.”

“Not exactly true,” said Don, looking at Jane. “But you know, a wake-up call now and then makes you think.”

“Stop thinking,” said Nellie. “We can’t afford to retire and nobody’s going to buy this house right now anyway. Remember your investment opportunity?”

Don shushed Nellie. Jane might be a grown-up with financial responsibilities of her own, but her father still didn’t believe in discussing money in front of the children.

Jane pulled the petal clock out of her bag and set it on the kitchen table. “I have to go meet Lucky before the bowling tournament, but can we all talk about this later? I have an idea about me helping out at the EZ Way Inn while you guys get back on your feet. Then maybe I can help you plan ahead for retirement, okay? But can we talk about it later? No decisions right now? I’m already late,” she said, pointing to the unplugged clock, positioned like a dinner plate on a woven placemat.

Don nodded. He gave Jane a hug and promised that no decisions would be made while she was out.

“We’ve been talking about this for ten years and haven’t decided anything yet, so I guess we can wait another hour or two.”

“Good,” said Jane.

“Honey?” said Don, as Jane headed for the door. She turned back to face her dad, who pointed to the clock. “Wouldn’t it be easier to wear a watch?”

19

Did the absence of ownership allow Jane to multitask more efficiently? On her way to Mack’s Diner where she was due to meet Lucky, Jane placed her cell phone on her lap and her notebook and pen in the seat next to her. At a stoplight, she blatantly broke the law and clicked her e-mail so she could do a quick scroll-through, then placed the phone next to her notebook.

At the next stoplight, she phoned Tim. When he answered, she put the call on speaker.

“You won’t believe where in Kankakee is a museum-worthy cache of midcentury modern,” said Jane.

“I’m putting you on speaker. Maurice and I are driving over to the bowling alley.”

“Hi, Maurice,” said Jane. “Aren’t you guys early? Not supposed to start for an hour.”

“We’ve got the team shirts to deliver and the trophies,” said Maurice. “Hi Jane.”

“About that midcentury modern?” asked Tim.

“Ever been to Wally’s Tap? They call it Salt and Pepper’s, too,” said Jane.

Before Tim could answer, Jane heard the beep that she was getting another call. When she saw the caller was her brother, Michael, she promised Tim to call back soon and clicked onto the incoming. Before she could complete her enthusiastic hello, Michael was yelling. She hardly needed the speaker function.

“When was anyone going to call me about Carl? When did I stop being a member of this family?” shouted Michael.

Jane could think of no satisfactory explanation or decent enough apology. She just hadn’t thought about it.

“How did you find out?” she asked quietly, hoping guilt and humility would soon make things right.

“The worst possible way, Jane. On fucking Facebook!”

Jane knew Michael must be in the car alone, on his way somewhere. He would never swear in front of her niece and nephew. Michael and Jane had both agreed that after growing up in a house and tavern where everyone swore early and often, they would not expose their children to the same language. Most of the time, they succeeded.

“Carl was on Facebook?” asked Jane. That couldn’t be true.

“No, moron. I’m a friend of the
Kankakee Daily Journal
and they post the obits on Facebook. I had to find out that Carl was dead on Facebook!”

“Michael, I am so sorry. I don’t know how I could have let this happen.…”

“Not just you. Mom and Dad should have called. He was part of our family, he was as much of an uncle as anyone of the family we ever saw once a year at Christmas. We saw Carl every day of our lives,” said Michael.

Jane pulled the car over, and took Michael off speaker. She rolled down her window for a hit of September breeze and wished, just for a fleeting moment, that she could time travel back to her misspent youth and light up a Benson and Hedges, lean back, and have a long rambling conversation with her brother.

“It’s been hectic here, but it’s not an excuse. Carl’s going to be cremated and there’s going to be memorial at the EZ Way next weekend. He left everything to our family, I mean, it’s really so strange here right now.”

“I talked to Dad. I’m flying in. Q’s having a fit that she can’t come, but school just started.”

“I’m so glad you’re coming, but tell my Suzie I wish she was coming, too.” Jane could picture her niece, hands on hips, furious about being left behind. “I can’t believe I didn’t think to call. I sold my house and all.…”

“Dad filled me in, with a little Nellie on the side. You’re homeless, according to Mom who was shouting in the background. Dad talked about you moving in to the basement, then I heard Mom say you were moving into Carl’s apartment above a bar. So what’s the story, sis? Hunkering down in Kankakee for a while?”

“Sounds like a terrible idea, doesn’t it?” said Jane. “Such a predictable story. Local girl makes good, gets fired, gets divorced, heads home with tail between legs, and—”

Jane sat up straighter in the seat and pitched her imaginary cigarette out the window.

“Gotta go. I’ll call you back. Glad you’re coming.”

Jane tossed the phone on to the seat next to her. Whipping her car into a fast U-turn worthy of any TV private eye, she followed a blue sedan being driven by Lucky Miller. His arm hung out of the open window, unlit cigar dangling in his hand. He was driving a few miles over the city limit, with what Jane judged to be a great deal of confidence. No slowing down at intersections to read street signs, no hesitation about turning left or right. Even more interesting than the sureness of his driving? He was headed in the opposite direction of where she and Lucky were meeting, the opposite direction from the bowling alley.

It was only when she followed Lucky’s car into a parking lot where he stopped abruptly, jerking the vehicle into a parking space, and she had to circle around and park a few spaces behind, that she realized he was not alone. Slumped into the front seat next to him was Malcolm, his head barely level with the headrest.

Jane picked up her phone and called Lucky. She watched him slap his shirt pocket and take out his phone, squint at the screen, then push a button. She started to talk before she heard him say hello, then watched as he put the phone back in his pocket. He had sent her directly to voice mail. She winced. So that’s what it looked like when someone didn’t judge you worthy of call acceptance?

Whatever Malcolm was saying must have been agreeable since Lucky was doing a lot of nodding. Either that or they were listening to a song, since Lucky was bobbing his head in a fairly rhythmic manner. Lucky suddenly jerked his hand holding the cigar, and pointed across the street to the river, where an old concrete slab angled down into the mighty Kankakee, just west of the dam.

This wasn’t a riverside park or an area where picnickers or fishermen might gather. This was just a commercial intersection where there was an old access point to the river. Jane remembered when she was young that there had been a house there, next to the bridge, with a garage at the end of the sloped-down driveway. Jane always thought it seemed like a scary place to live, since waffling to the left or right as one drove down the concrete slab might take car and driver directly into the river. It didn’t help that the stone garage had two windows in the door whose placement looked like large staring eyes. There was no house or garage there now, but the concrete drive remained.

Lucky got out of the car. Malcolm opened the passenger door and got out, looking like it was far too bright and early for him to be facing sunlight or fresh air. He shaded his eyes with one arm and shook his head. Jane could hear him say something that sounded like a question.
How would I know
or
how should I know
was what it sounded like, but Jane was too far away to be sure.

Lucky and Malcolm crossed the street and Jane saw them both head closer to the river. Her view was blocked after they started down the bank, so she eased her car forward into a parking place directly across from where the two men began their descent.

Without knowing exactly why she did it, Jane picked up her phone and snapped a photo of Lucky and Malcolm. It was only the backs of the men, but the ever-present cigar left no doubt that the larger man was Lucky Miller. Belinda St. Germaine’s book was on the front seat and Jane rested one hand on it as she snapped another photo of Lucky pointing under the bridge. Jane rifled the pages of the book to see where Lucky had placed all of his bookmarks, remembering that she had seen some handwriting on some of the index cards. No. The only handwriting she could decipher looked like a list of errands. But the chapter where the card was stuck was titled,
REVISITING THE SITES: SACRED AND PROFANE.

Jane was sure that’s exactly what Lucky and Malcolm were doing. She called Oh and left a message with her location, the intersection where she was observing Lucky ramble on to a bored-looking Malcolm. Lucky had brought Malcolm here for a reason, he must be remembering something that had happened in that spot. Malcolm kept shrugging and shaking his head. Jane figured he was content to create the fictional life of Lucky Miller and wasn’t that keen on doing the research into the life of Herman Mullet. Before Jane finished leaving her message, Detective Oh picked up the phone.

“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Wheel, I was in the garden and couldn’t get to the phone quickly enough. How may I help you?”