Waiting and Watching (12 page)

“When I finally told the police the truth, no one could verify I was there. After two days, the bus driver saw the newspapers and verified that I was on the bus downtown. We had a conversation about my going to the march. He gave me specific directions on where to go. Remember, Connie, this was 1964. Luckily, the driver who recognized me from my picture plastered all over the newspapers came forward to verify my alibi. Most whites, even now, think we all look alike.”

“I don't think…”

“I know you don't, and neither did the white reporter from the New York Times who confirmed my alibi a couple of days after the murders. He interviewed me for his article and agreed not to use my name.

“I mainly feel guilty because, by not coming forward with the truth, the police spent the first forty-eight hours convinced it was me, rather than looking for the real killer. I can't tell you how that has torn me up inside, and now that I've told you about it, I wouldn't blame you for resenting me and maybe changing your mind about me. About us.”

Connie looked at him and smiled kindly. “Andrew, I don't blame you. I understand and I love you even more for the stand you took back then. We can still find the killer and go on with our lives. Somehow, through my faith, I believe things happen for a reason, and I've learned how to accept and forgive. I hope you can feel that way, too.”

“I can try if you help me,” Andrew said.

“Andrew, I will always help you and support you in anything you do, because I trust you to do the right thing.”

They spent the rest of the day making plans. Connie telephoned Sgt. Reynolds and told him they were leaving the next day but would return for Thanksgiving. She asked him to keep her informed about the case and he promised he would. Connie also called Lily and Earl and invited them for Thanksgiving dinner at the Tilden Park Inn as their guests. She asked Lily to keep concentrating on the watch belonging to her father. Connie said she didn't want to go through another séance, but would be interested in any thoughts or feelings Lily might have between now and Thanksgiving.

Tuesday—September 16, 1986

Julio stepped out of the air-conditioned lobby of his office building into the warm, moist Florida air. He'd been back in Miami for seven days. It had been a hellish week at work, which was normal whenever he took off a few days from the office. Now, finally, he had a break and he was en route to Coral Gables to check out the realtor, Beth Vreeland—the woman who'd had a public fight with his mother all those years ago.

As he approached her well-appointed apartment building, Julio was quickly trying to put together some kind of game plan. Usually, if he kept his cool and found a woman to sweet-talk, he could get just about anything he needed or wanted. Women were susceptible to his charms, and he wasn't above using whatever it took to get helpful information. Walking confidently past the doorman and into the foyer, he surreptitiously scanned the lobby looking for the elevators.

Lucky break! The door man was engaged in a heated dispute with an elderly couple. Taking advantage of the doorman's distraction, Julio quickly moved in the direction of where he suspected the elevators would be. Lucky again. They were right where he thought they would be. Pushing the ‘up' button, he waited for a car to open. Just as the doors opened, the same elderly couple he had spotted arguing with the doorman, walked in. Damn, he better wait. Pretending he had lost or forgotten something, he mumbled to the couple not to hold the elevator for him.

Julio turned away quickly and feigned walking back into the lobby. He had turned so abruptly he almost bumped into an elderly lady with a walker. He hadn't heard her behind him. As she shuffled past him to wait for the next arriving elevator, he gave her his brightest smile. She looked at him suspiciously as the elevator arrived.

Just as the elevator was about to close, the doorman rushed in and blocked the doors with his hand. “Sir, you can't just walk in here. I need your name and who you want to see.”

The elderly lady looked at Julio again, then said, “That's okay, Chester. He's with me.”

The doorman released his hold on the door and said, “No problem then. Thanks, Mrs. Sands.”

“Close call, young man. If you weren't so good looking, I wouldn't have covered for you. I spotted you for trouble when you entered the lobby and rushed so quickly to the elevator. I saw you scoping things out. Bet you didn't even notice me watching you. Hope you're not a detective; your detecting skills seem a bit sub-par. Now, what are you doing here and how can I help?”

Julio thanked the elderly lady and said he was going to visit Beth Vreeland but forgot her apartment number.

“Well, young man, I may be able to help you, but I still think you're up to something.”

“Then why did you cover for me with the doorman?”

“Because I'm curious. We don't get many of your type around here. This place is mostly full of boring old codgers with nauseatingly bad breath and clothes smelling like mothballs. Most can't remember anything, much less do anything. No action around here. So what's your business with Beth Vreeland? She's a bit of a mystery; I haven't been able to figure her out yet. She's hoity-toity, but definitely too old for you. Although she does like 'em young.”

The elevator door opened on the sixth floor. Mrs. Sands walked out and Julio followed her.

“She's a friend of my mother's from Ohio and I wanted to look her up,” he explained, hoping the old lady wouldn't ask any more questions.

“Oh, my young friend, have you ever heard the expression you can't shit a shitter? You're not a very good liar. If you want me to help you, then tell me what you're really up to.”

“Okay, you win.” Julio smiled, pulling out his business card. “Let me introduce myself. My name is Julio Harriman and I'm an attorney in Miami. I'm interested in finding Beth Vreeland regarding a case I'm working on. She doesn't know me and she's not expecting me. All I want to do is ask her some questions.”

“Well, that's more like it,” Mrs. Sands said. “And you just hit the jackpot. Her apartment is six-oh-seven, right across the hall from me. I'm in six-oh-five. But, now your luck's fading as I doubt she'll be home.”

“Any idea when you think she'll be back?”

“Nope. Vreeland never seems to be here much and I don't blame her. Dull! This place is pretty, but it's kind of a downer. I sit in the corner of the lobby most days where I can see everyone coming and going. It's a great spot. I see everything and no one sees me. Problem is, there isn't much to see. Fooled you though, didn't I?”

“I must admit I didn't notice you when I walked in and I was scanning the lobby.”

“No shit, Sherlock. I'm not sure that says much. Like I said before, your detecting skills are definitely amateur. Alright now, you just ring her bell and if no one answers, remember, I'm just across the hall.”

Julio knocked on the door while Mrs. Sands stood there. When there was no answer, Julio turned to say goodbye to the old woman but instead, he hesitated and then asked, “Would you do me a favor?”

“Well that depends. I'm from New York and we don't trust just anyone, especially some slick looking guy who just strolled in off the sidewalk, although if it's espionage, I'm in.”

Julio smiled. “If you see Mrs. Vreeland returning, would you call me?”

Mrs. Sands looked him up and down and said, “You look on the up and up, but how am I to know you're not some kind of con man or perpetuator?”

Julio laughed and said. “If you mean perpetrator, I assure you I'm not. You can call my office to verify I am who I say I am.”

“I certainly will and if you check out, I'll be glad to call you.”

“Good. And if I could ask one more favor…please don't mention my visit to Mrs. Vreeland. I'd like to surprise her.”

Mrs. Sands winked and said. “I'll bet you would. This plot seems to be thickening by the minute. I'll be on the lookout for her and give you a call. Got to love a man of mystery.”

Wednesday—September 17, 1986

Julio groggily answered the bedside phone that had just roused him from a particularly pleasant dream. “Julio here…what?” he said as he pulled himself up to a sitting position.

“I said, she's in there.”

“Who is this?” Julio mumbled.

“It's Sylvia in Coral Gables. You wanted me to call you if I saw Beth Vreeland.”

“Oh, yeah. Mrs. Sands. What time is it?”

“Honey, it's a little after two in the wee hours. The night is still young as they say. Vreeland, she always comes and goes at night. Didn't I tell you that?”

“No, Mrs. Sands. I think you forgot to tell me that, and just out of curiosity, what are you doing awake at two o'clock in the morning?” Julio asked.

“Spying. Just out and out spying. Unlike you, honey, I keep my detecting skills sharp.”

Julio laughed. “I never doubted you for a minute. I have an early meeting in the morning, but I'll come by after that. If you should see her leave again, would you call me at my office?” he asked.

“You can bet on it.”

That morning at ten, Julio went back to Mrs. Sand's building. This time he stopped at the doorman's desk to identify himself and had him call Mrs. Sands' apartment. The doorman gave him a strange look, but did as he was asked. When granting Julio permission to go upstairs, he seemed to want to say something, but stopped himself. Julio surmised he was concerned that Mrs. Sands was being taken advantage of in some way. Julio smiled to himself, because he wasn't sure who had the upper hand in this relationship.

Mrs. Sands answered the door before he could even knock. Unable to curb the excitement in her voice, she said, “She's in there. I saw lights on in her apartment and saw her shadow moving around in there. It must have been early this morning around five.”

“Shadows in her apartment? Where were you when you saw her?”

“I was out in the garden doing reconnaissance.”

“Mrs. Sands, what were you doing in the garden in the middle of the night?”

“Like I said, reconnaissance, checking on Mrs. Vreeland. What do you think I was doing? And it wasn't in the middle of the night.”

“Well, it was still dark. Look, I appreciate what you're doing, but I'm concerned about you being out there when it's dark. There are weird people out there. It's not safe for little...ladies to be out at night alone.”

“Get over it young man. I'm fine. Besides, if there are any perverts around, they're not coming around here. One look at me and they'd look for greener pastures.

“Now, the truth is I'm a little curious about this Vreeland broad,” she said, “You know, she has a young man in there. I saw him walking around.”

“Well, I'll ring the bell and see if she'll talk to me.”

“Sounds good, but you have to promise to come by my place afterwards. I want to hear what you think of her. She's not friendly at all to me. Thinks she's high and mighty with all her gentlemen friends. If you ask me, those men are all sleaze bags. Hey, do you think she's in bed with the mafia or running some kind of—”

Julio cut her off. “Whoa, Mrs. Sands. Let's not jump to any conclusions.”

“Enough of that Mrs. Sands crap. The name is Sylvia and you better come back and report.” She wagged her finger at him. “No skipping out on me.”

“Wouldn't think of it, Sylvia.”

As Sylvia disappeared into her apartment and closed the door, Julio rang Mrs. Vreeland's bell and though he heard movement, no one answered. After several rings, he gave up and went back to Sylvia's apartment to tell her that although he was sure someone was in there, he'd come up empty.

“Strange but not unexpected; she is secretive. I'll do a little snooping and let you know what I find out. And only because you keep flashing that handsome smile, there will be no charge for my services.”

“Thanks.” Julio said. “I really appreciate your help. How about if you come up with some useful information, lunch is on me and you choose the place.”

“Make that dinner and I'll keep a sharp eye on her and call you. Get your suit ready. I'm not a cheap date.”

“I never would have assumed otherwise,” Julio said flashing his Hollywood smile.

Thursday—September 18, 1986

The next morning Sylvia called Julio at his office. He could tell by her voice that she was excited. “Earned that dinner yet, Sylvia?” he chuckled.

“You better believe it, handsome,” she said, going on to relate the events of her morning. “It all started when the management of the apartment building came by to check my water pipes. Once they left my apartment, I saw them go across the hall and knock on Vreeland's door. A woman's voice told them to come back in ten minutes. When they did, a woman let the building's superintendent in as she quickly rushed out the door. I shouted to Mrs. Vreeland, ‘Excuse me, can I ask you something?' The woman didn't even turn around. She just kept moving down the hall in a big hurry. I couldn't even swear it was Beth Vreeland. It could have been anybody. Honey, my intuition tells me Vreeland has something to hide and I intend to find out what it is. Now, I've got a plan and I want you to promise you won't try to stop me.”

“I'm not promising anything until I hear your plan.”

“Then just forget I mentioned it,” Sylvia said.

“Alright, you win. What is it?”

“Well, there's a note on her door saying that the plumbers are coming back tomorrow morning at nine to fix a leaking toilet. I'll be watching and if Vreeland leaves, I intend to get in there and do some snooping.”

“And how, may I ask, are you going to do that?”

“Unlike you, handsome, I have a plan. I'll just follow the plumber and super in while asking a question about my newly leaking sink and look around while I'm in there.”