Page 6 of The Happy Month
The waiter returned with Lydia’s wine and my iced tea, and told us the specials, one of which filet mignon. It sounded like the most expensive thing on the menu, so I decided I’d get that. We didn’t order just then. He left us to decide.
“The specials sound very good,” Lydia said.
“Go ahead, tell him,” Jan said.
“Finally,” Edwin said under his breath. He calmed himself then began, “We have an uncle named Patrick Gill. Our mother’s brother. He’s just turned eighty. He lives in a nursing home in Beverly Hills. He’s been diagnosed with dementia. When he was young, he was engaged to a woman named Vera Korenko. The engagement was broken off and he never married.”
“Our mother finds this all very romantic,” Janinserted.
“Now he’s saying that he killed Vera. Which is upsetting our mother.”
“Was this woman murdered?”
“Yes. She was found in an arroyo near Pasadena.”
“When was this?”
“1949.”
“No one’s ever been charged?”
“No.”
“So, he could have killed her.”
“Our mother doesn’t think so,” Edwin said. “She thinks he walks on water. He’s much older than she is.”
“How would finding out who killed this woman help your situation?” I asked. “Why don’t you just tell your mother he didn’t do it and forget about it?”
The brothers glanced at each other, then Jan said, “Our mother requires some kind of proof. Our father was a lawyer, we’re lawyers, a lot has rubbed off on her.”
“In other words, she doesn’t trust you as far as she can throw you,” I said. That earned me a couple of frowns. “Look, it’s a case that’s nearly fifty years old. It wasn’t solved then, it’s even less likely to get solved now. I can take your money, but I can’t promise you’ll get anything for it.”
“Speaking of money,” Lydia said. “He gets twenty-five an hour.”
“Come on, Lydia,” Edwin said. “I know you pay him less than that.”
“You’re not a not-for-profit, though.”
I was tempted to say no again. I didn’t need the money. Except, I was thinking I kind of did. I liked to keep a stash of cash, around ten thousand, a gun, and alternate identification in case I needed to leave suddenly. Ronnie had found my last stash and put it into the bank. Now that I didn’t get tips, it was going to be a lot harder to squirrel money away.
“I’d need to be paid in cash,” I said.
“Hiding it from Uncle Sam?” Jan guessed. For a moment, he seemed to like me better.
“Something like that.”
The waiter came back asking if we’d like to order. Jan tried to send him away, but Lydia said, “I do, but I have to get back to the office. I have to work this afternoon.”
After that we ordered. Lydia asked for the Caesar salad with shrimp, Edwin the cod, Jan chose lobster ravioli and I stuck with the filet—I mean, why not? When the waiter left, I said, “I’m going to need to speak to your mother and your uncle.”
“Of course,” Jan said. “But you’ll have to promise not to upset Mother.”
“You know I can’t promise that.”
Jan looked like he had indigestion, and the food hadn’t arrived yet.
CHAPTER TWO
