Lillian Mannes lived in an assisted living home halfway between Kankakee and Remington. A wide lawn and bright flowers surrounded the front entrance, and the word PEACE in sky-blue letters rose above the doors as they slid open silently.
A woman at the front desk made a call, and an attendant in a blue uniform led me down a hall and knocked on a half-open door. “Come!” a woman’s voice called, weak and hoarse.
“Ms. Mannes? I’m Tom Jurgen. I think your grandson spoke to you?”
She looked me over from her wheelchair, an oxygen clip in her nose. In her 90s, Lillian Mannes looked frail, in a flowered dress and slippers, but her face was hard set, the eyes behind her thick glasses bright and fiery.
“Yeah.” She reached over to a table for a bottle of water and took a swig. “It’s about Bradley, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” I looked around, found a chair, and sat down.
The room was small, with a bed, shelves, a bookcase, a TV, and two straight-backed chairs. Candles sat in the bookcase, on top of the dresser, and next to her cup of tea on the table at her left hand.
“I’m sorry to bring up the past,” I said, shifting my chair to face her better. “But your grandson has been getting some unsettling emails.”
“Like what?” She brushed a strand of gray hair from her face.
“From someone calling herself his mother.”
Her fingers twitched, as if someone had poked her. “He killed her. Bradley. My son. My—son.” She looked down into her lap. “What does she want?”
“She told Colin to look for his brother.”
Her head jerked up at me. She stared, breathing a little harder, but didn’t say anything.
“I spoke to a police officer who said you and your husband came to the station while Bradley was being questioned. You brought a young boy with you. But it wasn’t Colin, you left him with the neighbors. Who was he?”
She shook her head without looking at me. “It was wrong. It was all wrong.”
“Did Bradley have another son?”
She took off her glasses and set them on the table next to her teacup. For a moment she was crying softly, tears dripping onto her dress.
Then Lillian Mannes looked up again, put her glasses back on, and pointed a finger. “Out. Get out.”
“Who was the kid, Lillian?” I asked.
“It’s too long ago.” Her voice was a whisper now. “I can’t talk about it. Everyone’s dead.”
“Even the child?”
“No.” She blinked, still crying. “Not him. Not him, please, no . . .”
“Where is he? What’s his name?”
She shook her head again. “It’s no use. It doesn’t matter. You can go now. Just get out.”
I tried to ask her another question, but she leaned back, reaching for a button on the table next to her that would call someone to help her. I didn’t want to get thrown out.
I dropped my card on the table. “Please call me. I’m only trying to help your grandson.”
She sagged in her wheelchair, closing her eyes, letting her arms droop to the sides. With a deep breath, she turned her face away from me, shutting me out.
I left. Out in the parking lot I called Rachel. “On my way home.”
“How did it go?” She sounded busy and distracted.
“She sort of confirmed the second kid, without telling me anything about him. Too bad you weren’t here.”
“You know I can’t do the Vulcan mind meld, remember?”
“You might have picked up something. And you’d be company in the car.”
She snorted. “Yeah, we could argue about the radio station.”
“How’s it going there?”
“Work, work, work. Let me get back to it.”
“See you soon.”
I waited until I was home to call Colin. Rachel was working on her side of the office, but she stopped to listen.
“She wouldn’t say it straight out,” I told him, “but she definitely implied that your father had more than one child.”
“I don’t know, man.” Colin sounded confused and upset. I couldn’t blame him. “I mean, even if I do, what does this have to do with those emails?”
“Maybe it’s some strange attempt to bring the two of you together? A reconciliation?”
“Then why not just tell me? Why pretend . . .” His voice broke. “I don’t know.”
“Do you want me to keep on this?” If this was too much for him, quitting might be the best answer. He could simply block the emails—
“No, not yet.” He took a deep breath. “Now I’m—I need to know. See if you can find anything out about this brother. I’ll let you know if I get any more emails.”
“All right.”
I hoped the truth, if I found it, wouldn’t make things worse for Colin. We hung up and I went to work.
We hung up, and I looked at Rachel. “What do you think?”
“How would I know? You’re the brilliant detective. I’m just the hot sidekick.”
“You’re more than a sidekick. But you are hot.”
“And don’t you forget it.” She stretched, as if reminding me. “What now, Holmes?”
“The aunt.” I had her phone number, and I’d already sent her an email this morning. She was agreeable to a talk.
She was a very nice lady. Unfortunately, she didn’t have any useful information. She confirmed everything I already knew about Colin’s parents, and she knew nothing about another child. “We didn’t—I should have tried harder to stay connected with her. After she married Bradley.”
I thanked her and we hung up.
I ate a late lunch, and took a sandwich in to Rachel. She forgets to eat if she has too much work, and then she gets cranky with me. I’ve got the bruises to prove it.
I did a deep dive on Bradley Mannes, Colin’s father. He’d worked an assortment of jobs, mostly in construction, but also in warehouses and occasionally places like Wal-Mart and Jewel. Arrested several times—DUI, drunk and disorderly, misdemeanor assault, shoplifting—but no jail sentences. Charges had either been dropped or he made a deal for probation. No domestic assault charges filed, but that wasn’t unusual, sadly.
Searching birth records would take time, and without a name for the hypothetical other child, I’d have trouble knowing what to search for. I tried local newspapers for birth announcements, but in the middle of that I got a call from my other client on the sexual harassment case, and I had to shift gears to handle a new development—a witness I’d have to track down and try to interview.
We ate an early dinner, and then Rachel kissed me and headed off to class. After dinner I worked a little more on the harassment case—I was getting paid for that, after all—and then I went back to the newspaper birth announcements from 27 years ago. Searching for Bradley’s name didn’t get me anywhere, except for Colin’s own birth announcement, a small item in the local Remington paper.
Then I found something interesting in another section of the newspaper’s website.
I double checked to make sure I was reading everything correctly. Then I texted Colin to call me as soon as he was out of class.
I was watching TV, catching up on Cobra Kai, when I heard the locks snap on my door. I muted the TV and turned around on the sofa. “You’re early.”
“Colin wanted to show you something.” Rachel dropped her backpack. “Colin, this is my boyfriend, Tom. Tom this is—hey! Are you watching Cobra Kai without me?”
“Just the ones you already watched.” I turned off the TV.
I hadn’t met Colin in person before. Face to face, he had a neatly trimmed beard and large ears. We shook hands, and then he held out his phone. “I got your text, but—look at this.”
FIND HIM. STOP HIM.
“I don’t—I can’t—I couldn’t concentrate after that.” Colin shuddered, unzipping his jacket. Rachel took it to hang next to hers. “I showed Rachel—we’re in the same class—and she said to come here.”
“Like you said, she’s pretty smart.” I winked at her. “Now I have to show you something.”
In the office, I turned on my computer and opened the document I’d saved. Rachel and Colin leaned down.
“Is that what I think?” Rachel asked.
“I don’t—what is that?” Colin’s voice was shaking.
“It’s an obituary for a baby who died in childbirth. Kirk Mannes,” I said.
Everyone was silent for a moment.
“I need a drink,” Colin murmured.
I have a bottle of whiskey. I hadn’t opened it in months. I poured him a drink and got beers for Rachel and me. We sat in the kitchen.
“So what the hell is going on?” Colin looked from me to Rachel and back again. “I’ve got a twin brother that I don’t know about because he died in childbirth, and my dead mother wants me to find him? And stop him? But he’s already dead?”
Rachel put a hand on his arm. “We’ve seen some weird things. Tom can figure this out.”
Rachel’s confidence was reassuring, but it didn’t give me any ideas for dealing with this. Colin looked at me expectantly.
I took a sip of beer and tried to think. Finally I said, “The only thing I can think of is to talk to your grandmother again. There was that little boy that she and your grandfather took to the police station.”
“He could ask his mother,” Rachel said. “I mean, she’s not being the most communicative ghost, if it’s even her—”
Colin already had his phone out. I nodded. ”Yeah. Ask her about Kirk and see what she says. But in the meantime—”
“Yeah.” Colin was tapping a message. “I don’t have class tomorrow. We can go down and talk to her.”
I looked at Rachel. “Can you come?” Her psychic abilities would be useful.
Rachel sighed. “Yeah. I can push back my work deadline. And miss my afternoon class. If I have to.”
“Thanks.”
Colin sent his message, finished his whiskey, and stood up. “I’m sorry about all this. You should let me pay you.”
I glanced at Rachel. “I’ll give you the friends and family discount.” I stood up, we all shook hands again, and Rachel took him to the door, locking up after he left.
She plopped down next to me on the sofa and grabbed the remote. “Okay, yeah, we did already watch this one together.” She opened her laptop. “Go on, I have studying, since I’m missing class tomorrow. Maybe.”
“I’ll do my best to get you home in time.” I took the remote and started up again.
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