Searching for Caleb

Now another peculiar thing was, how a man of business could spare so many hours. Naturally a detective was not like a lawyer or anything, but still you would think he had appointments and commitments. Mr. Everjohn seemed ready to give the Pecks the rest of his life. He sat without fidgeting, keeping his sharp knees clamped together and his elbows close to his body. One trouser leg was rucked up to show a shin like a stick of timber. He wrote with his pen held so awkwardly that it made Lucy's hand ache. When he asked questions, they were always the least likely. For instance, he wanted to know Uncle Caleb's smoking habits, the name of his childhood nursemaid, his mother's birthday, and his preference in shoes. He asked about Laura's reading matter and Justin's will, about religious beliefs and shipping schedules. The stranger the questions, the more excited Grandfather Peck became. It was like going to the doctor for a headache and having him examine your toenails. What undreamed-of things he must know! Even when Mr. Everjohn asked about Margaret Rose, Grandfather Peck barely flinched. "Of course, that's something I never think about," he said. "I've forgotten her entirely."

"Ah," said Mr. Everjohn. When he opened his mouth like that, his face became impossibly long and his cheeks sank in.

"Anyway, she left before Caleb did," said the grandfather.

"Now where was it she went to?"

You could have heard a pin drop.

"Washington," said the grandfather.

"Oh yes."

"She got a job. But she died."

"What kind of job?"

"There's not much point in going into this," the grandfather said.

"I got to know anyway, Mr. Peck."

"Uh, she laundered money."

"Money."

"She worked for the U.S. Treasury. She washed old bills."

Mr. Everjohn's deep, bruised-looking eyes searched mournfully around the room.

"It's perfectly possible," Duncan told him. "They used to wash them and coat them with rosin. For crispness. In the past they weren't so quick to throw things away. They had a machine that-"

"I see," said Mr. Everjohn. "Cause of death?"

"Boardinghouse fire," said Grandfather Peck.

"She live in a boardinghouse?"

"Her parents wouldn't let her stay with them, you see. In those days women were expected to be better behaved. They tried to make her come back to Baltimore. Her father wrote and told me."

"Now. You sure she really died."

"They buried her, didn't they?"

"I was thinking maybe that was where your brother went to: Washington.

Maybe the two of them. You ever consider that?"

Lucy had. But Grandfather Peck was merely impatient. "If he were such a scoundrel, why would I be looking for him?" he asked.

"Oh yes," said Mr. Everjohn, and he seemed perfectly satisfied. He slipped the notebook and pencil back into his pocket. "Well, I think I got something here to start on."

"We certainly appreciate your making a housecall, Mr. Eyerjohn," Two said.

"Why, that's all right."

"I never expected to take so much of your time, but of course I am fully prepared to-"

"Think nothing of it," Mr. Everjohn said. "To be honest, this town don't keep a man very busy." He felt beneath his chair for his hat and then rose, unfolding foot by foot. With a hat on he looked more like Lincoln than ever. The crown was even slightly squared, the brim oddly curved.

"There's so little call for us, me and my partner have to shadow each other's wives for practice," he said.

"Really," said Two.

"Women's lives are right dull, I've found. My partner's wife goes to one store for toothpaste and another for mouthwash, just to get herself two outings."

"Well, I know you have to be getting back," said Two.

"Now my wife takes lessons. She will sign up for anything. You wouldn't believe the places Joe has got to follow her to."

"May I expect your bill on a monthly basis?"

"Pet grooming. Exotic dance. Kung-fu. Stretch-'n-Sew."

"Oh, Eli!" cried Justine, making one of her shocking leaps to a first-name friendship. "Won't you take your wife a piece of birthday cake?"

"She's on this diet," Mr. Everjohn said gloomily. "She goes to Weight Watchers and Slenderella, and every Thursday from two to four she's got her this class in low-carbohydrate food preparation." He shook Justine's hand too hard. "I'll keep in touch," he told her.

"Well, drop in any time. Grandfather will want to hear."

"And thank you again for your patience," Two said.

But the minute Mr. Everjohn was out the door, Two collapsed in his chair.

"I knew we should have used a Baltimore man," he told Lucy.

"Well, there, dear."

"I must have the names of twenty good detectives back home. But no, Marcus said it had to be a Caro Mill fellow. That way Father could handle things, he said. Otherwise we'd be the ones to-"

"Well, I thought he was very nice," Justine said, returning from the front door.

"If you children would live in a civilized area, Justine-"

"Caro Mill is civilized."

Two turned to Duncan, who was playing with what looked to be an auto part over by the window. "You need to come back to Baltimore, boy," he said.