The Heirloom Murders - Kathleen Ernst [55]
“Listen, sweetie, I can’t sort this out for you. If being with Roelke makes you happy, spend time with him. If it doesn’t, don’t.”
“It sounds so simple when you put it like that.”
Ethan laughed, his voice warm and comforting through the wire. “Easy for me to say, hunh?”
“Tell me about you. Tell me about the fire.”
They talked for ten minutes more before hanging up. The world beyond her windows was blurring into blue-black shadows. Olympia had fallen asleep on the carpet. Chloe sat, thinking about Roelke and Markus. Thinking about Dellyn.
All through college and grad school, Chloe had taken a different summer job each year. She loved seasonal work. She loved heading to new places. Going to Switzerland had been the grandest adventure of them all. Markus had done a terrible thing by dumping her when she needed him most. But before her miscarriage, she had never felt a need to press for any kind of commitment, either.
Her miscarriage had started a hellish year, but she’d pulled herself out of it. With lots of help from Ethan, and even some from Roelke, she’d turned her emotional corner. She had almost lost her job at Old World Wisconsin … but not quite. She and Ralph Petty would never get along well, but she was truly trying to get through probation, and to lock down the job for good. A real job. A permanent job, with health insurance and everything.
And sometimes, that made her feel old. Was she losing something special? Would having a stable relationship make her feel better about herself right now, or worse?
“I have no freaking idea,” Chloe told Olympia. “Let’s go make dinner.” Before she could move, the phone’s jangle made her jump.
“It’s Markus,” her ex said. “I wanted to give you one more chance to come along when I go back to see the Frietags.”
The Frietags, some wise and wonderful elderly people. “Yeah,” Chloe told him. “I’d like that.”
The next morning Roelke was in Waukesha by 8 AM, with a couple of hours free before his shift started. He parked in front of Alex Padopolous’s last-known residence. The tired brick building had been divided into flats, but several catalogs bursting from one of the mailboxes said Alex Padopolous, 1A in the address line.
Roelke’s knock went unanswered. No surprise there. If Alex Padopolous was still living on the wild side, there was a good chance that he was either hung-over at this hour or reluctant to open the door to a cop. Roelke banged again.
“He’s gone.”
Roelke turned and regarded an elderly woman shuffling down the sidewalk with the tiniest Chihuahua he’d ever seen. Her hair was in curlers, which wasn’t as common on the streets as it used to be.
“Are you referring to Alex Padopolous, ma’am?” He joined her on the sidewalk, keeping a wary eye on the dog. Chihuahuas weren’t called ankle-biters for nothing.
“Is he in some kind of trouble?” The woman pulled a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from her pocket.
“No ma’am. I just want to talk with him.”
She lit up, inhaled, and blew a long plume of smoke. “Well, I haven’t seen him for two days.”
Two days, hunh? Roelke thought that over. “Is that unusual?”
“Oh, yes. Noisiest neighbor I’ve ever had. Usually he’s booming his music at all hours, drinking beer on the porch with his buddies. I hope he’s gone for good.”
“Do you happen to know where Mr. Padopolous works?”
“Ace Auto Repair, two blocks down. I heard Padopolous lost his license for a while, had to walk to work.” The woman shook her head. “Too bad there’s a handful of taverns within walking distance, too.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Roelke said politely. “I appreciate your help.” He watched the woman resume her walk, with the Chihuahua pattering along beside her. Nosy neighbors, he thought. Gotta love ’em.
Next stop, Ace Auto Repair. It was a busy shop, with a car on all three lifts and every parking space full.