A Noise Downstairs(58)

“She. She’s not convinced it’s a good idea, but she’s not stopping me. In fact, I want to take her with me, if I am able to get in to see Kenneth.”

“Well,” she said. “You said, at first. Is there another reason you want to see him?”

“Before I answer that, I want to ask you something else, something that may seem strange.”

“Go ahead.”

“Do you ever feel . . . haunted by the women Kenneth killed?”

Her head cocked slightly, as though no one had ever asked her this before. “I suppose I do.”

“In what way?”

“I don’t know . . . I guess sometimes, I can see them, at this table. Asking me why.”

Paul nodded. “Yes. When you see them, how real are they?”

“Far too real. I mean, even though I never saw what happened, I can imagine it, sadly.” Gabriella sharpened her focus on him. “Why do you ask?”

Here we go.

“I think it’s possible,” Paul said, “that I have the typewriter.”

Gabriella’s face froze.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I think I have it. The typewriter Kenneth made them write their apologies on.”

“That’s not possible. The typewriter was never found. How could you have it? Kenneth got rid of it the night of the murders. The police never found it. No, that’s simply not possible.”

Before he could tell her more, she asked: “What kind of typewriter is it? Describe it.”

“It’s an Underwood. Very old. Black metal. You know. An antique manual typewriter. My wife acquired it recently at a yard sale.”

She appeared to be trying to remember. “It’s funny, you see it sitting around the house every day, and now I’m trying to think, was it a Royal? A Remington? An Olympia? All names I remember from my childhood. But I think, yes, I think it’s possible our old typewriter was an Underwood. But there are millions of them. You can find one in almost any secondhand shop. What would make you think it was ours?”

Paul had thought about how he would answer. “That’s something I would be prepared to discuss with Kenneth.”

“You should tell me.” Her face darkened. “After all I’ve endured with that man, surely I’m entitled to know whatever you’re holding back.”

“I’d like to tell Kenneth first. If he wants to tell you what I’ve told him, I have no problem with that.”

She didn’t look pleased with that, but she didn’t fight him. She did appear ready to ask him something else, but they were interrupted by what sounded like a truck pulling up to the house.

“My son’s home,” she said.

“Can you get in touch with Kenneth and ask him if he’ll see me?”

Gabriella stood up, evidently eager to greet her son. “I’ll see what I can do. Sometimes these things can be arranged more easily than you think. And what’s the name of the person you want to take with you?”

Paul told her. She nodded and started walking toward the front door.

It opened before she got to it. Leonard Hoffman, still in his ice cream–stained apron, came into the house.

He looked at Paul and said, “You.”





Thirty-Six

Hello, Leonard,” Paul said.

Gabriella was startled. “You know each other?”

“This is the bad man I told you about,” Leonard said.

“Wait, what?” she said.

“Leonard sells ice cream on our street quite often,” Paul said defensively. “Earlier today, I admit, I mentioned to him that there was, well, a connection.”

Gabriella looked as disappointed as she was angry. “Why would you do that? Why would you drag my son into this? Don’t you think he’s suffered enough from what his father has done?”

“I’m sorry, I—”

“He called me saying some man asked about his father, but I had no idea it was you.”

Paul looked apologetically at Leonard. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Leonard, why don’t you go in and have a snack while I see this man out.”

Leonard hesitated, not sure that he was ready to be dismissed. But finally he said, “Okay.” He glanced over his shoulder, adding, “Don’t come back here again.” He disappeared into the kitchen.

“Really, I’m sorry,” Paul said to Gabriella.

“Something we never got to,” she said, keeping her voice low, “was how hard this has been on Len.”

“I can well imagine that—”

“No, you can’t. Len’s not been the easiest boy in the world to raise. He’s got his share of difficulties, but say what you will about Kenneth, he loves his son and was always there for him.”

“What’s Leonard’s—”

“If you were going to say ‘problem,’ Leonard doesn’t have a problem. He was always just a little slower than the other kids, but there’s nothing wrong with him. He might not have been college material, but he’s got this job now driving that ice cream truck and that’s done the world for how he feels about himself. Can you imagine what it’s been like for him having a father go to jail for what he did? I just thank God he’s years out of school. The other kids would have tormented him to death.”