Prospect Street (44 page)

“It could lead to more bad news. We may not want to hear what she has to say.”

“I want to get this over with. I can handle whatever we hear.”

“All right. I hope she's home.”

She squeezed his hands. “That's one thing we can be sure of, Pavel. Let me tell you why.”

P
avel had been strong for Faith, but he was quietly grappling with his own reality. Remy's close call, a shootout with the woman he was coming to love. And the new and painful knowledge that Hope Huston, the little girl who had made headlines around the world, was as much his sister as Faith's. Not only had he lost a father, but he had lost a sister before ever glimpsing her face.

He only rarely admitted to himself how much Dominik's loss had affected him. He concentrated on the few positives of his childhood and the things he had gained from the negatives. Now, as he and Faith stood on Dottie Lee's stoop and waited for Mariana to come to the door, he realized how much he needed answers. Years ago he had come to Washington for them, and he had never really let the matter rest. He had always watched and listened and hoped that someday he would discover the truth.

“She might not cooperate,” Faith warned. “We can't depend on this conversation.”

“It's the next step.”

Mariana opened the door and invited them inside. She motioned them to the sofa and went to get Dottie Lee.

Pavel didn't want to sit. He paced, while Faith tried to settle herself against the cushions. “I wonder what work my father did here.”

“He remodeled the entire back of the house,” Dottie Lee said from the kitchen doorway. “Come and I'll show you.”

Pavel followed her into the dining room, and Dottie Lee swept her hand toward the windows facing her small garden. “He did this. The house was closed off from the world, but Dominik opened it up for me. He said if I was going to live every day here, I must bring the world to me. So that's what he did. The upstairs is the same. All glass and river and city lights at nighttime. I can see the Kennedy Center and pretend I'm listening to the world's finest orchestras. In the seventies, I could stare at the Watergate and imagine its secrets.”

Pavel tried to imagine his father here, exposing the world for Dottie Lee to enjoy from a distance. “It's wonderful.”

She faced him, and her eyes were misty. “Your father was a wonderful man. I knew who you were almost immediately. The very first time I saw your photograph in the
Post
business section. He called you Pasha, but once, when he brought you here to meet me, he told me your real name was Pavel. And you look like him, of course, just enough to convince me.”

“Then I was here as a child?”

“Oh yes, he liked to show you off. But, of course, you wouldn't remember that. I can tell you he was so very proud of you. He was sure you were remarkable, and as it turned out, he was correct.”

Faith joined them. “Dottie Lee, we've reached the end of the road. We don't know where else to look for the truth about the kidnapping.”

“You know your mother and Dominik had an affair, Faith. Do you know anything else?”

Faith looked at Pavel, and he shrugged, as if to say that the choice of what to tell Dottie Lee was hers.

“We know Dominik was Hope's father,” Faith said, and prayed her mother would forgive her.

Dottie Lee didn't look surprised. “Your mother told you?”

“Yes, and she told me my father knew Hope wasn't his. We think you lied to the police about where Dominik was that afternoon. We know he committed suicide months later, but the reason for that is still a mystery. Unless he was involved in the kidnapping, what made him take his life? He never even tried to reconcile with Pavel's mother.”

When it seemed Dottie Lee wasn't going to answer, Pavel continued for Faith. “I think there's someone who might be able to help. My father had a cousin who worked with him—”

“Sandor,” Dottie Lee said.

“Do you know what happened to him? Would you have any idea how we might find him?”

“Do I know what happened to him? Yes, of course I do. And so do you, Faith. Where to find him is a more difficult question.”

Faith's eyes met Pavel's. He read concern that perhaps Dottie Lee wasn't as alert as they'd thought.

“I know him?” Faith said.

“Sandor is Hungarian for Alexander, dear. He goes by Alec now. Alec Babin. You know him as Alec the Can Man.” Dottie Lee turned to Pavel. “You met him the day you came to Faith's house. He was pulling ivy in her garden.”

Faith could hardly believe it. “And my mother doesn't know?”

“She wouldn't, not unless she spent a great deal of time around him now. He's changed dramatically. He came to my house one day some years ago, looking for work. I gave him odd jobs. A week passed before I realized who he was. He's hardly the same man.”

“But why would he come back here?”

“That he's never told me. We can be certain, though, that it's not a coincidence. I, for one, don't believe in them.”

“What else do you know?” Pavel had tired of tact. Dottie Lee had known so much, and they had known so little.

“You believe I know it all, don't you? Don't you think, if I did, I would have gone to the authorities? I may be old, and I
may pride myself on my peculiarities, but please give me credit for also being law-abiding and concerned for Faith's mother.”

“But you've been protecting Sandor,” Faith said.

“Protecting him from whom? He was never wanted by the police. Who should I have told? He was questioned after the kidnapping but never detained. Perhaps I should have found his family and told them he was here. I've debated that. But I knew if I did, he would disappear and never be seen by these old eyes again. So I've kept silent, and I've given him work whenever I can.”

Faith remembered their first conversation about the Can Man. “He slept in your basement.”

“For a while he did, yes, almost every winter. This year it's been ready for him just in case, but he hasn't been here. I haven't seen him in weeks.”

Pavel hoped Sandor hadn't left town again, not now, when they were so close. “Did he tell you anything at all? Anything we should know?”

“Everything I know about Dominik and the affair with Lydia came from Sandor. I had my suspicions. He confirmed them with a word or two. Since then, he's refused to discuss the past. I believe Sandor knows more than he's ever told anyone. He and Dominik were close. If Dominik talked of this to anyone, he would have talked to Sandor.”

“We have to find him.” Faith addressed that to Pavel, as if to convince him. Her next words were addressed to Dottie Lee. “Do you have any idea where he might be?”

“He's an alcoholic, but he still exercises moderately good judgment. I think that if he hasn't been here, he's found a better, warmer place.”

“A shelter?” Faith said.

Dottie Lee gave one brisk shake of her head. “He likes to be alone. But there are several programs in the city that offer vouchers for hotel rooms. He mentioned something like that once. The hotels are what we once called flophouses, but they have beds and bathrooms. That might be a place to
look. Of course, he may simply have found a basement he likes better.”

Pavel read Faith's expression. They were gaining ground, but unless they could locate the Can Man, they had little hope of gaining more.

Faith repeated her earlier question. “Why did he come back? You agree it's not a coincidence he ended up on your doorstep. There were a million places he could have gone. Places with more favorable weather and better resources.”

Dottie Lee led them to the door. “He ended up here because he has something to say. But I don't think he's ever found the courage to say it. I've no idea how many bottles of alcohol that man has drunk, but he's never found courage at the bottom of any of them.”

 

The Can Man wasn't a resident at any of the hotels they tried. Even if he had been, Faith wasn't sure they would have gotten a positive answer at the reception desks. Men came and went, but most of them had no faces to the clerks who took whatever form of payment was offered and handed out keys.

They stopped for dinner at a run-down Italian restaurant on a block near two of the hotels and sat silently by the flyspecked window, watching residents stream in and out. They dragged out their meal with coffee and surprisingly good cannoli, but they knew they were no closer to finding Sandor.

“We ought to call it a night,” Pavel said. “You look whipped.”

She was. She was also too keyed up to sleep. “There are two places we didn't try.”

“They're not exactly in safe neighborhoods.”

“Neither is this restaurant. Be glad you drive an old car.”

“I've never done a thing to improve the world.” Pavel was staring out the window.

She was surprised. “You created a search engine used by millions of people every day.”

“And made a fortune off of it. Scavenger gives to charity, and so do I, but I haven't actually
done
anything.”

“Pavel, are you listening to yourself?”

He switched his gaze to her. “There's a difference between throwing money at a problem and trying to solve it.”

“What else can you do?”

“I could create jobs. Computer training and job placement. A place to start over.”

“At Scavenger?”

“No, I'm resigning, effective this summer.”

Faith was surprised, then hurt. “That's a big decision. And you didn't even tell me.”

“We weren't exactly at that level anymore, were we?”

She picked at a loose strip of the red-checked vinyl covering their table. “I missed not knowing what was going on with you.”

“You missed
me?
”

She looked up at him. “You're pushing.”

“I'm feeling bad about my life. I just want you to feed my ego a little.”

“Of course I missed you.”

“What did you miss exactly?”

“Your ego doesn't need that much fodder.” She looked out the window again. Two men were walking slowly together, one with a pronounced limp. Their clothing was shabby and thin, and the man whose gait was unimpaired was carrying a backpack over his shoulders. Both looked as if they belonged to the streets, as if they had been honed into the men they were by hopelessness and despair.

“This is no life for anyone,” Faith said. “And Sandor chose it over his wife and children. Why?”

“People make terrible decisions. Sometimes it's impossible to go back.”

“Particularly if you have something in your past you can't surmount.”

“What couldn't he get beyond?”

Faith rose. “Let's see if we can find out.”

“You're sure you're up for more bored clerks?”

“I don't think I'm going to be sleeping very well tonight anyway.”

“I could help with that.”

Despite herself, she smiled. “Weren't we going to back up a little?”

“I know the moment I'd like to back up to.”

She was sure it was the same moment she would choose if she could. One of many at his West Virginia hideaway.

The clerk at the next hotel was surprisingly attentive and completely useless. Unfortunately, Alec's description matched a thousand other men who had walked through his door. They talked to several residents who passed in the postage-stamp lobby, but no one had any help to offer.

“One more,” Pavel said. “Then we're out of leads. Tomorrow we can make the rounds of the parks and talk to people to see if anyone knows Alec.”

“I wouldn't be surprised if he went south for the winter. That's what I would do if I didn't have a roof over my head.”

“He had the offer of one, remember? Dottie Lee's basement. And I suspect it's more like an apartment than a dirt cellar.”

“Maybe he doesn't want to be that close to the scene of the crime.”

“We're trying to second-guess a man we hardly know. It's impossible.” Pavel put his hand on her back, a protective gesture that staked a claim of sorts.

“Let's try the last hotel, then call it a night.”

The last hotel was the nicest of the lot. There were few vacant storefronts on the block, and an apartment building on the corner appeared to be undergoing renovation. The brick hotel was old, but inside it smelled of pine cleaner. The reception desk sported an artificial tree decorated with twinkling lights, but there was no clerk on duty.

The reason became apparent immediately. In a small room to the right, a Christmas party was taking place. Men huddled around a table overflowing with food, and carols vibrated from
a tinny portable stereo. Several helpers in coats and ties or party dresses were chatting with the men and dishing up plates.

Faith spotted Alec immediately. He was waiting his turn in line, but when he got to the front he took a glass of punch and a cookie. Nothing more. When he turned away, he saw her. For a moment he didn't move. Then, with something like resignation, he started toward them.

“Alec.” She managed a smile. “Merry Christmas.”

“What are you doing here, Mrs. Bronson?” If he remembered Pavel, or even noticed that he was with Faith, he gave no sign.

“Alec, is there some place we can talk? I don't want to take you away from your party, but—”

“I'm done here. Got my cookie.”

“Would you like to go somewhere and eat?”

“Had my dinner already.”

“Where might we talk?”

“You can come up to my room, I guess. Can't have guests after ten, but that's not for a while.”

“You're sure you don't mind?”

He started up the stairs, and Faith followed him, while Pavel brought up the rear.

Alec's room was only slightly larger than a jail cell. A radiator hissed under the lone window overlooking the street. A small dresser, a plastic chair, a narrow single bed with a wool blanket, and a shelf for any extra belongings were the only furniture. Still, the paint was fresh, and the carpet wasn't more than a few years old. The effect was spartan, but clean and comfortable enough.