A man was coming up to the door. He was tall, white- haired, using a cane. “Who is it, Nan?”
“The police, Jim.”
James Reardon stared at Louis and then his ID through the screen. “That doesn’t look like a real badge,” he said. His hand moved to the latch on the screen. Louis heard it lock.
“It’s not a badge, sir. It’s an ID. I’m a private investigator. I just want to ask you a few questions.”
“About what?”
“Your daughter Sophie.”
“Sophie?” He waved his hand, like he was dismissing the name and memory. “She left here more than thirty years ago. Why you coming around now?”
“Mr. Reardon, if I could just come in for —-”
“You here to see if I’m dead yet?” Reardon asked, leaning into the screen. “Tell her I ain’t, and even if I was, I have nothing to leave her.”
Mrs. Reardon was hovering behind her husband, her eyes wide.
“Mr. Reardon, please. This is important. Maybe if I could talk to Sophie’s mother,” Louis said gently.
“Sophie’s mother is dead,” the old man said quickly.
The woman behind him stepped forward. “I’m Jim’s second wife,” she said, taking her husband’s arm. “I think you should go. Please.”
Jim Reardon hadn’t budged. He didn’t seem so quick to stop talking. “You tell her I got nothing to offer her. No money and no time.”
Louis took a breath. “Mr. Reardon, Sophie’s dead. She died in 1959.”
Reardon’s eyes went liquid. The sagging skin along his jaw quivered a little as he lifted a hand to the door frame. His wife stepped forward and took his arm.
“You have a granddaughter,” Louis said. “Her name is Diane.”
“Granddaughter? I never heard about no granddaughter,” Reardon said. “No one ever told me about it. I don’t believe it. It’s probably just some scam, someone trying to take advantage of an old man —- ”
“Jim, please,” his wife interrupted, pulling his arm.
He shrugged out of her grasp. No one moved. Louis could feel the sweat trickling down his ribs. He ran a hand across his brow.
“So is that spic dead too?” Reardon asked bitterly.
“Who?” Louis asked.
“That damn boy she ran off with.”
“What boy, Mr. Reardon?” Louis pressed.
“That damn Mexican boy who used to come in the store. The one that took her away.”
Mexican?
Louis reached into his pocket. He held the picture of Frank and Sophie up to the screen.
“Is this the boy, Mr. Reardon?” he asked.
James Reardon peered at the picture. “Yeah. That’s the damn spic who hung around my store.” His face hardened. “I knew he was no good. Damn Mexicans...like heathens they are.”
“Jim, please ...” His wife glanced quickly at Louis. “I’m sorry, he’s —- ”
Louis ignored her. “Mr. Reardon, what makes you think the boy was Mexican?”
“All that black hair and that spic name and talking those words I didn’t understand just to gall me.”
Louis pressed the photograph of Frank and Sophie back on the screen. “Mr. Reardon, you’re sure this is the boy?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. I’m old but I still got my mind, young man.” Reardon wagged a finger at the picture. “He came in my drugstore every month. I was back there filling his damn prescription and he was always out at the counter, talking to my Sophie.”
“What was his name, Mr. Reardon?” Louis pressed. “Do you remember the boy’s name?”
“I don’t know. It was like Mexican or Puerto Rican. Probably one of those damn migrant workers. So is he dead or not?”
Louis nodded. “Yes, he is.”
“Good.” Reardon turned from the door and disappeared back into the shadows of the house.
His wife glanced after him. Louis wiped his brow again, slipping the picture back in his pocket. “I’m sorry if I upset him,” Louis said. He paused. “Does he still have the drugstore? Maybe there are records —- ”
“Oh, no, he closed it years ago.”
Back in the living room, Louis could see Reardon slump down in a chair, tossing his cane to the floor.
Mrs. Reardon opened the screen, speaking quietly. “I was a friend of Sophie’s mother, see, and I don’t think Sophie ever forgave me for marrying her father. You know, the wicked stepmother and all that.”
She tried to smile but it came out as a sad tremble. “But Sophie was a good girl, I do know that. After her mother died, Jim kind of closed down, like he didn’t want anyone to touch him. It was hard on Sophie. Too hard. All the girl wanted was someone to love her. Jim had a hard time showing that.”