Part 24 (1/2)
They found the priest in the vestry. Father Donatello had wasted no time in removing the vestments and adding a heavy sweater and then a coat. When he spoke, his breath misted. ”What can I do for you gentlemen?”
They explained the need to retrace Flo Polillo's steps.
”You can ask the ladies in the kitchen,” the gray-haired man said as he led them to a large building behind the church. ”But we have so many people come to us for help. Sometimes we give food to eight hundred men a day.”
A heavy door revealed a large room with opaque windows and chipped linoleum. It smelled of stewed cabbage and body odor. Tables and a motley a.s.sortment of chairs had been set up, and most were filled with men, though plenty of women and children sat among them. James's gaze fell on one, a too-thin toddler on her mother's lap. Her long lashes and porcelain skin contrasted with the patched, stained little coat. She reached for a roll, but her mother kept it out of reach and broke the stiff bread into smaller pieces, giving her one at a time, either to keep her from choking or to stretch the meal out. The child stuffed each piece into her mouth and set to chewing with a determined motion of her tiny jaw. The girl's father, hollow-eyed and with an expression one muscle short of a snarl, noticed James's scrutiny and glared until the cop looked away.
You'd let your son starve for your pride....
Would he?
The priest was leading them toward the kitchen. ”We never know from one day to the next what we're going to be given to work with. Many grocers will be generous with old bread and meats, but it's awfully hard to get decent vegetables, especially in winter. Everything is harder in the winter. We keep the heating at a minimum to divert funds here, but on top of all that, we have more people to serve.”
”Why?” Walter asked. ”Because they can't survive in the shanties in this cold?”
”No, there's just more of them. Once the lake freezes, the port closes for the winter and that ends a lot of jobs. On top of that, some of the mills and auto plants in Detroit closed down and those men came here. Is this about that poor woman they found in the alley?”
”What do you think about a bas-a man like this, Father?” Walter surprised James by asking. ”Is he controlled by the devil, or just a rotten man?”
”I get asked variations of that question all the time, my son, and I've not yet found a perfect answer. I believe it's a combination of both.”
He introduced them to three ladies dressed in practical and similar garb, with no other characteristics in common: a teenage girl, dull and pockmarked; a woman of about thirty with a peaches-and-cream complexion; and a hatchet-faced matron. Not one recalled Flo Polillo.
”Well, thanks anyway, ladies-” Walter began.
James interrupted. ”Father, what's that?” He gestured to three large crates that someone had labeled with white paint: men's, women's, and CHILDREN'S.
”This is where we put the available clothing. The ladies here dole it out as best they can based on size and need. It doesn't last long.”
Resting on top of the women's pile sat a bright blue summer frock, too cool for this time of year and too frilly for everyday use. A rich girl must have cleaned out her closet.
James pulled out a photo of the blue coat from the first victim. He explained-very briefly-why they were looking for the owner of the coat. The occupants of nearby tables paid no attention to them but continued to eat with solemn focus and little conversation.
The priest said, ”Even if it came here, these are only the odds and ends. Most of the clothing is given as direct relief, with shelter and food-over thirty-two thousand families last year. So I really can't guess where your coats would have ended up.”
”I understand, Father,” James said. But then the matronly one took the photo and said, with faint German overtones that raised the hair on the back of James's neck, ”Yah, I remember. We got two of them.”
”Yeah?” James couldn't believe their luck.
”Goot inseams. Extra st.i.tching at the cuff. Donated by Bailey's.”
”The department store,” James said. They had been able to find the origin from the tag. ”You know your coats.”
”I supervised the line at the s.h.i.+rtwaist factory until the crash.” She surveyed his frayed cuffs and worn b.u.t.tons.
”Did you see who took it?”
The girl and the peaches-and-cream woman shook their heads, but the older one said, ”I helped a gentleman into one of them. I don't know what happened to the other.”
”What man? What did he look like?”
”Short for a man, and stocky. Dark hair. The color suited him. He seemed pleased when I told him so.”
At least ten questions threatened to burst from James at once, so he made himself take a breath and pull out his notebook. Walter let him handle it, more interested in the visual examination of Miss Peaches and Cream.
”What was his name?”
She shrugged.
”When was this?”
”Early summer, I zuppose. Still cool at the night. I remember thinking he could use a light coat.”
”Did he stay here at the church?”
The priest answered that. ”No, we don't have anything like that. We help find houses for families, sometimes, but we don't have the resources to provide both food and shelter.”
”Ma'am, did this man tell you where he spent his nights? Or even his days?”
”I don't remember. I juzt happen to recall the coat, that's all.”
”Then did he say anything about the coat?” James asked in desperation.
Her face cleared. ”Yes, I remember now. He seemed quite pleased with it, like I said, and said perhaps it would help him get a job like he'd had before.”
James refrained from grasping her arm. ”What job?”
”Oh, ich weiss nicht-I don't know. Looking for work is all these men do, all day, every day. Poor souls.”
A man at the closest table glanced up at them. His eyes blazed at the description before reality snuffed out the flame and he turned his face downward once again.
”But what kind-”
”Mechanic.” Apparently another wisp of memory had surfaced, and she ma.s.saged her chin with strong fingers as she thought. ”That was it. Mechanical zupervisor-heavy machinery, steam engines, that's what he zaid. He called them turbines.”
James digested this. Walter tore his gaze from the younger woman long enough to question the woman further, but she could not add anything more.
James and Walter thanked the quartet and went out into the freezing day once more.
After the car warmed up and thawed out their jaws, Walter said, ”This doesn't quite fit. Unless this guy gave the hawk-nosed lady in there a line, he's a reasonably pleasant, formerly hardworking joe. Why would he hang around with a punk like Edward Andra.s.sy?”
”Maybe he didn't. We found them together, but they weren't killed together. The coroner said the guy with the coat was dead a week or two before Andra.s.sy.”