Hard Eight Read Free Page A

Evelyn’s house on Key Street. It was a two-family house very much like my parents’. Small front yard, small front porch, small two-story house. No sign of life in Evelyn’s half. No car parked in front. No lights shining behind drawn drapes. According to Grandma Mazur, Evelyn had lived in the house when she’d been married to Steven Soder and had stayed there with Annie when Soder moved out. Eddie Abruzzi owns the property and rents out both units. Abruzzi owns several houses in the Burgand a couple large office buildings in downtown Trenton. I don’t know him personally, but I’ve heard he’s not the world’s nicest guy.
    I parked and walked to Evelyn’s front porch. I rapped lightly on her door. No answer. I tried to peek in the front window, but the drapes were drawn tight. I walked around the side of the house and stood on tippy toes, looking in. No luck with the side windows in the front room and dining room, but my snoopiness paid off with the kitchen. No curtains drawn in the kitchen. There were two cereal bowls and two glasses on the counter next to the sink. Everything else seemed tidy. No sign of Evelyn or Annie. I returned to the front and knocked on the neighbor’s door.
    The door opened, and Carol Nadich looked out at me.
    “Stephanie!” she said. “How the hell are you?”
    I went to school with Carol. She got a job at the button factory when we graduated and two months later married Lenny Nadich. Once in a while I run into her at Giovichinni’s Meat Market, but beyond that we’ve lost touch.
    “I didn’t realize you were living here,” I said. “I was looking for Evelyn.”
    Carol did an eye roll. “Everyone’s looking for Evelyn. And to tell you the truth, I hope no one finds her. Except for you, of course. Those other jerks I wouldn’t wish on anyone.”
    “What other jerks?’
    “Her ex-husband and his friends. And the landlord, Abruzzi, and his goons.”
    “You and Evelyn were close?”
    “As close as anyone could get to Evelyn. We moved here two years ago, before the divorce. She’d spend allday popping pills and then drink herself into a stupor at night.”
    “What kind of pills?”
    “Prescription. For depression, I think. Understandable, since she was married to Soder. Do you know him?”
    “Not well.” I met Steven Soder for the first time at Evelyn’s wedding nine years ago, and I took an instant dislike to him. In my brief dealings with him over the following years I found nothing to change my original bad impression.
    “He’s a real manipulative bastard. And abusive,” Carol said.
    “He’d hit her?”
    “Not that I know. Just mental abuse. I could hear him yelling at her all the time. Telling her she was stupid. She was kind of heavy, and he used to call her ‘the cow.’ Then one day he moved out and moved in with some other woman. Joanne Something. Evelyn’s lucky day.”
    “Do you think Evelyn and Annie are safe?”
    “God, I hope so. Those two deserve a break.”
    I looked over at Evelyn’s front door. “I don’t suppose you have a key?”
    Carol shook her head. “Evelyn didn’t trust anyone. She was real paranoid. I don’t think her grandma even has a key. And she didn’t tell me where she was going, if that’s your next question. One day she just loaded a bunch of bags into her car and took off.”
    I gave Carol my card and headed for home. I live in a three-story brick apartment building about ten minutes from the Burg . . . five, if I’m late for dinner and I hit the lights right. The building was constructed at a time when energy was cheap and architecture was inspired by economy.My bathroom is orange and brown, my refrigerator is avocado green, and my windows were born before Thermopane. Fine by me. The rent is reasonable, and the other tenants are okay. Mostly the building is inhabited by seniors on fixed incomes. The seniors are, for the most part, nice people . . . as long as you don’t let them get behind the wheel of a car.
    I