two of us, and into a storeroom made narrow by sacks of rice, beans and other goods stacked against its walls. “Who are you, please?”
“Jonah Geller. I’m a licensed investigator from Toronto.” He didn’t need to know the vagaries of my standing in Massachusetts. “This man’s family hired me to find him.”
“You say he’s missing too? For how long?”
“Two weeks.”
“My father went missing three weeks ago.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Sanjay.”
“Call me Sammy.” We shook hands.
“So you know this man,” I said.
“Yes. He came into the store one evening about two weeks ago. Dad had been gone at least a week by then.”
“Definitely him?”
His eyes sparkled. “Oh, yes.”
“You remember the day of the week?”
“A Wednesday. Around eight-thirty. I was cleaning out the basement for our Thursday-morning delivery, which is our biggest. My mum doesn’t speak much English so she called me up. This guy said he had heard about my father and wanted to help the family, and he handed me an envelope.” Even though we were alone in the store, he lowered his voice. “It had five thousand bucks in it. Fifty hundred-dollar bills.”
“This man here,” I said, pointing at the photo. “David Fine.”
“If that’s his name, yes.”
“All in hundreds.”
“Yes.”
It had to be right. David’s stash was in hundreds too, an equal five thousand. In a doubled elastic band. Seemed like David had started out with ten thousand dollars, when he shouldn’t have had a nickel, and he had chosen to split it with a stranger.
“Trust me,” Sammy said. “It never happened in my life before, and it will probably never happen again, a guy handing me that much cash. And then he was gone, like one of those rich guys on a reality show who go around handing out money. Only there was no one filming my reaction. Which is too bad, in a way, because I remember I was pretty floored. But a little scared, too.”
“Of him?” Sammy looked like he could pick David up and body-slam him without losing his place in the sports page.
“No. It just seemed like a sign my father is dead. I don’t know why but that’s how it struck me.”
“Did he say why he wanted to help? Did he know your father?”
“He certainly wasn’t a regular customer,” Sammy said. “I’d never seen him in the neighbourhood before and neither had Mum.”
“He lives in Brookline.”
“That’s pretty far to come for what we sell.”
“And he said nothing else?”
“Nope. Gave me the money and left without another word.”
“Sammy, does your father have any medical problems?”
“What do you mean?”
“David is a surgeon,” I said. “Or about to become one. Specializing in transplant medicine.”
“My father certainly has no condition like that. Nothing a better diet and a little exercise wouldn’t cure.”
“Has he been a patient at Sinai Hospital?”
“I think he had a thing on his neck removed there last summer. Was it there or Mass General? No, it was in the Longwood Area. I picked him up on Francis Street when it was done. But they just cut off a cyst, that’s all. No reason he would see a transplant surgeon.”
“Who’s investigating your father’s disappearance?”
“The Somerville cops,” he said, rolling his liquid brown eyes.
“Not much confidence in them?”
“It’s a very small force,” he said. “And Dad isn’t a runaway or Alzheimer’s patient, which is mostly what they deal with.”
“Same with Brookline. Did you tell them about David’s visit? About the money?”
“Hell, no! I figured the first thing they’d do was impound it,” he said, putting quote marks around impound.
“I didn’t tell Brookline that David had money either. Another five thousand. Which links the two cases in my mind, but won’t in theirs if we don’t tell them about it.”
Sanjay stared at a sack of lentils that wasn’t doing anything stare-worthy. “I can’t tell them about it,” he said
“Jonah Geller. I’m a licensed investigator from Toronto.” He didn’t need to know the vagaries of my standing in Massachusetts. “This man’s family hired me to find him.”
“You say he’s missing too? For how long?”
“Two weeks.”
“My father went missing three weeks ago.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Sanjay.”
“Call me Sammy.” We shook hands.
“So you know this man,” I said.
“Yes. He came into the store one evening about two weeks ago. Dad had been gone at least a week by then.”
“Definitely him?”
His eyes sparkled. “Oh, yes.”
“You remember the day of the week?”
“A Wednesday. Around eight-thirty. I was cleaning out the basement for our Thursday-morning delivery, which is our biggest. My mum doesn’t speak much English so she called me up. This guy said he had heard about my father and wanted to help the family, and he handed me an envelope.” Even though we were alone in the store, he lowered his voice. “It had five thousand bucks in it. Fifty hundred-dollar bills.”
“This man here,” I said, pointing at the photo. “David Fine.”
“If that’s his name, yes.”
“All in hundreds.”
“Yes.”
It had to be right. David’s stash was in hundreds too, an equal five thousand. In a doubled elastic band. Seemed like David had started out with ten thousand dollars, when he shouldn’t have had a nickel, and he had chosen to split it with a stranger.
“Trust me,” Sammy said. “It never happened in my life before, and it will probably never happen again, a guy handing me that much cash. And then he was gone, like one of those rich guys on a reality show who go around handing out money. Only there was no one filming my reaction. Which is too bad, in a way, because I remember I was pretty floored. But a little scared, too.”
“Of him?” Sammy looked like he could pick David up and body-slam him without losing his place in the sports page.
“No. It just seemed like a sign my father is dead. I don’t know why but that’s how it struck me.”
“Did he say why he wanted to help? Did he know your father?”
“He certainly wasn’t a regular customer,” Sammy said. “I’d never seen him in the neighbourhood before and neither had Mum.”
“He lives in Brookline.”
“That’s pretty far to come for what we sell.”
“And he said nothing else?”
“Nope. Gave me the money and left without another word.”
“Sammy, does your father have any medical problems?”
“What do you mean?”
“David is a surgeon,” I said. “Or about to become one. Specializing in transplant medicine.”
“My father certainly has no condition like that. Nothing a better diet and a little exercise wouldn’t cure.”
“Has he been a patient at Sinai Hospital?”
“I think he had a thing on his neck removed there last summer. Was it there or Mass General? No, it was in the Longwood Area. I picked him up on Francis Street when it was done. But they just cut off a cyst, that’s all. No reason he would see a transplant surgeon.”
“Who’s investigating your father’s disappearance?”
“The Somerville cops,” he said, rolling his liquid brown eyes.
“Not much confidence in them?”
“It’s a very small force,” he said. “And Dad isn’t a runaway or Alzheimer’s patient, which is mostly what they deal with.”
“Same with Brookline. Did you tell them about David’s visit? About the money?”
“Hell, no! I figured the first thing they’d do was impound it,” he said, putting quote marks around impound.
“I didn’t tell Brookline that David had money either. Another five thousand. Which links the two cases in my mind, but won’t in theirs if we don’t tell them about it.”
Sanjay stared at a sack of lentils that wasn’t doing anything stare-worthy. “I can’t tell them about it,” he said
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