Chapter 16

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Copyright (c) 2015 Phyllis Zimbler Miller

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That evening Rebecca parked her car a block away from Pamela's parents' house on Clark in Beverly Hills in order to make a shiva call. The evening shiva minyan had been held earlier, but Rebecca couldn't get away from the World in time given that she'd gone to the funeral earlier in the day.

As she walked toward the house she turned up the collar of her leather jacket and thought about her afternoon at the office following Pamela's funeral. She had managed to write a decent story about the Sinanians' investments from the slim information she had. If she could lay her hands on any other information, she could write a follow-up story.

She had even squeezed in time to have a brief telephone conversation with Myra Winters, who Josh had confirmed from John Winters was his sister.

At first Myra had been unsure of meeting Rebecca at the shiva house -- Myra wasn't Jewish and perhaps Myra felt uncomfortable about visiting the home of Myra's parents. Then after a few minutes of talking Myra had agreed, and Rebecca had now driven separately than Josh in case Myra wanted to go somewhere with Rebecca to talk.

Rebecca eyed the remodeled one-story house as she approached it. A modified Santa Fe style had been achieved, hiding rather well the basic box shape of the original house. The outside stucco walls had been painted a turquoise shade with brown earth tones for the trim.

Rebecca squeezed through the people standing just inside the front door and peered into the cramped living room trying to spot Pamela's parents. Although Pamela had introduced Rebecca to them a few months ago at synagogue, Rebecca didn't think she would recognize them if she passed them on the street. Unfortunately here she would be able to recognize them.

She slipped into a small den off the front foyer, thinking to leave her jacket there. Henry Brach walked in behind her.

"Have you been here before, Rebecca?"

She shook her head.

"Then let me give you a tour of their wedding wall. "

With that he swept his arm to indicate the wall opposite her with a glass case in front of it.

Almost every inch of the wall contained prints, paintings and three-dimensional art pieces depicting brides and grooms. Some of the bridal pairs stood alone, in other pieces they stood surrounded by others.

Henry said, "See all the miniature figures in this glass case? Not exactly a subtle way of telling your children you think marriage is important."

Rebecca caught her breath before a sob escaped. Why had Henry pointed this out? Pamela's parents would never walk down the aisle with Pamela, never hear a rabbi recite the traditional wedding blessings. Instead they had heard a rabbi eulogize their daughter today and they had recited the mourner's Kaddish for her.

Rushing out of the room without saying a word to Henry, she pushed her way through the people in the foyer and entered the living room, taking refuge in the anonymity of the crush of people -- a crush that prevented Rebecca from spotting Pamela's parents.

Rebecca stood trying to calm down when a slightly pudgy woman in her late 30s stopped in front of Rebecca. The woman stretched out her hand and said, "I'm Myra Winters."

Shaking Myra's hand, Rebecca stared at the woman's earrings. A large ceramic cactus dangled from each ear.

Rebecca said, "Would it be okay to talk here or would you prefer going elsewhere?"

"I don't mind talking now. With this din around us I doubt anyone else will hear."

Rebecca decided not to tell Myra that a crowded noisy room was often a great place in which to eavesdrop. People often made the assumption that Myra had just made that they couldn't be overheard when they actually could.

"Pamela and I were social friends," Rebecca said. "Although I knew she was a stockbroker and I'm a business reporter, we didn't talk about business. I have no idea how long she's been a stockbroker or whether she had a different career before. Can you help me out?"

"For this you asked me to meet you here?"

The woman had a point. "I needed to come here," Rebecca said, "and it's close to your office."

Myra nodded and her hands, sporting at least three rings on each, fluttered around her face. "She was 37 and had been a stockbroker for about 10 years. Before that she was an elementary school teacher and taught in East LA. When she switched careers, someone in our office took a chance on her, and she's been grateful ever since."

"Grateful?"

"She was successful enough to take her clients with her to another firm that might have given her a better deal, but she didn't. She said that the money wasn't everything; she liked who she worked with and where."

Rebecca smiled. "Loyalty was one of her strong traits."

"I've only been with the firm five years," Myra said. "I used to be a script reader but I got tired of the grind without any recognition. Decided to see if I could make money where my mouth was."

Rebecca glanced around to see who stood nearby. Then she said, "Who were Pamela's special friends at work? You know, the ones she went out to lunch with or for dinner after work?"

Myra hesitated and Rebecca wondered if the woman were about to lie.

"She didn't really socialize that much with others in the firm. Dinners, she'd usually take out clients."

Rebecca had interviewed enough people as a reporter to know when someone was holding back. And Myra couldn't even meet Rebecca's eyes; instead she studied the pattern in the American Indian rug on which they stood.

"Myra, I know you wouldn't want to hurt anyone. But you'd be helping if you would tell me with whom in the office she had a special relationship."

Myra raised her eyes to Rebecca, causing the two cacti to shake back and forth as if a wind had sprung up on a desert.

"Neil Block, the office manager. They dated all the time I'd been at the office. They had separate households but were definitely an item. Neither went out with anyone else."

Again Myra paused. Off to one side Rebecca saw Josh signaling to her.

"Then about a year ago, nothing. They would pass each other in the office and pretend to not notice. I tried to ask Pamela about it, but she wouldn't say anything. Just acted like she hadn't heard me. No one else knew either."

Rebecca realized she didn't know what Neil Block looked like. Josh had said he'd met Neil but hadn't said anything about what he looked like.

"Is Neil in the room now?" she said.

Myra turned her head and looked around the room. A shift in movement in the crowd opened up a peephole across to the other side.

"He's the one standing over there alone in the corner, the one with the navy suit. I suppose he came to represent the office, although I don't think he went to the funeral today."

She looked back at Rebecca. "I couldn't go; the phones are still ringing like mad. And I don't think he left the office all day."

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SINK LIKE A STONE is the second Rebecca Stone mystery novel. The first, CAST THE FIRST STONE, is available on Amazon as are two Rebecca Stone mystery short stories in TWO BIRDS WITH ONE STONE. See www.amazon.com/author/phylliszimblermiller


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⏰ Last updated: Sep 22, 2015 ⏰

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