Page 9 of Thankless in Death

“Carl and I met up and had a beer after work Thursday,” Walter put in. “That’s the last I saw him.”

“When did you get back from Philadelphia?”

“Sunday night. I called Barb, but I didn’t think anything of it when she didn’t answer. I just figured she and Carl went out. They like to go to the vids.” Her chin wobbled, but she managed to set two cups of coffee on the table. “Most Friday nights we go to a vid together, but we were going to see Alice and Ben, so...”

“Who was staying with them?”

“Oh, Jerry. Their son. God, I never thought! I don’t know where he could be, what might’ve happened to him.” Her eyes, full of fresh horror, darted toward the door. “Is he... is he in there?”

“No, he’s not.”

“Thank God for that.”

“When did he move back home?”

“A while ago. About three weeks ago—no, nearly four—after he and his girlfriend broke up.”

“Girlfriend’s name?” Eve asked. “And the names of anyone you think he might be staying with. Friends?”

“Um Lori. Nuccio. Lori Nuccio,” Sylvia said. “And he didn’t have a lot of friends. Mal, Dave, Joe—Mal Golde, Dave Hildebran, Joe Klein. Those are the main three.”

“Good. Coworkers?”

“He, well, he lost his job, so he moved back in until he could straighten it all out. Jerry’s, well, Jerry’s a little bit of a problem child.”

“He’s a lazy bastard.”

“Walter!” Appalled, Sylvia sat down hard. “That’s a terrible thing to say. He’s just lost his parents.”

“It doesn’t change what he is.” There was gravel in Walter’s voice now, as if hard little pebbles blocked his throat. “Lazy, ungrateful, and a user.” Grief and anger spread over his face like a haze. “I met Carl Thursday night because he needed to talk about it. He and Barbara were at their wit’s end. That boy had been out of work for over a month, maybe a month and a half, but he hasn’t so much as looked for a job. Not that he’d keep it for long anyway.”

“There was friction between him and his parents?”

“Barb was upset with him,” Sylvia said, plucking at the tiny Star of David around her throat. “She wanted him to grow up, make something of himself. And she really liked Lori—the girlfriend. She thought Lori could help Jerry grow up some, be a responsible man, but it didn’t work out.”

“He blew the rent money—and what he stole from Lori—in Vegas.”

Sylvia let out a sigh, patted her husband’s hand. “It’s true. He’s immature and impulsive. Barb did tell me Friday morning he’d taken some money out of her house cash.”

“Where did she keep that?” Eve asked.

“In a coffee can in the back of the kitchen cupboard.”

Another glance had Peabody rising, stepping out.

“They were going to give him until the first of the month.” Walter picked up a spoon, stirred his cold coffee. “Carl told me Thursday, he was going to talk to Barb, but he’d made up his mind. They’d give him until December first to get a job, start being responsible, or he had to go. Barbara was upset all the time, there were arguments every day, and it just couldn’t go on.”

“They argued a lot,” Eve prompted.

“He’d sleep half the day, go out half the night. Then he’d complain the water wasn’t wet enough, the sky wasn’t blue enough. He didn’t give them any respect or appreciation, and now they’re gone. Now he’ll never be able to make up for it.”

When he choked on tears, Sylvia leaped up to put her arms around him.

“Do you know how to get in touch with Jerry?”

“No, not really.” Sylvia soothed and stroked her husband. “He probably went off with his friends for a few days.”

I don’t think so, Eve mused, but she nodded. “I’m sorry to ask, but would you be able to tell if anything’s missing across the hall?”

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