I PICKED UP THE KIDS from the after-school program and took them to the Grimshaw house. Franklin wasn’t home yet. I wasn’t sure if I was upset or relieved about that. I knew I had to talk with him, too; I just wasn’t sure what to say.
Before I took Jimmy home, I made sure Jonathan would take care of his siblings and not go off on some teenage adventure. He was offended that I asked if he would watch them, but he promised me he would.
That was good enough for me. They were home, they were safe, and their parents would be back shortly.
I needed to take Jimmy home, and I needed to spend the evening with him. I couldn’t do much more on the hotel right now. I wanted to wait until I heard from Laura. If she could buy the hotel and bulldoze it, that would solve one problem.
It wouldn’t solve all of them.
Jimmy had moved to the front seat after I dropped off the Grimshaw children. He knew that I hated driving when he sat in the back, as if I were his chauffer. Usually we played a half-hearted game in which I had to coax him up front, but not on this day.
On this day, he sat quietly, hands folded in his lap, watching as we drove down the dark streets.
“You seen Lace?” he asked when we were nearly home. “I did,” I said. “She’s better.” “Good,” he said. “She coming home?” “Soon,” I said.
“Kids is already saying stupid stuff, like they knowed she was gonna get in trouble.” Jimmy wasn’t looking at me.
“They knew what happened?” I asked.
He shrugged. “They know some. They know me and Keith got her outta there. I think someone seen something, but I don’t know who.”
I turned the van onto our street. “Was this because Franklin talked to the principal?”
If so, Decker and I would have another conversation, one that wasn’t so civil.
“Naw. They knowed right from the start. Uncle Franklin was in the office when kids were saying stuff. Keith wanted to punch people, but I told him that wasn’t the way to do nothing. We use violence only when we gotta, right, Smoke?”
“Right,” I said, not liking the “we” or the desire to fight or any of this.
I had to park half a block away. It took a little while to find a parking spot that didn’t have a pile of snow from the last plow running down the side.
We got out. Jimmy was carrying a pile of books, and I put my hand on his shoulder as we walked on the unshoveled sidewalk toward the apartment complex.
Once we stepped inside, my eyes started to water. The smell of vinegar and spices and something that smelled vaguely like dirty socks filled the hallway.
“Oh, phew,” Jimmy said, stuffing one mitten against his nose. “What’s that?”
“Someone’s cooking something,” I said, although it wasn’t something that we usually smelled in this building. If we smelled anything unusual, it was the African meals that Marvella tried when she thought she could impress a boyfriend or a visitor. Those usually smelled of boiled meat, which was also not one of my favorites.
“That don’t smell like food,” Jimmy said. “Yew.” He ran up the stairs. I walked behind him.
“It’s worse up here,” he said as he waited for me to unlock the door.
I had my keys out when the door opened. The waft of stink grew. It came from my apartment.
Marvella peered out. “Sorry,” she said. “I figured it was easier to let him in.”
Jimmy gave me a baleful look. I reached the top of the stairs.
Marvella was barefoot. She wore a thick caftan that might have been a robe. I couldn’t quite tell. A multicolored scarf kept her hair off her face.
“That them?” A voice boomed from inside. Jack Sinkovich.
Jimmy gave me a look that quite clearly said, I can’t believe you invited him!
I spread my hands and shrugged, conveying as clearly as I could that I hadn’t invited him at all.
“Ask Grimshaw what’s his poison,” Sinkovich said. “And close the door. We don’t want to gas out the neighbors.”
“Too late,” Jimmy said as he stepped inside. “What’s that smell?”
I walked in as well. My eyes watered, but my stomach growled. Apparently something in that stench appealed to my taste buds.
Sinkovich stood near my stove, holding a wooden spoon. He was no longer wearing his dress uniform. He had on a pair of Levi’s and a thick green and gold sweater that someone had crocheted for him long enough ago that it had rips in the elbows. He wore a white shirt underneath it.
“That smell,” he said, “is kluskyzeekeyvasnakapoosta à la Sinkovich.”
At least, that was what I thought he said. I pushed the door closed.
“What?” Jimmy asked.
“K-l-u-s-k-i-z-k-w-a—”
“I think he heard you,” I said as I took off my parka. “I just don’t think he understood you.”
“As if you did,” Marvella said under her breath.
“It’s an old family recipe,” Sinkovich said. “A favorite of mine. My mom taught me to make it when I was Jim’s age. We don’t do it as a side dish. We add some Polish, and then we serve it like a casserole. Comfort food. You’ll like it.”
I doubted it.
“Some Polish?” Jimmy asked.
Sinkovich rolled his eyes at me. “How long’s this kid been in Chicago and he don’t know from Polish?”
“Polish sausage,” Marvella said, this time loud enough for everyone to hear.
Jimmy turned toward me, tugged off his coat, and said, “We got leftover pizza. I want that.”
I wanted that too. “Don’t be rude. Jack cooked for us. You should say thank you.”
“Yeah, but it smells like feet,” Jimmy whispered.
It took all of my self-control to suppress a smile.
Marvella didn’t even try. Her eyes twinkled as she looked at me. “I found Jack sitting on the steps just outside our apartments, with two grocery bags. I let him in. He promised dinner, and I figured with the past two days, that was a good idea.”
“I know you guys ain’t never ate home-cooked Polish food,” Sinkovich said. “Give it a shot. You don’t like, you can have your pizza.”
“Don’t promise him that,” I said as I walked into the kitchen. I grabbed a Coke out of the fridge. “He won’t even try it if you say that.”
“Oh, you gotta try,” Sinkovich said to Jimmy. “I got a kid. I know the tricks. You gotta have at least six mouthfuls that you swallow before you say you don’t like.”
“Great,” Jimmy said without enthusiasm. “Can I have a Coke too?”
“No,” I said. “Milk with dinner.”
“Goes better anyway,” Sinkovich said. The stove’s timer buzzed behind him. He opened the oven door, and a waft of scent reached me. Cardamom, cabbage, onions, and scents I didn’t recognize. Yes, the smell was strong, but it was better up close.
I popped the ringtop and dumped the ring inside the can. “I thought you had to be in court today.”
“Ah, hell, don’t remind me,” Sinkovich said. “It was so fun. And then I made phone calls for you. Even more fun. We can talk after food, okay?”
Had he come over here because he was lonely and needed friends or had he come because he didn’t want to talk about what he discovered on the phone?
I couldn’t tell. He had bent over the open oven door, and was struggling with something inside. After a moment, he pulled out a bubbling casserole, filled with flat noodles, sauerkraut, sliced Polish sausage, and mushrooms. I didn’t recognize the sauce.
Steam rose from the entire thing. I had to admit, it all looked better than it smelled.
I got out plates and silverware. “You’re staying, right, Marvella?”
“Oh,” she said with a small smile at Jimmy. “I wouldn’t miss it.”
Jimmy sighed and flopped down at his spot. “Six bites,” he said to Sinkovich.
“Big ones,” Sinkovich said. He didn’t even seem bothered by Jimmy’s reluctance to eat the food. Sinkovich put hot pads in the middle of the table and set the casserole dish on top of them. I had napkins, courtesy of last night’s pizza delivery, so I set them beside every plate.
We sat down.
“I’ll serve,” Sinkovich said, and proceeded to put a mound of food on all four plates.
Jimmy shook his head “I don’t want—”
“I’ll bet Grimshaw here don’t believe in the Clean Plate Club,” Sinkovich said. “I know I don’t. You do me a kindness and try, and I won’t say nothing if you decide cold pizza’s more to your taste.”
Jimmy looked at me, eyebrows raised. Then he shrugged and took a bite.
I did too. The casserole was surprisingly good. Sinkovich had cooked everything in butter so thick that it dripped off each bite. The sausage gave the meal a sharp spice, but that spice got reinforced by the sauerkraut, which crunched despite spending time soaking in butter and being baked.
“Wow,” Marvella said after taking a bite. “I’m going to have to ask for the recipe.”
Sinkovich shook his head. “Now you’re just being polite.”
“No,” she said. “I’m not.”
She took another bite. Jimmy took his second as well. He didn’t say anything and he didn’t try to chase it all down with his milk.
“I didn’t expect you to be a chef,” I said to Sinkovich. “Single guy,” he said. “I gotta do something to keep busy.”
His wife had left him nearly a year ago now. She had taken his only child north, and had sued for full custody. After the divorce was final, she planned to remarry.
All of that broke Sinkovich’s heart, but he wasn’t fighting as hard as he probably should have. He felt beleaguered. His marriage was over, his job was in jeopardy, and his old friends claimed they didn’t recognize him any longer.
“If you keep cooking like this,” Marvella said, “you could start a second career as a restaurateur.”
“Or a first one,” Sinkovich said, his gaze meeting mine. “You don’t know what a can of worms you opened today.”
“Me?” I asked.
Jimmy looked up from his meal. The casserole mound was half gone. He liked it too, although he wasn’t willing to say yet. And Sinkovich’s comment might’ve just put him off his food.
“Simple questions ain’t so simple sometimes,” Sinkovich said to me.
“Is this about Lacey?” Jimmy asked. Sinkovich nodded. “Yeah. She okay?”
“No.” Jimmy actually sounded bitter. “She’s still in the hospital.”
I looked at Marvella. She was watching all of us. “I talked to Althea again,” I said. “She needs you, even if she doesn’t ask for you.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Marvella said.
Sinkovich was still looking at Jimmy. “I hear from Marvella here that you’re some kinda hero.”
Jimmy shrugged and took such a large swig of milk that it left a mustache. “I just done what Smoke woulda done.”
Sinkovich gave me a sideways glance that didn’t have any approval in it. “Sounds like you mighta saved her life.”
Jimmy seemed alarmed. I thought he had known that, but maybe having a police officer confirm it startled him.
“God knows what would have happened if Jimmy hadn’t been there,” I said.
“Well, you deserve more than kluskyzeekeyvasnakapoosta
à la Sinkovich for that. I got cake too, and this one I didn’t make.”
“Really?” Jimmy asked. “Cake?”
“Yeah,” Sinkovich said. “Angel food, but that ain’t no comment on nothing.”
Marvella covered her mouth, stifling a laugh.
“You coulda said that first,” Jimmy said. “I might not’ve been such a jerk about the pizza.”
I grinned at Sinkovich. “Don’t believe him. He has already forgotten that he planned on hating this meal.”
“I can’t pronounce it and it smells like feet. Why would anyone think it was going to be good?” Jimmy asked.
“You gotta respect logic,” Sinkovich said. I wasn’t sure why he was so cheerful, particularly after the day he had planned to have.
“You can tell me what you was gonna tell just Smokey,” Jimmy said. “It’s okay.”
“Actually, it’s not,” I said. “This one’s on me. You did the hard part. Now let me handle the investigation. That’s what you’re here about, right, Jack? The questions I had?”
Sinkovich nodded.
“Didn’t have a lot of time because of the trial, you know. Jim, you ever wanna do a civics paper on the way trials work, you interview me. I’ll tell you all about this thing. It’s nuts.”
“You can’t change the subject,” Jimmy said.
“Yes, we can,” I said. “Why don’t you tell us how the Grimshaws are doing. How’s Keith?”
“Oh, God,” Jimmy said, then he frowned at Sinkovich.
“Can I do something?”
“What?” he asked.
“Can I tell you what happened so I can tell Keith I went to the police? He thinks you guys can do something about them hotels and hookers and stuff. He’s just a kid. He don’t know how the world works.”
Sinkovich’s cheeks flushed bright red. “And you do?”
“On this stuff, yeah. Smoke says I know too much. Can I tell him?” Jimmy asked. He looked at me.
“Jimmy’s mother exposed him to things that no child should have seen,” I said to Sinkovich.
“Ah, more of that secret stuff.” Sinkovich served himself a bit more casserole and offered some to Jimmy, who, to my surprise, nodded. “I get it. And I know you’re wiser than your years, kiddo. And yeah, you can tell Keith you talked to the cops. Tell him…tell him we’re doing what we can, okay?”
“And what is that, exactly?” Jimmy asked.
“We investigate first, then we act,” Sinkovich said.
I winced. It was that attitude, which I had also expressed countless times, that had prevented Jimmy from going to me.
“You’re investigating now?” Jimmy asked.
“Yep,” Sinkovich said.
“And that’s what you gotta talk to Smoke about?”
“Yes,” Sinkovich said.
“You guys need me, I know stuff,” Jimmy said.
“Like what?” Marvella asked.
Jimmy polished off his second helping. “I dunno. Just stuff.”
We all looked at him.
He shrugged. “I’m just saying, I can be pretty dang useful sometimes.”
“If we ever doubted that,” Sinkovich said, “you proved otherwise yesterday. Good job, kiddo.”
Jimmy grinned. “Does that mean I get cake?”
“You betcha,” Sinkovich said. “Then you let me and Grimshaw here talk, and you don’t eavesdrop. Promise?”
Jimmy nodded. “Promise,” he said.