Jack. He was the younger. And this one—" The bright light in her eyes dimmed slightly for a moment. "This one is Eric."
Steve and Willow sought each other's eyes over the old woman's head. Eric? Another man with the initial E to add to the mystery surrounding her mother?
"He is dead now," Irina said sadly. "A suicide, the police said, but I was never convinced of that. I have always preferred to believe it was an unfortunate accident. Although... there was talk that he had seen the lady in the mirror, so perhaps the police were right."
"Suicide?" Willow echoed, struggling to keep the disappointment out of her voice. "When?"
"Not long after these pictures were taken, I should think. It happened in the summer of 1970. In June. Or perhaps it was July." She shook her head. "My memory is not so good as it once was. You should ask Mr. Mueller if it is important that you know about this. Or, perhaps, you could contact young Jack Shannon. I'm sure Mr. Mueller could give you his forwarding address."
"I doubt any forwarding address he might have would be any good after all this time," Steve said.
"It has only been a few months since young Jack and his new bride moved out of apartment 1-G. I am quite sure Mr. Mueller will know where they have gone."
"A few months? You mean he's been living here for the last twenty-five years?"
"Oh, no. No, a few months only. He went away after his brother died. It is rumored that he joined the army for a time and then roamed the world trying to forget. It was the lady in the mirror who drew him back. She knew he needed to be here to attain his dream." She looked down at the photographs in her hands. "As did Ezekiel," she said, running her fingertip over the youthful face of Zeke Blackstone. "He had lost his dream, too, and needed to come back to the Wilshire Arms to regain it."
"Now let me get this straight," Steve said. "Are you telling me both those guys have been back here in the last—Did you say Ezekiel?"
Irina nodded. "It is his given name. He admitted it to me one afternoon when he was feeling a little homesick for his mother, soon after he came out here from New York to be a movie star. She was the only one who called him by his true name and he missed hearing it, I think." She smiled a little at the memory. "I thought it a charming name for a charming young man. A little old-fashioned, perhaps, but so much more melodious than Zeke, don't you think?"
Chapter 4
"Three of them", Willow said. "Three of them with the initial E. And all of them knew my mother at the right time. All of them may have dated her. Which means any one of them could be my father." She looked up at Steve. "What do we do now?"
"We talk to the manager," Steve said, "and see if he can add anything to what Madame Markova told us."
He put his hand under her elbow again, politely ushering her across the pebbled concrete surface of the courtyard. Irina Markova had told them that if Carl Mueller was back from his errand at the hardware store, they would most likely find him in apartment 1-G. There had been a persistent leak in one of the bathroom faucets.
"It is across the courtyard and through the door on the other side," she'd said as she escorted them out of her cozy potpourri-scented apartment. "One-G is the third door on your left after you enter the hallway."
They found it easily enough. The door was standing half-open, the sounds of metal clanging against metal reverberating into the hall. Steve pushed the door all the way open and stepped back, letting Willow enter ahead of him. They walked down a short hallway and into an empty, airy room. The walls were painted a soft, creamy white. Two tall arched windows, flanked by open slatted wooden shutters, spilled long lozenges of sunlight across the floor. A large mirror, easily four feet wide by five feet high, hung on one wall.
It had a heavy ornate pewter frame, distinctively Victorian and elaborately cast with dozens of roses and twining
Steve and Willow sought each other's eyes over the old woman's head. Eric? Another man with the initial E to add to the mystery surrounding her mother?
"He is dead now," Irina said sadly. "A suicide, the police said, but I was never convinced of that. I have always preferred to believe it was an unfortunate accident. Although... there was talk that he had seen the lady in the mirror, so perhaps the police were right."
"Suicide?" Willow echoed, struggling to keep the disappointment out of her voice. "When?"
"Not long after these pictures were taken, I should think. It happened in the summer of 1970. In June. Or perhaps it was July." She shook her head. "My memory is not so good as it once was. You should ask Mr. Mueller if it is important that you know about this. Or, perhaps, you could contact young Jack Shannon. I'm sure Mr. Mueller could give you his forwarding address."
"I doubt any forwarding address he might have would be any good after all this time," Steve said.
"It has only been a few months since young Jack and his new bride moved out of apartment 1-G. I am quite sure Mr. Mueller will know where they have gone."
"A few months? You mean he's been living here for the last twenty-five years?"
"Oh, no. No, a few months only. He went away after his brother died. It is rumored that he joined the army for a time and then roamed the world trying to forget. It was the lady in the mirror who drew him back. She knew he needed to be here to attain his dream." She looked down at the photographs in her hands. "As did Ezekiel," she said, running her fingertip over the youthful face of Zeke Blackstone. "He had lost his dream, too, and needed to come back to the Wilshire Arms to regain it."
"Now let me get this straight," Steve said. "Are you telling me both those guys have been back here in the last—Did you say Ezekiel?"
Irina nodded. "It is his given name. He admitted it to me one afternoon when he was feeling a little homesick for his mother, soon after he came out here from New York to be a movie star. She was the only one who called him by his true name and he missed hearing it, I think." She smiled a little at the memory. "I thought it a charming name for a charming young man. A little old-fashioned, perhaps, but so much more melodious than Zeke, don't you think?"
Chapter 4
"Three of them", Willow said. "Three of them with the initial E. And all of them knew my mother at the right time. All of them may have dated her. Which means any one of them could be my father." She looked up at Steve. "What do we do now?"
"We talk to the manager," Steve said, "and see if he can add anything to what Madame Markova told us."
He put his hand under her elbow again, politely ushering her across the pebbled concrete surface of the courtyard. Irina Markova had told them that if Carl Mueller was back from his errand at the hardware store, they would most likely find him in apartment 1-G. There had been a persistent leak in one of the bathroom faucets.
"It is across the courtyard and through the door on the other side," she'd said as she escorted them out of her cozy potpourri-scented apartment. "One-G is the third door on your left after you enter the hallway."
They found it easily enough. The door was standing half-open, the sounds of metal clanging against metal reverberating into the hall. Steve pushed the door all the way open and stepped back, letting Willow enter ahead of him. They walked down a short hallway and into an empty, airy room. The walls were painted a soft, creamy white. Two tall arched windows, flanked by open slatted wooden shutters, spilled long lozenges of sunlight across the floor. A large mirror, easily four feet wide by five feet high, hung on one wall.
It had a heavy ornate pewter frame, distinctively Victorian and elaborately cast with dozens of roses and twining
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