The Real Allie Newman

ALLIE WHEELED her bike along the pedestrian path of the ferry dock, occasionally glancing around for Joel’s car. She’d noticed him standing alone at the front of the deck on the return trip. For a moment she’d considered calling him over, but dismissed the idea almost immediately. She doubted he’d have wanted to join them, and more, she was reluctant to have to make some explanation about who he was or how she knew him. Not that any of the gang would have asked; they were basically cycling pals. But her friend Linda might well have picked up on the vibes between her and the private investigator.

And what vibes there were! Allie was shocked at the way she’d behaved around the man, why she let him get to her as he so obviously did. Perhaps it was simply a matter of that old cliché—about killing the messenger. She certainly had good reason to wish Joel Kennedy’s message had never been delivered. As for the messenger, well, he’d be gone from her life as soon as they arrived in Grosse Pointe. Which suited Allie just fine.

The cycle group split up at the end of the dock, after agreeing to meet the following week. Linda raised a brow at Allie’s comment that she’d be out of town but said nothing. Allie figured her friend would be calling her later that day, and what would she tell her? She’d have to come up with some explanation for Beth and the staff at the store, as well. She was about to strap on her helmet when a car horn beeped lightly behind her.

Joel Kennedy smiled at her from the open driver’s window. “Want a lift?”

Allie reminded herself to relax and take the offer at face value. “Thanks, anyway, but by the time we get this into the trunk, I could already be home.”

The smile froze on his face. Allie saw that he was regretting the invite. Plus, she suddenly felt her words had sounded ungracious. “Look,” she said, “I didn’t mean that to sound as bad as it did. I just don’t want to inconvenience you.”

He waved a hand. “No problem. So shall I call you later to work out exactly when we could leave for Grosse Pointe?”

Impulsively she changed her mind. “Maybe I will take that lift, and we can figure something out on the way.”

The car pulled over and Joel got out to help Allie with the bike. The second she was sitting next to him and on the way up Brock Street to Wellington, she thought she ought to have cycled, after all. The spandex suit was hot and itchy. Worse, she feared her trusty deodorant might not have been up to the task of dealing with the twenty-mile route around Wolfe Island.

He didn’t speak for a long while, adding to her discomfort. But when they were almost at her corner, he said, “If you’re free tonight, I’d appreciate having company for dinner. We could make our plans then. Interested?”

And surprisingly, she was.

“THAT’S THE OWNER—Zal.” Allie nodded to a heavyset bearded man walking toward the center doors of the restaurant. “He used to be a member of a 1960s rock group called the Lovin’ Spoonful. Ever hear of it?”

Joel frowned. “Vaguely. So he retired from that to go into the restaurant business? I bet this is harder work.” He glanced around the patio courtyard where they were sitting beneath a lattice of wisteria and vines. “Very pretty, though.”

“And the food’s great,” Allie added.

“The name’s a bit odd.”

“I suppose, to an outsider. But here in Kingston, Chez Piggy is so famous no one questions the name.”

Joel flipped open the menu. “Okay, so let’s get into it. Prove the name right. I’m starving.”

“Me, too.” Allie picked up her glass of wine and sipped leisurely. It was a lovely balmy evening and she wanted to savor every second of it. Her dining experience was enhanced, she had to admit, by the man sitting across from her. Allie hadn’t missed the discreet looks he’d been receiving from some of the other female patrons.

She’d met Joel outside the nineteenth-century tunnel-style walkway that led into the restaurant and had been surprised at her thrill of pleasure when he approached. His beaming smile reassured her that the afternoon’s edginess had disappeared. He didn’t look like a private investigator, in his pressed tan trousers and crisp, pale-yellow short-sleeved shirt, at least not like Allie’s television-inspired notion of one.

His perusal of the menu gave her a chance to study him closer. He was an introvert, she decided. His dark-brown eyes, set deeply in his face, gave little away in terms of what he was feeling or thinking. Except when he raised his head and caught her in the act. Then he let her know right away that he figured she was sizing him up, and the idea obviously amused him. Allie feigned sudden interest in the antics of some children at an adjacent table.

“You don’t seem like the maternal type,” he remarked.

The comment took her aback. “Well, maybe not yet, but I hope to be someday.”

“It’s a serious job, parenting.”

“You sound like you speak from experience.”

He seemed to regret the opener, giving a slight shrug that she couldn’t interpret. Finally he said, “Actually, I have a six-year-old son, Ben. He lives with his mother most of the time, but I see him one weekend a month and a couple weeks every summer.” He paused, adding in a more somber voice, “If my schedule can work the visit in.”

Allie didn’t know what to say. For some reason she’d never considered that Joel Kennedy might be married with a child. Or rather, divorced with a child.

“You must miss him.”

The observation hit home. He gave a brusque, “Yeah,” before turning his head to signal the waitress.

After they ordered, the subject was dropped and Allie devoted her attention to the bread basket. She sighed, thinking about the long trip she’d soon be making with him.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

“No…no,” she stammered, raising her eyes to his. “Just tired, I guess.”

“Shall we decide when to leave? I was thinking about the day after tomorrow, if you need the time. Or,” he paused, “even tomorrow, if you’re finished what you had to do.”

Better to get the whole thing over with. “I’ve actually finished what I need to do. We can leave tomorrow if you like. But after my run, which I usually do about six or six-thirty.”

He gave a mock shudder. “Okay. How about I pick you up at eight? We’ll stop for coffee on the way to the highway.”

“Fine.” Allie returned a smile, but wasn’t feeling as optimistic as she had moments ago. Did she really know him well enough to spend five or six hours alone with him in a car?

The waitress arrived with their dinners, and for the next half hour they focused on eating. But after their plates were whisked away and they were lingering over coffee, Allie blurted, “Tell me more about Spiro Kostakis.”

“Curious?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Forty-eight hours ago you were doubting his relationship to you.”

“A lot can change in forty-eight hours,” she murmured, and peered down at her coffee.

“Yes. A lot can,” he agreed.

Something in his tone brought her head up, but his expression was impassive. He cleared his throat. “How about if we leave the business part till tomorrow? I don’t like mixing business with pleasure if I can help it.”

Allie felt unexpectedly flattered that she was part of the pleasure that night. Tomorrow would be soon enough to get the lowdown on this new family of hers.

Joel insisted on picking up the tab for dinner. “Expenses,” he said, settling the matter, and because the evening was so mild, they decided to walk.

“Is it always this quiet on a Thursday night?” he asked.

“This time of year it is, because most of the university students have gone home for the summer. The weekends are busy, but the real tourist crowd doesn’t arrive until June. Then all the outdoor restaurants, clubs and bars are full.”

“I was watching the marina from my hotel room. I guess it’s hopping in the summer, too.”

“Oh, yes,” Allie said, nodding. “I once spent a hectic summer working there when I was a student. The boating crowd tends to attract some pretty eccentric types.”

“I don’t get the draw,” Joel said. “To big luxury boats, I mean.”

“Some people call those huge speedboats ‘babe magnets.’”

“Ouch! Expensive way to ensure a good love life,” he muttered.

She laughed, but thought he’d probably never had to worry about attracting women.

They’d reached her house and now stood awkwardly in front of it. Allie briefly considered asking him in, but had too much to do. He solved the impasse by commenting, “I imagine you have things to get ready. And you have to pack for a couple of weeks.”

“Really? I didn’t think it would take that long.”

Joel frowned. “I hope I never implied that, Allie. If I did, I’m sorry. First they have to do blood tests to see if you’re a match. This is assuming Spiro is still in remission so they can go ahead with the transplant. Plus, you’ll need a few days to recuperate.”

Allie’s stomach gave a small lurch. She hadn’t thought through the physical implications of the whole business. “I hope this doesn’t jeopardize my… I mean, I’m supposed to…”

“Your triathlon? We’ll find out as soon as we get there, but I’ve a hunch it won’t. End of June, you said?”

She nodded.

“It should be okay. Don’t worry.” He leaned forward and kissed her gently on the cheek. “Thanks for a great evening. I enjoyed it.”

Allie simply stared. It wasn’t only the unexpected kiss that puzzled her, but the stiffly presented compliment that came with it. For want of anything wittier, she said, “Was that business or pleasure?”

A stain of red crept up his neck. “Definitely pleasure,” he replied. Then, turning on his heel, he said, “I’ll be here at eight.”

Allie watched his retreating back, thinking he was the oddest man she’d met in a long time. And if that was pleasure, she was thinking, what does he do to really let loose?

JOEL MADE THE CALL about ten o’clock. Their estimated time of arrival in Grosse Pointe, he’d said, would be about four in the afternoon, allowing for lunch and rest-room breaks. Spiro was pleased, as Joel guessed he would be, but reserved.

He’d asked what Allie was like, and Joel had to think for a moment. In the end, he suggested that Spiro should draw his own conclusions, but that she was definitely Katrina’s daughter. Joel told him about the duplicate photograph, omitting the fact that Allie’s mother had been torn out of the picture. When Spiro mentioned that the whole family would be on hand to greet her the next day, Joel felt a tug of sympathy for her. He hung up the phone and swung his legs off the bed.

Allie had no idea what she was getting into, yet still had agreed to go with him. A gutsy woman, definitely. Beautiful, too, though not in the Hollywood way. If he hadn’t been such a prig about following the rules, he might still be with her, instead of alone in his hotel room.

Maybe what he really needed was a long cold shower to rid his head of Allie Newman. Though he doubted the shower would be enough.

CHAPTER FOUR

ALLIE FIDGETED against the smooth leather upholstery of the car. She was tempted to take her Walkman out of her pack and listen to it, but was afraid Joel might be offended. She certainly wouldn’t be interrupting a flow of conversation, though. Since leaving Kingston an hour ago, he’d uttered scarcely half-a-dozen words. She leaned back and closed her eyes, thinking of last night.

After Joel had left, she’d been overcome by a fit of energy. She couldn’t understand the tumult of emotions his leaving had produced. Or was it the fraternal peck on her cheek? Why would that bother her at all? The kiss had been so neutral it couldn’t even be considered inappropriate. Allie sighed, opening her eyes just enough to sneak a glance at the man beside her.

He’d nicked himself shaving that morning, she noticed, spotting a small cut on the lower edge of his jaw. And the slightly puffy semicircles beneath his eyes indicated a rough night. Insomnia? she wondered, or had he hit the bars after leaving her? She dismissed the latter, deciding he was far too disciplined. Yet if he had been tossing and turning, what thoughts had kept him from sleep?

She doubted they were the same confused thoughts that had her pacing the apartment until finally she hopped on her bike and rode out to the farm. Susan had greeted her with pleased surprise, tinged with some dismay when she heard that Allie planned to leave the next morning for Michigan.

“Are you sure you can trust this man, dear? Do you feel you know him well enough for a six-hour drive? Why not take a bus?”

Allie hesitated. She felt that she could trust Joel Kennedy, although she realized, in the face of Susan’s questions, that she really had no basis for feeling that way. What exactly was it about him that had produced this belief that he was trustworthy? Not his warm, engaging manner, to be sure.

“How do you even know his story is legitimate?”

Allie didn’t like where Susan was going with this. In fact, it strongly reminded her of the old days when her father grilled her about a new date. “The photograph, remember? The one I found in Dad’s papers? And by the way, did you ever find anything else?”

Susan shook her head. “Nothing but some old receipts, insurance papers and so on. Did I tell you that there wasn’t a single income-tax return?”

“I guess you can’t file a return if you’re living under an alias.” Allie fell silent then, thinking of all the different jobs her father had held. Each one probably paid in cash.

“I suppose not,” Susan whispered. “It probably also explains why he refused to own a credit card and insisted on paying in cash for everything. When we bought the business together, I used his half for a cash deposit. He said he wanted the business to be in my name.” Her sigh sounded sad and regretful.

Allie hugged her. “Susan, I wish he were here to explain everything. And why he did it.”

“Me too.” Susan pulled away, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. “Anyway, what about this Kennedy? Have you checked to see if he really is a private investigator?”

“No, I never thought of it.” Allie hesitated. She wasn’t even certain she wanted to check. But Susan was looking at her, obviously expecting her to do so. “I have his business card,” she said, and found it in her wallet.

“Is there an address on it?”

“No, just his name and two phone numbers. I’m not sure what state the area code represents. I guess it would be Michigan.” Allie suddenly realized she didn’t know very much at all about how Joel Kennedy came to be hired by Spiro Kostakis. She thought of all the questions she ought to have asked before agreeing to travel to Grosse Pointe with the man. Too late now.

“There’s no point dialing the cell phone number, because I’ll just reach him,” Allie said. “I’ll try the other number.” After several rings, an automated voice informed her that the number was no longer in service. Allie hung up.

“What is it?” Susan asked.

“Out of service. Maybe this is an old business card.”

“Maybe,” Susan murmured. Her forehead was creased with worry. “I don’t know about this.” She thought for a moment. “What about calling Spiro Kostakis—your grandfather?”

Allie was alarmed at the idea. “I can’t just call out of the blue. What would I say? This is the granddaughter you thought was dead for twenty-seven years?”

“It wouldn’t be a shock. I’m sure he already knows you’re coming. This Kennedy man would have called.”

Allie rubbed her temples. Why were things getting so complicated? “Look, Susan, I’ll be all right. I can’t explain it, but I feel in my gut that Joel Kennedy isn’t going to harm me. And I know he’s a good driver because I’ve already been in a car with him.” She forced a laugh, hoping to ease Susan’s anxiety. Rob Newman had always posed a last question to Allie’s dates just as they were walking out the door. Are you a good driver?

Susan’s smile suggested she was willing to back off even if she wasn’t happy about it. But the ride back into town gave Allie an opportunity to mull over some of their talk. She’d agreed to borrow Susan’s cell phone and had assured her that she could still perform the basic karate moves she’d learned a few years ago. Though if I really wanted to put him off, I’d just have to pucker up for a good kiss and he’d be gone in a flash. Allie snorted.

“What?”

“Huh?”

“Is something funny?” Joel took his eyes off the road for a moment, holding Allie’s gaze long enough for her to have second thoughts about his driving abilities.

“No no. Just thinking of something silly. Uh, something I read in one of my exam papers.”

Something funny on a math exam? His eyes left the windshield again, back to her. He grinned. “What was it?”

Allie waved a hand. “Nothing really. Um, funny only to…”

“A mathematician?”

“Yeah,” she mumbled, and turned her head to look out the passenger-side window.

Fortunately he didn’t pursue the matter, but popped a CD into the player, instead. Allie leaned her head back, closed her eyes again and let the mellow cadences of a female jazz singer make the time pass just a little more quickly.

The deceleration of the car jolted her awake. Her eyes blinked open and for an instant she forgot where she was. Her neck swiveled along the edge of the headrest, first to the window, then to her left. Joel was peering through the windshield looking for a parking space in a service center, but cast a quick glance her way and smiled.

“Have a good sleep?”

“Mmm. Where are we?”

“About halfway there. I need to gas up the car and thought we’d get some lunch. I’m not sure what kind of eating places are ahead of us, but this was familiar.”

Allie stared at the sign of a fast-food chain and sighed. There goes half a day’s training, she thought.

However, the menu board inside indicated salads and vegetarian options, so she was able to order something that wouldn’t cause too much damage.

“Training lunch?” Joel asked, digging into his man-size cheeseburger and fries.

“Sort of, but I’m not into fast food, anyway.”

“Good for you. As for me, I eat whatever’s handy when I’m hungry.”

“Well, it doesn’t seem to have done you any harm.”

He swallowed a mouthful of Coke and said, “I noticed you had more than an edge on me the other day.”

She frowned.

“The park?” he said. “The photograph?”

“Ohh. You weren’t that far behind me.”

His turn to smile. “You’re being kind. By the way, you bring the photo?”

Allie toyed with her salad. “I forgot it.”

“Seriously?”

She nodded.

He lowered the remains of his burger and stared at her for an uncomfortable moment. Then he said, “Shouldn’t make a difference.”

“Why the concern, then?”

“I just thought Spiro would be interested in seeing it. Because he owns the identical one I showed you,” he added.

Not quite identical, she mused, considering my mother was removed from my copy. Which was why Allie had purposely left it behind, even though he’d suggested bringing it. She didn’t want Spiro Kostakis to see what her father had done.

“Speaking of my grandfather, you said you’d tell me more about him.”

“I only know what I managed to pick up from some of my contacts in the business.”

“The business?”

“Uh, the investigation business.”

“Oh. Do you always investigate your clients?”

“I like to know something about them. You know, such as, am I going to get paid? Is the check going to bounce? That sort of thing.”

“Does it happen often?”

“Often enough. Anyway, Spiro and his older brother, Niko, came to America from Greece in 1947, just after the war. They did the usual new immigrant thing at first, taking whatever jobs they could get. They saved some money and sent for their Greek fiancées to join them in Detroit. Eventually they got into the restaurant business, were very successful and opened another location. Niko took over the food part of the Kostakis empire after Spiro got into importing and exporting. By then, they’d both married and had children. Sometime in the late fifties, Spiro moved into his mansion in Grosse Pointe Farms.”

“Grosse Pointe Farms?”

“Don’t be fooled by the word farms. It’s a very affluent area of Grosse Pointe. Anyway, a few years after that, Niko had a fatal heart attack, so his widow and son, Tony, moved in with Spiro and his wife.”

“What about Niko’s share of the business?”

“Good question. For some unknown reason, Spiro was Niko’s beneficiary, with allowances going to his spouse and children.”

“That’s unusual. It must have caused some family friction.”

He nodded. “The brothers probably did that as some kind of insurance when they got here. No other family and only each other to rely on.”

“You’d think Niko would have changed his will after his son was born.”

“I guess he never got around to it. Anyway, when Tony was in his late twenties, he married and had two boys—your cousins—George and Christo. By then, he was working his way up in the business.”

“What happened to him?”

“Rumor has it he and Spiro had a major falling-out one night over money. Tony disappeared and was never seen again.” Joel dabbed at his mouth with his napkin, checked the time and said, “I’ll finish on the way. I promised Spiro we’d be there before dinner.”

Allie followed him silently to the car. The story was unfolding like a soap opera, and she had a suspicion it was going to get even more incredible. At the same time, she was fascinated. Until she remembered that she herself was about to be drawn into it.

He remained silent for the first few miles. She decided to prompt him. “So, are you implying that Spiro had something to do with his nephew’s disappearance?”

Joel turned his head slightly to look at her. “That’s not what I was implying.”

“Is seems pretty obvious, doesn’t it?”

He turned back to the windshield. “Not necessarily. Apparently Tony had racked up a huge gambling debt. He also had more than a few unsavory friends. It may have been one big coincidence.”

“I don’t know if I believe in coincidences.”

“You gotta be kidding! After saving that old man and his dog? Wouldn’t you call that a helluva big coincidence—that a topnotch athlete and a strong swimmer, the only person who could have saved their lives, happened to be around?”

“Well, yes, I suppose that was a stroke of good luck for poor Harry and Jeb.”

“Or a great coincidence.”

“You made your point,” she murmured, and peered out the window.

“Speaking of the guy, have you seen him since?”

Allie smiled, thinking of the friendship that had grown between the three of them. “Yes, actually, I have. Harry and Jeb live in a retirement complex near the very river where they fell in. I had dinner with them twice last month. He’s a darling and so is his dog.”

“I figured something like that.”

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t seem the type to walk away from things. It makes sense that you’d go on to forge a friendship with the man whose life you’d saved.”

She was surprised at the pleasure his comment gave her. Then she realized he’d very skillfully digressed from his story about her grandfather and the rest of the family. “What happened after Tony disappeared?”

His head swerved her way for an instant. “Not much. His family moved in with Spiro’s.”

“And Niko’s widow?”

“She left Michigan after the family gave up looking for Tony and now lives in a retirement colony in Florida.”

Allie frowned. “And…do I still have a grandmother?”

“Sorry, I should’ve mentioned that. Vangelia outlived your mother by one year. A heart attack, I believe.”

Allie thought for a long moment about people she’d never get to meet.

“So the family is pretty rich, huh?”

Joel snorted. “Rich! Baby, the guy’s loaded. This Cadillac? The low end of his fleet. Like I said, don’t be fooled by the word farms in Grosse Pointe Farms. The area used to have the summer retreats of the rich and famous. Now the places are permanent homes.” He shook his head. “Old Spiro is worth millions.”