Manhattan Is My Beat (Rune 1)

They walked into a large dormitory, newer than the church, though the architecture was the same--stained glass, arches, flowery carvings. She looked around. It was some kind of residence hall for senior citizens. Rune glanced into a room as they passed. Two beds, yellow walls, mismatched dressers. Lots of pictures on the walls. Homier than you'd think. There were two elderly men inside the room. As she paused, looking in, one of the men stood up and said, "'I am a very foolish fond old man, fourscore and upward, not an hour more or less, and, to deal plainly, I fear I am not in my perfect mind.'"

"I'll say you're not in perfect mind," his friend chided. "You've got it all wrong."

"Oh, you think you can do better?"

"Listen to this."

His voice faded as Rune and the minister continued down the corridor.

"How long was Grandfather here?" Rune asked.

"Only four, five weeks. He needed a place to stay until he found an apartment. A friend sent him here."

"Raoul Elliott?" Rune's heart thudded harder.

"Yes. You know Mr. Elliott?"

"We've met once."

So, Elliott had been confused. He hadn't sent Mr. Kelly to the Florence Hotel but here--to the church. Maybe Mr. Kelly was staying in the Florence when he visited the screenwriter and the poor man's mind just confused them.

"Wonderful man," the priest continued. "Oh, he's been very generous to us here at the church. And not only materially ... He served on our board too. Until he got sick. A shame what's happened to him, isn't it? That Alzheimer's." The minister shook his head then continued. "But we have so few rooms, Robert didn't want to monopolize one--he wanted to make it available for somebody less fortunate. So he moved into the Hotel Florence for a while. He left the suitcase here, said he'd pick it up when he moved into a safer place. He was worried about break-ins. He said the bag was too important to risk getting stolen."

Rune nodded nonchalantly. Thinking: One million dollars.

She followed him to a storage room. The minister unlocked the door with keys on a janitor's self-winding coil. Rune asked, "Did Grandfather spend much time in the church itself?"

The minister disappeared into the storage room. Rune heard the sound of boxes sliding along the floor. He called, "No. Not much."

"How about the grounds? The cemetery? Did he spend much time there?"

"The cemetery? I don't know. He might have."

Rune was thinking of the scene in Manhattan Is My Beat where the cop, his life ruined, was lying in his prison cell, dreaming about reclaiming his stolen million dollars, buried in a cemetery. She remembered the close-up of the actor's eyes as he wakened and realized that it had just been a dream--the blackness of the dirt he'd been digging up with his fingers becoming the shadows of the bars across his hands as he woke.

The minister emerged with a suitcase. He set it on the floor. "Here you go."

Rune asked. "You want me to sign a receipt or anything?"

"I don't think that'll be necessary, no."

Rune picked it up. It was as heavy as an old leather suitcase containing a million dollars ought to be. She listed against the weight. The min

ister smiled and took the case from her. He lifted it easily and motioned her toward the side door. She walked ahead of him.

He said, "Your grandfather told me to be careful with this. He said it had his whole life in it."

Rune glanced at the suitcase. Her palms were moist. "Funny what people consider their whole life, isn't it?"

"I feel sorry for people who can carry their homes around with them. That's one of the reasons the church has this residence home. You really feel God at work here."

They walked to his small office. He bent over the cluttered desk and sorted through a thick stack of envelopes. He said. "I wished Robert had stayed longer. I liked him a lot. But then, he was independent. He wanted to live on his own."

Rune decided that she was going to give the church some money. Fifty thousand, she decided. Then, on a whim, upped the ante to a hundred Gs.

He handed her a thick envelope addressed to "Mr. Bobby Kelly."

"Oh, I forgot to mention ... this came for him care of the church a day or so ago. Before I got around to forwarding it, I heard that he'd been killed."