Opening the door, a small bronze bell rang overhead. There was a musty smell. The shop counter was dusty. The contents were disorganized. On the wall behind the cash register there was a row of plastic drawers, filled with odds and ends, nails and bolts, screws and hinges, drawers stacked as high as the ceiling.
The proprietor was young, a man in his early thirties, emerging from a back room with reading glasses on the end of his nose, regarding his unusual customers. His glance concentrated on Leo and turned unfriendly.
– You’ve been in here before?
Nara stepped forward, speaking in fluent English, having already gone over the question with Leo at home.
– We’re looking for information on a famous singer who used to live near here. His name is Jesse Austin.
Upon hearing the name the man took off his glasses, placing them on the counter.
– That’s right, you’re the Jesse Austin man. What is it with you, anyway?
– My name is Leo Demidov.
Embarrassed by his English, he turned to Nara. She added:
– My name is Nara Mir. This is my friend. Leo knew Mr Jesse Austin a long time ago. We’re trying to find information.
The man studied Leo, saying:
– You knew Jesse Austin? I don’t believe it.
– It’s true.
– You’re not from New York, are you?
– I’m from Russia.
– Russia? And you knew Jesse?
– We met in Moscow.
– You met in Moscow?
The store owner had a habit of turning everything Leo said into a question and Leo was unsure how to respond. The man addressed Nara:
– You’re who? His translator?
– I’m his friend.
– What do the two of you want?
Leo said to Nara in Dari:
– I want to know how Jesse Austin died, the truth, not what was printed in the papers.
Nara translated. Leo watched the store owner’s reaction. He shook his head, waving at the door.
– I don’t know anything. Now get out. I’m serious. Don’t bother me again. This is a store. If you want to buy something…
Before the store owner could return to the back room, Leo took a chance, calling out:
– Your father knew Jesse Austin.
The store owner turned sharply, staring at Leo accusingly, suddenly angry.
– How do you know my father? What are you doing dragging him into this? You better have a good answer.
Leo replied through Nara:
– Your father met with Jesse Austin the day he was shot. He brought a young Russian girl to his apartment. The two men argued.
She translated. The store owner was stunned. Recovering some of his composure he said:
– What do you want?
Leo sensed he was making inroads and pushed home his advantage.
– The papers claimed a Russian woman shot Jesse Austin. The papers claim the Russian woman was called Raisa Demidova. The papers are wrong. She did not kill him. That is a lie.
Leo took a chance.
– Your father knew it was a lie.
The store owner listened to the translation before turning to Leo.
– And how do you figure this?
Leo had memorized the English.
– Raisa was my wife.
Harlem Bradhurst 8th Avenue amp; West 139th Street Nelson’s Restaurant
Same Day
The man referred to as number 111 by Elena in her journal was Tom Fluker, now dead; his son William ran the hardware store, as Leo had correctly guessed. Once a degree of trust had been established, William was prepared to recollect events from the time of Jesse Austin’s death. He recounted his father talking about Austin, and how Tom had been furious with him for bringing their community under scrutiny and suspicion.
– Jesse used to make my father mad. He called him a troublemaker. But the night Jesse was shot, my father didn’t sahe had it coming, or anything like that. He did something I never expected him to. He cried. I remember thinking it was strange that he never had a nice word to say about Jesse and then he cried when the man was shot. I was a young boy and it seemed like a contradiction at the time.
William had brought them to a restaurant called Nelson’s, closing his store and agreeing to show Leo and Nara the way. In his extensive exploration of the neighbourhood, Leo had passed the restaurant but since it was several blocks from where Austin lived, and looked new, he’d never gone in. There was no mention of it in Elena’s diary and he could find no reference to it in any of the articles written about Austin in the press. During the walk William had warmed to them somewhat, almost certainly because of Nara. He’d taken a shine to her and Leo could tell she was flattered. William was a handsome man.
Unlike the hardware store, which appeared not to have been decorated or updated for thirty years, this restaurant had been recently refurbished. Like a tour guide, William gestured at the facade.
– Don’t be fooled. This restaurant has been here for longer than I’ve been alive. Nelson was the man who opened it and he and my dad were friends. Both of them built up their businesses from nothing. This was the most popular restaurant in the neighbourhood, until…
William trailed off, adding:
– That’s not my story to tell.
Inside the staff were winding down after the lunch shift, tables being cleared, only a few diners remaining, older men who looked as if they had nowhere to hurry off to, nursing cups of coffee. William caught the arm of a waitress.
– Can we speak to Yolande?
The waitress glanced at Leo and Nara, assessing them, before turning around and heading back through the kitchen into an office. Minutes passed before she emerged accompanied by a woman in her thirties dressed in a suit. The woman was tall and striking. She took in every detail of Leo and Nara’s appearance before moving forward and shaking their hands. William had phoned ahead. She’d been expecting them.
– Nice to see you, Willie.
She offered her hand to Leo.
– I’m Yolande.
Leo shook it and then Nara. Leo introduced himself.
– My name is Leo Demidov. This is my friend Nara Mir.
She smiled.
– We’d better talk in my office.
Contrasting with her immaculate attire, her office was a jumble. There was a desk piled high with papers and files. Framed photographs and newspaper clippings cluttered the walls. Without waiting for permission, Leo instinctively began studying the photographs. Belatedly he realized that Yolande was beside him. He pulled back, blushing, embarrassed by his lack of courtesy. She gestured for him to continue.
