Joane waited to answer. Meghan held her breath. It hinged on her because there was no other way for Lester to get a warrant. He’d have to wait for Eugene to leave the property with the empty bottles visible. Lester had no way to stop and frisk him unless Eugene was publicly intoxicated.
Joane slowly absorbed the information. Meghan saw the realization open up her face like a flower reaching for sunlight.
“Gene told me Cliff gave him the house. I asked because I know the mortgage is about $500 less a month than living here. Back when Cliff and I separated, he talked about moving to Anchorage because the construction business ended in Kinguyakkii. There was a contractor who wanted to hire him to travel for work.
“Then Gene moved in with Cliff not long after he got back. Then Cliff drowned.”
Joane’s faced a lot of hardship in her life. Meghan read the history in the way the woman caught up to her words. She shook her head.
“Where did Eugene come back from?” Meghan asked.
“Gene lived in northern California for a few years,” Earl said. He rubbed on Joane’s shoulder, enveloping her under his arm and held her. “He went down to rebuild houses after those fires. Then he ran into some troubles, I guess, and Cliff had him come back here.”
“What kind of trouble?” Meghan asked, pressing the envelope.
“Can we have your permission to get into the house?” Lester asked.
Meghan held off. He worked with her long enough to know Meghan multitasked on the job. She went down several paths at once and eventually came back around. Meghan knew they had pressing matters and had to prioritize.
“Yes, of course,” Joane said.
“Thank you, Joane.” Lester shook hands with Joane and Earl. “Come to the department sometime soon. We can go over the proper way you can claim the house if you want it.”
“What about Gene? He’s lived there a long while after Cliff died,” Earl said.
“He deceived you,” Meghan mumbled. “That seems like a good reason to have things done legally.”
“If you have a lawyer, it’s a good idea to let them know. They can draft a writ, and I can execute the duties to evict Gene from the property.”
Joane nodded. There was a lot more to absorb. By the look of the sleeves on the robe, Joane wasn’t able to absorb much else after all the crying.
“Listen, Joane, is it okay if I peek in on Cecil?” Meghan asked. She caught the scowl on Lester’s face as he turned to leave. “It will only take a minute.”
Meghan didn’t wait for Joane’s response. She stepped to the bedroom door and rapped lightly on it. She heard Cecil call from inside the room.
“Come in,” he said.
Meghan opened the door gingerly as if expecting it to break apart. Inside the room, Cecil had a small desk lamp on the nightstand by his bed. It wasn’t sufficient light for reading, but Cecil had a book open, sitting on the made bed with his back against the wall under the bookshelf.
“Hey, Cecil, I wanted to see how you were doing.”
She stood just inside the doorway. Cecil’s bed took up space next to the closet on the other side of the small bedroom. To Meghan’s immediate right was the divided area where Christine’s bed had a unicorn print pink comforter. The blank walls and the empty dresser top told Meghan that likely Cecil began housekeeping. He removed Christine’s posters. He cleared off the girly stuff that cluttered the dresser top. The immaculate room and the organized closet told Meghan that the brother grieved differently than the rest of the family.
A closet without a door wasn’t surprising in a place like a rundown apartment complex. At least, in Meghan’s view, the walls didn’t appear to have any noticeable holes. Many of the clothes that once occupied the hangers left gaps on the left side of the closet. Meghan wondered if she’d find differences in the dresser drawers. Some of the apparel belonged to Christine. A limited amount removed from the closet, more possibly removed from the drawers, but not all the clothes.
“So, I am just checking on you,” Meghan said. She took a step deeper into the room. Lester shuffled his boots by the door in an attempt to get Meghan’s attention. She ignored him. “I heard Christine liked to draw.”
Cecil had the book open across his knees. When he heard Meghan’s question, he looked up from the novel and nodded. “Yeah, she likes drawing a lot.”
“She didn’t hang any of her drawings around? I see you took down the posters she had on the walls. Did she ever draw for you?”
“Yeah, sometimes,” he said.
“Can I see something she drew for you?”
“Can we go now?” Lester asked.
Meghan understood the urgency. Catching Eugene before he destroyed the evidence lent to a better case and a solid conviction. Meghan felt Cecil’s interaction meant more than a little bootlegging, at that moment.
Cecil dropped a bookmark in the leaves of the book and closed it. He placed it on the bedspread and climbed off the bed. Meghan saw him open the bottom drawer of the nightstand. He removed a school folder with robots firing lasers from their eyes. He carried the folder to Meghan and handed it off.
Meghan spent the next four minutes going through the file. Christine had talent. At ten years old, she understood depth perception. She understood shadowing and shadow, light perspective, and clean, sharp edging.
“Oh my,” Meghan said.
It was unlike her to express surprise. Meghan saw a lot in life, far too much to
