announcements from September 1951 to October 1952. If she was nineteen in September of 1971, we figured her birth would have to be in there somewhere. I took the Detroit News and Randy took the Detroit Free Press.
A couple hours later, we both emerged, blinking like mole rats, into the light of day. We had found nothing.
We went back to the desk to thank the woman. She had found half a dozen vases from somewhere and was busy subdividing Randy’s flowers.
“I’ll keep thinking about it, boys,” she said. “A good reference librarian doesn’t sleep until she finds what she’s looking for.”
On our way out to lunch, I gave Leon a call. I didn’t have much to tell him, but I was sure he was sitting there in the Upper Peninsula, wondering what we were doing.
“Mr. Shannon hasn’t lived in the house for long,” I told him. “And he didn’t have any leads going back more than a couple years. We’re going to go try the rest of the neighborhood after lunch.”
“You guys must be having a great time,” he said. “Working the leads, trying to pick up a trail that’s thirty years old. God, I wish I was down there with you.”
“It’s a thrill a minute,” I said. “We just got done looking at a year’s worth of old newspapers, and now we get to go knock on strangers’ doors and ask them if they remember a fortune-teller and her family from 1971.”
“That’s what a private investigator does, Alex. He digs in the dirt until he finds the bone.”
“That’s beautiful, Leon. I’m gonna write that down.”
“Go get it, partner,” he said. “Go find that bone.”
With those inspirational words ringing in my ears, I was ready to face the rest of the day. “Come on, Randy,” I said. “Let’s go get dirty.”
We grabbed a quick lunch at a little restaurant down the street, then headed back to Leverette Street, parking the truck against the curb, right in the middle of the block. “How do you wanna do this?” I said. “You wanna split up or stay together?”
“Let’s split up,” he said. “I want this side.” He pointed out at the side where Maria had lived. “For old time’ sake.”
“Good enough,” I said. “Don’t bother hitting that house next door.”
“That lady who thought you were trying to solve the case of the missing staircase? I thought she was great.”
“Fine,” I said. “You go have tea with her. I’m gonna go do this and try not to think about how stupid I sound. If somebody asked me if I remembered a fortune-teller who used to live across the street thirty years ago, I’d slam the door in his face.”
“Alex, you live in a cabin in the middle of the woods.”
“You do this on purpose, don’t you?” I said. “Just go.”
I went down to the end of the block and knocked on the first door. A black teenager answered. He had headphones on. I started talking. When I got to the first question, he just stood there looking at me. Then he took the headphones off. I started at the beginning again.
“I’m looking for someone who used to live on this block in 1971,” I said. “I know you weren’t even born yet, but is there anyone else living here who might have been around then?”
“We just moved here,” he said. “Last year.”
“Is one of your parents around? Can I ask them if they remember who lived here before you?”
“Nobody else here,” he said. “They all gone until Monday.”
“Okay,” I said. “Can I leave a card?”
“Sure,” he said. He took the card from me and looked at it. “You’re a private investigator, it says?”
“Sort of,” I said.
“Do you carry a gun?”
“No.”
“You’ve got two guns here on the card.”
“That wasn’t my idea,” I said. “Look, I’ll let you get ready for the party. I appreciate your time.”
“Party?” he said. “What party?”
“You said your family’s gone until Monday. A teenager alone in the house, I figure the party’s gotta start at sundown, right?”
“Oh man,” he said. “Is that what this is about? My mom’s sending around a private investigator to see if I’m having a party when she’s gone?”
“No,” I said. “Please. I’m just looking for somebody. I swear.”
By the time I left there, he still wasn’t convinced. Which would probably ruin his party, because he’d be expecting me to spy on the place. So having spoiled one person’s day, I went on to the next house.
This time, I got an older black man, and felt better about my chances. He certainly looked old enough to have been around in 1971. But it turned out he had just moved there in 1994. And he didn’t remember who had lived there before him. I thanked him and moved on, and by the time I got done with the next house, I was beginning to see a trend. Everybody was new to the neighborhood. Within the last ten years at least. Nobody had any ties to the place before 1990.
When I got through my entire side of the block, I walked back to the truck and waited for Randy. He took a lot longer to do his side, because of course he’s gotta stand there and talk about the weather and the tattoo on his arm and the Detroit Tigers, and for all I knew, he’d tell every last person the story of his one inning in Tiger Stadium.
I looked up and down his side of the block, but I couldn’t see him. He’s probably inside one of the houses, I thought, having a cold beer with somebody. I could have gone and found him, and helped him finish up his houses. But my eyes were still hurting from looking at all the microfilm. I sat in the truck and waited for him. And eventually, I started to doze off. He scared the hell out of me when he came back and knocked on my window.
“What the hell took you so long?” I said when he got in. “You didn’t have to get everybody’s life stories.”
“We got talking,” he said. “There’s a lot of nice people in this neighborhood.”
“Did you find out anything?”
“About Maria, you mean?”
“Randy, don’t make me hurt you.”
“No, Alex. I didn’t find out anything. Nobody’s been around here for very long. How about you?”
“Same story,” I said. “Although I did prevent a teenager from having a party and trashing his house.”
“I didn’t stop at Maria’s old house. You know, Mr. Shannon’s place. And there was one house a couple doors down where nobody was home…”
“Mr. Shannon wanted us to stop and say hello,” I said. I looked at my watch. “He said he’d be home after three. You wanna go see him now?”
“Sure,” he said. “We’ll see if we can go upstairs. I’ll show you where it all happened.”
“Somehow, I don’t think it looks quite the same now,” I said.
“Yeah, but I bet you’ll feel it. You know, the raw power in the place. I bet Mr. Shannon feels it all the time. He’s walking around up there, you know, maybe putting all his laundry into his basket or something, and he stops in the middle of the room, and he says to himself, ‘Damn, I always get the strangest feeling in this room. Like something wonderful and amazing happened here once.’ ”
“I’ll let you ask him about that one,” I said. “Come on, let’s go.”
As we got out, a car passed us on the street and turned into a driveway.
“Hey, that’s the house where nobody was home,” Randy said.
The car stopped in the middle of the driveway. A man got out of the car and slammed the door.
“He doesn’t look like he’s in the mood to talk right now,” I said. But Randy was already jogging down the sidewalk toward him.
“Excuse me, sir!” he yelled to the man.
The man was on his front porch when he turned around to look at us. He didn’t say anything.
“Can I ask you something real quick?” Randy said.
The man folded his arms in front of him.
“I’m sorry to bother you,” Randy said, stopping in the man’s driveway. I finally caught up to him.
