I sat back, rolling the information over, debating what I might be able to do if I took the case. I had several questions. “What did the police say?”
Benaiah huffed derisively, helping himself to another mouthful of coffee. “The money’s been gone for months. The account where the transfers were made has been closed. The police shared that these occurrences are unfortunately common among the elderly. Thousands of people are scammed monthly and yearly. Education is the best tool against further abuse. They promised the case would pass to a team that investigates these sorts of things, but we shouldn’t hold our breath. The likelihood of getting the money back is slim. They’reworking on it.” He put air quotes around the last three words, clearly not believing the claim.
He set his mug down and smoothed his hands over his pants. “Please, Mr. Krause. You have to do something. They didn’t seem to care that a stranger showed up at a secure nursing home posing as my son. They said the investigative team would follow up, but they have hundreds of similar cases, so I needed to cut my losses. My father isn’t poor, but thirty thousand dollars isn’t pocket change. I can’t let this go. I can’t wait for the police to decide they give half a patootie five years from now. Chances are, I won’t hear from them again. Dad will become a statistic. Nothing more.”
He was right to be upset. In most cases, I would have agreed with the police’s assessment—as much as it galled me to do so—but Benaiah’s case had more depth. An interesting spin. This wasn’t a phone call from a desperategrandsonseeking immediate cash for a made-up reason. This wasn’t a quick turnaround. Whoever was involved had stepped up their game. Hunted, studied, and targeted their victim.Not only had they visited Elwood Scarrow face-to-face—a risky endeavor—but they had used bank transfers and wires to procure far more than a few hundred bucks.
“I’ll look into it,” I said after much contemplation.
Benaiah pressed his hands together in prayer formation. “Thank you. Thank you so much, Mr. Krause.”
“I won’t make promises, either. Like the police said, I doubt I can get your father’s money back, but I’ll poke around and see what I can find.”
We spent the next half hour sorting out the paperwork. Benaiah paid the retainer and promised to meet me the following morning at Evergreen Estate. I wanted Tallus present when I talked to Elwood Scarrow. Benaiah claimed his father was mentally agile, but on the off chance he was embellishing, my boyfriend had more patience. I also needed time to consider what we might be able to do that the police hadn’t.
The case might go nowhere, but at least it wasn’t a cheating spouse.
***
I arrived at the Toronto Police Headquarters building thirty minutes before Tallus’s shift was due to end. My intention was to sit tight in the Jeep and wait, but my mind drifted to the previous night, dinner at Tallus’s parents’, the multiple drinks I’d consumed, and the cigarette I’d smoked after escaping to take a phone call.
Like always, Tallus refused to shine a light on my addictions, but the guilt that rose with my lack of control compounded each time I reached for the bottle or bought a new pack of smokes. My shame burned under the surface of my skin. I heard Bernice say,Weddings,sweetheart. Tallus tells me you have no interest in getting married. It’s a shame, really. It doesn’t have to be a fanfare. It can be simple.
I snorted. Simple and Diem Krause did not go together. Besides, I’d asked Tallus if he wanted more, and he’d told me no. He swore that what we had was enough. He was happy.
We’d discussed weddings and my stance on the whole fanfare, and Tallus had made it seem like he had no burning desire to tie the knot either.What we have is good enough, he’d told me.
Then why did it feel like it wasn’t?
Did Tallus say something different to his mother? Deep down, was he disappointed? My grandfather’s ring hung on a chain around his neck. He never took it off and liked to absently fondle it while he watched TV. It was a symbol of my commitment. Of my love. That ring meant more to me than a wedding ever would. Did he know that? Did he understand how much I loved him?
Was it no longer enough?
It’s enough, D. You’re enough.
I believed him, so why couldn’t I let it go?
The more I stewed, the more powerful the itch to drink and smoke and escape. Would Tallus want more if I were willing to give more? Was he agreeable for the sake of my feelings?
Tallus deserved a man with both feet firmly planted on the ground. Not a struggling addict who could barely converse with his parents over Sunday dinner. I wanted to be that man.
Costa Ruiz’s words from six months ago came back to me. Like they often did during times of self-reproach and doubt. We had stood in the covered parking lot at the hospital. He had helped Tallus rescue me after I’d been kidnapped from a high-profile syndicate that the police had been hunting for years. I was not in great shape that afternoon. Edges frayed. Addictions ripe and loud and screaming mercilessly inmy ears. Tallus’s near-death had hit hard, and I crashed into a bottle of liquor so fast I’d not been able to find my way out since.
I’d gone from long bouts of sobriety to nightly drinking. I’d gone from months of no cigarettes to a pack and a half a week. I wanted to let go of both but didn’t know how.
Ruiz claimed he knew a guy who might be willing to help. Not a therapist—I had one of those—but someone intimately acquainted with addiction. All I had to do was ask, he’d said.
All I had to do was man the fuck up and make a phone call. Admit I was too weak to do it on my own.
I’d sat on that phone call for months, unable to take action. Unable to admit that I needed help. That I couldn’t do it alone. I was familiar with the Twelve Steps from my time in rehab, and Step One was key to getting a person through the door.
“I am powerless over alcohol,” I whispered into the empty Jeep. “Alcohol has made me its bitch.” I huffed humorlessly.
Echo cocked her head to the side as though trying to understand the strange human words. I scratched her ear, and she leaned into the touch, tongue darting out to lick my wrist.
“I know. I own it, but what the fuck am I doing about it? Nothing. That’s what.”
I checked the time. I still had fifteen minutes before Tallus was done with work. With the insatiable urge to drink burning and itching under my skin and determination so weak it might not stick around long, I said to Echo, “What do you think, girl? Should we man up and go talk to him?”
