Mrs. Drew

Part 2: Spunk and Will

"Since that night it's like I can sense everything and recollect every bit of it. I recognize the gait of almost everyone in town and can hear them coming a meter away on a busy street. And I know I'm not a savant because I don't have any other symptoms. I read all about it when Dad took a case involving a savant named Erving Slater. He's serving time now for corporate espionage..."

Eloise listened intently to her vibrant niece. Where her brother had retreated into a solemn - still warm, but not yet whole - state of existence, Nancy had thrown herself back into life with defiance, if not true wellness.

"I spoke to the psychologist at school and he didn't believe me at first. So I told him what the girls gossipping outside his door were saying and he went out to ask them if I was right. He told me that I may have a form of PTSD."

"Did these girls happen to be Bess and George?"

"Yes, but I know I'm telling the truth. I couldn't risk being wrong. I needed answers."

"So you scheduled some sessions?"

"Of course not! That would only worry Dad and Hannah. And isn't it a fun party trick to know what song the jukebox will play next by the sound of the mechanism clicking into place?"

"I suppose so."

"Say," Nancy shot up from her seat on the porch, "Evening paper's coming."

Sure enough, a ten-year-old boy with dirty blond hair rounded the corner on his bicycle, throwing papers onto people's doorsteps with conscientious aim, never missing once.

"Catch Nancy!" he threw her bundle, "Evening, Ms. Drew!"

"Thanks, Ned!" she'd caught it neatly and had begun pouring over the headlining story.

Eloise waved at the boy distractedly. She knew better than to question her niece's fixation on the story, but her deepening frown was concerning.

"He never asked to see anyone else's safe," Nancy sipped her hot milk quietly, "He'd eat his fill, take their silverware and any other valuables he could readily see out in the open and carry in a garbage bag."

Eloise scanned the paper, "These other cases... a father, a husband, a big brother was always home. Perhaps he saw an opportunity when it was just you and your mom."

"A gun is a convincing deterrent to anyone... Dad keeps his files in the safe and he was on a case in New York. Usually he can tell us the gist of it without breaching confidentiality. That time? Nothing. And his trip was very short notice too. Did he say anything to you while he was there? Go anywhere besides the courthouse?"

"I... I don't know, Nancy..."

"Just try to think. Please?"

"... He'd... leave early and come back to the apartment late. He visited records I believe, but that's as standard as going to court. Of course, he could have gone anywhere for lunch and dinner and I wouldn't know it. Perhaps we could ask him -"

"No! No, this is... this is all speculation. The very idea that Mom... that she might still be with us if not for someone connected to a case of his... I don't know how he'd take it."

"Yes. And it's not even very likely, is it? The man was homeless, for landsakes. What interest could he possibly have in Carson's work?"

"He's homeless... Auntie, you're brilliant!"

"Why, thank you, but pray tell me how."

"It's not foolproof, but it's a start. I'll go to Walsh Street first thing!"

"What about school?"

"The shelters and missions all open at six. I'll have three whole hours. If I go with Bess and George we'll have covered the whole street by then."

"Nancy, Walsh isn't the best of places for a -"

"Please. Don't say 'child'. I stopped being a child when I stopped having a mother."

The girl looked eighteen instead of eight. Perhaps she'd just grown so much since Eloise last saw her.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't say such things. She's with me. Always. I'll always have her," Nancy gave her aunt a small smile and kissed her cheek, "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, sweetheart," Eloise watched her step inside the old brick house where it had all happened. She'd come to convince Carson to move to New York with his daughter and leave behind all the bad memories. He'd told her they'd also be leaving behind all the good ones.

"She's got her mother's spunk and her father's will, Ms. Drew," Hannah Gruen came out with a cup of tea like she could read her mind, "And I look after her like one of my own young'uns, so don't you worry none. 'Course we love having you here with us, so stay as long as you want."

"Thank you, Hannah. But I've left my post for long enough as it is. My students must be raining hell on my poor substitute by now. Call me if you or either of them need anything."

"Yes, ma'am," said the capable housekeeper.