The Simon brothers drove to Fairmont Park in A.J.'s Camaro to see Karyn Hojnacki. The apartment complex she resided in was within the mid-price range, clean with certain amenities but not too fancy.
Rick knocked on the door of Karyn's unit, and she answered it almost immediately. She was tall, about five-nine, or ten in flats, in her mid-thirties, give or take a few years. She had green eyes of a Bengal tiger and wavy red hair, which was not orange or reddish brown but flaming red that matched the color of her lipstick. And she had nice curves and great, long legs that she showed off in Capri pants, Rick noticed.
"Hi. Mrs. Karyn Hojnacki? I'm…"
"Tall, dark and just rugged—you must be Rick. And I told you, it's Karyn. Come on in."
As Karyn opened the door wide to let the brothers in, A.J. cued his brother by tugging his jacket sleeve.
"Karyn, this is my brother, A.J."
Before A.J. could greet her, she saw him standing behind Rick and exclaimed, "Oh, my! He is cute! No wonder Jennifer can't stop talking about him."
A.J. turned traffic-light red but managed to mutter, "Nice to meet you, ma'am."
Karyn made a great first impression on Rick. He'd give any woman who could make his brother squirm a high mark.
Karyn led Rick and A.J. to the living room. Rick sat next to her on the couch while A.J. chose the armchair to put as much space as possible between him and her.
"I'm having some coffee. Would you like something to drink? Tea, coffee, or something a little stronger?" asked she looking into Rick's eyes.
"Um, a cup of coffee would be nice, thank you," answered Rick.
"How would you like it? Cream? Sugar?"
"Black."
"Just like a man. I knew it."
Karyn stood up laughing playfully. "Can I get you anything, hon?" She asked A.J.
"No, thank you." A.J. politely turned down the offer.
When Karyn returned from the kitchen with the coffee, Rick started talking shop.
"All right, Karyn. Before we start, we'd like some background information on your husband. Tell us anything you can think of—it might help our investigation in some way."
"Well, there's not much to tell you," said she with a shrug. "Ben grew up in New York as a ward of the state."
"Any relatives you know of?" asked Rick.
"None. No known relatives. Anyway, as soon as he turned eighteen, he left the state and drifted. I met him in Vegas a couple of years ago. He said he'd just come back from Mexico, where he'd worked as a roughneck in some oilfields for a few years. I'm from Bridgeport, Connecticut, just across Long Island Sound from Port Jeff—Port Jefferson, New York—so we share some common background, and a few months after we first met, he moved in with me. A couple of months before we moved to San Diego, we got married."
"How old is he?" asked Rick.
"He'll be forty-two in December."
A.J. looked up from his notes that he had been meticulously taking and asked, "What does your husband do? Where does he work?"
"He worked as a heavy machinery operator at Ace Appliances' warehouse."
"Worked?" Rick and A.J. asked in unison.
"I talked to the foreman the other day looking for Ben. Said my husband had been a no-show for a week or more. He asked me if I want to come pick up his last check, or if I want him to mail it to me."
Rick and A.J. looked at each other, alarmed. Uh-oh!
"Karyn, do you work?" Rick asked although Jennifer had said Karyn didn't work.
"No, but I've done a lot of waitressing in the past. Why do you want to know?" She searched the brothers' faces. "Oh, I know what you're thinking. You don't have to worry about getting stiffed." She giggled.
"Our rate is four hundred dollars per day plus expenses." A.J. informed the newest client to be on the safe side.
"No problem. I live in a cheap apartment, but that doesn't mean I'm indigent, okay? I received a lump sum payment of the benefits from the insurance company when I lost my former husband."
The brothers expressed their sympathy. A brief but awkward silence followed. Strategizing the next move, Rick reached for a pack of cigarettes in his shirt pocket but hesitated to ask Karyn if he could smoke—there was no ashtray on the coffee table.
The eyes of Karyn the waitress didn't miss a thing. "Go ahead, Rick. You can use the saucer for an ashtray."
"Uh, thanks."
As Rick lit his cigarette, A.J. took over the questioning, "Does you husband have friends at work? Anywhere?"
"He's been a drifter most of his adult life, and he keeps to himself. The only true friend he ever had was also a drifter, but he died on the street. Pneumonia, Ben said, but who knows, they were street kids." Karyn frowned remembering something. "He used to say, 'Bean and I were the Often Brothers.'"
"Often Brothers?" asked Rick blowing out the cigarette smoke. "What's that mean?"
"He never tells me. Whenever I ask, he'd only say, 'Cultivate more interest in books and theater,' like it's a big joke."
"The Pirates of Penzance!" A.J. suddenly spoke up excitedly.
"Huh? What're ya talkin' about?" asked Rick.
"I think he's referring to a certain joke in an operetta called The Pirates of Penzance by Gilbert & Sullivan."
Seeing a blank look on Rick's face, A.J. continued, "There's a scene in Act One where the communication between two characters breaks down because they have trouble differentiating 'often' and 'orphan.'"
"That is the dumbest thing I've ever heard," proclaimed Rick.
"It's a British comedy."
"My brother loves books and theater." Rick explained to Karyn almost apologetically.
"So does my husband." She turned her attention to A.J. "So, he's trying to say he and Bean were orphan brothers?"
"Maybe they grew up together in an orphanage or had the same foster parents. Do you remember anything else?" asked A.J.
Karyn shook her head. "Nope. I don't know Bean's real name, or where he was from. Ben doesn't like talking about his childhood in New York. Too painful for him."
"Not that it really matters. I mean, this guy, Bean, died long ago, right?" Rick chimed in. "What about other friends and acquaintances? Does your husband occasionally have a drink with his coworkers?"
"He's not much of a drinker, but he's gone out with the boys from work to have a few, maybe five, six times. I don't know the names of any of these guys though. Except Ron, but he's no friend of Ben's."
"Let me guess—the boss?" asked Rick grinning.
Karyn nodded. "Ben says Ron's a blowhard who doesn't know what he's doing. My husband's real smart, but his social skills are sub-par. Once he made a mistake of correcting, and I quote, 'a glaring error' in Ron's presentation in front of everyone, including the head honcho who was visiting the site that day. Ever since, Ron's been on the warpath, making Ben's life at work a living hell."
"Do you know if this animosity between them has ever resulted in physical altercations?" asked A.J.
"As far as I know, no."
"Nevertheless, we will interview him and a few other people at his workplace," assured A.J.
"So, tell me what happened the day before your husband disappeared. Did you have a fight? Or did you see anything out of the ordinary?" asked Rick.
"You know, I've been racking my brain to remember anything that might be relevant, but I always come up with nothing. Sure, we may have had a few harsh words, but they didn't amount to a fight. All married couples do that from time to time, right?"
"Oh, sure." Rick nodded authoritatively. "But let us know if you remember anything at all, okay?"
"Sure."
"What kind of car does he drive? Do you know the make and model?" Rick continued the questioning.
"We have only one car, and I have it. A 79 Skylark"
The brothers exchanged a look of disbelief.
"Does he know how to drive?" asked Rick.
"Of course he does. He's a great mechanic too. It's just that he's so used to not driving a car having been a transient for so long. He takes the bus to work."
The brothers made a mental note to check on car rental companies and public transportation services including taxis.
"Do you have any idea how much cash your husband had on him the last time you saw him? Does he have credit cards?" asked A.J.
"He doesn't like carrying too much money, so I'd say about fifty bucks. Ben doesn't have any credit cards 'cause his credit history is little to none."
"But he does have a bank account, doesn't he? A joint account maybe?" asked Rick. Seeing Karyn nodding her head, he added, "Could you check with your bank to see if he made any withdrawals from his account since the day of disappearance?"
"Sure," agreed Karyn with little enthusiasm. "What else do you need?"
"Ah, we need to poke around a little bit if you don't mind," said Rick.
"What we'd like to see is his personal effects such as correspondence, clothing, personal records. We also would like a recent picture of your husband." A.J. explained their request in detail.
"Okay, but there isn't much. Ben's not materialistic. And there's no personal letters 'cause he has no close friends or relatives," said Karyn as she stood up and walked ahead of the brothers to the main bedroom.
She was right; Ben's clothes occupied less than a third of the closet space. Rick began to methodically check the pockets of Ben's jackets and shirts while A.J. examined several photographs of the Hojnackis on the chest of drawers. The photos were too small to see Ben's facial features clearly. Some showed Karyn and Ben standing side by side, which gave A.J. a rough idea of how tall the missing man was—he was perhaps an inch or two taller than his wife. That meant Ben was probably between five-ten and six feet.
"Excuse me, ma'am," said A.J. to Karyn. He couldn't bring himself to call the new client by her first name. "Do you have a close-up shot of your husband?"
"He's real camera-shy, but there should be one or two close-ups somewhere in the photo albums," answered Karyn.
"He's, what, around five-eleven, six feet? About one-seventy? Brown hair, brown eyes?"
"Six-one. I don't remember his weight, but he's lean. He has dark brown hair and hazel eyes."
A.J. saw a pile of books on one of the nightstands and read the titles: Roots by Alex Haley, Collected Plays of Peter Shaffer, The Greek Coffin Mystery by Ellery Queen, H. P. Lovecraft Anthology, I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou, Language and Mind by Noam Chomsky, Mein Kampf…
Seeing A.J. pawing through the books, Karyn commented, "Ben reads three or four books at the same time. Isn't that crazy? I don't know how he can follow several different plots all at once."
"Reading books of different genres might help—his literary interest is quite diverse."
Rick listened in on the conversation between A.J. and Karyn while going through Ben's clothes in the closet. A few minutes into the search, his probing hand found something in the pocket of a windbreaker. The tactile sensation detected what it was before he actually saw it—a matchbook. He took it out of the pocket and held it in the palm of his hand.
"Find something interesting?" asked A.J. and took a few steps toward Rick to inspect the object in his hand.
"Don't know yet," replied Rick as he turned the matchbook over. "Todd's Tavern. Do you know if there's a bar by that name in this neighborhood, Karyn?"
Karyn frowned. "Um, no, I don't think so, but I'm not sure. Sorry."
"That's okay. The phone number's listed right here. We'll check it out."
Rick tossed the matchbook to A.J. and continued his search. When it was over, all three of them returned to the living room.
Karyn eventually found good enough a photograph of Ben in suit and tie.
"How recent is this picture?" asked Rick.
"It was taken right after our wedding, so ten months ago."
"Sounds good." Rick nodded his approval. "I guess we got enough stuff for now. Before we go, I want to let you know that we'll give you a daily report by phone, a written report within a week if you'd like."
"I'd like that."
The brothers left Karyn's apartment a short while later. As they walked down the stairs, Rick began laying out his investigation plan.
"This guy, Ben, is practically broke, and he doesn't have a car, so unless he has some serious money stashed away somewhere, the chances are he's still nearby. We'll contact the police to see if they checked the local hospitals, the coroner's office, and shelters. But, of course, that's the easy part. He's been a drifter, so he knows how to get by with little resources…"
Rick realized then that A.J. had been uncharacteristically reticent. "A.J.?"
"Yeah, I'm listening," replied A.J., but he sounded as excited as a man en route to the dentist for a root canal.
"Hey." Rick put his hand on A.J.'s shoulder and pushed him back slightly to make his brother face him. "What's eatin' you?"
"I don't know, Rick, but some things just don't add up."
"Like what?"
A.J. took out a matchbook from the pant pocket. "Like this one, for instance."
"What's so strange about it? I get matchbooks from local bars all the time."
"Yes, you do, but I don't. Know why? 'Cause you smoke and I don't."
Something clicked in Rick's head. "Okay, so there was no ashtray on the coffee table. But it is possible that Karyn cleaned it and didn't put it back on the table."
"Not very likely." A.J. disputed. "One of the reasons I hate getting in your boat cabin is that it smells like a giant ashtray. Karyn's apartment has no trace of cigarette odor anywhere even on Ben's clothes. And I didn't see yellow nicotine stains on the walls and the ceiling. No ashtray on the nightstand by Ben's side of the bed either, just books—how can you explain that if you're trying to prove he's a smoker? I know you have a pack of cigarettes, a lighter and an ashtray among other things on your nightstand because you like to smoke first thing in the morning."
"What're ya sayin'? Someone planted the matchbook to throw us off?"
"Or, to lead us to the path they want us to choose."
Rick stared at his brother. "Isn't it too early to be so paranoid even for you?"
"I'm just pointing out some facts."
"But you're making a lot of assumptions as well. There are other possible scenarios, you know. Maybe Karyn's a neat-freak and won't let her husband smoke at home, and she washes his clothes real good to get the tobacco smell out before she hangs them in the closet. Maybe Ben's a non-smoker and got the matchbook to remember the name of the bar or the phone number. Or, maybe he lit a cigarette for his buddy, or a lady sitting next to him at the bar. The matchbook's been used, if you haven't noticed. And if it bothers you so much, why didn't you ask Karyn if Ben smokes or not?"
A.J. made a face sticking out his lower lip. "It's not just the matchbook, Rick. There are other things that bother me."
"Don't do this, A.J." Anger that simmered under the surface crept into Rick's voice. "You agreed to take this case."
"Yeah," said A.J. grudgingly. "But you can't make me like it. Particularly the way Mrs. Hojnacki latched onto you right from the beginning."
Wide-eyed, Rick stared at A.J. "So, is that it? Is that what's bothering you?"
"Don't you think it's strange…?"
Rick cut his brother off, "You may be real popular among lots of girls, but that doesn't make you God's gift to women, you know."
"What?" The unwarranted accusation of vanity and jealousy caused A.J.'s jaw to drop. "That's not…"
"Jennifer has a crush on you; Karyn's sweet on me. What's wrong with that?"
With that pronouncement, Rick stalked off signaling that he'd had enough of his brother. A.J.'s shoulders slumped a little. He knew it was futile to reason with Rick when he was in a dark mood like this. "Will you please leave Jennifer out of this?" He grumbled feebly as he trudged along behind his brother.
