The Legend of Joe Moran
Chapter 5Desert Road proved to be an excellent name for the street. The far side of the Westward Ho, where the store was located, was nothing but businesses and desert as far as the eye could see. Phoenix was a rapidly growing city, and this section of town seemed to be fairly new. Fifteen minutes later Stu was pulling into the Speedy parking lot.
This time a man came to the counter. "Can I help you, sir?"
"Who owns Speedy Dry Cleaners?" Stu asked. He wasn't quite expecting the answer he got.
"As a matter of fact, I do. Why?" The counterman was short and balding, with a small mustache. His clothes were, however, neatly pressed.
He once again pulled out his identification and gave the man a business card. "I'm Stuart Bailey, and I'm looking for someone. Someone named Joe Moran. Does that name ring any bells with you?"
"It does indeed, Mr. Bailey. I'm Hugh Dunston, by the way. I bought Speedy from Joe Moran some four years ago. The place was named Joe's at the time. Nothing's wrong with Joe, is there?"
"Not as far as I know. What did you know about Moran before you bought Joe's from him?" That was more information than Stu normally gave out, but Dunston seemed genuinely concerned and Stu didn't see any harm in it.
"Not a whole lot. He was in a hurry to sell and he gave me a good price. Said he was going to Florida to retire. I checked out all his claims about the business, of course, and they were all accurate. All his employees hated to see him leave. I kept them all on, of course. Since you're from California, I take it Joe went there instead of Florida."
"Do you know how long he owned the place?" Stuart adeptly avoided answering Dunston's question. He was beginning to see a pattern emerge.
Hugh nodded. "Four years, he told me. Is he in trouble of some sort?"
"No sir, that's not what this is all about. Did he have any relatives here that you know of?"
"I don't rightly know. I think he was married, but I never met her. Don't even know her name."
Stu hesitated, but asked the question anyway. "You don't happen to know where he lived before he came to Phoenix, do you?"
Hugh scratched his head. "Let me think. I know he told me one time. Was it . . . no, it wasn't there. Or maybe . . . not there either. Sorry Mr. Bailey, I just can't remember."
"Well, thank you for your time, Mr. Dunston." Stu turned to go and got three steps from the door when he heard a cry and turned around.
"Terra Haute, Mr. Bailey! It was Terra Haute! I knew I'd remember it!"
"Are you sure?" The last thing that Stu wanted to do was try to find some trace of Joe Moran in Terra Haute if Dunston wasn't certain.
"Yes sir, I'm positive." There was conviction in Dunston's voice. Stu sighed. He knew another trip was in his future.
He sat in his car and lit a cigarette. Where was this investigation going? Stu blew a cloud of smoke out and pulled out his notebook. P. Moran, 4375 Terrwood. Paula Moran, or Paul Moran? Relative or not? He sat and pondered everything he'd learned so far while he smoked. When he was done with his cigarette he pulled out his map and looked up Terrwood. In North Phoenix, he started the car and drove out of the parking lot headed to meet, he hoped, P. Moran.
Once again he was impressed with how much the city had grown since the last time he was in Phoenix. It seemed there was going to be another thriving city in the desert of the southwest.
When Stu got into North Phoenix he had a bit of trouble finding Terrwood, but after two or three wrong turns he finally located the street. It was an older, well-established neighborhood, but every house appeared to be well maintained. 4375 was down towards the end of the street, and Stu pulled up in front of a terra-cotta house with palm trees and cactus in the front yard. He parked on the street and got out of the car, heading for the front door.
He knocked and waited. After one or two minutes there was no answer and he knocked again. A female voice asked, "Who is it?"
"My name is Stuart Bailey and I'm looking for P. Moran." He began to think he was going to be ignored when the door slowly opened, revealing the person that went with the voice. A woman who looked to be in her forties stood on the other side of the open door. He was surprised when he realized she was a redhead, very much like Audrey Moran. She wore her hair on top of her head and was a noticeably attractive woman. She was dressed as the average housewife might be, but her clothing was undoubtedly a cut above average. "I'm a private investigator from California and I have some questions I'd like to ask P. Moran. Is that you, ma'am?" At the same time he handed her his business card, which he had retrieved while he was waiting for an answer to his knock. When she'd examined that and looked up he showed her his investigator's license.
"Yes, I'm Phyllis Moran. What is this about, Mr. Bailey?" she asked calmly.
"Do you know or know of a Joe Moran?" Stuart questioned her.
Phyllis Moran laughed for a moment before answering him. "I should, Mr. Bailey. I'm his ex-wife. Won't you come in?" Stu followed Mrs. Moran in and closed the door behind him. "Won't you have a seat, Mr. Bailey?"
The room was furnished in a tasteful and rather expensive-looking manner. Stu glanced around quickly and then took a seat on the couch.
"Would you like some coffee, Mr. Bailey? I just made a fresh pot. I also have some homemade cinnamon rolls. Would you like one?"
"That would be most welcome, Mrs. Moran. The coffee, I mean, not the cinnamon roll. Thank you."
It took her just a few minutes, and when Mrs. Moran returned she carried an elegant silver tray with an equally elegant coffee pot and cups. She set the tray on the coffee table that stood in front of the couch and asked Stu, "Do you need cream or sugar, Mr. Bailey?"
"No, ma'am. I take my coffee black, thank you." Moran's ex-wife poured a cup of coffee and handed it to Stu.
Mrs. Moran smiled. "Just like Joe. So, Mr. Bailey. Tell me why you're looking for information about Joe Moran."
Stu took a sip of coffee and set his cup down. He had to word his answer carefully; there was only so much he could reveal. "I have been engaged to find out what I can about Mr. Moran."
Phyllis Moran looked startled. "By whom, if I might ask?"
Stu shook his head. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Moran, I can't divulge that."
The ex-wife appeared satisfied, even though she didn't have her question answered. "What is it you want to know, Mr. Bailey?"
"How long were you and Joe married?"
"Mmm, maybe three years."
"And when were you married?"
A smile from Mrs. Moran again. "On August 26, 1952."
Stu proceeded down his list of questions. "Here in Phoenix?"
"Yes." She poured herself another cup of coffee and offered a refill to Stu. He shook his head.
"No, thank you. And what was Mr. Moran's business at the time?"
"He owned a dry cleaning business, a small store that he expanded twice during our marriage."
"Is that the store that is now known as Speedy's?"
"Yes sir, it is."
"And did Mr. Moran sell the dry cleaning business while you were still married?"
"Yes."
Stu had to pursue a line of questioning that might be uncomfortable for his hostess. He hoped to make it as painless as possible. He took another swallow of coffee and cleared his throat before proceeding. "Do you know what he did with those funds?"
Phyllis Moran didn't hesitate to answer. "He gave me part of it and kept the rest."
"How much did he give you, Mrs. Moran?"
"Is that pertinent to your investigation, Mr. Bailey?" It seemed a perfectly reasonable question on Mrs. Moran's part.
Stuart nodded his head. "Yes ma'am, it is. You have a nice home, with lovely furnishings, and are dressed quite well. Do you work outside the home, ma'am?"
"Yes, Mr. Bailey, I own a small floral shop about three blocks from here. I only stop by occasionally. I have a quite capable manager who runs things."
"That's the reason I asked the question regarding how much your ex-husband gave you. I'm trying to establish if Mr. Moran had enough money left to start or buy another business somewhere else in the country."
"I see. He gave me over ten-thousand dollars, Mr. Bailey. That would have left him a little over fifteen thousand dollars."
Stu cleared his throat again and checked his notes before asking the next questions. "When did Mr. Moran leave Phoenix? Do you know?"
"No sir, I do not. Mr. Moran left me within a week of selling his business, and I never looked for him after that."
"Why was that, Mrs. Moran?" Didn't it seem logical that a wife would try to find the husband that left? It certainly did to Stu, but he knew that one could never accuse women of being logical. He amended that thought. One could never accuse all women of being logical.
"He left me, Mr. Bailey. Or rather, he just vanished one day. If you are a man that cares for someone you don't just vanish. So, it didn't matter where he'd vanished to, even if it was in Phoenix. He left me. After a reasonable length of time, I divorced him." Phyllis Moran sounded quite smug, and extremely confident that she'd done the right thing. "Would you like any more coffee?" She asked, picking up the coffee pot.
Stu picked up his coffee cup and held it out. "Yes, ma'am, one more cup would be perfect." Mrs. Moran poured while he asked her another question. "What did you consider a reasonable length of time, Mrs. Moran?"
"Sixty days, Mr. Bailey. Sixty days was all I was willing to wait before freeing myself from that . . . that rat. That's what he was, you know. A rat in sheep's clothing."
Sixty days. He'd have to check Arizona divorce laws, but there was a possibility that Audrey's marriage to Joe was illegal. He sat back and drank what was in his cup. "You make excellent coffee, Mrs. Moran."
"Why thank you, Mr. Bailey. Are you sure you wouldn't like something to go with that? I still have those cinnamon rolls in the kitchen."
There was something about Phyllis Moran that Stu liked, even felt comfortable with. That was unusual for people he spent time questioning. He was almost tempted to take the proffered roll just to stay there a few more minutes. Instead, he finished his coffee and set the cup down. He had to call the office and have Jeff find out how long it took to obtain a divorce in Arizona. "Thank you, but no. One final question, Mrs. Moran. Do you know where Joe lived before he came to Phoenix?"
"Why, I believe he was from Terra Haute, Mr. Bailey."
Stu got up from the couch. "I want to thank you, Mrs. Moran, for your cooperation and your answers. You've helped me a great deal."
"Please don't hesitate to stop by again if you have any more questions. It's not often I have visitors at the house, Mr. Bailey, and you are quite pleasant company. Even if I did have to think about . . .him."
"Thank you again, ma'am," Stu told her. "I don't think I have any more questions, but just in case . . . I shall." What was it about Phyllis Moran that drew Stu's attention? She was attractive, but no great beauty. Not like some of the women he'd dated. No, there was just something about her that made him feel . . . at ease. Comfortable. Like a pair of old slippers. With that on his mind he left the Moran residence and got into his car. He pulled out a cigarette and his lighter and in just a minute he was blowing smoke out. Out of nowhere it occurred to him that he hadn't smoked a single cigarette while he was with Phyllis Moran. He hadn't even thought about smoking one, or pulling out his pipe. And he could have sat there the rest of the day and been perfectly content.
Stu shook his head and took another drag on his smoke. He started the car and pulled away from the Moran house, taking one more look back. Phyllis Moran was still standing at the front door watching him.