CHAPTER FIVE: Tuesday, January 8, 2013, 6:30 p.m.
"Finch, not much is happening here. I think I'll go over to the Retirement Center and pay Mrs. Duncan a little visit," he said to Finch through his ear piece as he stood across the street from the deli watching the Duncans go about their usual business.
"Be careful, Mr. Reese," Finch said. That was an automatic response but one that he also meant.
John hailed a cab and headed to Queens to the Retirement Center where Mrs. Duncan had been living for the past three years.
When he arrived, the center was just as he had envisioned. Finding his way to the reception desk, John asked where Mrs. Duncan's room was. He was directed to 208 with a smile and up and down glances from the women behind the counter. They pointed him in the right direction. As he approached the door, he paused. Hearing nothing but the television, he knocked several times. There was no answer. Slowly entering, John could see Mrs. Duncan asleep in her bed with the television on late afternoon talk shows. He took a chair beside her bed and looked at her for several moments. She seemed harmless enough, but he had been in this business long enough to no longer be fooled by appearances.
"Mrs. Duncan," he said.
No response.
He touched her on her arm that lay out of the covers.
No response.
He continued to sit for several more minutes.
Nothing.
Sitting for awhile longer, he thought to himself that this was a waste of time. So he headed back to the reception area where he thought he could smile his way into some information.
"Ugh…Connie," he said peering down to look at her name badge. "My friend, Mrs. Duncan…is she just a heavy sleeper? I can't get her to wake up. I haven't see her in several years…well, at least since she was at the deli last," he said, trying his best at appearing innocent and flirtatious.
"That's all she does. We've been told to keep on the television, but she doesn't wake up much. When she does, she screams," Connie told him.
"Screams?" John asked.
"Yeah, yells for help. It's awful, so we're glad she sleeps most of the time," Connie added.
The hair arose on the back of John's neck. This wasn't good. "Does she have many visitors?" John asked.
"Just her kids and a couple of nephews," Connie said. "They come about every other day or so."
"Is she happy to see them?" John asked.
"She doesn't even know they're there. Kinda sad…really," Connie said.
"Thank you. You've been very helpful," John said as he turned to leave the Retirement Center.
"Helpful?" Connie asked, her tone rising.
"Well, you know," John answered, turning back around to face her.
Connie just stared at him. She didn't know.
John couldn't think of anything to add, so he turned up the sides of his mouth as large as they would go. "I just meant thank you very much for helping me," he said as he turned back around and started heading toward the exit door.
Come back any time," Connie yelled down the hall to him as he opened the door.
John turned and nodded to her with the big smile still on his face. He knew that he probably needed to go back to the Retirement Center, and he knew he needed all the help from the inside he could possibly get. "I will, and I'll be sure to look you up," John flirted. He knew he was not very good at flirting with women. But Connie seemed overly enthusiastic, so he really didn't have to try very hard. That was a good thing, he thought.
He headed back to the deli to see what the Duncan siblings might be up to. He knew the deli was scheduled to close at 9 p.m., so he wanted to see what they did after closing.
When he arrived at the deli, he waited uneventfully across the street with binoculars in hand and a camera wrapped around his neck. It was only a few hours until closing. The smell of the bread reminded him that all he had eaten that day was the coffee in the morning and then the turkey sandwich the daughter had made for him at 10:30. He continued to watch them scurry around inside. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
A little after 9 p.m., the daughter flipped the sign to Closed. They continued working, appearing to clean and get ready for the next day. Eventually, one by one, they all sat at a back table and began sipping coffee and eating sandwiches. They didn't appear to be in any hurry to leave.
Sometime later, it was apparent that they heard something in the back room, so they all got up and headed in that direction. John needed to get closer to see what was going on. He clicked on his ear piece and said, "Finch, someone must have come through the back entrance. They all went to the back. I'm getting closer to see what's going on."
"Careful, Mr. Reese," Finch warned. "I've been doing a little digging on the Duncan family. Ester Duncan's husband wasn't always a Duncan."
"He changed his name?" Reese asked as he started trotting across the street.
"Yes, Abraham Duncan used to be Abram Durchenko. Both he and Ester legally changed their names in 1946 before having their first child," Finch emphatically stated into the phone, hoping John would understand that the situation he may be coming upon could be more dangerous than usual. Tangling with the Russian mob single-handedly would be a death sentence for John.
"So your point, Mr. Finch, is that Ester and Abram Durchenko didn't want their children saddled with Russian names?" Reese asked.
"Well…yes, Mr. Reese…but also that they seemed to sever all their ties with Russia and become fully Americanized at that point," Finch answered. "That's also when they opened their little deli."
"I don't think there is any need for hysterics at this juncture in the road, Mr. Finch," Reese said.
"Well no, Mr. Reese, just be careful. I have a bad feeling about this one," Finch calmly stated.
"You and your bad feeling are dually noted," Reese stated as he made his way to the corner of the deli so he could peer inside. He could see shadows but not make out anything so he decided to go to the back alley and try to get a letter look through the backdoor. Creeping down the dark alley, he could barely see in front of himself because it was so dark. It had gotten quite cold. He turned up his collar around his neck to try to keep the frigid air out.
As he neared the back entrance of the deli, he could hear their voices…a mixture of American and Russian accents yelling at one another. There appeared to be all men except for the Duncan daughter who had served him his sandwich earlier in the day. They were arguing about money, and John strained to hear more of what they were yelling about.
As he crept closer to the deli's back door, John accidently stepped on the plastic trash bags that had been thrown in the alley awaiting for their trip to the trash bins. He stumbled as he tried to make his way around the trash that had clinked and rattled with the garbage inside.
"Finch, I may need some help here," John worriedly stated in his ear piece. After he caught his balance, he stood very still, away from the door in case someone were to come out of the backdoor. Holding his breath, he waited.
"Reese…are you alright?" Finch yelled into the phone.
John said nothing for fear that someone would hear him.
"John…John…are you alright? I'm calling Carter and Fusco," Finch exclaimed.
"I'm okay," Reese whispered. There didn't seem to be anyone coming out, so he let out his pent up breath. He listened at the door. He could still hear them yelling.
One of the Duncan sons yelled something inaudible about his mother while one of the Russians yelled about cleaning the money. His accent was heavy. It had to be mob connected, Reese thought. Maybe the Duncan siblings were laundering money for the Russian mob. But how is this connected to the threat against Ester Duncan's life, he thought. There were too many pieces of the puzzle and just not a clear picture at all. Maybe he needed to go back to the Retirement Home for another visit to Mrs. Duncan, he thought.
He flicked on the light on his watch's face to see the time. It was later than he had thought it was. "Finch, in the morning I'm heading back to the Retirement Home for another visit to Ester. Something is just not right. Since she's the one who's presumably being threatened, maybe I can find some answers there if I dig a little deeper. I'll touch base with you when I'm there if I discover anything useful at all to this case," John whispered.
"What are you going to do now? Finch asked.
"I thought I would watch them for a while longer from across the street and see what might be happening inside that deli," Reese answered.
"That's good…a much better plan, Mr. Reese," Finch responded.
"You're worried about me, huh, Mr. Finch?" Reese asked in a mocking tone.
Finch clicked off the phone.
Reese laughed to himself as he headed out of the alley and back across the street from the deli.