Sold on a Monday: A Novel
Sold on a Monday: Part 3 – Chapter 31

Ellis was booked at the Hudson County jail. It smelled exactly as he would have guessed. An aromatic brew of stale booze, mold, and piss. The bowls of slop they served didn’t rate much better.

For assaulting an officer and resisting arrest, his bail was set at fifty bucks. A slight problem, given the sum of eight dollars in his wallet. He was permitted one phone call—and he wasted it. His bank in Manhattan had frozen his account, and no amount of pleading, even with the manager, garnered more than “We’ll gladly look into that, sir.”

A favor paid to Alfred, no doubt. Banking had to be like any other business in that way. Members looked out for their own. Or maybe the man’s underworld ties played a factor. It would certainly explain the guard’s unwillingness to grant him another call, answering “Later” in a gruff baritone to each of Ellis’s requests.

On the upside, he had ample time to choose which person to ring. A whole workday, in fact. It was evening, and he was still stuck in this narrow cage with nothing but a thin, stained mattress on a cot. A good portion of the neighboring cells would surely be occupied by dawn. The drunkards were steadily rolling in.

Rants from one of them competed now with keys clanking as the barrel-chested guard paused at Ellis’s cell. “Let’s go,” he said, unlocking the door.

Ellis scrambled from his bed.

Eager for that second call, he considered various folks as he was escorted down the corridor and through two sets of locked doors. He ruled out Dutch, given the late hour and funds required. The guy had his own family to worry about—same as Lily, naturally the first person who’d rushed to mind. Mr. Walker was an even easier no. Maybe one of the reporters Ellis had traded small favors with in the past, at various papers around town, would be worth a try. If he could reach them.

At the end of a hallway, the guard pointed with his stick. “In there.”

Ellis was directed into a room with no phone. Just two chairs divided by a table, and a man in a dark suit who stood facing a barred window. The setup, likely reserved for legal chats, suggested that somehow a lawyer had come calling, until the guy turned.

Alfred.

“Sit,” the guard ordered.

Dread swirled as Ellis rounded the table and took a seat. He should have expected this.

Alfred dismissed the guard to stand post outside the door and settled into the other chair. Left in privacy, he gestured toward Ellis’s face with the fedora in his hand. “It appears you’ve had a rough day.”

Ellis resisted touching his cheek. It still stung from the meeting with pavement. “I’ve had better.”

“No question you have.” Alfred set aside his hat that carried the scent of pipe tobacco. He laced his fingers so casually you’d think they were sharing after-dinner bourbons. “I must admit, when I asked an officer to patrol the school area, I imagined only a warning would come of it, if anything at all.”

There it was. The cop’s arrival on the scene hadn’t been a coincidence.

This also meant that Alfred had waited all these hours to make an appearance.

“Guess I’m an overachiever.”

“Apparently so.” Alfred’s smile lifted the edges of his mustache. In contrast to their last encounter, the man’s pleasantries now made Ellis wary. “Mr. Reed, I’m here because I’d like to clear up some confusion. But first, I’d like to thank you.”

“Thank me…”

“I believe we got off on the wrong foot. As I’m sure you’re aware, your female colleague’s recent visit was rather upsetting to my wife. And your intentions appeared even more questionable after I contacted your editor. All of that, however, was before I spoke with Victoria.”

Unless the Millstones had acquired a spiritualist, he was referring to Ruby. But Ellis refrained from pointing this out. Antagonizing Alfred would only hinder the bail situation, let alone an inquiry about Calvin. “How’s that?”

“Once I learned who you were—that you were responsible for her picture in the paper—I realized I actually owed you my gratitude. Indirectly, you helped me and my wife through a very dark time.”

There was no reason to prod. It had become apparent that Alfred was the type who operated with planning and purpose. What that purpose was, Ellis hadn’t figured out yet.

“My wife and I married rather late in life, you understand. So, we felt extremely fortunate when Sylvia gave birth to our daughter. For ten years, Victoria was our absolute pride and joy, and then…she was gone.”

“In the accident,” Ellis volunteered, not unkindly.

“Yes. I suppose you’ve read about that.” Behind his horn-rimmed glasses, Alfred’s eyes lowered a bit. “On a winding road, with so much rain, the car just slid right off. It couldn’t have been prevented, but Sylvia still blamed herself. Officers hammering her with questions didn’t help. Reporters too.” There was resentment in his voice, though seemingly not directed at Ellis.

“After the funeral, she spent nearly a month in bed. It took several more before she left the house at all. Gradually, she improved, even journeying out with old friends on occasion. Then one day, the maid was airing out our daughter’s room. While dusting the shelves, she broke a figurine. Victoria’s favorite glass fairy. Sylvia became hysterical. When the maid phoned, I rushed straight home, but the damage was done. Sylvia’s blue mood returned, even deeper than before. She rarely ate or slept, and her health rapidly declined. As her husband, I felt so helpless to save her, I felt as if—” He stopped suddenly. Bringing his fist to his mouth, he coughed once and cleared his throat.

Ellis withheld any response as Alfred reset himself before going on.

“The doctors agreed she belonged in an asylum. She could receive proper treatment there, they said. The arrangements were finally being made when Sylvia stumbled upon that newspaper. I’d left it folded on my night table. I had barely skimmed the pages myself. If I’d seen the photo, I definitely would’ve noticed the girl’s striking resemblance to our daughter.”

“So you replaced her.” At this point, Ellis couldn’t hide his irritation. This wasn’t a goldfish they were talking about. Flush one down the john, and pick up another.

“I realize it might seem…unconventional. I had reservations myself. But Sylvia was so hopeful. She was entirely convinced it was a sign, a gift straight from heaven. In the end, there was no decision to be made. I set off to Pennsylvania to bring the girl into our family, one who plainly needed us as much as we needed her.”

Ellis winced at the account, or more aptly at what was missing. Because there wasn’t just a girl. There was also a boy. At the thought, Geraldine’s words swung back—the stipulation she’d required—and the scene came together.

“You had to take her brother, though, or there was no deal.”

Alfred looked surprised, almost impressed. “That was the agreement, yes…which I respectfully honored. And now, Mr. Reed, I ask that you do the same for me.” He leaned forward, geniality fading. “After all that I’ve shared, with everything considered, I trust you’ll see how a second article about the children would only cause unnecessary harm.”

And therein lay the goal of this heart-to-heart.

Admittedly, the presumption was sound—Mr. Walker had once proposed an article precisely in that vein—yet it was still mistaken.

“Listen,” Ellis said. “I’ve got no interest in writing a story about the kids. Or your family.” He knew he’d just relinquished the threat that could have served as leverage. But being on the level seemed the wisest route.

Alfred peered intently through his lenses. “What is it you want, then?”

“I need to know the boy is safe, for personal reasons.”

Ellis waited, not adding what he’d been told by Ruby. If he’d learned anything from his job, it was that truths tended to float to the surface when, after a little stirring, you simply let a person talk.

But right then, the door to the room opened. A drunkard’s profanities projected from the hall as the baritone guard delivered a chair to Alfred’s side, an act explained when Sylvia walked into the room. She jolted when the door shut behind the guard, and Alfred stood up.

“Darling, I told you to stay in the waiting area.” His worries were almost as evident as his wife’s unease about her surroundings.

“I have a right to be here,” she said, straightening with purse in hand.

“Yes, dear, but I’ve already handled this. There isn’t going to be any article to trouble yourself over. He only wants to know about the children, to verify their well-being.”

This didn’t sway her from claiming a spot at the table.

“That’s all I’m after,” Ellis affirmed, but still she eyed him, unconvinced.

“Then why all the sneaky behavior? Why not just come out and ask?”

Alfred sat back down, a flush mottling his skin.

The question briefly stumped Ellis. Then he recalled the guilt and secrecy that had plagued his involvement from the start. The lies at its core were like the jaws of a trap, still biting down, the slow bleed going on, draining the good in his life, and the lives of others, until he pried that trap free.

With the truth.

“There’s more to the story, is why.” Surely to his detriment, he professed, “The picture wasn’t real…that is, the picture was real, but the sign wasn’t theirs. I put it there myself.” Not a day would go by when he wouldn’t regret that choice. “The point being, Geraldine had no intention of selling her kids.”

Sylvia stiffened. The tendons in her neck went tight as wires. “You’re wrong. Because she did just that. Isn’t that right, Alfred?”

Ellis charged on. “She was sick back then. The diagnosis was wrong, but she didn’t know yet. She thought she was incurable. Mr. Millstone, you saw her yourself. By the time you were there, she couldn’t have looked well.”

Alfred’s mouth parted. He struggled to answer, and his gaze retreated to his hat.

Sylvia burst out, “This is preposterous! That woman made her choice.” Visibly trembling, she curled her fingers as if readying to claw, to swipe in defense of what was hers. But then she glanced at the purse in her clutches and seemed to steady from a thought. “We’ve already been more than understanding. When that mother conveniently wanted her son back, we agreed without a hassle.” While saying this, Sylvia produced a folded paper from her handbag and slid it toward Ellis. “See for yourself.”

The letter.

Guarded with suspicion, he flattened the note, bare of an envelope.

My dearest Ruby, it began.

The script was unrefined, peppered with misspellings, but legible enough to decipher.

Ellis’s mind flashed on an image of Geraldine penning the letter. The message matched Ruby’s summary, of choosing one child over the other, of apologizing for not saying goodbye in person. It was heartrending. Cruel.

And he knew without a doubt…

“Geraldine didn’t write this,” he said. “And she doesn’t have her son.”

Alfred’s eyes flickered toward Sylvia, an indiscernible look.

All along, Ellis had refused to imagine the worst. Now it was unavoidable. Still, before the couple could argue or walk out, he needed to play it smart.

“Mr. and Mrs. Millstone, I know you understand the grief of losing a child. The horrendous tragedy of it, the unfairness. Victoria was obviously a special little girl. Not being a parent myself, I can’t fathom the pain you went through from the accident. What I do know is that you have an opportunity here, a chance to reunite a mother with her children. Please,” he said, “help me do that. Tell me what happened to Calvin.”

In the midst of his appeal, Sylvia’s demeanor had gone slack. There was a glossiness in her eyes, a distance to her stare.

“Mrs. Millstone?”

Alfred abruptly came to his feet. “Darling, it’s best we go.” He put a hand on her shoulder. As her awareness returned, her attention landed on Ellis.

“Come now,” Alfred said. “Sylvia?”

She shook her head.

“Darling, really. I think it’s best—”

“No,” she said flatly.

Alfred lingered in place. Ellis could see him weighing the alternative of dragging her out, creating a scene that would summon the guard. Grudgingly he lowered back into his chair.

What was he afraid she’d say?

Ellis bit down, anxious for Sylvia to speak.

“I first need you to swear, Mr. Reed, that there’ll be no more questions, no more poking around. And that you’ll stay away from all of us for good, so we can go about our lives just as before.”

Before. As in, before Ellis’s funds were blocked and he was tossed in a cell? Or before the children were stripped from their real mother?

He replied in all honesty, “Afraid I can’t guarantee that.” Sylvia’s fingers curled again before he elaborated. “Not with a court date that’ll require me to explain why I was at the school. The judge will want to hear about my ties to your family. I bet there’ll be a slew of questions, too, that I won’t know how to answer.” In sum, it was better if she filled him in on the details now.

Sylvia mulled this over and quickly arrived at a decision. “I’ll see to it that the charges are dropped,” she said.

“And if I don’t want them to be?” The challenge had just left Ellis’s mouth when he recalled the brutality of her husband’s shady connections. He braced himself but didn’t back down. “I figure it’s one way to get some answers of my own.”

A hint of panic crossed her face, a mental scramble in a test of wills. “If you feel that’s absolutely necessary, then…then I’d suggest you prepare to face another charge.”

“Oh? What for?”

She lifted her chin and her features hardened. “An inappropriate relationship,” she stated. “With our daughter.”

Alfred’s eyes widened, yet he remained silent. He was simply a passenger on a runaway coach, set to plow through Ellis’s life.

Hands balling into fists, Ellis seethed at what Sylvia was suggesting. Every disgusting bit of it. Being in a jailhouse was the only thing keeping his voice level. “No judge’ll buy that. Not without a shred of proof.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” she conceded. “But what of your boss? Or your friends and readers? It’s remarkable, really, what people take to be truth simply because they saw it in the paper. Isn’t that so?”

His admission of the photo had, within minutes, backfired in the harshest of ways.

How many writers from competing papers would jump on that story? Maybe even from the Tribune? He could see the highlights now: reporter stages a picture of two poor kids, trails them across state lines, fakes an assignment to get closer to the girl, gets arrested after being ordered to stay away.

It had sources. It had scandal. And all of it was true. Even without a false accusation of indecency, his reputation and credibility would be shot.

As would any chance of Geraldine seeing her children.

Ellis fought an onslaught of nausea while steering back to his mission. He asked, slow and firm, “What…happened…to Calvin?”

Alfred, too, was looking at Sylvia, awaiting an answer.

“I see you need time to think things over,” she said to Ellis. “I trust you’ll let us know when you decide.”

A surge of anger sprang Ellis to his feet, and Alfred scrambled to rise with a defensive arm across his wife. A silent standoff.

“Everything okay in here?” the guard asked, suddenly in the room. His question was clearly meant for the Millstones.

Ellis had no other option. With effort, he eased himself back. Not only for his own sake, but for Ruby and Calvin. This wasn’t the way to uncover the truth, or to help either kid.

“We’re fine,” Alfred answered for them all. He dropped his hand to gather his hat. “It’s time to go, Sylvia.”

Without further protest, she rose from the table, her face eerily unreadable. The couple exited the room, leaving Ellis to stare at two empty chairs. His pulse throbbed at his temples.

“Party’s over. Back to your cell.” The guard’s command didn’t register at first. When it did, Ellis mindlessly stepped forward until a single thought grabbed hold.

“I need to get outta here.”

“Won’t be tonight.”

Ellis looked at him. “Why?”

“Bail clerk’s gone. Have to wait till morning.”

Was that the Millstones’ plan, a flexing of muscle? A whole night behind bars just might encourage cooperation.

“At least let me have a second call.” A half plea, half demand. “Please.”

The guard waffled through a long blink.

It was just as possible that the cops were teaching Ellis a lesson for smacking their fellow pal in blue. If so, he hated to imagine what other ways they might take revenge if he stayed here much longer.

The guard huffed. “Make it fast.”

Ellis nodded with vigor, and his mind swam. There had to be someone around with enough money or pull, or both, to spring him loose. A new level of desperation produced two possibilities: the first was the Irish mobster who’d traded tips that once saved Ellis’s career, and the second…was Ellis’s father. Soliciting help from either one would come at a price.

Sadly, it wasn’t an easy choice.