Solomon's Gold

CHAPTER 24

It was dark by the time Stephanie got to Miriam's third floor apartment. She opened the door with a set of picks Ronnie had taught her to use. She closed the door and found herself in a small entry alcove opening onto a living room. She clicked a light switch on the wall. A lamp came on by a couch. Across the room, a window looked out on a fire escape and the wall of a brick apartment building next door.

The apartment wasn't large, which meant it was average as New York apartments went. A large apartment would have stood out. Someone working as a personal assistant wouldn't be able to afford a large place. The rent on even a small apartment in Manhattan was enough to make the payment on a good-sized mortgage in most of America.

Steph walked across the living room and pulled drapes across the window. The apartment smelled of dust and old cooking odors. She heard people laughing somewhere down the hall and a door closing. She looked around, trying to get a sense of the woman who had lived here. Who was she? Whoever she was, she wasn't Miriam Golding, a nice Jewish girl from Brooklyn.

The apartment had the feeling of a temporary place. There were no pictures on the walls, no personal items scattered about. No mementos of trips taken or places visited. It reminded her of a motel, right down to the cheap television and nondescript carpet. There were no books, no magazines, nothing to show what Miriam might have liked to study or read.

Stephanie opened a drawer in an end table by the couch. It was empty except for a blank notepad and a pencil. On a whim, she put the pad in her pocket. She pulled cushions away from the couch. She found a quarter, two dimes and a crumpled tissue.

Steph put the cushions back. A short hall led past a bedroom to a kitchen. She went to the kitchen first and turned on the light. Cockroaches scurried away on top of the counter. The counter was bare except for a coffee pot and a half-empty plastic bottle of water. The sink held a few dishes in a rack. A window over the sink looked out at the brick building next door.

The refrigerator was empty except for part of a six pack of bottled water. In the waste basket, Stephanie found more roaches and the remains of takeout from a nearby falafel joint. The kitchen cabinets revealed only generic glasses and plates.

The bathroom was neat and small. A spotted glass sat on the corner of the sink. A flowered shower curtain hung by a small tub. The medicine cabinet held a bottle of Midol, an opened package of tampons, a tube of toothpaste, a razor, a tube of antibiotic ointment and a package of assorted Band-Aids. Bottles of shampoo and conditioner sat on a wire rack hung over the shower arm. A bar of soap rested on a soap dish built into the wall of the shower.

Minimal, Stephanie thought. Everything I've seen so far is minimal, like she was just passing through. But she was working at the museum for months.

The last place to look was in the bedroom. Curtains were pulled over the window. A cheap dresser and mirror sat against the wall opposite a double bed. The bed was made. A blue cotton bedspread was stretched over it. It was the first touch of color that Stephanie had seen.

The closet in the bedroom was larger than Steph had expected. Miriam had been given to plain clothes with little style. There were three pairs of black shoes on a rack, all slightly worn, all similar in style. A few long skirts, several blouses, mostly white, and a dark blue business suit hung neatly on a rod. She found jogging pants and shoes on a shelf.

Steph went through all the pockets. In the jacket of the suit, she found a piece of paper with a phone number written on it. She put the paper in her pocket. When she got back to Virginia, she'd run it through the computers.

She got down on her knees and looked under the bed. There was nothing there but dust. She lifted the mattress, in case Miriam had hidden something there. Again, there was nothing.

The last place to look was the dresser. In the movies, people often taped things behind the mirror. She checked behind it, feeling foolish. There was nothing there. On top of the dresser were a brush and comb set, a makeup kit, and a wooden jewelry box. Steph opened the box. Inside were several pairs of earrings, a few pieces of costume jewelry, and a thin gold chain with a heart-shaped locket. She opened the locket and found a picture inside of a man who looked to be somewhere in his late twenties. He had black hair, intense, dark eyes, and an engaging smile. He looked Middle Eastern, but there was no way to tell who he was or where the picture had been taken. She put the locket in her pocket.

Stephanie lifted off the top tray of the jewelry box. The bottom was empty.

There were three drawers in the dresser. She opened them one by one and took them out. There was nothing of interest in them. Socks, some underwear, a couple of T-shirts. She bent down to slide the bottom drawer back in and saw something white stuck in a cross piece on the back of the dresser.

Must've fallen from one of the other drawers.

She reached in and pulled it out. It was a black and white picture of an older couple.

Probably her parents. Or maybe grandparents. The picture looks old.

The woman was wearing a scarf over her hair. She was unsmiling. The man wasn't smiling either. He had on a dark jacket and a white shirt, open at the collar. He had a short beard shot through with gray. Gray hair curled on his chest. The picture had been taken on a city street. Part of a shop sign could be seen behind the couple, with two lines of writing. Stephanie couldn't read the writing, but she knew what it was.

Farsi. This picture must have been taken in Iran. Damn!

Steph put the picture in her pocket. She went out of the bedroom, turning off the light. She turned off the light in the kitchen and went back to the living room, turned off the light there and listened at the door. Everything was quiet. Stephanie slipped out of the apartment, shut the door behind her and walked down to the street. Half an hour later she was in Penn Station, waiting for the next train back to Washington.