Karolina's Twins by Ronald H. Balson

fingers and laughed. “You know, I’m growing to like her. It’s like she’s my grandmother. And I don’t believe she’s mentally impaired. I have colleagues at the bar who can’t communicate half as well as she does.”
    â€œI agree with you. She doesn’t appear to be senile or delusional. I get the feeling that Arthur’s more concerned about her money than her mental condition. Do you think he’s looking forward to a sizable inheritance?”
    â€œI don’t know. She lives on East Pearson Street, in one of the vintage buildings. Her wardrobe is exquisite; she wears beautiful clothes. Haven’t you noticed?”
    Liam shrugged. “I guess I wouldn’t know the difference. She always looks dignified. Put together. She’s certainly not some dowdy old lady.”
    â€œLiam, that’s not a very nice thing to say. Still, I bet she drops a pretty penny on Michigan Avenue.”
    He nodded. “She’s a very attractive woman.”
    â€œWithout letting her know, can you get some background on her? And on Arthur Woodward?”
    â€œCat, you cut me to the quick. You’re talking to the world’s greatest investigator. Not to mention the world’s greatest…”
    â€œStop. I’m serious. See what you can learn about Lena and her family.”
    â€œI will.”
    â€œI don’t think I’ll mention Arthur’s call to Lena. Not yet. I’ll just go ahead with the interviews like we’ve been doing.”

 
    E IGHT
    â€œI SLEPT VERY LITTLE the night before I left the farm. Once again, I was beset with contradictions. With the Tarnowskis, I was safe and comfortable, and they were kind to me. Why would I leave? Yet I missed my family dearly and I wanted to be with them. If they were in trouble, I wanted to be in trouble with them. I had to find out what happened.”
    Lena took a sip of hot tea and set the cup down on Catherine’s desk. Liam sat to the right of the desk and leaned his chair back on two legs. Catherine continued to jot down notes on a yellow pad. She hadn’t mentioned Arthur’s disturbing phone call earlier that week.
    â€œI knew that returning to Chrzanów would be risky, that Jews were being detained and taken into custody. There was talk about transfers to labor camps, but I chose to believe that my family had been taken because they were requisitioning my house. My father had said there was no evidence against him. I was convinced that my mother, father and Milosz were alive and living in some apartment in a resettled area of Chrzanów.
    â€œMr. Tarnowski, who always rose before the sun, was surprised to come downstairs and see me sitting at the kitchen table. He saw my duffel on the floor and nodded his understanding. I waited while he milked the cows, did his chores and prepared to leave for town with his daily supply of dairy products. After a hearty breakfast, I said good-bye to Mrs. Tarnowski, who hugged me tightly and begged me to be careful. The evolution of our feelings toward each other over such a short time was not lost on either of us. When I first arrived, she received me as an unwanted obligation. Now, just weeks later, we had developed a bond.
    â€œShe had tears in her eyes when I climbed up onto the wagon seat. She held my hand and looked at me with concern. ‘Trust no one. If you don’t find your family or if things aren’t working out, you know you can come right back here. And watch your money.’ I nodded and patted the arm of my jacket. A day earlier, Mrs. Tarnowski had convinced me to sew my money into the lining. ‘Don’t show it to anyone. It will only mean trouble for you.’
    â€œVery few were awake when we clip-clopped into Chrzanów. The streets were empty as we reached the center of town and veered toward the northeast and to a run-down, tired area of apartment buildings and warehouses, where I believed my parents