The Heritage Paper

Chapter 11



In the midst of the chaos, Veronica realized that Jamie was in the clutches of a gun-toting lunatic. This news gave her a surprising sense of peace.

She had sought out Eddie for help, but when he was nowhere to be found, she put two-and-two together. Jamie must have conned Eddie into giving him a joyride in the police cruiser.

She took the lead, running ahead of the group. She asked a few people if they’d seen a police car, and was pointed in the right direction. But what she found was not very comforting.

Youkelstein was about to stab Eddie with … his umbrella?

“You’re making a big mistake, Grandpa,” she heard Eddie roar.

Veronica ran as fast as she could. “Eddie—it’s a misunderstanding!”

But Eddie was tough to cool down once he arrived at a boil. And he must not have gotten the memo on the fragile hips of the elderly, because he got out of the car and shoved Youkelstein to the ground. He knelt down and held his gun to Youkelstein’s mustache.

“You are about to die of natural causes, old man—two shots to the head!” Eddie continued like a crazy man.

“Eddie … no!” she screamed again.

He glanced up and saw Veronica. He must have realized how absurd it looked to be pointing a gun at a ninety-year-old man who attacked him with an umbrella, because he returned the gun to his holster.

Veronica arrived, out of breath. The others slowly formed behind her, her mother coughing up her smoker’s lung.

“We had reports that Jamie was missing,” Veronica stated vaguely, not going into the whole Nazi story. She had no idea how she’d explain to Eddie what Ellen confessed to in the classroom. Either she was lying, a lying Nazi, or had lost her mind. Eddie would accept none of the above.

Before Eddie could question her, Aligor Sterling spoke up, “Lieutenant Peterson—I see you’re doing prep work for our meeting today.”

Eddie actually smiled, noticing Sterling’s presence. “I guess you could say that, Mr. Sterling.”

“Meeting?” Veronica asked.

“It’s nothing,” Eddie deflected.

Sterling disagreed. “By nothing, Lieutenant Peterson means he’s been selected to lead the NYPD security team to protect Jim Kingston tomorrow night when he gives his acceptance speech in New York. It’s a historic occasion, and I’m sure a great honor for Lieutenant Peterson and his fellow NYPD officers.”

Veronica looked proudly at Eddie. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“I’m just doing my job—it’s no big deal,” Eddie shrugged it off, as he did with any praise.

Veronica knew the real reason he didn’t say anything. It was the idea that he received special treatment because he was Harold Peterson’s adopted grandson. It was the same reason he turned down a lucrative detective job to work undercover in a seedy section of the Bronx.

Eddie was the son of Greta Snyder, while his biological father was a drug dealer who used to beat Greta. That was, until he was confronted by a police officer named Harry Peterson Jr., the son of the legendary NYPD detective. Harry Jr. explained that it was in his best interest to hop on the next bus out of town, to never be seen again, and Eddie’s father agreed.

Harry Jr. nursed Greta back to health and their relationship soon blossomed into a romance, which led to a rocky marriage and a half-brother named Carsten. But any dreams of a happy family life drowned in the pool of Harry Jr.’s blood on their kitchen floor. With their parents gone, Eddie and Carsten were raised by Ellen and Harold Sr. They were the only true family Eddie ever knew. He took the name Peterson and even followed Harold Sr.’s footsteps by joining the NYPD.

“That’s great, Uncle Eddie,” Maggie exclaimed and gave him a hug around his midsection.

Aligor Sterling broke up the party, announcing that he’d had enough “nonsense” for one day and was leaving. But before he did, he looked to Veronica and said, “Ms. Peterson—it’s bad enough we have a daily reminder of the ghosts from the past. Please don’t let people create new ones for you.”

His eyes wandered to Youkelstein as he said it.

Zach was again quietly assessing the situation. And as Sterling wheeled toward his limo, he asked, “Are you sure your sudden loss of interest isn’t because any connection between your agency and Ellen, an admitted Nazi, will hurt the Sterling Center’s credibility, and more importantly, impair your candidate’s chances of winning tomorrow’s election?”

Sterling looked smug. “My house is in order, Mr. Chester. Can you say the same thing?”

Zach said nothing.

“Say hello to your wife,” Sterling said as he wheeled away.

Low blow, Veronica thought. She’d seen a whole different side of Sterling today. The Nazi hunting, skull displaying, condescending side. It wasn’t a side she cared for.

Suddenly two men with semi-automatic rifles appeared out of nowhere and moved in on Sterling.

Veronica instinctively began to scream out a warning. But realized that Sterling and the machine-gun guys were on the same team. They circled him, and helped him into the limo. Veronica was amazed she hadn’t even seen the guards, who had melded into the tree-lined campus.

Zach dusted himself off from the cheap shot and forced a smile. “I think he’s still a little upset over that story I did on them. I implied that they sometimes bent the rules to get justice, which he took exception to. But he has much bigger enemies than some small-time journalist. Those guys with the scary looking guns are his security detail. They are former Mossad intelligence agents from Israel. Sterling gets about as many death threats a day as the president and he’s betting that semi-automatic beats anti-Semitic every time. Probably a wise choice.”

Before Veronica could process the words, she had another crisis on her hands. Eddie was up in Zach’s grill, demanding, “What do you mean she’s an admitted Nazi?”

Zach was saved by the ring of Veronica’s phone. When she checked the caller ID, she muttered, “Ellen, you’ve got some splainin’ to do.”

But it wasn’t Ellen on the other end. It was Kathy Rhodes, the president of Sunshine Village. “Is this Mrs. Peterson?”

“Yes it is,” Veronica replied, wondering if this time it was aliens, Nazis, or maybe some new fantasy.

“I’m afraid I have bad news. Ellen was found dead in her room this morning. I’m so sorry.”

Veronica gulped hard. It took her back to when she was delivered the news about Carsten. At least Ellen was able to get her secrets off her chest before she went; Veronica got the idea that Carsten died with many of his. Particularly that woman upstate he never told her about.

“I understand,” Veronica somberly replied. And now came the hard part—handing the phone to Eddie. He was the one who had to make the call to her about Carsten. She couldn’t even imagine how hard it must have been for him. And while Ellen might not have been a ray of sunshine, she sure was to Carsten and Eddie.

Eddie grabbed the phone and answered it as he always did, “Peterson here.”

As he listened intently, he seemed to shrink. He normally kept his emotions locked away, choosing to cover them over with a rug made of the unflappable, offbeat jokester. Veronica had never seen him cry before. Not even at Carsten’s funeral, where she could tell he felt it was important to keep it together for Maggie and Jamie. But on the rare occasion when Veronica witnessed his emotions seep out, they were raw and primal, just like now.

When the call ended, he wound up and threw Veronica’s phone at the trunk of a large oak tree, shattering it into pieces.