Steel Town

by Richard Whitten Barnes

  He laughed. “Well’ I didn’t ever think I’d be a medical doctor!”

  “Really.”

  “I got my bachelors in Anthropology…started grad school, too.”

  “And?”

  “I got interested in the ‘chemistry’ of why people behave differently, especially their varied reactions to outside stimulants. For example, why some babies are affected by their mothers’ addictions while others are not, or less so. That led to addiction in general. Twenty-five years later, here I am.”

  “You like what you do,” she said, not as a question.

  “I do. And you?”

  “Most definitely. And I’ve been challenged about that recently.”

  He waited for her to explain, buy she dropped her eyes and toyed with her food.

  “Enough introspection!” he announced.

  They’d finished lunch and were walking to their cars when he said, “I’m afraid I did all the talking in there.”

  “That’s why I showed up, I assure you.”

  “Anyway,” he said, “I enjoyed your company. Can we do this again?”

  Andy cursed herself for not being prepared for the question, and without having a reason to say otherwise, she answered, “Sure!”

  ~ * ~

  Eddie was frantic. He’d replayed last night’s events over and over, knowing he’d blown his only chance to extricate himself from the probable charge of kidnapping. All he would have had to do was to tell the police the boy had snuck into his car when a friend borrowed it. The father, an associate of the driver, Nick, would not have made a big deal over it. But he’d panicked, and no amount of going over it was helping.

  Marly had just returned from the convenience store with a box of Cheerios. Earlier, Joey had balked at eating their cereal because of the square shapes in it. “I can’t!” he’d cried and made a terrible fuss.

  Eddie had scolded him about it, which made matters worse until Marly intervened.

  “He can’t help it! He’s hungry. If he could, he would.”

  She’d gotten her jacket and was out the door without another word. Back at the house, and sitting across from Joey, Marly was quietly talking with him while he munched his cereal. Eddie couldn’t see how she could be so calm under the circumstances. By then, she could have been just as implicated in a kidnapping as he.

  Suddenly, Joey went into a rage, upsetting his bowl and knocking over a chair as he stormed away and up to his sanctuary, screaming “Not good! N-ot safe!”

  “What the hell?” Eddie looked to Marly for an explanation.

  “I just told him he couldn’t stay here…that his folks would be wanting him to be home and safe.”

  “The kid has problems,” Eddie said.

  “That’s obvious, Eddie, but it doesn’t solve the problem. He’s terrified of going home.”

  Eddie slumped into a chair, holding his head in his hands. “I step in shit every move I make!”

  Marly rested a hand on his shoulder. “That doesn’t help, Eddie. It’s not about us right now. It’s about doing what’s right for him.”

  “I can’t do anything for him if I’m in jail.”

  It was her day off, but Marly had volunteered to work for another person on the 2 to 10pm shift. She knew Joey’s behavior was similar to her brother Tim’s, but did not know how to deal with it other than her innate sense that the boy needed to feel safe. The doctors had told her mother that Tim was autistic. Maybe Joey was, too. How to convince him to return home without kicking and screaming was beyond her.

  She needed guidance She remembered a poster about mental health at the Social Services office where she’d run into Eddie on that day, looking for a place to rent.

  ~ * ~

  The office was in the center of town, halfway on her way to work. Marly had walked from the bus stop and was waiting to see a counselor, when a man she guessed would be in his fifties walked out looking here and there among the half-dozen waiting.

  “Are you the one asking about autism?” he said, after guessing correctly.

  “Yes.”

  “The counselors are tied up, but I overheard your request. Maybe I can help.”

  “You know about autism?” she asked, not sure she should waste her time talking with some substitute counselor.

  “It’s pretty much what I do. You want to talk? Come on back.”

  She followed him past a row of rooms, all of them occupied with clients and social workers. An open bay opposite was a warren of activity.

  In a small office at the rear he said, “I’m Kevin. And you?”

  She told him “Marilyn,” glad he hadn’t offered his surname. She hadn’t lied but preferred to keep her identity under wraps for the time being. “I’ve been taking care…baby-sitting…an eight-year-old boy. Maybe I can do a better job. I think he might be autistic.”

  “Tell me why you think that,” he prompted.

  Marly told him of the characteristics she’d observed: the tendency to focus intensely on one thing at a time, sudden outbursts, inability to keep his arms and legs quiet, obsessions with certain shapes and numbers, his fear of certain places. She didn’t mention that place was his own home. She also added her warm feelings for the boy and her admiration of his grasp of math, science and geography. A half-hour had passed before she finished.

  “Well you seem to know him well,” he said. “It sounds as if your guess of autism is pretty close, if not exact. You may know there are widely varying degrees of autism. I’d be happy to see him.”

  Marly had not expected anything more than gaining a suggestion for a way to get Joey to return home. The last thing she wanted was to have their situation exposed to anyone. “Maybe this was a mistake,” she said. “I might have exaggerated.” She rose as if to leave.

  “Hold on, Marilyn. I think you described the condition darned well. Don’t you want to get his parents involved?”

  “Ya know…I gotta go to work, and I’m late. Maybe I’ll think about it, okay? And thanks. Glad to know I might be right about…” Her words trailed off, and she beat a path to the reception and out onto Bruce Street.

  It had been a stupid idea, she thought, walking to the bus stop. She wasn’t any wiser, and almost exposed Eddie and herself to the authorities.

  It would seem like an eternity working the shift.

  Seventeen

  That morning Andy had been surprised to find the completed Photofit image of the pusher’s assailant. It was a roundish head with short black hair over thick, dark eyebrows. It was a brutish face. Tom Shermer, the artist on loan from the Mounties, had added a second, full-body rendering from the victim’s description. It was the image of a hulking man in a tank-top shirt. His well-developed arms were adorned with tattoos, more so on his left.

  “It’s a pretty unique image,” she said to Terry who peered back at her over the morning paper. “Let’s give copies of this to our units, as well as Sault P.D.”

  Terry added, “By the way, his victim, Randy Parsons? We gave his apartment a going over and it’s clear he was more than a mere pusher. He had all the paraphernalia for weighing and packaging. His pill press was one of the better ones. He was definitely well into the business.”

  “All the more reason to be intimidated by the competition,” she said. “Makes finding this guy a priority.” She held up the composite photo.

  Terry went back to his paper, and Andy took the photo out to the receptionist/secretary to have copies printed and the two JPEG images sent to the Sault police. She returned to find Terry still engrossed in the paper.

  “Greyhound season’s over, Arnold,” she said referring to the city’s Ontario Hockey League team. “What’s so interesting in the Star?”

  He put the paper aside. “A kid’s gone missing. Lives on the east side with his dad, a prominent developer in town.

  “How old?”

  “The kid? Eight…a boy.” The police haven’t much to go on, it seems, but the Star interviewed a neighbor who helps out there. She
says the kid has special needs, takes medication of some sort.”

  “Any statement by the parents?”

  “That’s what I was looking for. Nothing yet. Maybe on the Star’s website.”

  Andy was busy an hour later making sure the photos had been delivered to the O.P.P. units when a call came in from Sault P.D. that one of their officers thought he’d seen their man.

  “Wanna come?” Terry asked.

  “Wouldn’t miss it.” Andy already had her weapon clipped on and was reaching for her jacket.

  ~ * ~

  The Sault Ste. Marie Police Service is located practically around the corner from the O.P.P. detachment. However, the officer in question was still on duty with his partner handling traffic at a funeral in Steelton, a neighborhood northwest of the city center. When Andy and Terry arrived, the service was in progress, and the two officers were standing outside their parked cruiser, enjoying the continued good weather.

  “Officer Biggs?” Terry enquired from the opened window of his Buick.

  “That’d be me.” The smaller of the two men gave a two-fingered salute by touching the bill of his cap.

  Terry identified himself and Andy, who was already stepping out onto the street. Terry drove on ahead and parked.

  Andy had her copy of the composites and noticed another on the dashboard of the cruiser. “So, you recognize this guy?”

  “Couldn’t guarantee it, but he looks a lot like someone I seen hanging around at the Stage Door.”

  The Stage Door was the town’s only girlie bar which, for reasons unknown to Andy, was generally tolerated by both the public and the authorities.

  “Could you point this guy out?” she asked as Terry joined the group.

  “I could if he was there, but so could you. He looks pretty much like the picture, except his hair is more like dark brown than black.”

  “You know his name?” Terry asked.

  “Can’t help you,” Biggs said. “The guy never says much, at least not when a cop shows up at the place in uniform.”

  “You’ve been called there?” Andy asked.

  “Once or twice, yeah. But he was never involved in an incident. I just noticed him there ‘cause he’s a bear of a man. Dangerous looking.”

  They thanked Biggs and returned to Terry’s car.

  Andy buckled in and turned to her partner. “Well, if you think I’m going to hang out at the Stage Door, you’re mistaken! Let me know how you handle it.”

  “It’ll be my pleasure,” Terry said. “I haven’t sampled the Stage Door entertainment in a few years. I hear the talent is outstanding.”

  Her cell phone vibrated displaying ‘Social Services,’ a number she’d entered into her contacts years ago. She was pretty sure she knew who the caller would be, deciding to wait until she was alone to call back.

  ~ * ~

  “I hope this is okay,” Kevin Campbell said. They entered the family restaurant in the city’s business section. “I figured if it was too fancy, you’d turn me down, thinking I was getting too serious.”

  “Your choice is impeccable,” Andy said with a laugh. She had returned to the detachment and waited for the chance to return the call she was sure would be Campbell. He’d admitted he was calling for a date with her, but also had something else on his mind. “Was tonight too short notice?” he’d asked.

  They both ordered pasta at this family-owned Italian restaurant that had been a landmark in Sault Ste. Marie for decades.

  Andy revealed a little more about her life on St. Joseph Island and why she continued to live a forty-five-minute drive away from her place of work. She told him of her son Tim, just finishing up getting his law degree at the University of Ottawa.

  She learned he was a widower of just three years. He allowed how his marriage had been a very happy one and doubted he would ever try to replicate it. He spoke of his two daughters, one married to a geologist in Alberta, the other on the staff of a government minister in Ottawa.

  At length, he got around to discussing an issue that had risen at work.

  “I think I told you I’m here at the request of the government because of the crisis here, but that I have also experience in other fields dealing with brain chemistry. One of them is autism. There are some parallels between addiction and autism, particularly around how the brain reacts to medication.”

  Andy smiled sheepishly. “I know. I googled you. You’re quite the expert, I see.”

  He didn’t react, intent on continuing. “A young woman came into the office today. She said she was a babysitter for a boy, eight years old…gave me symptoms the boy was displaying that does sound like someone on the spectrum that includes autism.”

  “That would seem the logical place to go for answers if she had need,” Andy said. “What about the child’s parents?”

  “That’s what’s got me a bit uncomfortable. I asked her if she’d like me to see the boy, talk to his folks. That seemed to scare her off. She made a fast a retreat out the door. I asked at the front desk if they’d gotten her name. One of the staff recognized her from their Rent Assist program. They have a name and address for her.”

  Andy thought a moment before saying, “I’m not sure how I can help you. You have no evidence of her doing anything wrong.”

  “Except for her unwillingness to accept help for the boy.”

  “Yes, but that might be the girl’s reluctance to stick her nose into the parents’ business.”

  “Of course,” Campbell said.

  Andy was reasonably sure he still wasn’t convinced. There was a legitimate reason for him to be concerned. “I’m not sure what you want me to do,” she said. “You have an address. There’s nothing stopping you from following up. Law enforcement certainly hasn’t enough to go on to get involved.”

  “Yes, I guess I just wanted another professional slant on it.” He held the chianti bottle over her empty glass.

  “No more for me, thanks. Things are looking up in my case, and I’ll have a big day tomorrow.”

  “Yes, so do I,” he said, and signaled the waiter for a check.

  Walking back to their cars, Campbell made no effort to set another date, even though Andy was sure he liked her, maybe even a lot. He’d made it clear he had no plans to get serious with anyone just yet, and that suited her just fine. It was nice to be with someone for a change without the tensions that went with commitment. That she felt that way came at a surprise, but it was undeniable.

  ~ * ~

  They had spent the rest of the morning playing with the cars. Eddie brought up a plastic case from his room in the basement. In it were four stacked trays with compartments, each holding eight toy cars.

  Joey was delighted after having inspected them. He found them to be in mint condition. “New!” he’d shouted.

  “Not new. I just didn’t let other kids mess with them. They would have trashed them like they did their own.”

  It didn’t take Joey long to have the cars lined up in perfect order on the living room floor. Eddie watched, fascinated. The boy separated the numbered race cars from the rest, carefully placing them in a sequence that was logical only to him. He would study the order for a while, then change the sequence. It soon became apparent the numbers had a mathematical relevance to Joey that was satisfying.

  “You like numbers, Joey?” Eddie asked.

  “N-numbers don’t change. Numbers don’t lie.”

  “Want to see some cool stuff?” He left the boy to his cars and went down to the basement, returning with a spiral notebook and a well-worn textbook. He got down on the floor and opened the book to the first page: Horizons in Beginning Algebra.

  Eddie’s instinct was rewarded. Joey was at once intrigued with the simple formulas. Eddie solved the first few problems by writing in the notebook and gave the next to Joey who got the idea without much guidance. They spent the rest of the day eating microwave popcorn and poring over the book and its challenges. He was amazed at the eight-year-old boy’s grasp of the math as we
ll as his reading ability, and as time passed even his speech improved.

  Eddie had done well enough in school, particularly math. Working with Joey was pleasurable, and the hours melted away.

  ~ * ~

  The sun was low in the sky as Marly stepped off the bus and headed home. Her 2 to 10 shift was slow, and she’d left early, worrying about what Eddie and the boy would be doing.

  She’d arrived to find them in the living room curled up on the sofa with a book of some kind. Joey’s head was resting on Eddie’s shoulder. They were talking in low tones, engrossed in whatever was in the book.

  “Hey, you two!”

  Two big smiles greeted her.

  “What are you guys up to?”

  Eddie turned to Joey for an answer.

  “C-cool math,” he said.

  Eddie said, “It’s algebra! My ninth-grade textbook. He gets it, too!”

  “That’s what you’ve been doing all afternoon? Algebra?”

  “That, and cars.”

  The image of the two happily engaged in an activity unexpectedly affected her. The years she could have shared moments like this with her little brother Tim were lost. Grief overcame her before she could stop it. She broke down in tears, retreating into the kitchen.

  She was leaning over the sink, still sobbing, when she felt an arm around her shoulder. To describe the feeling as comforting would have been to understate it. It was the first act of affection she’d had in over seven years; so long ago, she’d forgotten the feeling. It was too much. She broke down again, collapsing into Eddie’s embrace.

  Eighteen

  Dale Urban pried open the top of the clothes dryer and placed the laptop in its spot near the wiring and workings of the unit. He slammed it shut until the computer would be needed again. It had been a productive day. He’d risen, showered, and was enjoying his first mug of coffee before it occurred to him how much of a relief it was not to have that kid around causing chaos.

  He knew he should feel guilty enjoying this peace and quiet with the boy missing, but what the hell, whoever swiped the kid would be in touch asking for money, something for which he felt no pressure in complying. Let them keep the little shit.