Fast Lane

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Fast Lane Page 20

by Dave Zeltserman


  No, I had no choice with Marge, just like I had no choice with any of it. I didn’t ask Bert Debbles to come to Denver to blackmail me. I didn’t ask Marge to follow me to his room. Or Jerry Bry to thumb his nose at me, or M-Mary to . . . .

  I-I did what I had to, just like I always have.

  * * * * *

  Later that afternoon, a homicide detective came by. He heard the same story from Marge’s mom that Braggs heard, and wanted to ask me about it. I explained to him what happened, and he felt kind of bad, you know, prying into my personal affairs and all. Well, to make sure he understood there were no hurt feelings, I offered him a drink. No, he couldn’t, not while on duty. Well, maybe a wee one, just so he wouldn’t be unsociable. We shared half a bottle together, and by the time he left he had tears in his eyes, seeing how shaken up I was over Marge, and feeling ashamed for bringing it up. I couldn’t blame him, and I told him so. After all, he was only doing his job. Doing what he had to. Like all the rest of us.

  * * * * *

  I was feeling kind of low. I headed over to the Corner Diner, hoping Carol would be working. It picked me right up when I saw her behind the counter, but I guess she was in a sour mood herself. Instead of joking around with me like she should have, she made some smartass comments back to me. Sh-She even gave me a look, like maybe there was something wrong with me. After I paid the check I picked up every goddamned penny from the counter. She opened her mouth as if she were going to say something about it, but then she looked into my face and knew better.

  * * * * *

  I woke up in the early morning wondering why it was so quiet. It was the type of quiet you have only when it’s dark and the air is dead still. The type of quiet where you can’t help but hear your blood rushing through your head. It was the type you try not paying attention to.

  I laid there, feeling anxious, like a kid waiting to open his Christmas presents, but not knowing what’s in store. Or maybe knowing and dreading it.

  I couldn’t figure out why I was so anxious. Or why it was so quiet. I started thinking about Marge, thinking about when she was going to show up next. I laughed, because she was always showing up when I didn’t want her to. Any minute now she was going to be ringing the doorbell, all ready to bust out of her clothing. And well, I’d have no choice but to help her out of it and . . . .

  And I remembered about the room—about what happened when Marge went into that room. It didn’t make any sense. Why would a robber have to do that to her? Even if he was doped up, he didn’t have to kill her, at least not like that. Twisting her head around like she was a plastic doll. It was all so senseless, and . . . .

  What does a guy have to do to get some sleep around here?

  I looked at the clock. Three twenty-one. It hit me that my deadline with Mary was up and she’d be calling me in the morning to find out who her parents were. I hadn’t found them yet, and she’d be furious with me. She’d probably want to fire me on the spot. She’d get so serious, her brow furrowing up, and thinking about it made me smile. She was awful cute when she got upset. It did something to me deep inside when I saw her like that. Just thinking about it made me want to . . . .

  It was so damn quiet. Three twenty-three. There was something about Mary, what was it? She—she’d committed suicide, that was it. Right after she’d visited Jerry Bry. Fired three bullets into him, leaving him bleeding to death on his own floor. Well, you couldn’t blame her. Still, I couldn’t figure what she saw in him in the first place. She should have known better than to get involved with him. He just wasn’t worth it. If only I could have made her see that. If only . . . .

  Three twenty-four. It was too damn quiet. Too quiet to breathe . . . too quiet to keep from thinking. Oh Jesus, too damn quiet to keep from remembering all of it. From remembering all of them. It surprised me when I counted them, because there were so many . . . .

  Three twenty-five.

  Hours before the sun was going to come out . . . .

  The hell with it, the hell with all of it. As long as I had a full bottle of rye what difference did any of it make?

  Chapter 31

  My faithful readers.

  You probably thought I was having some kind of breakdown back there, right? Well, to put your minds at ease, I wasn’t. It was only natural to have trouble sleeping after all the tragic losses I had suffered. Not only did I lose a woman I cared deeply about—a woman who I had planned on marrying someday—but I lost a daughter. And even crueler—a daughter I had only recently discovered. As quickly as Mary had come into my life, she was gone. It didn’t seem fair. There was so much I wanted for her, and well, losing her would have shaken anyone up.

  When I went to Oklahoma City, I told Rose about her. I thought it would be better if I told Rose personally, you know, try and lessen the blow. Give her a shoulder to cry on. It was a good thing I did, because Rose took the news awful hard and she sure needed my shoulder. Still, it’s a tough thing to take, and when I left she was all choked up about it. Ha, ha! Choked up pretty bad. Get it?

  I guess that explains it as well as anything.

  * * * * *

  I didn’t really sleep much the next night either. After a while I turned the light on. It was four in the morning. I put on some clothes, got in my car and drove towards the city. Towards East Colfax. It was dead quiet, desolate, the air thick. The buildings and streets looked so damn filthy. Small black shapes scurried about the garbage cans. They were noiseless. Not much more than shadows. When I got to East Colfax I drove down each side street, each alleyway. All the peep shows and strip clubs and bars were closed. All had their entrances locked up with iron gratings.

  I don’t know how I knew she’d be there—it was just kind of a funny feeling I had—but I found Debra Singer curled up in one of the alleyways.

  All she had on was a halter-top and a trashy pair of shorts that only covered about an inch of leg. When I woke her she looked up, bleary-eyed, drugged, her skin kind of yellowish. She looked thinner than any time before. Not much more than a skeleton. When she recognized me she started saying some pretty awful stuff. Things that made my skin crawl. Then she broke into a hysterical mix of laughing and giggling. She told me it was my fault her father was dead, if I had left her alone none of it would’ve happened. Her mother wouldn’t hate her so much.

  I tried to help her up so I could get her into my car, but she started grabbing at me, whispering about all the different ways I could screw her and how she would let me do it for free since I was such an old friend of hers. It made me sick listening to her. I tried to get her to stop but she just kept laughing and whispering and smirking. And she kept struggling to take off her clothes. And she kept grabbing at me.

  She was completely lost. I realized there was no other way to help her. As weak and frail as she was it was no harder than cracking a walnut.

  * * * * *

  The next day it took me almost all morning to get ready. As shaky as I felt, I figured I had to start getting back to a normal existence. I stopped off on my way to work and had a small bite to eat. I could barely keep the food down. By the time I got to the office it was past noon. At first all I could do was sit in my chair and stare at things. Eventually I forced myself to pick up a case report and do some real work. After filing away a couple of cases I started feeling better, like things were getting back to normal.

  The door to my office swung open. I put down what I was working on as Eddie Braggs stormed in, his neck thrust out like a pit bull smelling blood.

  “Don’t bother knocking. Just come right in,” I murmured. He grunted and sat down across from me.

  “Sure, why not have a seat?” I said. “Here for a social visit, huh?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “No?” I let my forehead wrinkle. “What did you come here for?”

  “We’ll get to that in a minute. I ran into an old friend of yours.” He looked away, like he wasn’t paying any attention to me. His mouth opened and the name “Bertram Debbles”
rolled slowly off his tongue. Then his eyes jerked towards me, and I just about crapped in my pants trying to keep from laughing. It was just too damn sloppy, too damn childish. I could see it coming way too early.

  “Bertram Debbles?” I said, shaking my head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t quite place him.”

  “Why don’t you give it a little more thought. See if anything comes up.” I pretended to think some more. I shrugged. “I don’t think I ever heard that name before. Who is he?”

  Eddie was scowling, more at himself than anything else. Maybe he realized what a dumbass trick he had tried. “The old man found with Margo Halloran.”

  “Why in the world would I have heard of him?”

  His face went blank, like a television set being switched off. It was his turn now to act dumb, except it was no act. He looked awful uncomfortable, and then broke out chuckling. “I can’t figure it out. I guess there’s no reason you should.”

  “I have to agree with you there. How’d you find out who he was?”

  “His fingerprints were matched by the FBI computer system. Back in the seventies he went away for eight years for kidnapping. He turned out to be a real sweetheart of a guy. How about uncorking your bottle?”

  I poured him the last of the rye, and tossed the empty bottle into the trash. As he sipped his drink, he told me what had been found out about Debbles. They knew he was from Carson City, Nevada, but they didn’t know what he was doing in Denver, or if there was any connection between him and Marge. They still didn’t have much of anything. There was really nothing to get.

  “So you don’t know if he has any family or friends here?”

  “He wasn’t the type to have many friends. The only family he had was a daughter, but she’s living in Miami. She didn’t have any idea why he’d come to Denver, nor did she care.”

  “I take it they weren’t close?”

  “She had only seen him a couple of times over the last twenty years, and that was only so he could try to get money out of her. She seemed relieved to hear about what happened.”

  Yeah, I could see that. I remembered little Ginny Debbles. She went through pretty much the same as I did growing up. A cute little thing with the most godawful distant eyes. Like nothing more could touch her. It gave me a warm feeling to know she’d been made happier.

  “Well,” I said, “I guess I should be getting back to work. Stop by anytime.” I reached over, extending my hand to him.

  He didn’t budge. “I almost forgot what I came here for. What can you tell me about Mary Williams?”

  “She’s a client of mine. Why?”

  “Have you heard from her recently?”

  “Not for a couple of weeks. What’s going on?”

  “Not much. Except she tried to commit suicide a few days ago. She was found pulled over on Mountainview Road with a hole in her head.”

  “I didn’t know. I haven’t seen anything in the papers about her.”

  He stopped himself cold, studying me. “You’ve been looking for it, though,” he said. “Haven’t you?”

  “No, th-that’s not it at all. Look—” I could feel a hotness spreading through my throat, making me dizzy. “I’m getting sick of your attitude. First, you come into my home and accuse me of having something to do with Margo’s death, and now this.” I stood up, my hands balling into fists. “You got anything else to ask me?”

  He chuckled, his eyes sparkling. “Take a deep breath and calm down. No one’s accusing you of anything. I’m just kidding around, ribbing you a little. You’ve got yourself a quick temper, don’t you?”

  I sat back down, hoping the redness wouldn’t come. Afraid of what would happen if it did. “I’m sorry,” I muttered. “She was a sweet kid. I-I can’t believe she’d do a thing like that. I guess it hit me pretty hard. You’re sure it was her?”

  “Yeah. Why do you think she did it?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know, Eddie. I can’t think of anything.” And I couldn’t. She should never have gotten involved with Jerry Bry. She should have known better. “She was a hell of a sweet kid.”

  “You know something that keeps bothering me?” I didn’t say anything. He didn’t wait for me to.

  “You were involved with both Margo Halloran and Mary Williams. I keep asking myself, what would be the odds of that? A woman is beaten to death and another is shot in the head. And Johnny Lane knows them both. I find that a damn funny coincidence.”

  It wasn’t funny enough. Neither of us was laughing. I stared at him. He returned my stare, his eyes narrowing. I had to pull my eyes away from him.

  “You want to say something, Johnny?”

  “I guess so. I-I c-can’t lie about it anymore.”

  “Yes, Johnny?”

  “I guess the truth has to come out sometime. Oh, God.”

  “It’s better to get it over with. You’ll feel better afterwards.”

  “Maybe you’re right. Anyways, anything’s better than what I’m going through now.”

  “Go on.”

  “I had her hypnotized, and ordered her to shoot herself in the head. You see, I was stuck. I couldn’t figure out how to solve the case she’d hired me for and I didn’t want to have to return her money. I never had an unhappy client before, and I didn’t know what else to do.”

  I broke out laughing. And, Lord, he just sat there with his mouth hung open, looking like the biggest sap since the first man walked on his own two feet and tripped right into a pile of prehistoric crap.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, wiping the tears from my eyes. “But what the hell did you expect?”

  “I was just kidding you,” he protested, his face growing beet red. “Anyway, you have to play out your hunches, right?”

  “Only if they make some sort of sense,” I said, shaking my head sadly. “I got to tell you, Eddie, I’m embarrassed for you. I never knew you to act like this, flying off halfcocked on this type of nonsense. I just don’t know. Maybe you need some time off.”

  “I told you I was just kidding around. If I believed any of it, you’d have read about it already in the Examiner.” He gave me a cold stare. “You have to admit, though, it’s an awful funny coincidence.”

  “It’s a coincidence, alright,” I conceded. “But that’s all it is. That’s just the way this world of ours works. On your way out, watch your step. Be careful you don’t trip and break your neck.”

  He glowered at me. “I was just having a little fun with you.”

  “I know,” I said. “It was a barrel of laughs. I’ll be seeing you around.”

  He pulled himself out of his chair, still glowering. When he got to the door, he turned back to me. “I’m sending out a reporter to Carson City to see if we can find out anything about Bertram Debbles. If you want to go with him, I’ll have the paper pick up your expenses.”

  “I don’t know,” I answered slowly. “To be honest, I’m getting sick of your hunches. Anyway, if your man got a hangnail or something while I was with him, I’d hate to think what I’d be made to look like by your paper. Don’t slam the door too hard behind you.”

  He chuckled softly. “I’ll be seeing you, Johnny.” I didn’t even hear him close the door.

  I was puzzled by the way he acted. There was no reason for him to have those suspicions about me. Well, he’d been put in his place and made to see he was acting like a danged idji—damned idiot. Still, there was something behind it. And why did he say Mary “tried to commit suicide”? That was an awful funny way of putting it. She didn’t just try—I SAW THE HOLE IN HER HEAD, FOR CHRIST’S SAKE!

  Someone was banging on the office door. Eddie must have come up with another needle or two that he wanted to shove into me. Well, let him—a hell of a lot of good it was going to do him. I opened the door and saw Max Roth grinning from ear to ear.

  “Sorry, Max,” I mumbled. “Nothing’s come up yet. I’ll call you as soon as something does.”

  “That’s okay,” he said. He moved his body so it blocked the door. �
�Mind if I come in?”

  “No, not at all,” I stepped aside and let him through. “How are things going for you?”

  “I can’t complain.” He sat down, still grinning.

  “I’m glad to hear it. How’s the wife?”

  “Terrific.” He beamed. “She’s been feeling great lately. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her happier, and it’s really—”

  “Yeah, well, I’m happy for you, Max. And how about your boys, they causing too many problems for you?”

  “Not at all. I’m so proud of those boys, Johnny. Stevie just made his football team, and Ben is an awfully good kid. You ought to come over sometime and see them. The whole family would like it. Anytime you want, Johnny.”

  “I’d sure like to, but—” But why the hell was he grinning? “But I just don’t have time right now. I appreciate the offer, though.”

  “Why don’t we set a date? How’s next Friday?”

  “We’ll see,” I muttered. A dull throbbing started in my temples. There was a reason he was grinning like that. What the hell was it? “What do you want to talk about?”

  “One of my cases—”

  “That’s good,” I nodded. “See what happens when you listen to me? You take a little responsibility for yourself, and everything works out fine. So you need some help on it?”

  “Well, sort of.”

  “ Be glad to help,” I said. “It’s good seeing you standing on your own two feet.”

  “Thanks. It’s not exactly help I need. I just need some information.”

  “Yeah?” I asked, puzzled.

  “Mary Williams hired me to find her parents.”

  The other shoe dropped. So that was why he was grinning like a bastard. A sneaky, underhanded bastard. He had gone behind my back and talked Mary into hiring him. She was going to fire me—why shouldn’t she if she already hired another detective? And . . . .

  And if I was going to start looking for coincidences, I had an awful big one right under my nose. There was a reason Eddie was acting the way he was. There was a reason the two of them came to my office, one right after the other. Someone had shaken a hornet’s nest and tossed it down Eddie’s pants. And the son of a bitch was sitting across from me, grinning like there was no tomorrow.

 

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