In Plain Sight

by Barbara Block

  Once she closed the bathroom door I sat down on the toilet seat and rested my forehead on the edge of the sink. It was an old-fashioned washbasin with a wide rim. The porcelain felt cool against my skin.

  Someone pounded on the door. “Hurry up,” he yelled. “We ain’t gonna wait for you all night.”

  “Fuck you,” I mouthed. Then I straightened up and glanced at myself in the mirror.

  I looked even worse than I felt. My skin was dead white, my eyes looked as if they’d sunk back in my head, and I had a yellowish purple bruise on the right side of my jaw from where Richie had punched me. It was a good thing I wasn’t going out on a date this weekend, I decided as I rinsed my mouth out and patted water on my face and neck. I was studying the bruise on my jaw when the pounding on the door started again.

  “You got thirty more seconds,” Angie yelled.

  “Hold it.” I took off my jeans and T-shirt and slipped on the dress Fast Eddie’s mother had given me. It was a red-and-yellow-checked, long-sleeved smock and could easily have accommodated at least two of me, maybe even three.

  A moment later the door flew open. “Let’s go,” Vinnie said and motioned for me to step outside.

  “Jesus, is that Teresa’s dress?” Angie asked Fast Eddie’s mother as I stumbled out into the hall. “She’s going to be pissed.”

  “What do you care?” Fast Eddie’s mother snapped, and Angie shut up. She put her hands on her hips, clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, and shook her head as she surveyed me. “Come on,” she said and pushed me toward the door. “You think my son has nothing better to do than wait for you?” Her fingers were bony and they hurt as she prodded me in the ribs to keep me moving.

  Fast Eddie was sitting in a wheelchair in the second room. It was all dark wood and velvet furniture and yellowing prints. An oxygen tank was strapped to the wheelchair’s side. A thin plastic tube ran from the cylinder to Fast Eddie’s nose. The sound of his breathing filled the air. His head was small but his body was big. His stomach bulged out from underneath the flowered Hawaiian shirt he was wearing. No wonder the police didn’t want to arrest him, I thought, remembering George’s story. If he wouldn’t walk, they’d get a hernia carrying him down the stairs. As he motioned for me to come in I noticed that he was wearing five gold chains around his neck. The bright metal highlighted his skin’s pallor.

  “You have to come closer,” he whispered. “It’s hard for me to talk. I’m having a bad day.”

  When I didn’t move fast enough Angie and Vinnie pushed me over. Despite his mother’s cleaning efforts—the room gleamed—the smell of sick bodies permeated the air.

  “So what happened to Tony and Richie?” he demanded of the two men ignoring me for the moment.

  “Tony called and asked me for help,” Angie said. “When I got over to the Colony she”—Angie pointed to me—“was climbing out the window. I just hit her one in the back of the head, threw her in the trunk, and came on over.”

  “You didn’t look for Tony and Richie?”

  Angie shrugged. “I figured you’d want me to bring her over ASAP. I figured those two clowns would be right out.” Fast Eddie didn’t say anything. “You want, I’ll go back to the Colony and get them,” Angie offered.

  Fast Eddie shook his head. “Don’t bother.” He turned to me. His eyes were blue and watery and gave the appearance of protruding from their sockets. “What happened?”

  I gave him a detailed rundown of the evening’s events. Vinnie and Angie snickered throughout my recitation.

  “They were supposed to ask you to come talk to me,” Fast Eddie said when I was through. He sounded peeved. “That was all they were supposed to do.”

  “Well, they did a good deal more than that.”

  Fast Eddie threw an angry glance at his mother.

  “Sssh.” His mother made a quieting motion with her hands. “Don’t get upset. It’s bad for you.”

  “I’m not upset,” he said, though his expression indicated otherwise. He began to cough, a deep rumble that came from inside his chest and went on and on. By the time he stopped his face was red and he was panting for air. His mother ran over with a glass of water. He took a few sips and waved her away. “So,” he said to me when he could talk again, “I hear you’ve been asking around about Marsha Pennington. Why are you interested in her?”

  “She was a friend of mine.” I wondered how he’d heard, but I didn’t have the nerve to ask.

  “So?”

  “I’m trying to find out what happened to her.”

  Fast Eddie leaned forward. “Then you’re not looking for the money?”

  “What money?”

  His eyes widened. The angry look came back on his face. His mother made a nervous little noise. He glanced at her and she shut up. “My money,” he said. “She had thirty thousand dollars of mine. It’s disappeared and I want it back.”

  Chapter 24

  I stared at Fast Eddie. Except for his wheezing and the drumming of the rain on the windowpanes the room was silent. Fast Eddie’s face had become more animated. Talking about the loss of his money had energized him. He made small circles with the oxygen tube while he spoke.

  “She was supposed to show up here with my thirty grand the day she killed herself. But she never made it. Neither did the money.”

  “Maybe she didn’t have it,” I suggested, thinking of the way Marsha had looked when she’d been in the store. “Maybe she was lying to you.”

  Fast Eddie frowned. “Oh, she had it all right. She called me up the week before she died and said she’d be coming into some money, that she’d have it on Monday, and that she wanted to pay me off. She said she didn’t want to pay by the week no more.” Fast Eddie took a pull of oxygen and continued talking. “Why should she call if she didn’t have the money?” He stared at me, waiting for my answer.

  “No reason,” I agreed, sorry that I’d started the conversation in the first place.

  “That’s right.” Fast Eddie nodded, and his double chin briefly turned into a triple. “Like I said, she was supposed to show up here Monday evening, but she never did. Then two days later I read the cops fished her out of the LeMoyne Reservoir. As for my thirty grand—nobody knows anything and believe me I asked, I asked plenty.”

  I thought of how pale Merlin had turned when he saw the limo at the cemetery.

  “Then I hear you’re asking questions. Naturally I’m curious.”

  “Naturally,” I murmured, thinking that thirty grand was a good reason to murder someone.

  Fast Eddie leaned forward. “Satisfy my curiosity.”

  Scheherazade I’m not, but I did the best I could. Under the circumstance I didn’t feel as if I had much of a choice.

  “You think she was killed,” Fast Eddie said when I was done.

  I nodded.

  He sat back in his chair and made a steeple with his fingers. “That’s what I’ve been thinking, too,” he allowed. “I’ve also been thinking that whoever killed her has my money.”

  It was the obvious conclusion, but I didn’t say that.

  “And you don’t know anything else?”

  “No,” I replied.

  “And you’d tell me if you did.”

  “Yes.”

  He leaned forward for the second time. “You’re sure?” he asked, staring at me.

  “I’m sure.” I stared back at him. I was not going to let him know how much he intimidated me.

  Fast Eddie smiled. “I think you would, too. I don’t think you’re stupid enough not to.” He started making loops with the oxygen tubing again. “Which is why Vinnie is going to give you a card with my number. Which is why you’re going to call if you hear of anything, anything at all, concerning my money.”

  “All right.” Then I asked Fast Eddie the self-evident question. “How do you know one of your guys didn’t take it?”

  “Hey,” Vinnie squawked. He took a step toward me. “Exactly what are you saying?” he demanded.

  Fast
Eddie silenced him with a look. “The reason I know is because I was the only one Marsha spoke to and I didn’t tell anyone else. Any other questions?”

  “Not at the moment,” I said, even though I knew there were things I should be asking. I was just too foggy to figure out what they were.

  “Good.” Fast Eddie made a few more loops with his oxygen tube. He seemed lost in thought. Then he straightened up and concentrated his attention on me. “I told you what I want. Now here’s what I don’t want.” He paused for a second to listen to the rain rattling against the windowpanes. The storm was increasing in intensity. “I don’t want you making the kind of mess that comes to the police’s attention. Right now the cops and I, we have an understanding. I keep things low key and they leave me alone. But if they hear that Marsha owed me thirty grand, they’re gonna want to talk to me and,” he paused for dramatic impact, “I will be very unhappy if that occurs. Very, very unhappy because I do not want to become involved in a murder investigation. The case has been closed and I want to leave it that way.”

  “I understand.”

  He smiled. “I thought you would.” He turned to Vinnie. “Give her my card.”

  Vinnie walked over and handed me a white card embossed with blue letters. I glanced at it. “Santorelli Electronics?”

  Fast Eddie shrugged. “My brother-in-law sells the stuff. He’s into real estate, too. You ever need a new TV or a VCR or want to sell your house come to me. I can get you a good deal.”

  I slipped the card in my pocket.

  “So you’ll call, right?”

  “Right.” And I meant it. This was one man I didn’t want to cross if I didn’t have to.

  “Good.” He told Vinnie to take me home.

  On the way out Eddie’s mother handed me my clothes. “You can keep that rag you’re wearing, too,” she said, pointing to the smock I had on.

  God. And I thought my mother was bad.

  It was pouring when we stepped outside. Even though the car was parked just a few feet away, I was soaked by the time I reached it. But I didn’t mind. After having been stuffed in the trunk of a car and cooped up in Fast Eddie’s flat, I wasn’t going to complain about getting wet. I was happy to be breathing fresh air. I asked Vinnie to drop me at the store; then I leaned back and closed my eyes and listened to the swish swish of the wipers and the tapping of the rain on the windshield.

  “You better pay attention to what Fast Eddie says,” Vinnie told me as we drove along. “He ain’t kidding.”

  “I didn’t think he was,” I murmured. I was trying to keep my head perfectly still because every time I moved it I saw spots of light dancing in front of my eyes. After a while I began admiring the patterns they made.

  “We’re here,” Vinnie announced some time later.

  I opened my eyes. We were parked in front of Noah’s Ark. I started to get out of the car, then stopped. “Listen, I have a question for you.”

  “Yeah?” Vinnie unwrapped a stick of gum and put it in his mouth. “What?”

  “How did you get to the Colony so quickly?”

  Vinnie laughed. “I was eating at Aunt Patsy’s.” He took in my blank look and explained. “The new place down at Armory Square. Ever hear of cellular phones?”

  Duh. Feeling like a total idiot I got out of the car. Vinnie roared off. I looked at my watch. Richie had grabbed me three hours ago. It felt as if I’d been away from the store for four days. When I unlocked the door Zsa Zsa and Pickles came running out to greet me. I wanted to bend down to pet them, but I was afraid that if I did I’d pass out. Instead I carefully walked into the office and lowered myself onto the sofa. Zsa Zsa jumped up and licked my face while Pickles twined herself around my feet. I closed my eyes again. I could barely keep them open. I knew I should go to the hospital, but first I had to take a nap.

  My dreams were all swirling colors and shapes and ants and bats crawling over me. No matter where I went they always found me. Then the ringing started. I wanted it to stop, but it kept going. Finally I realized it was the telephone. I opened my eyes, got up, stumbled over to it, and fumbled around for the receiver.

  “Yes?” I mumbled.

  “Robin?” George asked. “Is that you?”

  “More or less.” Mostly less I decided.

  “Are you okay? You sound awful.”

  “I feel awful.” The room started swaying. I hung up and lurched back to the sofa. I managed to sit down before I threw up. This time I brought up yellow-green bile. I closed my eyes and lay down. The next thing I knew someone was standing over me. I opened one eye. It was George. I felt bad enough to be relieved. I closed the eye and dozed off again. The next time I woke up I was being lifted into an ambulance.

  Oh, God, not again, I thought as the paramedic closed the doors.

  Chapter 25

  “So?” George said and dropped the clothes I’d asked him to get from my house on the foot of my bed. It was eleven o’clock the next morning and the attending physician had decided I could be released—evidently the X rays had shown I wasn’t bleeding into my brain—which was fine with me because I was in the middle of a nicotine fit.

  “So what?” I asked.

  “Are you going to tell me what happened?”

  “You were there when I talked to the cops. You heard what I said.”

  “I repeat, are you going to tell me what happened?”

  “You don’t believe my story?”

  George snorted. “A ten-year-old child would have come up with a better story than you did.”

  “I did as well as I could under the circumstances.” Which was true. It’s hard to come up with a convincing lie when your head feels as if someone is playing the drums on it. But better a bad lie than telling the cops the truth and having them pay a visit to Fast Eddie.

  “Let’s see if I have this straight.” George clasped his hands in front of him and stared down at me. “You were going to your car when someone you didn’t see came over and hit you over the head?”

  “That’s right,” I said.

  “But he didn’t take your wallet.”

  “He probably didn’t have time.”

  “Really?” My heart sank as George walked over to the chair and lifted the dress Fast Eddie’s mother had given me off the seat and held it in the air. “But your assailant had time to put this on you?”

  “Maybe he’s seriously kinked,” I suggested. “Maybe he has a fetish about women in muu-muus.”

  George shook his head. “Try again.”

  “I found the dress at a rummage sale?”

  “Teresa wouldn’t be happy to hear you say that.”

  I sighed.

  “I told you I used to work that area. It’s not as if you could miss the lady.” George came over and dropped the dress in my lap. “Teresa never struck me as the generous sort.”

  “It was her mother’s idea.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Marino is a truly delightful woman.”

  “Yeah, I don’t think she’s going to get the unsung heroine of the year award, that’s for sure.”

  George leaned over me. I hate it when he looms. “So exactly why did Fast Eddie have you picked up?”

  Since George knew half the story, I decided I might as well tell him the rest. I mean it really didn’t matter. He wasn’t on the force—even if he did tend to forget that once in a while. I also decided to make him wait. On principle. I don’t like being crowded. Or rushed. “After I’m dressed and out of here.”

  “I’m disappointed. That hospital gown definitely does things for you.”

  I glared.

  George straightened up. “Fine. I’ll bring the car around.”

  “And get me a pack of cigarettes,” I called as he walked out the door. “Camels.”

  He turned. “Can’t you wait?”

  “No. You want the story, I want my smokes.”

  Last night’s storm had washed the gray away. The sun was shining. The branches of the two flowering crab trees in front of the hospital loo
ked as if they were covered with tufts of pink cotton candy. I was watching a robin hopping on the grass when George pulled up. I got out of the wheelchair the nurse was holding and into the Taurus. Zsa Zsa licked my chin and ears. Her tail was wagging so fast her whole body was going from side to side.

  “How’d she do?” I asked George. He’d taken her home with him after he’d left me at the hospital.

  “Aside from sleeping in my bed and waking me up at five in the morning—not badly.”

  “I always knew she was your type. Long hair. Long legs. Too bad she’s not blond.”

  “Funny lady. Here.” George threw the Camels I’d asked him to get me in my lap. “Go kill yourself. Not that you need any more help in that department.”

  I opened the pack as we turned onto South Crouse and held it up to my nose. “Ah,” I said, inhaling the aroma.

  George snorted. I ignored him and lit a cigarette. Then I sat back and luxuriated in the sensation and the sunlight. God it was good to be out of the hospital. Every time I’m in one I remember how much I hate it.

  George glanced over. “Okay,” he said. “You’re dressed, you’re out of the hospital, you’ve got a cigarette. Now give.”

  So I did.

  “Richie and Tony always were scumbags,” he muttered when I was through.

  “Tell me about it.” I took a puff of my cigarette and conjured up darkly detailed visions about what I’d like to do to them if the opportunity ever arose.

  “Although,” George continued, “to be fair, if you hadn’t run away, you probably would have been all right.”

  “Are you saying what happened was my fault?” I asked indignantly.

  “No. I’m just pointing out that you made things worse by pissing them off.”

  “And what would you have done if someone dragged you in a car and jabbed a gun in your ribs? Sat there?”