Remember Me, Irene

by Jan Burke

  He reached into his jacket and pulled out the ring, dangling it before me on the chain.

  “Was God in the room, too?”

  “No, God is in my mind. You are my assignment.” He glared at me. “You were the first one I helped, and you called the cops on me!” he shouted. “They defiled the Prof’s grave!”

  I tried to think of a way to get him to forget about that. “No, they didn’t, and being an angel, you know that. You’re just testing me, aren’t you? You know they just took him to his mother, so that she could bury him.”

  It must have worked. He grinned. “I like being your guardian angel.”

  “My guardian angel?” I repeated, my mouth going dry.

  “Yes, I’ll watch over you. I’ll even give you the magic ring. Here, you take it,” he said, stepping toward me.

  I backed up again.

  He suddenly cocked his head, as if hearing something. He tossed the ring at me, and it landed near my keys. He turned and ran.

  Shaking, I bent to retrieve the keys and ring. I held them tightly as I leaned against the car, waiting for the fear to leave me. I heard footsteps and whirled around, but it must have been someone walking past the alley at the other end. I looked back in the direction where Two Toes had gone, but didn’t see him. After a moment, I started walking toward the newspaper offices, but Two Toes’ voice came from above me.

  “This is your guardian angel speaking!”

  I yelped and looked up. He was on a metal ladder, one which led to the roof of a neighboring building, an old two-story brick place.

  “Don’t park there, you’ll get towed!” he shouted, and scrambled up to the roof and out of sight.

  Receiving such sensible advice from my self-appointed guardian angel, I felt a sudden urge to laugh aloud. I fought it, not out of fear, but because I didn’t want to belittle him.

  I was still scared of him and knew he was capable of hurting me. But so far, he hadn’t done anything but try to help me, and I wasn’t going to repay that by laughing at him. I opened my palm and looked at Lucas’s ring.

  I walked into the building, went into a restroom, and splashed cold water on my face. I gathered the binders and ring and went to my desk. The newsroom was relatively empty; most people were still in the meeting. I stared up at a wall clock, waited for a slow fifteen minutes to go by, and called the police.

  “HE’S LONG GONE,” Reed Collins said. He gave me a hard look as we stood in the alley next to my car, but it didn’t win him any confessions. He frowned and pulled out his notebook. “Tell me again what Mr. Jones said to you.”

  Mr. John Jones, I had just learned, was Two Toes’ rather unremarkable legal name. It would take some getting used to. I repeated my guardian angel’s explanation of the events at the Angelus.

  Reed kept frowning. “Can you make anything out of that?”

  “It’s hard to say what he means. Reality is just one ingredient in whatever he recalls. God knows what else he tosses into the batter before he bakes a memory.”

  “But you understood him when he told you where to find the body.”

  “Guesswork.”

  “So guess again,” he said, looking at the roof-tops—and probably silently cussing me out.

  “He was telling me about the night Lucas died. I think he followed him from the shelter. That’s probably what he meant by ‘no room at the inn,’ because there was plenty of room at the Angelus.”

  “So this would have been Thursday night,” Reed said.

  “Yes.” Thursday. The night of Allan Moffett’s dinner meeting. I remembered how cold and rainy it was that night.

  “Go on,” he said.

  “The story gets a little weirder from here,” I said. “He mentioned the angels at the Angelus, but then he also said there was a guardian angel. He spoke of this guardian angel a little differently. I think he meant someone else was following Lucas.”

  “So his story is that this guardian angel left Monroe alive.”

  “Right. But he heard Lucas fall, and if you believe him, Lucas was dead by the time he reached him. Two—er, Mr. Jones—hears voices, and believes that God told him to help himself to the ring.”

  “Aside from that, I wonder how much of it is true.”

  “Most of it fits, doesn’t it? No one else saw Lucas any later—even his street friends hadn’t seen him since the night he was turned away from the shelter. And from what Carlos Hernandez has said, Lucas was dead when the ring was taken.”

  “Any idea who this guardian angel might be?”

  I shook my head.

  “Well, I guess that’s it, then.” He put his notebook away, then said, “Oh, one more thing …”

  “Move my car?”

  He grimaced. “Do I look like a meter maid? No. What I was going to say is, next time you hear we’re looking for someone? And you see that someone? Don’t hesitate to call.”

  I kept my mouth shut. I knew he had doubted my vague excuses about taking a while to calm down and losing track of time.

  “Come on,” he said, “I owe it to your husband to make sure you get back inside the building safely.”

  WHEN I GOT BACK to the newsroom, there were enough grim faces to let me know that the staff meeting was over and done with. I walked up to Lydia’s desk and said, “I think I know how to break Wrigley’s beeper habit.”

  “I know a dozen people who’d love you if you did.”

  “Anyone who wants to help should meet me at Banyon’s for a pint after work.”

  I checked my messages again. I had a call from Steven Kincaid, a friend who was renting my old house. It had been a relief to find such a good tenant, since I am inexperienced as a landlady. I returned the call, afraid that this meant the plumbing had failed or the roof had leaked. Turned out he just wanted to invite Frank and me to his housewarming, to be held in a couple of weeks.

  I was thanking him for the invitation when my purse started to rattle and hum, sounding as if I had somewhere received a hive of live bumblebees in lieu of change.

  I told Steven I’d talk to Frank and call him back with an answer, said good-bye, and turned off the pager. This time the number was June Monroe’s.

  “I’m glad you called me,” she said when I returned her call. “I almost came by that newspaper to talk to you, but decided I had probably made enough trouble for you for one day.”

  “Not at all.”

  “Well, I am just about as tired as a body can be right now, and you probably aren’t much better off. So I’ll make this quick. First, after I talked to you, I got to thinking about some things, and decided that I will bury Lucas in Las Piernas. You were right. He loved Las Piernas. His daddy is buried there, so Lucas will rest next to him.”

  “I know that must have been a hard decision to make,” I said.

  “Oh, not after I thought about it and prayed on it for a time. Lucas’s friends may be having hard times, but they were his friends. If I hold this funeral way out here in Riverside, nobody but Charles and me would be likely to attend.”

  “I’m glad it will be here, but I would have come out there. Roberta, too, I think.”

  “Well, it doesn’t matter, it will be right there in Las Piernas on Friday morning at eleven. That doesn’t give you much time to let his friends know about it, but I would appreciate anything you can do to spread the word.”

  I told her I would do my best. She gave me the name of the funeral home and cemetery.

  “After making all the arrangements,” she went on, “I came straight home and looked for that phone bill. I’ve got the number that Lucas called.”

  “Edison, right?”

  “Right.”

  I wrote the number down. “Thanks for doing that, June. I know the last twenty-four hours have been exhausting for you.”

  “You said you had a couple of questions?”

  “Yes, but first, I wanted to let you know that the police have Lucas’s ring now.” I explained Two Toes as far as he could be explained.

&
nbsp; “You don’t think he’s the one who killed Lucas?”

  “No. I’m not sure I can tell you why, but I guess it’s just that I think he’d admit it if he did. He’d be saying God told him to do it.”

  “Maybe so,” she said, sounding unconvinced.

  “I think whoever killed Lucas wanted more than a school ring. That brings me to a question I had for you. I wondered if you knew what became of Lucas’s thesis—I mean, his copies of it? His raw data, his drafts, the final copy—any of it?”

  “Well, it was here until recently. Had it in a box, one of those filing boxes. But he took it with him after his last visit. I asked him, did that mean he was going to try to get his degree? He just said that it was probably too late to worry about that, and besides, it wasn’t so important to him now.”

  I couldn’t tell her how disappointed those words made me feel. If he wasn’t interested in getting his degree, was he more interested in blackmail? “I wonder what he did with them. The papers weren’t among Lucas’s things at the shelter.”

  “No,” she said. “Maybe he just threw them out.”

  “When he left, did he walk to the bus station from your house?”

  “No, I gave him a ride. Even waited with him at the station.”

  “Did he have the box with him when he got on the bus?”

  “Yes. Yes, he did. Hmmhmm. That was the last time I saw him alive, waving to him as that bus pulled out. He was smiling.” She paused, then said, “Well, what else did you need to know?”

  “I just wondered if you could tell me a little more about what happened to Lucas after he was denied his master’s degree. Did he just give up after that?”

  “No, not then. I never did finish telling you that story, did I? Sorry, I’ve been a little rattled. I meant to tell you about this Nadine. She was dating that professor, right? Old Andre Selman kept that real quiet, only his closest friends knew, and I guess they just sort of turned a blind eye to it. Lucas told me about this, and I said, ‘Lucas, you always tell me that this man can’t hang on to a woman. He just loves them and leaves them. So you just wait until he leaves this one, ’cause a woman scorned is something to behold.’ Sure enough, not long after this study is finished, so is Nadine—Selman drops her.”

  “And Lucas talked with her?”

  “Yes. He was smart, he gave her a little time, then he went and talked to her. And she admitted to him how she had done him dirty. She told Lucas that Selman had her substitute the pages of the thesis, that Selman was afraid Lucas would ruin the project, would cause the school to lose all that grant money. But by the time Lucas talked to her, I think she realized what harm she had done to him. She was sorry all over.”

  “He must have wanted to kill her.”

  “No, no. He knew she was the only chance he had of ever getting that mess straightened out. So he gets her to agree to testify on his behalf at a hearing at the college.”

  “A hearing?”

  “Yes. Lucas went to the department chair. That man liked Lucas, and he’d been suspicious of Selman, so he set up a hearing. First time, it was just going to be the department chair, that Dr. Warren that had stirred things up in the first place, and someone from the foundation that gets the grant—strange name, I can’t remember it though. Just remember thinking it was a funny kind of name.”

  “Booter? Booter Hodges?”

  “That’s it! You know him?”

  “I’ve talked to him a few times.”

  “Lucas didn’t like him at all. Anyway, two days before the hearing, this Nadine is acting like she’s got cold feet. Says she doesn’t want any hard feelings with Selman, doesn’t want to sneak around behind his back. She’s going to talk to him. Lucas begs her to just wait until after the hearing, but she won’t have any of it. The night before the hearing, Lucas gets a call from Selman’s best friend, saying that Nadine is back together with Selman. So Lucas went to talk to her, find out if it’s true. She’s all smiles. Tells him Selman admits he’s wrong, and he’s going to come with her to the hearing. He’s going to face the music. Lucas didn’t believe it for a minute, but what can he do?”

  “And she never showed up?”

  “No Nadine, no Selman, just one more round of humiliation with this Warren turkey. And that Booter says something like, ‘We should have expected this.’ Lucas couldn’t even find Nadine after that.”

  “What happened to Lucas after the hearing?”

  “Well, he couldn’t get into other colleges, and he couldn’t find a job anything like what he wanted. He was able to find work, but he wasn’t happy. He started drinking then, but not real bad. But pretty soon it started to be a problem. He’d get a job somewhere, be doing fine, and somehow the story from the school would catch up to him.”

  “You think someone was making sure it caught up to him?”

  “I don’t know, I guess maybe I do. Even if the employer didn’t pay any attention to the story, it embarrassed Lucas. That pride of his would suffer. He was all the time bitter and angry. He’d go drinking. Next thing you know, he’s missing work and so on. It all just went from bad to worse. After a time, it was easier for him to sit around drinking than to try to keep a job, I guess. I’m not trying to excuse it. The drinking was his problem. Wasn’t anybody who made him sit down and become an alcoholic. I told you before, it’s an illness, that’s all. Who knows?—maybe he would have ended up drinking even if he got a degree and teaching job at some university.”

  “It doesn’t matter. If someone cheated him out of his degree, he was cheated.”

  “Not just his degree,” June said. “Like I keep telling you. They labeled him the cheater. They made him the liar. All along, he was none of those things, but he was called those names. Being called a drunk, being poor, that’s not the same. He was a good man. He deserves to go to his grave being known as one.”

  26

  I CALLED THE NUMBER June had given me. A man answered on the second ring.

  “Hello, is Edison in?”

  “This is Edison. What can I do for you?”

  “This is Irene Kelly. I’m a reporter with the Las Piernas NewsExpress. I’m calling you regarding—”

  “Lucas Monroe!” he interrupted. “Lucas told me you might be calling me.”

  “He did?”

  “Sure. I’m retired now, but I can give you references if you need them.”

  “References?”

  “As a document examiner. Would you need to see my references before I go over his case with you? I won’t be insulted in the least. He said you would be cautious.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

  There was a long silence. “Lucas told you about me?”

  “No, not really. Mr.—Sorry, I don’t even know your last name.”

  “Burrows.”

  “Mr. Burrows, I’m afraid I have some sad news. Lucas died a few days ago.”

  “Died? But—but how is that possible?”

  “Apparently, he had a heart attack.”

  I didn’t give him any other details. He was clearly shocked to learn of Lucas’s death, and the next few moments were largely spent convincing him that I was sure Lucas was dead.

  “I really liked him,” he said. “And I suppose I kept hoping my son would follow his example.”

  “Your son?”

  There was a slight hesitation before he said, “Lucas met my son on the streets. Unfortunately, my son is still drinking heavily. But I guess my son told Lucas what I used to do for a living, because Lucas sought my help not long after he began fighting his own addiction.”

  “If you don’t mind my asking, what does document examination have to do with alcohol addiction?”

  “Oh, not with addiction. I’m sorry, I forgot—he didn’t have a chance to tell you. Oh, wait-—there was the note—but you said it was a heart attack?”

  “It’s being investigated. There are some questions about his death. What note?”

  “Oh, well, I wonder if …” He paused.
“Perhaps we could meet. I know he wanted me to show you the work I’ve done for him. And then there is another matter, although I’m not sure… well, this should be taken care of as soon as possible. Could we meet this afternoon? It would be easier than trying to explain over the phone.”

  He completed this argument with himself by inviting me to his home, and not wanting him to argue himself out of it, I agreed to meet him there in an hour.

  I THOUGHT ABOUT my previous plans, which would now have to be canceled. I wasn’t going to spoil everybody’s fun, though, so I took out a sheet of paper and wrote Wrigley’s pager number on it about thirty times. Then I went over to the copier and made ten copies of that page, and finally made use of a paper cutter in the design department. I glanced at a clock and saw I only had about ten minutes to spare, so I hurried over to Lydia. “Can someone else cover the city desk for about two minutes?”

  Stuart Angert agreed to catch the phones, and I could tell from his grin that Lydia had already mentioned Banyon’s to him. Lydia followed me into the women’s room. I checked the stalls to make sure we were alone and then said, “I have a huge favor to ask of you.”

  “Uh-oh.”

  “Lydia, this is not that bad, I promise.”

  “Famous last words. Whenever you say ‘huge favor’ and ‘not that bad,’ trouble is coming at me downhill on roller skates.”

  “Listen, I don’t have time to twist your arm, so if you don’t want to do this, just say so. I can’t make it to Banyon’s.”

  “What! I just told everyone—”

  “Something’s come up.” I told her about Edison Burrows. “I’ve got to meet him, but I can’t do that and be at Banyon’s. So I need you to explain my plan for the beepers.”