The Railroad

by Neil Douglas Newton

  Melinda smiled disarmingly and shook her head. “We were just talking about it,” she said. “I told them that the situation called for a bit more subtlety than this. Steve has a tendency to shoot himself in the foot.”

  Moskowitz snorted. “Hey, if you don’t like each other, it won’t make any difference what I do. It’s a shot.”

  Melinda gave me a smile. “Do you agree with that?”

  “I’m not really much on feeling like a lab rat.”

  “Me neither.”

  There was a moment of strained silence and then Kate stood up. “Another triumph for you, Steve. Why don’t I go and get some chips so at least everyone has something to do with their hands.”

  Moskowitz had picked up a magazine. Andrew plunked himself down into a chair and sat watching Melinda and me. Without raising his eyes from the magazine, Moskowitz ordered his son from the room. Andrew seemed disappointed, but left.

  “So Steve tells me you’ve sort of dropped out of the world,” Melinda offered.

  “That’s accurate. I’m not on Wall Street anymore and I really don’t have any plans for the first time in my adult life.”

  “That would be scary. I’ve thought of doing it, but money and security. That’s what drives me, it seems. It doesn’t seem like much when you look at it.”

  “It’s not that bad to be that way. Sometimes I wish I could still be in the game. I just couldn’t after a while.” Then I saw her exchange a glance with Moskowitz.

  “So you know,” I said.

  “Steve loves to talk. He thinks you have a lot of potential and he doesn’t want to see you fall into a pit of your own making. At least that’s the way he put it.”

  “It’s nice to know you have such faith in me, Moskowitz.”

  He shrugged. “I’ve seen people turn away from things and they don’t always come back without a push. To me it’s worth the effort to push.”

  “My ex-girlfriend didn’t seem to think so. She told me I was being a baby.”

  “I never thought that, Mike. Not everyone goes through what you went through.”

  I saw myself telling Melinda the whole story and I suddenly felt oppressed, there in Moskowitz’s homey, quiet living room. It was his

  home, not mine and I felt like I didn’t belong there. I wasn’t sure where I belonged.

  I smiled at Melinda. “Do you want to go for a drink?”

  She burst out laughing. Then she saw the shocked look on Moskowitz’s face and burst out laughing again. “I don’t want to be rude to Kate. But we can go for an hour while she’s cooking?”

  In the car I realized that I must have taken to Melinda immediately or I wouldn’t have asked her to leave with me. I saw her trying to suppress a smile.

  “What?” I asked.

  “It’s just that Steve always thinks he’s in control of everything. That he knows how to read people. I’ve always wanted to knock him down a peg. You just did it. He’s going to be really pissed.”

  “Maybe. But if we get along he’ll say he told us so.”

  “I don’t know. I know he wasn’t comfortable for a few minutes.”

  “He means well. I guess.”

  We ended up at small bar in a hotel near the thruway. I picked a booth.

  The waitress came quickly; it wasn’t late enough for the bar to be crowded. To my surprise, Melinda ordered a martini.

  “What’s so strange about that?” she asked when she saw my eyebrows raised.

  “I don’t know. I guess I took you for a wine kind of girl.”

  “I’ve been drinking martinis since I was seventeen.”

  “Well, I guess it’s just my experience. My friends used to drink them only when they’d had a day from hell. They hit you hard.”

  “Harder than the single malt you ordered?”

  “Actually yes. Gin is the devil’s drink. It changes people.”

  “What a wuss!”

  “I know my limits.”

  Our drinks came and Melinda surprised me even more by pulling the plastic straw out of her drink and pulling off all three olives into her mouth. She was chewing when she noticed me laughing. “Oh god. What now?” she said.

  “You’re an earthy type of girl.”

  “I’ve heard that before. Shit, I must have seemed like a really pretentious snot to you when you walked in before.”

  “Cultured, maybe is a better word.”

  As an answer, she dug her hand into the bowl of pretzels and nuts that the waitress had set before us and poured the whole handful into her mouth. She smiled at me and chewed.

  “Okay,” I said. “I won’t underestimate you again.”

  She laughed hard enough to dislodge a few bits of pretzel from her mouth. Then she tried to control herself as she chewed. “So tell me about the girlfriend who thought you were a baby.”

  “Well. She was very aware of her status; or the lack of it. She was very aware of what other people would think of her. I guess I was kind of a catch. Part bohemian, but mostly successful. She could fool herself into thinking she was living an interesting life.”

  “And she wasn’t.”

  “Well, if she was basing it all on me, she definitely wasn’t.”

  “What was missing?”

  “In me? I don’t know. I guess I just did the same things day after day. Looking back now it seems silly. Notice I’m not in New York and not with her.”

  “I have. So was it all your fault?”

  “Maybe, really she wasn’t a very nice person.”

  “Okay.” She took a big sip of her martini. I realized she was feeling awkward.

  “I don’t have any expectations of you, Melinda,” I told her.

  She started and then smiled. “Okay. I’ll tell my story. I was married when I was 24. I think that the guy I married must have been the brother of your ex-girlfriend. After a while he did have expectations of me and that’s about all he had. I wasn’t going to be the right girl just by being myself.”

  “So you left?”

  “Yeah. I did. No kids, so it was relatively easy. My mother still hasn’t forgiven me. He seemed like the dream husband.”

  “And she has to deal with her other daughter marrying Moskowitz. It must be hard.”

  “Steve is really a great husband.”

  “I figured that.”

  “I know he’s not always good at helping people out in the way they need to be helped but at least he tries.”

  “You’re right. At least he seems to believe in me.”

  “That’s a lot.”

  *

  I took her back to Steve’s house around 11:40. We’d missed dinner by a mile and I felt like a guilty teenager as I stole a kiss and let her go. I’d decided a while back that I wouldn’t try to take advantage of the situation. I guess I wasn’t looking for “any port in a storm”; not after losing Eileen and Megan.

  Steve called me about ten minutes after I’d gotten home. “Melinda’s above average, isn’t she?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Do you think you’ll ask her out again?”

  “That’s Steve Moskowitz. Going with the flow.”

  “So I’m not a Buddhist. She’s The Lathe of Heaven you know.”

  I was tired and a little drunk; his profundity seemed lost on me. Then it hit me. “You asked her the same…of course you asked her that question. She’s at your house often enough so how could you resist?”

  “It’s an important question. The next time you meet someone and you’re talking, ask them the question. Then spend the next few months seeing how well it fits. Or doesn’t fit.”

  “You mean some people pick certain books just to impress people?”

  “Exactly. So what’s wrong with Melinda?”

  “I never said there was anything wrong with her! I don’t want to put someone else out on a limb when I don’t know what I’m doing. And while we’re on that subject has it occurred to you that getting me involved with Melinda when I’ve got the Benoit posse chasing me i
sn’t very fair to her?”

  “I don’t think Benoit’s going to be a problem, Mike. Not that way.”

  “How can you be so sure? And didn’t you tell me just the opposite a while back? When you told me to get out of Bardstown?”

  “I’ve changed my mind. My instincts, they’re pretty good.”

  “I wish I had your confidence. And why did you ask me to leave, then?”

  “Go schluffy, Mike. It’s late.”

  Being a New Yorker from the suburbs, I’d probably heard more Yiddish than Moskowitz; I knew he was telling me to go to sleep. “Good night, Moskowitz”.

  *

  About 3:30, I was awakened by a droning sound. I lay in bed for a while, not wanting to get up, but still trying to identify what the sound was and where it came from. After a minute or so, the best I could say was that it sounded like a grown man trying to imitate a young girl singing some pop song from the seventies.

  It didn’t stop, so I figured maybe it was something I should be concerned about. I dragged myself out of bed and walked slowly out of the bedroom. I stood in the middle of the living room, listening. The volume of the sound kept rising and falling, but it still sounded like a man singing in falsetto. I moved gingerly forward, hoping to get to the window without being detected. Though the porch light was on, I couldn’t see much of anything.

  I saw some slight movement, somewhere at the periphery of my vision. It seemed as though someone might have seen me. I wasn’t sure, but it sounded like whoever it was had moved closer to the house. Suddenly the pop song changed into a series of plaintive moans, almost as if someone were crying for help.

  I was leaning forward, straining to see if I recognized the voice when the window exploded and glass flew all over the place. My immediate thought was hand grenade as I staggered back into the bedroom and threw myself over the bed to the floor. I lay for a while, waiting for the explosion. When it didn’t come, I started feeling stupid.

  After another ten minutes or so, I crawled from the bedroom to find a big rock on my floor. Further inspection revealed that there was a note tied to it. Ps and Qs was all it said. On instinct I ran out the back door. Sure enough, someone was standing in my backyard. It looked like a man and he seemed to be straining to find out what was happening in my house. When he saw me he started running. I got the impression of a man of medium height, healthy enough to move quickly from a running start.

  I started out after him, but he was already in the woods. I could see his outline in the weak moonlight. Knowing I would lose him, I did the only thing I could think of: I yelled I am three times, remembering the cryptic words in the Franz Kafka book the cops had found in my backyard. I’m not sure what I expected to gain; maybe I just wanted to confront him and let him know I was on to his tricks. Maybe he’d tell Benoit.

  He jerked and turned back toward me, studying me from perhaps twenty feet away. Something told me that I’d gotten his attention and that he was expecting something else from me. It was almost as if he and I shared some kind of knowledge.

  When I said nothing he turned away and started running again. In a few seconds he was covered up by the trees.

  *

  I woke the next morning to the sound of the doorbell. It seemed like déjà vu. I thought of the morning after Eileen and Megan left and my first sight of Detective Wills.

  It seemed even more like déjà vu when I opened the door and saw Wills looking unhappily at me. But this time, instead of the cop who was with him last time, another man stood at his side. I decided that I wouldn’t tell them about the rock incident the night before; what was the point?

  “Hello,” Wills said. “Is it okay if we come in?”

  Why are you being so nice to me? “I guess so.”

  They walked in. The new man was doing his best to pin me with his eyes. I gestured for them to sit down in two of my ratty chairs but they declined. “And who are you?” I asked the new policeman.

  “I’m Captain Chasen.” He didn’t seem disposed to say much more.

  “Glad to meet you.”

  It was said sarcastically and he bristled, as I’d expected. He jerked his thumb toward my broken window. “What happened there?”

  “Baseball. Kids.”

  Wills jumped in, fending off an argument. “Basically we’re here to ask you some questions about Bob Benoit.”

  “What?”

  “Benoit. The one you say…well we do know he has been bothering you. At least by phone.”

  “Oh, you heard about that.”

  “Law enforcement personnel communicate with each other,” Chasen threw in. He seemed defensive.

  “I guess so. I’d gotten the impression that Verizon had to use state police because you wouldn’t cooperate.”

  “We can only do so much.”

  “Okay. So you know about the phone calls. And does that suggest that he might have broken into my house? Or might be involved in the murders? Why do you believe me all of a sudden?”

  “There’s been more interest in the case lately. Some new theories have been uncovered.”

  “The newspapers. Samuel, I would guess.”

  Wills winced but ignored what I’d said. “Since he’s already been arrested for misuse of telephone company equipment, which proves he’s been harassing you, we thought we’d ask you again to tell us what you know about him and how he might be connected to the Chapter and Verse murders.”

  I went through everything, including a vague description of the postcards I’d been receiving and the content of Benoit’s phone calls. When I was done they both looked slightly panic stricken.

  Chasen jumped in. “We’re only discussing theories here.”

  I bristled. “I know. And obviously they’re good enough theories that you’re here.”

  Wills looked at both of us and seemed upset. Then he made a statement by sitting down across from me. It seemed like a conciliatory gesture so I turned to face him. After a few seconds, Chasen sat down as well. He glared at Wills.

  “Let’s hear it all again,” Wills said.

  “Okay. You know that Benoit attacked me on my porch. Then he started making the phone calls. Later on he threatened me in a bar. The next day I...”

  “What do you mean,” Chasen barked. “I haven’t heard anything about a bar.”

  “I didn’t see any point in telling you considering that Detective Wills couldn’t stand the sight of me and wouldn’t follow up on anything I told him.”

  “I apologize for that,” Wills said quickly. “Just tell us the rest of the story.”

  “Okay. Not long after he attacked me on the porch I started getting postcards. They were from various places in New England and most of them had no message. They just had my address. There was one that had the numbers on it: 4-5-1. Now, the day after I got threatened in the bar, my place was tossed. Benoit left a note with a message only he and I would know about.”

  “And what was that message on the note?” Chasen asked.

  Wills seemed annoyed and didn’t make much of an attempt to hide it. “It said ‘mind your Ps and Qs,” I answered.

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “It’s something Benoit said to me in the bar.”

  “We’re getting off track here,” Wills growled.

  I nodded. “True. When my place was robbed, the only thing I could find missing was the postcard with 4-5-1 on it. That means that Benoit took it. Do you see the connection now?”

  Both men were silent, but I could see that they didn’t really want to come to the same conclusion I had. Then Chasen jumped in. “Wait. Why would he steal the postcard? Wills tells me that you thought he was sending them in the first place to make you angry. Why would he steal back the card he sent you?”

  I shrugged. “I can’t think of anyone else who would taunt me by sending a postcard with 4-5-1 in the first place. It’s clear that Benoit broke in here, so he must have taken the card. Maybe he did it to let me know he was one of the Chapter and Verse Killer
s. Why else would he take it?”

  “Maybe just to mess with you. This doesn’t add up to much in the way of proof,” Chasen snapped.

  “Then why did you bother to come here?” I shot back.

  Chasen grunted and stood up. “We’re leaving. Thank you for your time,” he told me. I could tell the words were truly heartfelt.

  Wills turned and smiled sheepishly at me, then walked out behind his boss.

  *

  Melinda called me about 3:00. She wanted to tell me she’d had a great time at the bar. I knew I was expected to say something equally complimentary, which I did. However, I didn’t want to offer something I couldn’t follow through on. I didn’t think I could do that again and live through it.

  I told her I’d call her in the next few days.

  *

  I woke the next morning covered with sweat. I found that I didn’t want to stay in the house so I got in the car and went to a movie. When that movie ended, I stood out in the lobby until another one began. After that I went to a diner and sat for two hours eating pie and drinking coffee.

  It was probably around 6:30 when I returned to chez Moosehead. There was a message waiting for me. Detective Wills wanted me to call him immediately. It was urgent.

  To my surprise, he didn’t ask me to come in to see him. He’d become very polite in the past couple of days. He came out to see me.

  There was no bravado when he came to my house. He sunk down into my ugliest chair and sighed. Something had taken his spirit.

  “Someone tried to burn down your house,” he told me.

  I looked around. “It doesn’t look that way.”

  He shook his head. “I decided that I’m not going to let you get me angry.” He shook out his hands nervously.

  “Why would I have that effect on you?”

  His hands stopped moving and he paused for a second. “Because I know you’re a good guy and the fact that I have to keep on playing the party line is reminding me that I’m a middle-aged hack policeman.”

  “So what you’re saying is I knocked you out of your comfort zone.”

  “Fuck you.”