by Wayne Purdy
Eff Bomb was quiet as he registered the plan. “I'll chirp like crickets. That will be the signal to get the hell out of there,” he said.
He was over-thinking it, but I didn't have the luxury of time to come up with anything better. “Whatever,” I said. I opened the duffel and pulled out Eff Bomb's lock-picking kit. This was the real reason I invited him along on this job. Sure, it was nice to have someone watching my six, but it wasn’t necessary. Eff Bomb was a petty criminal and break-ins were his specialty. I knew he had the gear I’d need. In the army, we had Slim Jims to unlock doors. It was a thin bar that slipped into the weather stripping and pulled up on the lock. They were very effective.
I crept up to the Caddy. It wasn’t running and the doors were locked. Just as I expected, Cutler seemed the sort to lock his doors, even if he was just quickly popping out. I took out the kit, it comprised of two parts. The first was an inflatable wedge and the other was a retractable probe. I positioned the wedge between the door and frame and started squeezing the attached hand pump. From the front door, I could hear Cutler knocking and calling out Ellie’s name. A few moments later he knocked again. The outside lights came on and I froze, hoping I wouldn't be spotted.
“What do you want, James? You’re not supposed to be here.” Ellie’s strained voice said.
“The fucking restraining order. I know. I just want to talk to you.”
“Just leave, James. Now. I have nothing more to say to you.”
They were too busy arguing to notice me. Reaching into my pocket, I slipped on pair of leather batting gloves and put them on each hand. They’d been in my glovebox since I played on a co-ed softball team the previous summer. It was the only time I’d ever stored gloves in the glovebox, and the thought made me grin.
I inflated the wedge. It created a small gap between door and frame, a gap big enough to feed the Slim Jim into. The probe was telescopic up to three feet. I fidgeted around with it until I heard the telltale click of the door being unlocked. Quietly, I swung the door open and cursed silently as the dome light came on. I reached around and toggled the light off. I waited to see if I had been noticed. I hadn’t.
I exhaled without realising that I was holding my breath. I removed my flashlight from my back pocket and concentrated its beam forward. It cut a swath through the darkness. I searched the SUV, hoping to find anything incriminating. His cell phone lay on the passenger seat. I picked it up and pressed the home button, but it was pass code protected. I had no idea what the code was. I entered 11111 hoping it was something easy, but it didn’t work. I put the phone down. I didn’t have time for that. The console and door compartments held nothing of value, just the usual debris one collects in their car. I slid over to the passenger side and checked the glovebox. Nothing useful. Just maps, the owner’s manual, and insurance information.
“You’re drunk, James,” I heard Ellie say.
“I’ve had a few. So what? You don’t get a say anymore. You saw to that.”
“You did this yourself,” she retorted bitterly.
“I need you,” he said. I was a good distance away, but I could hear his voice breaking. The night was still, and their voices carried easily.
“Now you need me. You didn’t need me before. Except as a punching bag.”
I heard the unmistakeable sound of a slap, of a flesh striking flesh. He hit her. The son of a bitch hit her. I closed the door and contemplated my next move. Do I abandon my mission and intervene? I couldn’t stand by as Cutler beat his wife. “I’m sorry, Ellie. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-”
“That will be the last time you ever hit me.” Get the fuck out of here before I call the police.” Her voice sounded like ice.
That was my cue to leave. I opened the rear door and hastily searched. Nothing. My flashlight’s beam caught a dark stain just above the pocket behind the passenger’s seat. It was red the size of a thumbprint. I felt the butterflies tumble around in my stomach.
“I need you, Ellie. I’ve done something…terrible.” He sobbed and his anguish gave me pause. It sounded like a wounded animal, shrill and pained.
I quickly reached into the pocket and felt around until I grasped something hard and metallic. I pulled out a large knife. It was covered in blood. With my free hand, I took my cell phone out of my pocket and took a photo.
I heard the door slam and then the lights went out. I had to finish up fast. I replaced the knife into the pocket and closed the door. I looked up. Cutler was only ten feet from me. It was dark and he was distracted so he didn’t spot me yet, but that was just a matter of seconds away. I had no where to go. Damn it, Eff Bomb, you were supposed to be my eyes on this.
“Buddy, can I bum a smoke?” Cutler’s head swivelled towards the hydrangea that Eff Bomb was behind.
“Eh?” Who’s there?” I took the opportunity to scamper away.
Eff Bomb stood up. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I just need a smoke.”
Cutler looked Eff Bomb up and down, assessing his appearance and found him wanting. “Get a fucking job.”
Eff Bomb put his hands out. “Hey man. I was just asking.”
“What are you doing in the bushes?” Suspicion dripped from his words.
“I had to take a piss,” Eff Bomb said. He was used to this. Used to the casual deflection when he was caught somewhere, he shouldn’t be. It was a useful skill, but one that could only be honed through practice. The skill of a competent liar.
“Fucking deadbeat,” Cutler said, before getting in his Caddy and driving away. I watched him go, and then got into my own car. I had just fired up the engine when the passenger door swung open and Eff Bomb hopped in. He was smiling from ear-to-ear. I quickly wiped the grin off his face with a hard, icy glare.
“What happened? You were supposed to give me a signal.”
“I’m fucking sorry, Heck. I got nervous and my mouth went dry. I couldn’t make the cricket sound.”
“It was your idea,” I said, exasperated.
“I know. I’m fucking sorry.”
I was angry with him, but it was eclipsed by the excitement of the moment. “It’s okay. That was quick thinking back there. He had me dead to rights. You did a good job.”
Eff Bomb beamed and blushed. He wasn’t used to compliments. “Thanks. Are we going to keep following him?”
“I’ve got everything I need.”
19
Hazel
The next day, Hazel was in the kitchen, preparing a snack for Jaimie. She spread some Nutella on a piece of toast but was interrupted by a knock on the door. It was soft, almost dainty, and Hazel wasn’t sure she heard it at all. “Did you hear that?” She called to Jaimie.
“What?” The little girl called back from the living room. She was plopped down in front of the couch, watching the newest Pixar movie, something about two elves going on an adventure with their dead father’s legs. Hazel hadn’t been paying attention.
“Turn the TV down.”
Jaimie found the remote amidst a jumble of cushions. Hazel headed towards the door, dropping a plate with the toast into her daughter’s hands like a relay runner passing a baton. The knock returned, louder this time. Insistent. Hazel looked through the peephole and gasped. She looked again, disbelieving her eyes. “Jaimie. Tidy up the living room,” she whispered, but Jaimie didn’t move, instead taking a bite of her chocolatey toast. Hazel slid the chain off the lock and opened the door. Her mother and father stood in the hallway.
“Hello Haruna,” her father said. He was beaming. He hadn’t spoken to his daughter in years. His eyes glistened and he moved towards her, arms outstretched.
Hazel’s mother stepped in front of him, blocking him. “We are here to take our granddaughter,” she said. Her stern voice stopped her husband and daughter both in their tracks.
“What? No. You can’t have her. You have no right to take her.” Hazel’s heart pounded. Had her parent’s really come to take Jaimie away? It hardly seemed possible. Hazel opened her mouth, ready t
o protest. These people, these strangers-her parents-couldn’t be taking her baby from her, could they?
Her father, recognising the tell-tale signs of a full-blown, patented, Hazel panic attack, sidestepped her mother and caught Hazel in a bear hug. He wasn’t a big man, and she never thought of him as strong, but his embrace felt comfortable. “Don’t be silly,” he said. “It’s just for the afternoon. We want to get to know her. It’s time, don’t you think?”
“Time?”
“Too much time has been lost.” His words were wistful, but she felt them, like being struck by a hand gloved in silk. It still hurt, but there was a gentleness to it.
“Daddy?” Her eyes were wet. Was she dreaming? She had to be. Her mother made it clear that she had disgraced the family. They never wanted to see her again. Yet here they were.
Her father sensed her confusion. “It’s all in the past. I won’t let you go again,” he whispered into her ear. Hazel fought an internal struggle. On the one hand, she wanted to throw these two strangers out of her apartment, to turn away from them like they had done her, but on the other hand, it felt so good to be hugged by her dad. She shivered and then began crying.
Her mother surveyed the small apartment with disdain. “You live here?”
“It’s a lovely apartment,” her father said, shooting his wife a stony glare.
“It has potential,” she said. “If it were cleaned up.” Hazel looked around. The cushions were all pulled off the couch and had been positioned to form the walls of a fort. A sheet comprised the roof. There were colouring books and crayons on a coffee table, and an abandoned Lego castle stood on the floor, its tiny little bricks scattered on the floor like caltrops. I hope she steps on one. She didn’t bother to take off her shoes as she continued her assessment of the apartment.
She investigated the kitchen and saw the sink full of dirty dishes. Hazel hadn’t gotten around to wash the breakfast dishes yet. They spent the morning building a fort and watching a movie. Her mother didn’t say anything but her tsk got the message across with succinct clarity. Finally, she bent down in front of her granddaughter.
“Hello, Jaimie. Do you remember me?”
“You’re my sobo,” Jaimie said.
A thin smile stretched across her lined face and she pointed at her husband. “That’s right. This is your sofu.” Sofu was wearing a dark suit, just like he always wore. On his head was a taupe fedora. He removed it with a flourish after his introduction and bent into a clownish bow.
Jaimie’s eyes widened. “I didn’t know I had a sofu.”
Sofu winced momentarily, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared. “I’m sorry. We were wrong to stay away from you for so long. Both of you. What are you eating?”
“It’s chocolate toast,” Jaimie said. She had chocolate smeared around her mouth like a clown’s smile. “It’s yummy. Want a bite?” She held it aloft.
“I think some fruit would be a better choice,” Sobo said.
“I would love a bite,” Sofu said, taking a big bite of Jamie’s toast, pretending to nibble her fingers as he chewed.
“Not my fingers,” Jaimie giggled.
Hazel was stunned into silence. Here were her parent’s still so much like the parents from her childhood. Her mother stone-faced and commanding, her father jovial but know-towed. She felt like she had stepped into a snapshot. “What are you doing here?”
Sofu’s eyes glistened. “I would like to know my granddaughter.”
“We’ve come to take her out. There’s a dinosaur exhibit at the Royal Ontario Museum. Then maybe we can have dinner?”
“At McDonald’s?” Jaimie asked.
“Something healthier,” Sobo said.
“I like McDonald’s,” Sofu said. His tone suggested finality, and Sobu offered no further resistance. Hazel almost laughed. All her life, her father acquiesced to her mother. She ruled over him like a cruel monarch. Something had changed in him. He had steel in his spine. Whatever was going on here, Sofu was the architect.
“Would you like that, Jaimie?” He asked. “Would you like to spend the afternoon with your sobu and sofu?”
“You can’t stand there. The floor is lava.”
Sofu shrieked and jumped onto the couch and fell onto his rump. Jaimie bowled over, laughing. Sobo and Hazel locked eyes. There were a lot of things Hazel had to say to her. Needed to say, but this wasn’t the time. In all honesty, Hazel never expected to have her parents in her life again. An invisible and silent war raged between the two of them. The emotional carnage left from behind hidden cannonballs launched from their hurt, angry eyes was devastating, but there was something else too. Not peace. Not yet. It was too soon for that, but there could be compromise. There could be healing.
“Can I mommy?”
Hazel broke away from the battlefield and her face softened. “I think that would be a good idea.”
◆◆◆
She got off the subway and made her way back up to the street and then walked the half block to the library. She sat at one of the computers and made a Google search. She typed the name Katherine Chosuk into the search engine. There weren’t any results. That was weird. Usually, everyone had a result, even if it didn’t yield much. Katherine Chosuk didn’t turn up even one single hit. Next, Hazel opened her Facebook page. Officially, she hadn’t used it in several years. Unofficially, she logged into it occasionally, getting her social media fix, checking in on long-lost friends, distant relatives, acquaintances, and other people that she only knew peripherally. She entered Katherine Chosuk’s name into the search bar. There were no results there either. Curioser and curioser. Katherine Chosuk was a ghost. Somehow, she had managed to leave no digital trace of herself That didn’t happen by accident. That could only be a deliberate, conscious choice.
“What are you hiding, Katherine?” Hazel asked. An elderly man turned from his newspaper and glared at her for daring to speak within a library. Chastened, Hazel kept quiet. She continued searching but there was no trace of Katherine Chosuk anywhere on the internet, not even on the Rainbow Bridges home page. Hazel held her chin in her hands for a moment, looking at the computer monitor, and deciding her next move. Finally, she logged off and left the library. Once outside, she took out her cellphone and flipped it open. She called Rainbow Bridges, and someone answered within a few rings.
“I’d like to speak with Katherine Chosuk please,” Hazel said.
“She’s not in, may I take a message,” the voice at the other end said.
“Is Mrs. Abernathy in?”
“Yes.”
“Can I speak to her?” Hazel asked. Elevator music came on. It was a tune that Hazel recognised but couldn’t identify. She started humming along quietly, hoping that the song’s name would come to her, but the music ended, and she heard Mrs. Abernathy’s voice on the other end.
“Kay Abernathy. How can I help you?”
“Mrs. Abernathy, it’s Hazel Abe. We spoke the other day. I was wondering if you’ve seen Katherine Chosuk yet. It’s quite important that either my partner or I speak with her.”
“Ms. Abe, I remember. I’m sorry, but I haven’t seen Katherine. Its not unusual. She keeps her own schedule, meeting with people. I can leave another message for her, if you like.”
“Please,” Hazel said. She left both her and Heck’s numbers this time. Hazel usually had her phone turned off, but she made a mental note to leave it on, making herself available to Katherine’s call. She had just closed her phone when it rang, buzzing in her hand like an angry bumblebee. Hazel didn’t have caller ID and hated answering a call if she didn’t know who was on the other end.
“Hazel?” Hector’s voice said. “What have you been up to?”
“Not much. I had some errands to run. I looked up Katherine Chosuk but came up empty. She doesn’t have a digital footprint, Heck.”
“That is strange. Everyone leaves some trace of themselves. It’s impossible not too. Unless you’re trying very hard not to be found.”
“That’s what I thought too. The question that needs to be asked is why doesn’t she want to be found?”
“I’ll ask her when I see her. I did get a phone call, from her but I wasn’t able to answer it. It went to voicemail. She didn’t leave any contact info. I got the impression that she’s willing to talk to me, but it has to be under her conditions. Maybe the woman is security conscious.”
“Or a control freak.”
“Maybe. She said she will try me later.”
Hazel pondered that tidbit. Maybe Katherine wasn’t trying to hide. Maybe she was just busy, like Mrs. Abernathy said. “That’s good news.”
“I guess so. She might be able to give us some insight into Sandra’s movements, her routines, that sort of thing. She might even be able to fill in some holes, but our killer is too smart to have left a trail to follow. I don’t think he would have been so careless to leave a witness behind.”
“That’s probably true,” Hazel said, “but we should still see what she has to say.”
“Absolutely. We need to shake down all the leads. You never know where that one crucial piece of evidence will come from. That’s why I’m calling.”
“Yeah? What’s up?””
“Something’s come up. I need you to go to Sandra Mack’s parent’s house.”
“Alone?”
“You’ll be fine,” Heck said. “They may even respond better to you. Let’s face it, I look like a cop. People sometimes have a hard time opening up to the police, even if they are just trying to help solve their daughter’s murder.”
“Sure. I can do that. What are you doing?” Hazel asked, hoping she sounded confident.
“I’m going to follow Cutler, see if he does anything suspicious.”
“You still like him for this?”
Heck sighed. “I don’t know. Personally, I hate the man, but I can’t let my bias cloud the investigation. It’s just that the deeper into this we get, the better he looks.” Hazel couldn’t disagree.
She got back onto the subway and got off at Sheppard West station. Then she took the 108 bus to Arleta avenue. The Mackenzie home was a neat little world war 2 era brick bungalow with a well manicured lawn. Their home was about a five-minute walk from the bus stop, and she used the time to compose her thoughts.