The Mural

by Michael Mallory

  Taking a deep breath, Jack said: “Are you quite finished, Mr. Igee?”

  There was a pause, and then the voice said: “I see you know my name. You have done your homework.”

  “What do you think I’ve been doing, hiding under the bed?”

  “Drinking would have been my guess.”

  He’s trying to goad you. All you have to do is return the serve.

  “Well, those days are over, Igee, and you know what? I have you to thank for that. But here’s what I don’t understand: why do you have to have Elley commit your crimes for you? Are you really so incompetent that you can’t do it yourself? Or are you just too big a pussy?”

  There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line, and crazy though it sounded, Jack swore that the cell phone in his hand was getting warmer.

  “You think you are a wit,” the voice said.

  “Not particularly, but I’m still a man. I don’t have to have a woman do all my dirty work for me.” Then Jack started meowing into the phone.

  The line went dead.

  Jack felt triumphant and degraded at the same time. He had stood up to the evil bastard, but did so on the taunting level of a playground bully. Yet it had worked. Why had it worked?

  Jack jabbed in Creeley’s number again, and this time the call went to the right place. “Cree, it’s Jack Hayden,” he said.

  “Yeah, Jack, I’m afraid I don’t have any more information for you,” the policeman said.

  “That’s not why I’m calling. I’m afraid there’s a dead body in my motel room.”

  A pause, then: “Oh?”

  “She’s an elderly woman, a friend of mine. She died of purely natural causes. She was in her nineties.”

  “She’s in your motel room, you say?”

  “That’s right, at the Tide Pool Inn.”

  Even though it wasn’t really necessary, Creeley told Jack not to leave the premises, and also recommended that he go ahead and notify the front desk, telling them that he was already on his way over, and then hung up.

  Jack reported Althea’s death to the horrified young clerk at the front desk, who started to resemble an untied balloon that one lets go of until Jack told her that he had already called the police and that they would be there momentarily. Then he went back to Dani’s room, where Robynn was happily watching television while Dani looked like a wreck.

  “It’ll be okay,” Jack said, gently rubbing her back.

  “Will it?” Dani asked.

  “Promise,” he said.

  “Shouldn’t we notify Althea’s family?”

  “Her grandson is probably on his way down here,” Jack said. “I guess we need to wait for him. I’m sorry to have to dump all of this on him, but what choice have we got? She’s not our relative.”

  “Did you talk to Creeley?” Dani asked.

  “Yeah, he’s on his way over. Dani, could you take Robynn to the pool, or somewhere?”

  “Can I get some à la mode?” Robynn asked, pronouncing the word slowly and carefully. “That’s what I had the day we met Noni.”

  “That’s right, you did, punkin.”

  “I’ll see what we can do,” Dani said, taking the girl by the hand. To Jack, she added, “We’ll come right back afterwards,” and then the two of them left.

  Creeley arrived ten minutes later and Jack joined him in the room containing Althea’s body. Creeley had his hands full attempting to calm the motel’s manager, who was visibly stressed by the situation. “How fast can you get her out of here?” she asked nervously.

  “Not until the coroner arrives,” Creeley said. “But I’ve got a call put into him, so it shouldn’t take more than an hour.”

  “An hour?” the manager cried. “We have to have a dead body in here for an hour?”

  “I promise you, ma’am, she won’t steal the towels.”

  As it turned out the coroner, who was also a doctor in the Paso Robles hospital, got there within twenty minutes, and verified that there were no signs of anything except a natural death by a woman of advanced age. Noting the slight smile on her face, Dr. Franklin Lee, who looked to Jack to be barely out of his twenties, said: “I just hope it’s as pleasant as it seemed to be for her when it’s my time to go. Are you next of kin?”

  “No, no, I’m just a friend,” Jack said. “Her grandson is on his way down here.”

  “You called him?”

  “No, she called him, but not about this. Well, obviously not about this. I can call him right now if you think that will help. Althea had called him from my phone, to the record of the number is still there.”

  “Please do,” Dr. Lee said.

  Jack found the number for Tim Kinchloe in the phone’s memory and redialed it. “This is Tim,” a man’s voice answered.

  “Mr. Kinchloe, hi, my name’s Jack Hayden.”

  “Whatever you’re selling, I don’t want it.”

  “No, no, I’m not selling anything. I’m a friend of your grandmother, of Althea.”

  “Does she need to speak to me again?”

  “Um, actually, Mr. Kinchloe, I’m terribly sorry to have to tell you this, but—”

  “Noni’s dead, isn’t she?”

  “I’m so sorry, but yes she is.”

  There was a long sob-like sigh at the other end of the line, then Tim Kinchloe said: “I suspected as much.”

  “You did?”

  “Mr. Hayden, I know my grandmother well enough to know that she would die before asking anybody for anything. That’s not an idle metaphor. When she began calling me and asking me to send her things and then come down there, I sensed it was a life-or-death situation. Are you the father of the girl I’m supposed to be taking back with me?”

  “Yes I am.”

  “So can you explain to me what the bloody hell is going on?”

  “Mr. Kinchloe, I would give up a limb to be able to, but no, I don’t think I can. Not to a reporter’s satisfaction, anyway. What I would have to say wouldn’t make the slightest bit of sense to you.”

  “Well, you’re honest, at least. I suppose you need someone to deal with Noni.”

  “A family member, yes.”

  “All right. I’m on my way to the airport. I should be down there within about four hours, probably. I only ask one thing.”

  “What’s that?” Jack asked.

  “That you tell me everything you know, whether it’s unbelievable or not.”

  “It’s a deal. And Mr. Kinchloe?”

  “Call me Tim, please.”

  “All right, Tim, and I’m Jack. I just want to tell you that your grandmother was an exceptional human being.”

  “I know that, Jack.”

  “I was with her when she passed away. She died with a smile on her face. If it’s possible to die happy, I think she managed to. And she thought the world of you.”

  “Thanks. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  The line went dead. Jack clicked the cell off.

  “Okay, Doc, Althea’s grandson thinks he can be here in about four hours,” Jack said.

  “We’ll take the body to the hospital morgue in Paso Robles until he arrives,” Dr. Lee said.

  It took another half-hour to remove the body, after which the manager began to stress over cleaning, and maybe even being forced to replace, the bed. Jack was not in the mood and was glad when she finally left.

  * * * * * * *

  Tim Kinchloe was as good as his word; practically four hours to the minute after he had hung up on his call with Jack, he pulled his rental car into the parking lot of the Tide Pool Inn, went in and asked for Jack Hayden. “You gonna die on us, too?” the woman behind the counter muttered, as she buzzed Jack’s room.

  Jack soon emerged and sized up the man to whom he was going to turn over his daughter. There wasn’t much resemblance to be found between he and Althea, though that was to be expected. Tim Kinchloe had sandy hair, and while not quite fat, looked soft. The two men exchanged awkward formalities, and then Jack went t
o get Robynn.

  Althea had been right about one thing: Tim Kinchloe did seem to have a way with kids. Robynn took to him almost immediately. In fact, it proved to be Jack who had the bigger problem with her leaving. He had never before been forced to turn over his daughter to someone he knew so little about, not knowing when—or even if—he would see her again. He had felt nothing out in the parking lot earlier while transferring her car seat from his pick-up to Tim Kinchloe’s car, but now back inside, the truth of the situation was caving in on him. “This is only going to be for a short while,” Jack explained to her. “Then we’ll come and get you, okay?”

  “All right, Daddy,” she said, with heartbreaking maturity.

  Once she was strapped into the rental, Jack attempted to explain the happenings of the last week to Tim Kinchloe, and surprisingly, Kinchloe had appeared to accept that Jack was speaking the truth. Jack had stressed the part about his wife having suffered some kind of mental breakdown, which rendered her dangerous to be around, and that served to make Tim understand why he was being asked to whisk Robynn away.

  Looking up at Kinchloe, Jack tried to smile, though what his expression actually conveyed was, please keep her safe! Tim acknowledged it with a nod.

  It was time for her to go, and Jack Hayden was having a hard time holding the tears back as he gave her one last hug in the car seat. Creeley, meanwhile, took the opportunity to pull Tim Kinchloe aside. “I’ve talked with your father,” the policeman said, “and he’s taking care of the arrangements to get your grandmother’s body up to Vancouver. I told him that you were already down here, that she called you and asked you to come, but that you weren’t the person to deal with the body, because you’re not the next of kin. That will give you the opportunity to clear out and take care of the girl.”

  “Did you mention Robynn to my father?” Tim asked.

  “No, I’m afraid I’m going to have to let you handle that one.” Creeley lowered his voice so Robynn couldn’t overhear. “Hopefully the girl’s mom will be apprehended quickly and the task that Jack and I are facing will be accomplished soon, so with luck you’ll only have her for a couple of days.”

  “And without luck?”

  Creeley ran his hand through his hair. “Without luck, I’m not sure it matters much.” Pulling out a business card, the policeman handed it to him. “Call if you need anything.”

  Tim Kinchloe nodded stepped back over to the car. “Okay, Robynn,” he said, “I guess we’d better get going.”

  “Punkin, Uncle Tim is going to take real good care of you,” Jack said.

  “I know,” she replied. “I love you, Daddy.”

  “I love you, punkin.”

  Then Tim closed the car doors and while Jack watched, with a boulder in his throat, the car pulled out and headed for the freeway. “Tell me it’s worth it, Cree,” he said.

  “She’s safe, Jack,” the policeman said. “Just keep focusing on that.”

  Rob Creeley’s cell phone rang and he grabbed it, barking, “Yeah, Creeley, what’cha got?” He paced back and forth while listening for about a minute, then said, “Okay, good, keep on it,” and hung up.

  “Did they get Elley?” Jack asked.

  “No, but we might have picked up her trail. A waitress in a restaurant called the station to report a woman whose description resembles your wife stopping in for dinner late last night. She was seen getting into an old station wagon.”

  “Where the hell’d she get that?”

  “The cashier, god bless her, got the license number and it was traced to a guy living in a hippy hideaway up the coast at Big Sur. State police are on the way up there to talk to him, if he’s still there.”

  “You mean if she hasn’t murdered him?” Jack asked.

  “Look, Jack, I know this is difficult to accept—”

  “I’ve accepted it, Cree. I just sent the most important person in the world to me away with someone who is one step removed from a total stranger because I’ve accepted the situation only too well.”

  Dani Lindstrom now joined them in the parking lot. “Is Robynn gone?” she asked, and Jack nodded. “I figured you didn’t need me in the way while you were saying goodbye.” She reached out and rubbed the back of his shoulder in an intimate way that did not escape Creeley’s notice. “You going to be okay, Jack?” she asked.

  Jack shrugged. “It’s not like I have the luxury of falling apart. None of us do now.”

  They walked back into the motel. Once in the lobby, Jack’s cell rang. “Now what,” he muttered, pulling it out and answering it. It was Yolanda back at the office, a place he had all but forgotten about. “Guys, I’d better take this,” he told Creeley and Dani. “I was supposed to be checking in at the office and I haven’t been.” Walking back out into the open air, he said: “Sorry, Yoli,” he said. “I guess I haven’t kept in contact, have I? What’s up?”

  “After what happened to Mr. Broarty, I wanted to make sure you were all right,” the receptionist said.

  “I’ve been better, truth be told, but I’m still here.”

  “Good, because there’s something else.”

  “God. What now?”

  “We’re been slapped with a ten-million dollar civil suit from Resort Partners over the probable fall-through of the Wood City project as a result of the killing of Mr. McMenamin.”

  “Shit. And how nice they have their priorities in order. Business first, and then we’ll get around to the matter of murder, if we have the time. But why the hell are they suing the company? Marc’s the one who went nuts and killed Emac.”

  “The suit charges us with criminal negligence and incompetence.”

  “Great. What’s Greenberg got to say about this?” Mitchell Greenberg was the chairman of Crane Building Inspections, Inc., and the husband of the late Marcus Broarty’s aunt.

  “He’s raving like a crazy person,” Yolanda answered. “Mrs. Greenberg become hysterical and had to be hospitalized, and he only just got back. In fact, that’s the reason I’m calling you.”

  “Let me guess: he wants me back in the office ASAP so he can grill me about what really happened.”

  “You got it.”

  “Well, the answer is no. Tell Greenberg that I will return to the office as soon as I am ready to, and I’ll talk with the lawyers or whoever else he wants, but it will be on my schedule, not his. I will not be down there today and probably not tomorrow. I may not make it this week. I’ll be there when I get there, and if that’s not good enough, than he can go to hell.”

  “He’s not going to like that, Jack.”

  “Well, then I quit. It’s simple as that. From this moment on, he has no power over me, because I swear to you you, Yoli, nobody is going to like what happens if I just abandon what I’m doing up here. I’ll take my lumps from Greenberg and whatever formidable law firm Resort Partners has engaged when I get back, but not before.”

  “Jack, what have you gotten yourself into up there?” she whispered.

  “Something that would make the worst Greenberg could possibly throw at me feel like getting snapped with a rubber band. I’ll call you and let you know when I’m coming back.” He shut off the phone and stood there for a moment, looking at the otherwise normal blue sky and the otherwise normal ocean off in the distance. He went back inside to find Creeley and Dani loitering in the lobby, which made the manager very nervous.

  “I filled the Chief in on what was in Howard’s journal, Jack.”

  “So, Cree, what do you think?” Jack asked.

  “I think I need some coffee. Why don’t we go into the coffee shop.”

  The Tide Pool coffee shop was all but empty, which was good for them. After the waitress appeared to take their order—a coffee for Creeley, a hot chocolate for Dani, and a large iced tea for Jack, who even though he desperately wanted a beer, remembered his pledge—they began to talk. “How do we fight this thing?” Jack asked. “It’s everywhere.”

  “I think we’re all agreed that the nucleus of it is t
hat damned mural,” Creeley said, and the other two nodded in acknowledgement. “Well, then, it doesn’t take genius to figure out that we have to destroy the mural.”

  “But how?” Jack asked. “More holy water? According to Howard’s diary, that was a bust. Fire didn’t seem to do anything either, and painting it over worked for a while, but then the started to chip away. So what do we do? Get pickaxes and scrape it off?”

  “How about solvent?” Dani asked.

  “Solvent?”

  “Back when I was studying art there was someone in my class who had worked incredibly hard on a painting, and then when it was nearly done, she accidentally dumped some paint thinner on the canvas and ruined the whole thing. She wanted to kill herself, because there was no way to fix it, the solvent had run the colors and impregnated itself into the surface of the canvas. So, yeah, maybe solvent, paint thinner.”

  “What if it’s a special kind of paint created by Igee to resist any kind of solvent?” Jack said. “The idea’s right, but we need something stronger, like acid. But I don’t suppose you find that at Walmart, either.”

  “Acid is used for making etchings,” Dani said. “Glenowen is an artist’s community. Surely someone up here has to be into etching.”

  “Sulfuric acid is also used to make fertilizer,” Creeley said. “There’re places within driving distance that use it by the drum-full. I’d say I could get as much as we need.”

  Jack sighed. “There’s something I have to say, Cree, and I hope you don’t take it the wrong way.”

  Creeley held up a hand. “Jack, I hope that you’re not going to give me any crap about how this is your problem and not mine, and how I can’t take the risk of helping you go after this Legion thing. You’re not going to do that, are you? ’Cause I’ve gotten kinda fond of you, and I don’t want you to insult my intelligence by loading that pile of pigballs on top of my head.”

  “I just don’t want to get anybody hurt that doesn’t have to be.”

  “Neither do I. Let me remind you that on top of whatever this asshole is planning to throw at us we still have a mentally unbalanced, dangerous, probably armed woman running around. Do either of you know what to do if someone suddenly pulls a gun on you?” He let that sink in for effect. “And yeah, she got the better of me once, but now I’m expecting trouble so I can prepare for it. Besides, I kind of owe her a little payback.”