Say Goodbye

by Brett M. Wiscons

  Sunny gave me a sympathetic look, clearly buying the story.

  “Is it possible, as a final favor to my sweet Bella Bella, that you could show me the log for the last couple of weeks?” I added. “Just so I know how much I need to compensate my friend for her exquisite gesture?”

  She looked me up and down and clutched the sign-in sheet. “Sir, I don’t know how to tell you this, but this A.W. person you’re talking about—?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I was here most of the days they came to visit. It wasn’t a woman, it was a man. He said he was her grandson. Kind of like what you’re saying now. Sounds a little fishy, don’t you think?”

  I widened my eyes as much as possible and pounded on the desk. “I’ll say! I’d like to speak to your manager! And on the double!”

  “Right away, sir.” She exited stage right from her seat behind the desk and snuck off around the corner. I reached over the desk and dutifully helped myself to the sign-in sheet. I left today’s sheet fastened to the clipboard but pulled the last two weeks of records and gingerly tucked them into my pants, praying I didn’t administer myself a paper cut.

  As I began to walk out the door, a male staff member followed me outside. He was maybe twenty-five and I noticed he had a small tattoo of a shark’s open mouth on the right side of his neck. I immediately had that damn “Baby Shark” song in my head. He called out from behind me as I walked out of the automatic doors and onto Clark Street.

  “Hey, I overheard you in there with Sunny.”

  I wheeled to face him on the sidewalk. “Yeah? What’s it to ya?”

  “Nothing to me. Thought you might like to know I spent a lot of time cleaning Bella Bella’s room and met this A.W. guy more than once.”

  I was intrigued. Why was this guy so concerned with helping me out?

  “For fifty bucks I’ll tell you anything you want to know,” he said.

  Ah, yes, the almighty dollar. I would gladly play along.

  I read his name-tag. “Kevin, I can come up with the money, sure. What’s your story? You seem like a bright fellow, why do you work here?”

  “I’m getting my masters at Northwestern. This is my internship.”

  “And I assume it’s unpaid?”

  “Correct.” He shot a grin my way.

  “What’s your thesis entail?”

  “Geriatric fitness. Up until the last few months, Bella Bella was in the water aerobics class every other day. Water exercise is so important for the aged body. For any body, really.”

  “Okay.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out my standard wad of bills and peeled off a fifty to offer him. “If I like what I hear, I’ll give you another one when you’re done.

  He politely took the cash and nodded.

  “So tell me what you know, Kevin.”

  He dove in. “Well, I started noticing this guy about two, maybe three weeks ago. Good looking guy. Somewhere between forty or fifty years old. Heavy beard. Actually looked like he could be a distant relative of yours. He was very quiet. Didn’t small talk with anyone.”

  “How did he just waltz in here? Don’t you guys vet the visitors?”

  “We really should do a better job of that,” he shrugged his shoulders. “But there’s only so much we can do. We always seem to be understaffed.”

  “Aren’t there any security cameras? I’m sure I noticed a couple in the lobby.”

  “There are cameras, but they’re ‘dummy’ cameras—just for show.”

  “Just for show? That’s unsettling,” I said as I shook my head. I pulled out a roll of Lion’s Club peppermints from my pocket and popped one in my mouth. I offered one to Kevin, but he waved it off.

  “Well, there are some working cameras in the hallways and dining room, but I can’t get any access to those,” he said. “Besides, this A.W. guy always had a White Sox hat pulled down low.”

  “A Sox fan? I despise him already. So what was his build like? Any noticeable tattoos or marks?”

  “He was always covered up—long-sleeved shirts, long pants. It’s wintertime, after all. Like I said, he was kind of built like you. You’re much bigger, but he was no slouch. How big are you?”

  “A little too big for my liking—six-five-ish and maybe two eightyish. Give or take.”

  “Okay, he wasn’t that big. He was maybe a couple inches shorter and I don’t know? Two thirty?”

  “Well, that helps, Kevin.” I pulled out the sign-in sheet and motioned for him to follow me around a corner. I rapidly perused it and saw A.W. had visited at the same time—roughly 11:51 a.m.— on the same days for the last two and a half weeks. “So he was here on Mondays and Wednesdays. How often did you see him?” I asked.

  “Almost every time. I’d see him check in sometimes. I definitely saw him walking around the indoor track with Bella Bella. He was very courteous with her. He really appeared to be grandson-like.”

  “Do you always pay this much attention to activity with residents and guests?”

  He nodded his head in agreement. “Actually, I do. I’m what people call a ‘noticer.’”

  “Fair enough. I believe I’m afflicted with the same malady. Well, this next query will be just as awkward for me to ask as it will be for you to answer.”

  He squinted his eyes and recoiled ever so slightly. “I think I know where you’re headed.”

  “I have to ask. Was there any sort of sexual activity between them that you know of?”

  “Nothing that I saw. It was much more like a grandmother/grandson relationship. She seemed to enjoy his company. He kept her walking and moving a bit and even laughing here and there.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay. Well, I appreciate your time and the information. One last thing. Who discovered her body?

  “One of the other orderlies. A guy named Shawon. He’s since quit and moved back to Gary.”

  I scratched my right cheek. “Were you working that day, too? Did this A.W. character show up that day, per chance?”

  “I was working that day, but didn’t get in until around ten that morning. Shawon discovered her at around four in the morning when he was doing his rounds.”

  “Any sign of foul play?”

  “Not that anyone could suspect.” He frowned. “To put it bluntly— we lose residents in here almost on a daily basis. Surely on a weekly basis. Sadly, this is where people come to die. But yes, A.W. had signed in the day before she died. Something obviously happened overnight. He was gone by two o’clock in the afternoon though. What are you thinking?”

  “I don’t know yet, but my wheels are turning.” I dug into my pocket to pluck another fifty for Kevin. “You’ve done a mighty fine job, my good man. Thanks for the info.”

  We shook hands and I went home to get showered and changed to meet my dinner date that evening.

  FOUR

  I arrived at 720 North Rush Street at 7:49 that evening. Vinny had texted that he was running a few minutes late and he’d be there closer to the bottom of the hour. Rosebud on Rush was one of our favorite eateries. We’d spent many nights there over the years with our various girlfriends and eventual wives. The chicken parm was truly to die for.

  My guy ‘Spoke’ was the maître d’ that evening and he showed me to my table. His full black hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail. He was freshly shaven for his shift and walked persistently. He said he just arrived for his dinner shift at six and as I followed him to our table in the rear, I reminded him he needed to pull the right pant leg out of his sock. He rode his bicycle all around the city as his only means of transport— thus the nickname. They didn’t wear name-tags at Rosebud, so I really didn’t know his given name. He seemed to enjoy the alternate moniker anyway.

  Our waitress Amanda stopped by with menus and ice water. I’d seen her in here before but never had the pleasure of conversing with her. She wore the requisite uniform of black pants, a white shirt, and black tie. Her hair was chestnut and cut short. She had the face and bone structure to pull it off
. Her eyelashes were either fake or she was on a protein-rich diet. From where I was sitting, she was pleasantly attractive with killer stems. She was probably mid-twenties. I told her she could save the beer and wine list but I’d take a club soda lime when she had the time. It was seven minutes after eight when she came back around with the beverage.

  “Who’s joining you tonight, Bear?” she asked.

  “My brother Vinny. Say, could I trouble you for a house salad and some steamed mussels? He should be here in ten or fifteen, but the big guy has to eat something. My daughter’s leftover peanut butter and jelly can only sustain me for so long.”

  She smiled, but didn’t write down my order. It was all in her head. “You got it. What can I bring for your brother? Does he have a beverage of choice?”

  I wasn’t sure what to say. Like me, he’d had his difficulties with the bottle and other controlled substances and I hadn’t really seen him in a while to know if he was on or off the wagon.

  “I’ll let him order when he gets here. I’m not sure if he’s drinking or not,” I said.

  “Right on. It shouldn’t take long for the mussels and salad.” I sat and scanned the room. I had a nice view from the back of the restaurant. I also had a clear view of the emergency exit to my left, behind a long table of six. Most of whom appeared to be celebrating a birthday or bachelor party or something. Amanda was working her ass off for that table, too. A bunch of yuppies in their late twenties. From what I deduced, they had a lot of granddad’s money with which to play and they treated people in the service industry like personal servants. Running them ragged and deliberately tipping like shit. I witnessed one of the guys with his back to me slap Amanda on her ass like a jockey whipping his horse. He had matching hoop earrings in both of his manly ears. I almost got right up and knocked him out of his chair. I popped my neck to both sides instead and exhaled deeply.

  I saw Vinny making his way towards our table. He looked thinner than I remembered. Probably down under two fifty. His dark brown hair was rumpled and his face stubbly. For all I knew, he might have been living out of his food truck. I glanced over at the bachelor party to see that Amanda was still being eye-fucked. I’d been coming to this restaurant for years; these punks look like they just graduated from Lake Forest Academy. I stood as Vinny made it to our table but held up my index finger in the universal sign for “one minute.” He followed me with his eyes as I walked over to the other table and up behind the ring-leading-earring-wearing pretty boy. Rather than cheap shot the fellow, I decided to give him the benefit of making a decision. With all that perceived schooling, I just hoped he selected wisely.

  I bent down to one knee and whispered, “Life is all about tough choices,” in his ear. The guy on his left glanced over at me but kept yapping to his yuppie pals about “All the bitches” who were “on my yacht” this past summer.

  Hoop Earrings heard what I said and snapped his head to look at me. With a furrowed brow, he stayed seated and said, “What did you say to me, pops?”

  Yes, my hair was a little grayer these days, but I was nobody’s pops except my own kids.

  I was still bent to his level with my right hand on the back of his chair. His buddies started hitting each other under the table to pay attention to the main attraction. This time, I spoke loud enough for them all to hear, but still not above the lounge Christmas music playing over the speakers. “Do You Hear What I Hear?” was piping through at that instant.

  “I told your friend Hoop Earrings here that life is all about tough choices,” I said. Hoop Earrings tried to stand up but I had my right hand on his neck now. He was thick enough, so I pushed down on a pressure point. He wasn’t trembling, but he was definitely under my control at the moment. He was the lead dog, his buddies waiting for his command.

  I continued to speak. “Now, you boys can either finish your meals, pay your check, tip well, and leave, or I can help you find the door. Which sounds like a better option?”

  “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, pops. We didn’t do nothing,” Hoop Earrings said.

  “Didn’t do anything,” I said. “Where did you go to school? Now, was it just my imagination running away from me then when I saw a few of you, and you especially—” I glared fiercely into Hoop Earrings’ face. “What’s your name?”

  “Mikey.”

  “Of course it is. And you, especially, Mikey, were treating Amanda like a rented mule. This is a fine establishment. I’ve been coming here since you were sucking on your mommy’s tit.”

  “Nobody talks about my mom. Let me up!”

  I obliged. We were toe-to-toe now. He was more of the lacrosse-type than the rugby-type, but you never know what’s going on in the brain. He was six feet tall and a solid two-oh-eight.

  “I gave you an option. What are you going to do, Mikey?”

  He stood there and stared at me. I could see in his eyes he didn’t want it to escalate to this, but he had to impress his friends. I didn’t let him. I simply removed both of his hideous hoop earrings from his ears simultaneously with my index fingers and tossed them in his soup. He clamped his hands over his ears and ran out of the restaurant sniffling. His buddies had some choice words for me and walked out on the check. Vinny stood stoic in the corner—where he’d been since he arrived—and nodded in approval. I told Amanda I’d pick up their bill, which was over eight hundred dollars. I tipped her another two hundred for good measure.

  I returned to my table and joined my brother. He was still wearing his forest green food truck polo from earlier in the day but had thrown a blue blazer over it. He had khakis on too, though they were grimy and broken in.

  “What did I miss with you and Golden Earring?” he asked.

  “Just a little truant behavior by some kids who should’ve known better.”

  He glanced at my hands. “Aren’t you going to wash your hands before supper? Water cleanses, you know?”

  I dipped them in the ice water at the table and wiped them off with my napkin. “Better?”

  He nodded. “Thanks for leaving me out of it. Although, I do love a good scrum. But I’ve got enough on my fuckin’ plate.”

  “You’re welcome. I figured one against six was a fair fight. Besides, Josè and a couple other line cooks could have been summoned easily. Those boys were little houseflies. Just needed to be shooed away.”

  “Seems like you’re itching to get back in the business, Barfley.”

  “We’ll get back to me later. Tell me what’s going on with you.”

  He rung his hands together. “Shit, where to begin?”

  Amanda interrupted to take our entrée order. Veal parm for him and the aforementioned chicken for me.

  “I guess you could call it a mid-life crisis,” Vinny continued as soon as she was gone. “I managed to kill a flock of seagulls with one rock.”

  “Care to elaborate?”

  He sipped his ice water and dove in, speaking as much with his hands as his mouth. He’d been sleeping in the garage where he stored his food trucks since his wife found out about the extent to which his gambling and drinking had crescendoed. I told him he was certifiably insane. He said he pretty much agreed. His home life had become stale, his kids irked him, he worked long hours, his demons were there and ripe for the picking. The usual litany of clichés rang true. On the flipside, my life at home had been the best it had ever been, but I still felt like I wasn’t utilizing my talents often enough. Ripping out earrings in public notwithstanding.

  Our food arrived.

  “And to top it all off,” Vinny said, “I roughed up a food blogger who wrote a bad review about my menu. Word got around on fucking Twitter and business has gone way down. Not to mention, it’s winter time and people don’t want to leave their cushy fucking offices and march their fat asses downstairs to buy one of my pizza pockets or tamales.”

  “When did you start selling tamales?”

  “Since I started hiring Guatemalans,” he said.

  “Crystal cl
ear. So what’s next, little bro?”

  “I don’t know? Wifey has left the door cracked for me to come back home if I’ll get my shit together.”

  “So, what’s the problem? Get it together.”

  “Well, to do that I’d probably have to sell the business and stop talking to my bookie cold turkey. Downgrade to just the one cell phone. The one he doesn’t have the number to.”

  “How many do you have now?” I asked with a mouth full of chicken parm.

  “Just two. One for personal, normal family shit and the other for my secret life.”

  I just shook my head. “What the fuck, man? What happened to you? You were the down-to-earth one. I was the one who was a loose cannon when it came to trashing the masterpiece.”

  “I’m telling you, I had some kind of psychotic snap. I’ve been in and out of therapy. In and out of rehab.”

  “In and out of Polekatz,” I reminded him.

  “Yeah, that was actually a business meeting with a potential buyer.” He sighed. “What do you think I should do, wise one?”

  “Cut bait, man. You tried the self-employed thing. You actually succeeded for a while. Most people can’t say that. You seem like you need more of a routine.”

  He sat back in his chair. “Ok, then what? I’ve still got five kids to feed. Our last score was nice, but I still gotta earn.”

  “I’ve got it all planned out,” I said, putting down my fork and wiping my mouth. “I can pay you a salary. I’ve got a new business venture idea. I popped down to Sunrise this afternoon and snooped around a tad. Some things don’t add up with this A.W. character in grandma’s will and I want to figure out what’s going on. Are you in or out?”

  He put down his fork too, his eyes drooping at the corners. “Well, without knowing what it is, having no plan B and trusting you a hundred percent, I guess I’m in.”