Catch Me When I'm Falling

by Cheryl A Head

  “I could do that.”

  “He was a veteran, so he may have been getting benefits. We’ve also heard he has a sister, maybe in the Saginaw area.”

  “Okay, I’ll find out,” Ernestine said, moving from the balcony to the dining-room table where she opened her laptop.

  Charlie followed and sat across from her. “It might involve some stretching of the truth.”

  “Oh, I see,” Ernestine said quietly.

  “Judy can give you some tips on how to get around the red tape.”

  “Do you want me to work from your office?”

  “No. You can make your calls and do your online work from here. It’s easier. This is usually the work Judy would do, but she’s at Mandy’s refining our moving plan.”

  “So you finally buckled and accepted her help.”

  “It seems all the important women in my life are pushing me around these days.”

  “I don’t normally use emotional blackmail. It was a last resort,” Ernestine said contritely.

  “Forget it, Mom. Let’s focus on the work ahead. Our goal is to gather as much information about these murders as possible, so we can get justice for Eddie and the other eight human beings who were treated like trash.”

  # # #

  When Charlie opened the door to her condo, she heard laughter coming from her bedroom. She recognized the voices and quietly took off her jacket, dropping it and her bag on the couch. She tiptoed down the hallway and leaned against the bedroom doorway. Her wall of closets was pushed open, and her lover and office manager were slinging clothes over their shoulders and onto her bed.

  “If you two are burglars, I’m making a citizen’s arrest,” Charlie announced.

  The women spun around, still laughing. Judy had an armful of sweaters that she added to the pile on the bed. Mandy hurried over to give Charlie a kiss and hug. She tugged Charlie into the frivolity.

  “Come on over here. We’re purging your closets before we start packing. You have a lot of separates you can donate to Goodwill, or to one of the clothes pantries.”

  “I need all these things,” Charlie protested, picking up a few items from the bed.

  Mandy released Charlie’s waist and grabbed two garments from the bed. One was a blue, waist-length, polka-dot cardigan, the other a suede vest with a fringed tail. She held up the outdated fashion items and stared at Charlie.

  “Okay. I probably won’t ever wear those again,” Charlie admitted.

  “I don’t see where you would have worn this in the first place.” Mandy dangled the vest. “We’re putting together a give-away box. You can have the final say after we show you what we’ve selected.”

  “One person’s junk is another’s treasure,” Judy said, beaming.

  “It’s my junk and I treasure it.”

  Charlie sat on the edge of the bed while Mandy held up items, waited for Charlie’s thumbs-up or -down, then handed the sacrificed items to Judy for boxing. At the end of ten minutes only three items were going to be rehung.

  “See. That was just your tops,” Judy said. “Now we’ll go through pants and slacks and see what you still want. Then we’ll tackle your shoes. When we’re done, you’ll only have to pack things you know you’re going to use.” Judy smiled with enthusiasm. She was in her element, bringing order to chaos, or adding another layer of order to an already workable situation—thus, her propensity to constantly reorganize the office filing system.

  “What’s wrong?” Mandy asked.

  “Nothing. I’m just trying to remind myself how much this is helping me.”

  “And don’t you forget it,” Judy said, taking a pair of jeans with holes in the knees off the hanger and throwing them onto the bed.

  It took a full hour to separate shoes into the keep-versus-discard piles. Charlie presented every possible scenario of when and where she might wear one of the thirty-six pairs in her closet.

  “You’ll never go to that many galas,” Mandy argued.

  “I met you at a gala,” Charlie recalled.

  “I know. That’s why you’re not going to any others. At least not without me.”

  Judy smiled at their couple’s banter and put on her own shoes. “Okay, I’ve done enough damage for one day. I’m headed home. Charlie, please look at the revised packing plan when you get a chance. You want me to come here in the morning, or the office?”

  “The office, please. Ernestine is helping with research on this Cass Corridor case and I told her you’d be in touch to give her tips on the calls she has to make.”

  “Oh. Okay. What time will you be in?”

  “Maybe around eleven. Don and I are back to the Corridor in the morning.”

  Chapter 4

  Charlie and Don sat across from Jordon Parker’s desk. He was on a call with his back turned to his visitors, and Charlie took the opportunity to peruse his cramped office. It was a dramatic contrast to the one they’d visited yesterday. Captain Travers’ desk had signaled authority; this one signaled over-tasked, hands-on social work. The wood fascia was chipped and marred with some liquid that had faded the veneer a whitish-gray. File folders were heaped atop the surface and there were no fancy picture frames, pen holders, or lamps. Parker’s diplomas and social work license were framed in an inexpensive metal, and Charlie noticed a slight difference in the names on the certificates. The rest of the wall was covered in photographs of smiling children, new graduates, and birthday parties, along with birth announcements and crayon drawings. Parker completed his call and swung around with an apologetic smile.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting. I’ve got some information for you.” He reached into the mound of files and drew out two green folders. He stood and handed one each to Charlie and Don. “After you called yesterday, I conferred with my colleagues, and we came up with these.”

  Charlie thumbed through thirteen pages, each a dossier with a small headshot, a paragraph of personal information, and the names of a few personal contacts. The pages contained the lives of eleven men and two women.

  “These are clients who had been regulars, but haven’t been seen in the last month. I also included a sheet on Eddie so you would have a photo.”

  “The police have a list of nine people. Eight men and one woman,” Charlie said.

  “That’s off the record,” Don hurried to say.

  “Right. You told me when you called. I have no reason to believe all these clients are involved in your case. Some may have just dropped out of our services, or gone to another program, or moved out of the city. But I wanted you to be aware of them.”

  “It’s perfect, Mr. Parker, and it’s so helpful to have the photos. Do you usually photograph your clients?” Charlie asked.

  “No. But some of our regulars need a form of identification. It helps them keep from being arrested by the police. So we issue a client ID.”

  Parker shook hands with Charlie and Don, then walked them to the lobby. The security guard shot a disdainful look in their direction.

  “Parker’s a nice guy,” Don said as he pushed through the door.

  “The guard doesn’t think so,” Charlie responded.

  They had just stepped away from the NSO building when someone called out to them. Charlie turned to see a slight, wiry woman in her early thirties moving quickly toward them. She wore violet lipstick, a short denim skirt, and a blue satin baseball jacket over a midriff-revealing peasant blouse. Her movements were jerky, and she walked on the balls of her feet in black ballerina-type slippers.

  “Oh geez,” Don said under his breath. “Here we go.”

  “You looking for who burned them people?”

  “Who told you that?” Don asked with a sneer.

  The woman stared at Don, pursed her lips in a pout, and then turned her body in a full dismissal. She gave Charlie a quick once-over and self-consciously touched her badly cut, permed hair.

  “My name is Bettina Waller, but you can call me Betti.”

  “Hi,” Charlie said, extending her hand. “I�
�m Charlie Mack, and this is my partner, Mr. Rutkowski.”

  Betti held Charlie’s handshake limply, released it, and glided backward a half step. “You’re not the police, I can tell,” she said, then gave Don a three-second glance. “Well, he might be.”

  “We’re private investigators, and we’re gathering information about the burned bodies.”

  “I been telling everybody there was a problem.”

  “And what do you think is the problem?” Charlie asked.

  “Somebody been grabbing people and burning them up. But the police won’t do a damn thing about it.” She said her piece in one breathless statement, then momentarily dropped flat on her feet and crossed her arms. Within a few seconds she was back on her toes and fidgeting. “I’m right, ain’t I?”

  “That’s confidential,” Don said, turning toward the car.

  The two women stared at Don’s back. They were from different worlds, but they’d both witnessed the turned backs of a lot of white men forming snap judgments about them.

  “Betti, will you do me a favor? If you hear anything that might help us, will you call me?”

  Charlie held out one of her business cards. Betti looked at it a moment, then at Charlie. She patted down her hair, and put the card in her cleavage. She executed an off-balance pirouette, and glided away.

  “I’ll call you,” she said over her shoulder.

  Charlie joined Don in the car, and took a last look around. There were now small clusters of people in the empty lot across from the NSO. The day was pleasant enough for a light jacket, but many of the homeless were layered in their entire wardrobes. A church van had just pulled into the parking lot, and four volunteers began organizing the noon meal event. The van had an awning staked into the ground providing a cover for the two six-foot tables one of the volunteers was setting up. Very quickly a short line of diners formed outside the gate.

  “Office?”

  “Yep.”

  “Betti’s going to call if she hears or sees anything.”

  “We don’t need her kind of help.”

  They rode in silence toward Campus Martius, then Don turned west toward the office parking garage. Judy peeked her head out of the supplies closet when they entered, and Charlie saw Gil through the half-frosted glass walls of the conference room. Don peeled off his jacket, and gun holster before he reached his desk, but Charlie stopped to talk to Judy.

  “Is Gil on the phone?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “There are a couple of messages for you in my inbox,” Judy pointed. “And I already spoke with Ernestine today. She’s on the job, and she’s going to check in later this afternoon.”

  “Great. Thank you.”

  “So, I guess this is officially a case, huh?” Judy asked.

  “What’s your criterion for a case?”

  “If we have expenses or any kind of liability.”

  “Let’s discuss it in the conference room when Gil is done with his call.”

  # # #

  Charlie pinned the thirteen dossiers in four rows on the conference room corkboard, and the Mack partners sat across from the documents to take in the full picture.

  “There’s no reason to believe all these people have been murdered,” Charlie began. “Parker, our contact at NSO, says these are people who have fallen off their case rolls in the last 30 days.”

  “Are any of them on the police list?” Gil asked.

  “We only know about Eddie so far, but Don thinks if we can give Captain Travers a few hard facts about these murders, he may be more forthcoming about the identities of the others.”

  “Ernestine is following up on the third-party contacts we have for Eddie, so maybe we should do that for all these people,” Judy said.

  “Your mom’s doing research for us?” Don asked.

  “Yeah. She wanted to help, and I couldn’t say no.”

  “What about her Alzheimer’s?” Don asked. “Can she do it?”

  “She asked me all the right questions,” Judy said. “I gave her tips on how to approach the people at the VA, and what she can legally say about our inquiries.”

  “She’s got the time and the interest, and to tell you the truth she’s a hell of a researcher. I think she’ll be all right,” Charlie said.

  “So, we are taking this on as a formal case?” Don asked.

  “Judy and I were just talking about that. She thinks it’s official when we have expenses or liability.”

  “Well, so far we don’t have either, unless you count the meal you bought Reggie at McDonald’s and the donation you made,” Don said sarcastically.

  “Donation?” Gil asked.

  “I gave Reggie a twenty, okay? I was just trying to help, but Don thinks I’m an enabler. I don’t begin to understand why people choose to live on the streets, or exist in a constant state of drunkenness. But I’m not going to judge.”

  “I don’t really have the right to judge either,” Don said, getting surprised looks from the group, and prompting him to ask, “What?”

  “We’re just wondering who you are, and what you’ve done with our partner?” Gil said.

  “Very funny. When I returned stateside from the Marines, I was a mess. If it hadn’t been for my mother, and counseling, and meeting Rita, I don’t know what would have happened to me. That’s all I’m saying.”

  “Eddie reportedly had post-traumatic stress disorder,” Charlie said, “and he was having nightmares when he slept, so he walked around at night.”

  “There were a few guys from my platoon who never recovered from PTSD, and one who committed suicide,” Gil said.

  “So we have a case,” Don stated, looking at Charlie. “Now what do we do?”

  “We’ve already put in about eight hours on this investigation. We can continue to walk around the Corridor, go to some shelters and churches, but I have an idea that could expedite things. I think it’ll take another sixteen hours or so of my time, but it should give us enough real evidence to turn over to the police.” Charlie paused, looking at the attentive faces of her team. “I think I should embed myself in the Corridor.”

  “What does that mean, Mack?”

  “I’m thinking I could go undercover for a couple of nights. Pair up with Reggie, stay in one of the shelters, or set up in one of the tent cities. I can pick up the talk on the street, and maybe identify a witness or two.”

  “That’s interesting,” Gil said. “Have you suggested it to Reggie?”

  “No, not yet.”

  “I thought we weren’t going to get too deep into this,” Don said.

  “We’re not. You can come around and check on me at night, and pick me up in the morning.”

  “I don’t know,” Judy said. “You mean you’re going to sleep on the streets?”

  “Or in a shelter,” Charlie said.

  “I think it’s too dangerous,” Don said quickly.

  “It’ll just be for tonight and tomorrow night. Then I’m done.”

  “Have you told Mandy?” Judy asked. “Shouldn’t you be spending your evenings packing?”

  “I’ll pack during the day.”

  Both Judy and Don had worried and skeptical looks on their faces. Only Gil seemed intrigued and had several practical suggestions.

  “It’s going to be warm the rest of the week, that’s good. But there’s a forecast of rain tomorrow night, and that won’t be fun. You’ll need to find the right clothes to wear so you can blend into the population. You’ll also need to carry your revolver, and get a cell phone that won’t draw attention.”

  “Good,” Charlie said, taking notes.

  “I have a few of Gary’s old things in the trunk I was giving to the Goodwill,” Judy said. “The clothes will be baggy, but maybe that’s what you need.”

  “That’s exactly what I’ll need.”

  “I still think it’s a bad idea, but if you’re going undercover, so am I,” Don said. “It’s not enough to have Reggie along. If something goes wrong, you’ll need more than a
priest.”

  “No, Don. I have other things for you to do. I need you to soften up Travers. Make him give us all the information he has on these murders. I want to know: what personnel are assigned to this case? Do they have any witnesses? Have they gathered any evidence at the crime scenes?”

  “If you can wait a day, I can join you,” Gil said. “But I’ve got court tomorrow.”

  “I want to be done with this case by Monday. My house closing is Wednesday, and Mandy and I need to be free to handle any last-minute problems with the title or the inspection, or whatever. Look, let me call Reggie and see if he’s up for this. Then I’ll put together the outfit, buy a disposable phone, and get back here by the end of the day to talk it through one more time.”

  # # #

  The office was quiet now. Most of the building’s tenants had left hours ago, and even the cleaning lady had come and gone. Charlie stared at her desk phone. She wasn’t looking forward to the call she had to make. Don would return in a couple of hours to drop her off at the rendezvous with Reggie, who had been willing to participate in the espionage, and had excitedly listed a few locations they could visit in the next two nights. He wasn’t as enthusiastic about the idea of walking around the Corridor all night, but finally agreed to retrace the usual route Eddie would take on his nocturnal migrations.

  “I’ll need to do a couple of nights’ work away from the house, Hon.”

  There was silence on the other end of the line, and Charlie allowed it to linger.

  “Now? In the middle of our move?”

  “I promise It won’t affect our move. I’ll be right back in the rhythm of things by this weekend.”

  “Really? What about the packing?”

  “Judy will follow the schedule, and she’ll be at your house tomorrow morning instead of coming into the office. Don and Gil will handle things at the office.”

  “I see you have it all figured out.” Mandy’s voice didn’t veil her resentment.

  “Are you angry?”

  “Not angry. Just wondering where your priorities are right now.”