“Jesus!” Jack cried. “Old Joe. You like him.”
“He’s an odd fellow but ya, I like him. And that other matter we discussed before-”
“The guy dying on the corner? You think Joe had something to do with that as well?”
The detective shook his head.
“No, I think Joe’s clear on that one. But I’ve talked to someone who fits the description of the fellow who came in here. You have to add a few years on him, but he sure fits the bill. He denies knowing anything but I took it for granted that he was lying.”
“You said you had to add some years. This happened a couple of weeks ago, Sam.”
The detective nodded, then cradled his forehead in the palm of his hand.
“I can’t explain that. I’ve been looking over old records and there are several other incidents that are baffling. I have a college kid who disappeared over thirty years ago. And recently I have a salesman who has gone AWOL. The more I dig, the more bodies I find.”
“No shit!” Jack exclaimed.
The detective ran his fingers through his hair. “Do you believe in purgatory, Jack?”
“Purgatory?” Jack asked.
“Where the souls of the dead have to repent until they are allowed into heaven.”
“Sounds like jail,” Jack replied.
The detective finished his beer.
“All the cases I’m studying are filled with these odd coincidences.
Detectives are supposed to look for coincidences. You join all the dots together and things make sense. But none of this makes sense. Maybe life is purgatory.”
Jack asked the detective if he wanted another beer. Sam shook his head.
“I have to get up early tomorrow. We’re going to lower a cable into the hole. Do you know Margaret over at the Canadiana? Did you know that when she was a kid, a teenager, she was reported missing?” Jack shook his head.
“I talked to her about it. Her and some friends were out back of the Mackenzie house. They were drinking and horsing around, teenage stuff. I guess she got pretty drunk. She wandered off from the group.
When the other kids woke up from their drunken stupors, they panicked when they couldn’t find her. They went to her house, searched the neighborhood, finally reported her missing to the police. Margaret told me she woke up in a bed in the Mackenzie house. Old Joe had found her passed out on his lawn and put her up, then went to work. The next morning Margaret woke up to the sound of voices in the house. Of course, she had no idea where she was. She snuck downstairs toward the kitchen, toward the source of the voices. When she stepped inside the kitchen, the voices stopped. The room was empty.” Jack’s mouth dropped open, but then he laughed. “You’re jerking my chain.”
The detective did not smile.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
In Our Midst
“I can’t believe it,” Margaret said, leaning against the counter, a cigarette dangling out of her lips. “And to think that I once slept in that house. Sends shivers down your spine.”
Mary stirred her coffee, her other hand holding a cigarette. “God, I forgot all about that. You woke up in June’s bed. That should be good for a lifetime of nightmares. I might look into professional counseling, dear.
Hell, we’ll all need counseling long after this is over. To think that we’ve had a murderer living in our midst all these years, and we never suspected a thing. Makes your skin crawl. Poor June. We all assumed she ran off on Joe. Hell, I thought her and Bill had been messing around. The hatred and spite I hurled at her. Do you think I can ever forgive myself?
You don’t think Bill could be…?”
Margaret shrugged. “They’ve spotted a lot of bodies down there, Mary. Maybe Bill was among them. You can’t let yourself dwell on it.” A tear ran down Mary’s cheek. Margaret took a tissue box from beneath the counter and handed it to Mary. Mary stubbed out her cigarette and took a tissue.
“I’m never going to get over this,” Mary sniffled, dabbing at the tears that streaked her cheek. “I just can’t.”
“It’s so gruesome,” Margaret said, a series of smoke rings swirling out of her lips. “Sam thinks it’ll take weeks to dig up everything. Pretty dangerous work down there. They’re not even sure if they’re at the bottom of that hole. Think the stuff is just jammed in, that it might cave in at any moment. People have been dumping garbage down that hole ever since I can remember. When you think back to all of the people that have disappeared in this area, it gives you pause. Remember that Gallagher girl, the one who lived over on Prennan? She was a grade behind us at school.”
“Didn’t they blame that on an uncle?” Mary asked, taking a second tissue and blowing her nose. “God, we said prayers for her every day for weeks. Her uncle tried to run, didn’t he? I think they caught him in Vancouver. Never heard what happened to him after they sent him to prison.”
“You know what they do to that sort in prisons,” Margaret added.
Mary looked at Margaret with a startled expression on her face. “You think he was innocent?”
Margaret nodded. “I wouldn’t doubt it, sweetheart. And those Jehovah’s Witnesses. They were a pain in the neck but I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy. God, we used to throw our empty wine bottles down that hole. Probably landed right on one of those bodies. Remember that Gray kid, the one they thought ran off to Hollywood? He was in your biology class, remember?”
“The one that looked like Tab Hunter?” Mary asked.
Margaret nodded. “He could be down there. Jesus, I just remembered.
I lost my virginity behind the Mackenzie place.” Mary laughed.
“Don’t give me that look, Mary. I was a virgin at one time.” Margaret chuckled as she took a deep draw on her cigarette. “Can’t remember who it was.”
The two women both started laughing.
“Well, they won’t find your chastity down any hole,” Mary muttered through her laughter.
Margaret choked on her cigarette smoke.
“Oh, we shouldn’t be laughing,” Mary said, tears running down her face.
“What else can you do, dear?” Margaret responded after taking a sip of Mary’s coffee to clear her throat. “It makes you think about everything you knew in a different way. Sam said that as soon as they are able to get the bodies up, they would be looking into dental records. Most of the…
I’m sorry, Mary.”
Mary wiped her eyes with her tissue.
“It’s okay, kid,” Mary responded.
“Sam says that they’ve got plenty of video but are being as careful as possible with what’s down there. They don’t want to lose anyone trying to raise the dead. God, I hope there aren’t any recent additions.”
“A salesman disappeared,” Mary exclaimed. “Helen in our office was dating him. God, I knew him myself. Remember that asshole I told you about that couldn’t keep his hands off me.”
“That would be a long list,” Margaret giggled.
“You know the one,” Mary’s tone was impatient. “He tried to tell me that he was going to the NHL, like that would be a selling point to me.” Margaret nodded. “Ya. The one with the cowlick.” Mary laughed. “He was just a kid. Don’t think he’d started to shave yet. The police have been talking to Helen. She’s scared. But I’m sure he’ll show up again. Assholes like that always come out smelling like roses. Probably just wanted to get away from Helen. She’s very clingy.”
“That’s what Sam said,” Margaret responded.
Mary paused for a moment. “You and the detective…” Margaret sighed. “I wish. He likes blueberry pie and his coffee black.
That’s about as intimate as we’ve gotten so far.”
“Is he married?”
“I don’t think so.” Margaret paused for a moment. “I can’t get the image of all those bodies out of my mind. I liked Joe Mackenzie.” 124
Mary nodded. “I liked Joe too. He seemed like such a gentleman. Most of the men I have met have been such creeps, but you could always t
alk to Joe. He was a wonderful listener.”
“Maybe he had nothing to say.” Margaret smirked.
“Hank left,” Mary added sadly.
“Good riddance,” Margaret responded with a snarl. “He was using you.”
“Well, he could be sweet. I can’t believe that he’s a writer. I thought he was something exotic, a secret agent or something. I must have been mad. He wasn’t even very good in bed. But he was a warm body on a cold night. Do you think he was a writer? I mean, why was he so obsessed with these disappearances?”
“Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?”
Mary looked up at Margaret. “You don’t think?” Margaret shrugged her shoulders. “He comes out here doing research on a book and everything goes to hell. Police don’t like coincidences. I’ll bet the police will be talking to him. They’ll be talking to all of us.”
“But we don’t know anything.”
“Everybody knows something.” Margaret butted her cigarette out.
“They just don’t know it.”
“Did Sam say anything about Joe, about how he reacted to all of this?” Margaret smirked. “Joe denies everything. Of course, you’d expect that, wouldn’t you?”
Mary was silent for a moment.
“If he is innocent, what else would he say?” All These Years
Ruth Gray sat in the couch of her living room looking out the front window and softly weeping. Her husband, Frank, sat next to her, his arm around her shoulder, comforting her.
“After all these years,” she sniffled.
“We couldn’t have known,” Frank replied.
“I’d always hoped that he’d run off to Australia. Run off somewhere to start a new life. Every day the mailman showed up at the door, I prayed that we would get some news.”
“I know,” Frank responded in a soft, comforting voice.
“I dreamed that we had grandchildren,” she continued. “I could see them in my dreams running around a backyard, playing games, sitting on my lap, telling me stories, coming up to me when they had skinned 125 their knee or when their father had spoken too harshly to them. Oh Frank, they were such lovely dreams. And I would see you, Frank, lifting your grandson high above your head, taking him to soccer games, babysitting for…”
Frank nodded, squeezing his wife’s shoulder affectionately. “You talk in your sleep, dear.”
Ruth looked up at her husband. “This is worse than the first time.” Frank nodded.
“I wish that we had never found out. I wish I had died first. What am I going to dream about now, Frank?”
Returning to the Grave
Jack pushed the drink across the bar to Hank. Picking up the glass, he took a sip and put it back down.
“I guess we won’t see much of you now,” Jack said.
Hank shook his head. “The itch has gone,” he said. “I’ll go back to my desk. Mostly it’s just working through my notes, getting everything in order. God, it feels like I’m returning to the grave. If the book does well, I’ll make you famous, Jack.” The big man laughed. “What was it that Warhol said about fame? Each of us is allotted fifteen minutes. What do you do after your fifteen minutes are used up?” Hank gestured toward his glass. Jack poured him another drink.
“What would I do with fame?” the bartender asked, handing the big man his drink.
Turning on his stool, his back to the bar, Hank looked around the room. He knew that he would never see it again. What would be the point?
“I wish I’d spoken to this fellow Mackenzie,” Hank said as he turned back to the bar. “To think that a serial killer was working in the plaza over there and I never met him. Strange, isn’t it, how you can be right next to someone who will change your life and yet you never meet them? Life is filled with irony and odd coincidences.”
“What about Mary?” Jack asked.
“That was ending.” Hank smiled as he sipped at his scotch. “She bores easily. That’s why I never told her who I was. I could tell right from the outset that the only thing that intrigued her about me was not knowing who I was. She loves strangers. More romantic. I guess we’re all intrigued by what we don’t know. We’re not cut out to be gods. It would bore us to death. Mary will get by. She’s still got her looks.” 126
“She’s had a tough life,” Jack replied. “That kid of hers has been a trial.
And now finding all this stuff about her ex, him maybe being found in that hole. Makes you question everything about your life. Nothing is what it appears. Mary will struggle through a lot of sleepless nights.”
“But not alone, I suspect.” Hank smirked and swallowed the remainder of his drink.
Helen
“I’ve never sat at a bar before.” Helen smiled.
Jack grinned and handed her a glass of white wine.
“There’s a first for everything,” he said, polishing the top of the bar with a chamois. “No use sitting over in the corner every night by yourself.”
“I always thought that women who sat at a bar were advertising, asking to be picked up. But it’s sort of nice up here. I’ve got you to talk to and I can watch what’s going on in the bar. I love to watch people. My fiance would be so surprised if he saw me up here. He’s such a prude.
Thinks a lady shouldn’t be in a bar by herself. I bought this new dress for him.”
“It’s very pretty.” Jack returned her smile.
“Thank you, sir.”
“Call me Jack.”
Helen giggled. “Well, call me Helen, Jack. I’m expecting my fiance to show up. He’s late. I’m sure he’ll show up. And if he doesn’t, I might just chat up some other gentleman. Isn’t that what you do in a bar?”
“Yes, Helen, that’s one of the things you do.”
“My fiance was an ex-hockey player.”
“You don’t say.” Jack smiled. “What’s his name? Maybe I’ve heard of him.”
“Joe Begin.”
Jack shook his head. “Haven’t heard of him. Did he play for the Leafs?”
Helen giggled and sipped at her wine. “To tell you the truth, he might have been telling me a little tale, to earn my favor. He’s quite a storyteller. Well, that’s his job, isn’t it?” Jack smiled.
“He’s a salesman.” Helen giggled. “That’s how I met him. He came in-to our office one day and sold my boss a shipload of supplies. He’s very handsome. You might have seen him in here a few times. We were here 127 together one night. There was a giant sitting at your bar with Mary.
Mary works with me in the office.”
The smile left Jack’s face.
“Wasn’t he one of…?”
Helen shook her head. “Oh, no. He wasn’t one of the bodies. He left town for a few days. He has a regular route. I’m expecting him back at any time. That’s why I bought this new dress. I’m sure tonight will be the night.”
Ed
Ed sat in his wheelchair by his window and stared out into the bright sunlight of the afternoon.
“So it’s come to nothing?” he asked.
Sam Kelly leaned against the wall beside the window, his hands in his trouser pockets. “Someone had dumped an old bed down there at one time and it had lodged itself against the walls. Everything else just piled on top of it. We thought for sure we’d hit bottom. All on tape. You could see bones, lots of bones underneath the garbage. It was the most hopeless feeling watching on the monitor. Two fellas went down there on ropes.
Volunteers from 22 Division. Herb and Jimmy. I don’t even know their last names.”
“It’s tough,” Ed said, shaking his head.
“One of them had just grabbed onto a sleeping bag when everything started to shake. There was a gurgling sound and then a pop. And it was gone. The whole mess disappeared into the depths of that hole. One of the ropes snapped. Frank was gone. Felt like the bottom of my stomach had dropped out. Jimmy held onto the sleeping bag for a moment and then it unraveled like a role of Christmas ribbon into the darkness.”
“You got…?” the ol
d man asked.
The detective nodded. “We pulled Jimmy out.”
“And now?”
“Nothing. We’re left with nothing except what we have on tape. The captain doesn’t want to spend any more money. There’s talk of trying to retrieve Frank’s body, but who knows how deep we would have to go.” Ed began to laugh, coughing phlegm, then choking. The detective smacked the old man on the back.
“Thanks,” Ed said with a smile. He looked up at the detective. “Well, that’s a hell of a way to end a career. What are you going to do now that you’re retiring? Got any hobbies?”
Sam shook his head.
“And your girl?” Ed asked. “The waitress in the restaurant.” Sam shook his head and smiled.
Cloverdale Parking Lot
“What if they start asking me questions?” Wiggy cried, sucking on a cigarette, unable to stand in one place, twirling around the cars in the parking lot, slamming his fist on their hoods, clenching his fists.
Terry leaned against the hood of the Chev.
“Calm down,” he said. “I’ll call Frank later and let him know how things stand. They’ve got no reason to suspect us of anything.”
“That was my little brother’s sleeping bag we wrapped him in,” Wiggy pointed his cigarette at Terry. “Johnny was a friend of mine. I didn’t want nothing to do with it. I just went along for the ride.”
“I told you to steal a bag from the Sally Ann,” Terry cried.
“Well, they didn’t have any. What was I supposed to do, knit a bag?”
“If you hadn’t let go of the rope,” Terry barked. “If you had just held on.”
“My arms were sore. That fucking faggot was so heavy. We shouldn’t have gotten him drunk. The bartender is sure to remember that we were drinking in there that night… He should have checked our ID. What’s he doing serving minors? How am I going to explain this to my mother?
The Hole Page 16