by John Lutz
“What did I think he could do for me, you mean?” She leaned on the back of the sofa, dabbed her eyes again. “I thought he’d fill up my days. He did, once. When we were in high school, he was captain of every varsity team the school had. Never took a test he didn’t ace. All the girls were crazy about him. He was my older brother and I idolized him. Maybe it was foolish to want him back, as if we were kids again, but . . .”
Her eyes flickered around the room. Her expression was rueful. Nudger took a guess.
“You bought the big-screen TV for Roger?”
She nodded. “He loves football. And the chess set too. I hate chess, actually. But I tried to make everything the way Roger wanted it. I even quit smoking. I wanted this to be the perfect home for him.”
“Karen tried to make a perfect home for him too.”
Effie frowned. “You don’t believe she went away to Chicago.”
“People have told me she would never have left her home.”
“I can guess who told you that. It was the sister, Joleen, wasn’t it?”
“Matter of fact, it wasn’t.”
“Well, I know how people portrayed Karen at the trial. As Roger’s victim. The doormat. The meek little homemaker who idolized him and would put up with anything from him.” Effie gave a sour smile. “That was me. That wasn’t Karen.”
“How do you mean?”
“She let him get away with a lot, that’s true. But a change was coming over her, last spring. The last few times I saw her, she was different.”
“How do you mean?”
“It’s hard to explain. She wasn’t defying Roger openly, exactly, but she had a gleam in her eye. Like she was planning something.”
“An escape, you mean?”
“Yes, that’s what I think. That she planned her getaway to Chicago, and when she was ready, she went.”
She dropped her gaze to the floor and noticed her knitting lying on it. She hurried round the sofa to pick it up. She looked at Nudger without resuming her seat.
He understood that she wanted to be alone.
After thanking her for her time, he moved toward the front door.
She followed him. “Mr. Nudger, you ought to stay away from my brother.”
“The police and others are going to carry on with the investigation, whether I’m involved or not.”
“I don’t expect you to believe me, but I’m telling you that for your own sake. There’s something different about you. Something special. I can tell from the way Roger talks about you.”
Nudger suddenly felt as if he’d swallowed a snowball. He could feel it, compact and cold, in the pit of his stomach. He waited, saying nothing.
“How can I explain?” Effie hesitated. “When I played chess with Roger, there’d be a moment when he would become very still. Then he’d relax, turn jolly. I came to know what that meant. I’d made some mistake, or I’d fallen into his trap. And there was no way out. He’d counted the moves it would take to checkmate me.”
“I don’t understand.”
“He’s playing a game now, with you. You have some moves left, but he knows he’s going to beat you. He’s going to enjoy it.”
Her large, gentle eyes held his for a long moment. “It won’t be so nice for you.”
Chapter Thirty-Tnree
Nudger went to the drive-through window at Naugles and got a burger and chili-cheese fries. Then he returned to the office and ate at his desk. And in his coat, because the office was stone cold. It had been a long time since the last shot of intermittent heat.
He listened to his phone messages as he munched on french fries. There were the usual threats and insults from Eileen, who seemed to vent even more in the winter.
Then things improved. There was a call from Claudia, inviting him to come over for dinner. And a call from a lawyer named Rachel Gold. He didn’t know her, but she had a nice voice, so he called her back right away.
“Law office of Rachel Gold,” said a brusque male voice.
“This is Nudger, returning Ms. Gold’s call.”
“Rachel!” the man called out, “it’s the shmeggege.”
Nudger didn’t know what a shmeggege was. Probably just as well.
Once Ms. Gold got on the line, he was glad he’d returned the call. She did sound nice, and she had a job for him, a surveillance that seemed likely to eat up hours and hours of billable time. They made an appointment for him to come to her Central West End office on Friday and talk about it.
In the background he could hear the man saying, “If you’re really gonna hire this clown, at least have him bring some doughnuts.”
Nudger said he looked forward to meeting Ms. Gold. He wasn’t so sure about the guy.
He hung up the phone and checked his watch. There was still time today to go to work on his other job, finding witnesses to the automobile accident. Two assignments in progress and a third pending: Nudger felt almost middle-class.
Problem was, Eileen could always tell when things were going relatively well for him. She seemed able to sniff it in the winds, or read it in cloud formations. But the result would be that she’d persecute him with renewed vigor. He was already in trouble: Her message had said that her lawyer/lover Henry Mercato was trying to get the judge to issue a “body attachment” for him. It made him shudder to think about the kinds of things Eileen would like to attach to his body.
He got up and looked around the office for his coat then realized he was still wearing it. The pipes were just beginning to clank with this afternoon’s ration of hot water for the radiators as he went down the stairs.
The December dusk was drawing in when he got back. He parked on Manchester across from the office. In the cold and early darkness, the bright window of Danny’s shop looked inviting. There was one customer sitting on a stool at the counter. He was a rotund man with a dignified bearing—head up, back ramrod straight—and Danny was listening to him with rapt attention. Maybe he was the Grand Doughnut Master, imparting to his eager pupil the secret of improved Dunker Delites. Nudger hoped so.
Spotting a gap in the rush-hour traffic, Nudger jogged across the street. Danny saw him and beckoned him into the shop.
“Hey, Nudge, say hello to an old friend.”
The upright man did not turn his head, so Nudger had to come around beside him before he saw that it was Ray.
“Hello, Nudge,” Ray said. He still held the rigid military bearing that had prevented Nudger from recognizing him in the first place. Only his eyes shifted to Nudger. They were even more aggrieved than usual, burning brightly with the consciousness of hurt and injustice. His skin was gray and glistened with sweat.
Nudger hadn’t seen Ray since he’d moved down to Affton three months ago. Hadn’t missed him, either. But for Danny’s sake he nodded and asked, “How are you, Ray?”
“Can you put me in touch with a personal injury lawyer, Nudge? A good one? ’Cause I got a cause of action here.”
“Against who?”
Being careful not to move the rest of his body, Ray raised one arm and pointed down Manchester. “Dr. Kripalkin.”
Nudger passed his office every day. “The chiropractor?”
“The man hurt me, Nudge. I’m injured for life. That bone-twisting bastard threw me around for fifteen minutes. He bent me in places where I ain’t got joints.”
“Ray, why did you go to the chiropractor in the first place?”
“It was that woman made him do it, Nudge,” Danny said. “Hydrant.”
“Heidran?” repeated Nudger, astounded. “But I thought we’d given Heidran the slip.”
Ray managed a slight nod, a one-inch dip of his chin. “I thought so too, Nudge.”
On a blazing hot day in September, Danny had dragooned Nudger into helping Ray move. Dr. Fell, though not a scrupulous practitioner, had balked at assisting Ray in faking his own death. So moving was the only way for him to escape Heidran, who had continued to come over to clean house and morally instruct him. Nudger’s arms and lo
wer back ached at the memory of that day. Ray’s television set and recliner chair were the heaviest pieces of furniture he’d ever picked up, and of course Ray’s delicate condition limited him to a supervisory role. On the drive down to his new apartment in Affton they’d had to listen to his fretful complaints about the dangers of a change of address for someone in his position. He was sure to miss out on at least one disability check, thanks to the incompetence of government bureaucrats. Ray was a formidable combination: a welfare cheat who talked like a Republican.
They had made the move at an hour when they knew Heidran would be busy at Shag’s. Affton was five miles away. Ray’s new phone number was unlisted. Nudger assumed that his escape had been clean.
“How’d she find you?”
“I went to Shag’s for a burger.”
“You did what? Ray, of all the stupid—”
“Easy, Nudge,” Danny said.
“No, it’s okay,” Ray said. “Let him rub it in if he wants to.”
“Why did you go to Shag’s?”
“I missed those Three-eighths pounders,” Ray said, with a helpless shrug. He’d forgotten himself, and he winced and groaned. “I went on Tuesday evening, when I knew Heidran wasn’t there. Made sure the girl at the counter was nobody I knew. Ordered from the drive-up and didn’t get out of the car.”
“So what went wrong?”
“The girl made me. Turned out Heidran had my picture taped to the cash register. I thought I got out of there fast, but when I pulled up in front of my building, Heidran pulled in right behind me.”
Professionally speaking, Nudger was impressed. “How did—”
“Shh!” Danny interrupted. “Here she comes.”
Nudger turned as the door opened. Heidran was wearing her brown Shag’s uniform. No overcoat. She’d be one of those people who didn’t feel the cold. She didn’t say anything to Nudger, but she remembered him. The U boat—commander’s eyes fastened on him, and he felt like a fat Allied tanker. He kept quiet.
“Hey, Heidran,” Danny said tentatively, and was rewarded with a nod.
Then she turned to Ray and her face softened into a smile. She put her arms around his shoulders. He winced.
“Oh! Did Dr. Kripalkin hurt you?”
“It was agony. Fifteen minutes seemed like a year.”
“My poor Raymond. But you’ll feel better tomorrow morning, you’ll see. Let’s go home, get you into bed where you’ll be comfortable.”
Slowly, and to the accompaniment of heartrending groans, she maneuvered him into a standing position. With his arm draped over her shoulders, they headed slowly toward the door.
“I won’t feel better,” Ray was saying. “He hurt me permanently. Every move I make I can feel my bones grinding against each other.”
“Is it worse than it was before?”
“Worse than it’s ever been.”
“Even worse than when you were at the steel plant? I am sorry, Raymond. You never have to go back to him again. But we’ll keep searching until we find the doctor who can help you.”
Nudger held the door as they went out. Ray was leaning all his considerable weight on Heidran, but her firm stride didn’t waver.
As Nudger closed the door, Danny said, “Poor guy. We gotta think of another way to help him shake her, Nudge.”
Nudger smiled and shook his head. “Can’t you see it, Danny? They’re a couple.”
“I don’t get you.”
“She thinks she knows what Ray needs. She’s going to get him fit. Put him to work. Teach him self-reliance.”
“That ain’t what Ray needs.”
“No, but as long as she thinks it is, she’ll keep listening to his complaints. And that’s what he needs. They have a misunderstanding of each other to hold them together. They’re a couple.”
Peering out the window, he could see them moving slowly down the sidewalk. It put him in a romantic mood, seeing two people whose compulsions coincided.
Claudia laughed delightedly and gave him a kiss when he presented her with the half-dozen white roses he’d brought her.
“They’re beautiful, Nudger.” She held them up to smell them. Then she looked at him and her dark eyes became mournful. “You’ll have to take them with you.”
“What?”
“I’m not going to have a chance to enjoy them. I’m leaving tonight.”
Nudger sighed. Now he noticed what he hadn’t seen before: her suitcase, standing by the door.
Biff Archway. Delayed but not defeated in his scheme to get Claudia away to Colorado.
She smiled and gave his arm a consoling squeeze. “Come have a seat. Dinner’s ready. And there’s plenty of time. My plane’s not till nine.”
Nudger wished he’d decided on chocolates. At least he could have eaten them.
Claudia said, “Nudger?”
“Hmm?”
“Biff isn’t going on this trip.”
“What?”
“I’m going with the Schwartzes—Jane and Bob—and Ravindra Malabandar from the Chemistry department. Biff never had anything to do with this trip. He’s scuba diving in Cozumel.”
Nudger felt relief, and he felt like a fool. He’d never actually asked her if Archway was going to Colorado. He’d simply assumed.
He started to say he was sorry, but he merely stammered.
“It’s okay, Nudger. Really.”
“I’ll drive you to the airport,” he said.
“I’m not driving, I’m taking Metrolink. But you can go with me and help with my luggage.”
Metrolink was the light rail line, of which St. Louis was very proud. It had only been in operation for a couple of years.
All aboard, Nudger thought.
Chapter Thirty-Four
After riding out to the airport and seeing Claudia off, Nudger boarded Metrolink again for the return trip. Claudia’s fellow teachers had been waiting for her at the ticket counter. They were all excited, looking forward to their trip. Nudger decided he would much rather be flying off to Colorado than taking the train back to St. Louis. The snow was always whiter . . .
His fellow passengers seemed to feel the same way. They were a lugubrious bunch. There were businessmen with suit bags and laptop computers, hairless young soldiers in green uniforms, and a young couple in shorts and straw hats, whom the cold weather seemed to have put into a state of shock.
The car livened up when a party of middle-aged vacationers pushed on board. They’d obviously made the most of the in-flight liquor. Nudger figured they were gamblers heading for the riverboats at the other end of the Metrolink line.
The train pulled out of the station. On a high trestle it crossed the river of flowing lights that was Highway 70. Nudger thought about Effie Prang. About Heidran and Claudia. Effie Prang thought Roger Dupont needed a happy home. Heidran thought Ray needed a job and self-respect. Claudia thought Nudger needed shaping up in myriad ways. If a woman loved a man, why couldn’t she simply leave him as he was?
What had Karen Dupont thought her husband Roger needed?
Or had she ever really loved him?
The party of aging drunken louts, whom Nudger had pegged as casino-goers, got off at the University of Missouri stop. The car became quiet again. Nudger’s thoughts drifted back to the case.
He believed Effie Prang had been honest with him today, up to a point. She would never tell him anything against her brother’s interest, so Nudger wasn’t sure yet what to make of her description of Karen. Karen had changed somehow, Effie said. She’d acted like a woman with secret plans. Nudger wondered what could have happened to change her. And what had been her plans? Was it possible that Karen had some sort of secret life going? Had she vanished into it, only to meet her death?
Nudger mused, posing questions for which he had no answers, as he looked out the window. The train was pulling out of Delmar station. They were back in the city now, just a few stops from Union Station and his waiting car. He turned away from the window.
His vie
w was abruptly blocked by a vast expanse of tan parka. He raised his eyes and saw a wide, jowly face with a bristly red moustache. Nudger didn’t recognize the face, but the smell on the breath was familiar: the reek of cheap bourbon. His stomach tried to leap into his throat.
Vella’s boyfriend said, “We’re getting off here.”
The train was beginning to slow down for Forest Park Station. Nudger looked around the car. There were still a dozen or so people on it, mostly tired businessmen, reading their newspapers or talking to each other or looking out the windows. No one seemed to have noticed what was going on at his end of the car yet.
“Get up,” the big man said. “Vella wants to talk to you.”
A huge right fist—the one that had almost pulverized Nudger’s sternum—was on a level with his eyes. God, this guy was tall. And broad. And mean. Nudger wasn’t about to get up and go out in the dark with him. He said, “I’m not getting off.”
“But Vella’s waiting.” Now there was an odd plaintive note in the rumbling voice.
“You’ll have to give her my regrets.”
The train was slowing, pulling into the station.
“I promised Vella to bring you,” the big man said. “So you get off, or I’m gonna put your head through the window.”
Nudger looked around. But the big man had spoken softly, and no one had noticed.
“This car’s full of people,” Nudger pointed out. “There’ll be an armed guard at the station.”
“None of them’s gonna stop your head from going through the window.”
“You couldn’t possibly get away afterward.”
“That ain’t gonna help you either.”
The right fist opened into a U shape. The big man was forming a clamp for Nudger’s neck. He was going to lift Nudger out of his seat and slam his head through the window, all right. The train was coming to a stop at the platform. It was going to happen in about five seconds.
The train stopped. The doors opened. The giant in the tan parka shifted his weight, prepared to strike.
“Let’s go,” Nudger said.
The big man backed off, just enough to allow him to get to his feet. Nudger crossed the car and went down the steps to the platform.