After waiting on an invite to sit that never came, we carefully sat on the very edge of the rickety futon which sat opposite to his chair and waited as he wrestled an afghan across his legs. We had agreed in the car that I would talk and Mitexi would take notes, so she got her pad and pen ready.
I restarted our earlier conversation. “Can you give us any information on Mr. Billows? Did he have a roommate?”
“Well which one ya lookin’ for an answer to?”
“Sorry.” I restarted for a third time. “How long did he live here?”
“Bout three months, kind of a quiet fellow, but friendly enough I suppose. Never had any problems collecting the rent either.”
“He occupied the apartment alone?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Does the space have a new tenant yet?”
“No ma’am.”
“Is it true that he moved out over night and left only a note to notify you?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Did you notice…”
“The Land of the Lost!” Mitexi cut me off as Vanna White turned the final vowels to reveal the mystery phrase.
I stomped on her foot this time and continued. “Did you notice any peculiar behavior in the days or weeks up to his departure?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Could I ask you to elaborate?”
“Yes ma’am.” He stopped and stared at me, waiting for the next question.
I repeated myself. “Could I ask you to elaborate?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Sir, please tell me what you noticed that appeared odd.”
“Oh! Well why don’t yer ask? You outta work on communicating better.”
I imagined this guy being married to the ignorant and oh so rude ex-lunch lady who worked at the bakery in our grocery store. “I apologize.”
“The night before he took off, I was out on the back porch enjoyin’ a smoke when I seen him come up the walk. He didn’t take a notice to me as the lights were off.”
“Was he alone?”
“Could ya let me finish?”
“Sorry.” My cheeks began to flush.
“Looked like he had a gal by the side, hard to tell with the shadows, but she seemed sort of heavy set in the middle and appeared a might hairy too. Likely of Italian or Armenian descent.” He paused to take a large gulp of an unidentified liquid from a cup that looked like it had a Cat in the Hat tub ring just under the rim. “Anyhow, the lady walked with an abnormal gait, like she was a hobblin’. Never heard a word from her, but Mr. Billows kept on complaining; something about swallowing rocks and messing up the show. He sounded full o’ gas; must a’ been caught up in the drug scene.”
Mitexi and I stared at each other and I knew we were thinking the same thing.
“Could you see what she was wearing?”
“Appeared to be a house dress of some sort, like me great aunt used to wear when I was a lad. Probably for the best though, seeing as her figure wasn’t very flattering.”
“Have you had the chance to clean up the empty space yet?”
“No ma’am.”
“Would you mind if we took a look around his former apartment?”
“No ma’am.”
We waited for him to rise and direct us but he never moved.
“Sir?”
“Yes ma’am?”
“Can we see Mr. Billow’s former residence?”
“You gals know how to climb three flights of stairs and open a door? You two may be young and spry but ya ain’t very bright now.”
Mitexi’s temper started to flare. “Listen here…”
I quickly cut her off because there was definitely no room to bury this fella in either of our backyards, and based on his ruddy nose I’d say he was so pickled he’d probably never decompose. “We appreciate your time Mr. Sheehan, we can show ourselves out.”
I grabbed our coats, exited his apartment and stepped back onto the concrete front stairs. To our left, a path made from stomped footprints in the snow, led to the back entrances for the home. All of the outdoor porches were connected with one super shaky looking stairway. My instincts directed me to follow behind Mitexi, because if the steps gave way I would want her to land on me and survive since she had a child to care for. How could I not offer? She agreed to birth me a baby of my own just to avoid getting naked with Dr. Tom. That’s what real friends do for each other.
After mimicking an invisible cross over each of our chests, we gripped the week railing that appeared to be held together by years of peeling paint and briskly delivered ourselves on the top balcony. A worn lace curtain with yellowed edges that I am pretty sure was hung when the house was built, covered the back door window. Cautiously, we turned the brass doorknob and stepped over the threshold.
Several key furnishings remained; a weathered kitchenette set, a beanbag chair and loveseat, TV dinner trays and a mattress sans the box spring rested on the multi colored shag rug in the bedroom. These items gave us confidence to believe that that Mr. Billows did in fact, move out in haste.
The cabinets were empty and the dated avocado colored fridge only had a soggy Chinese food container that we opted not to look in, and two single Pabst Blue Ribbon beers.
“When’s the last time you saw one of these?” Mitexi reached in to help herself. “You want one?”
“Isn’t that like drinking evidence?”
“We are not in the Forensics Unit, we are professional nosey people.” She cracked the pop top and handed it to me.
We each took a seat at the table and sat in our own thoughts until I broke the silence. “Do you think that old Irish man would be mad if he came up here?”
“I honestly don’t think he has been up here since the late 70s, so I’m not very worried. We are pretty lucky that other people are nosey too, huh? It was quite a juicy tip he fed to us downstairs.”
“You got that right.” I placed my now empty can on the counter. “I’m going to check out the bathroom while you finish your drink and enjoy the homey setting.”
Nothing seemed amiss, until I opened the shower curtain. There was a small dish of half eaten dog kibble and a wrinkled house dress was lying next to it. I turned it inside out and found short brown hairs around the collar. “Mitexi!”
She barged in, closing the door behind her and met me at the tub. “Huh! How about that? Clearly that’s not a bowl of pasta! I’m throwing out his Italian theory and putting my bets on the dog.”
Without hesitating, I stuffed the dress in my purse and grabbed the food bowl; we needed to keep these, even if I wasn’t a forensic specialist.
As we turned toward our exit, there was a t-shirt tacked onto the back of the closed door facing us. It was identical to the one that Dr. Tom had told us they sold at the concessions stands. Underneath it was heart with the words ‘Triangle’ written in red Sharpie and dollar signs drawn all around it.
Mitexi pulled me close. “Okay, I’m feeling totally weird right now. Let’s take our second chance on those back stairs and get the hell out of here.”
8
After completing some minor research on Alice’s PC, I purchased an online ticket to the next Central City Circus. This crowd could be hard to gauge, either the place was spilling over with patrons or the elephants were sitting around on drum stools, eating peanuts and wondering where everyone was. If it was a popular day, I didn’t want to take any chances on being left out.
Mitexi was going to be occupied for the next few days because Enola had scheduled a mini cruise with a few veteran housekeepers she had met prior to signing on permanently with the Carrington’s years ago. At first she had insisted on staying home but Phillip double dare insisted her right out of the house, by offering to pay for the trip and allotting her an extra thousand dollars in spending money. I asked if Alice could come but Mitexi was pretty sure that it wouldn’t fly with Enola, especially after the dinner party. Besides Phillip told me that if I messed up this alone time for him he would never, e
ver, swear on his daughter’s name, show sympathy for me again during one of my many predicaments. That was a very serious threat given my history.
After three attempts, I finally parked the Escalade as straight as it would ever get. That beast had the turning radius of an 18 wheeler. Why didn’t Uncle Gordie own a corvette that he had needed to get rid of? Then again, a vette with snow tires is about as stupid looking as a 58-year-old man with a 24-year-old woman on his arm; at least from my point of view.
Industrial heaters with blowers faced the entrance of the enormous tent where the festivities were taking place. After checked my ticket at the Admissions booth, I pushed through those 3 pronged metal spinners like the subway has and was instantly deafened by the excited screams of small children that sat stuffed between their parents on lots of not so stable looking bleachers. Clearly I had made the right choice by getting a ticket in advance.
Since they didn’t have a beer tent, which I thought would be a fantastic idea since it amazed me how all of these adults handled this kind of excitement sober, I opted for a sugar high and followed the ‘You Are Here’ map directions to the Treat Hut.
“What’ll you have?” The order taker had hair with purple streaks and an overabundance of non-personality.
“A large blueberry cotton candy and two boxes of peanut brittle.”
“You sure you don’t want a large popcorn with that?”
“Did I ask for one?”
“No, but your order didn’t seem very calorie conscious so I figured why not try to make a few extra bucks off you.”
“Clearly that is why your employer hired you, because it certainly wasn’t for your people skills.” My eyes stayed focused on her every move while she spun the cotton, to make sure no loogies were involved.
She returned to the counter. “Yeah sorry, I’m feeling bitter today. That employer you speak of is my favoritism driven father who has bumped me to candy sales because my jerk headed brother happened to produce the newest attraction to the show and that used to be my gig.” She punched a few random buttons into the screen and the cash drawer opened. “That’ll be $8.60.”
I dug out a $10 bill and handed it over. “That sucks.” Because I had been waiting to put on my official PI hat, so to speak, until after my buzz kicked in, I completely missed the obvious comment about the new found attraction.
“Oh before I cash you out…” her even tone stayed steady, “can I interest you in a pin? They’re just five dollars apiece or two for $8.”
“Nah, I’m good.” My attention had redirected to the perverted clown who had been checking out my ass since I first entered the Big Top.
“You sure? Don’t want to be the only loser, sorry I mean patron, in here who doesn’t think Triangle rocks do you?”
The familiar, yet unexpected timeliness of his name, grabbed my attention. “Excuse me?”
“That friggin’ chocolate lab that walks on one leg. People have gone crazy over him! Except me of course, since he’s the reason Andy took my spot in recruiting.”
“Triangle?”
“Yup.” She deposited my change on the counter.
“Andy?”
The cashier called out to me. “Wait! You forgot your change!”
Her voice was lost to my racing thoughts, besides money wasn’t important right now. It might be an excuse to stop over and speak with her later, depending on what I saw during the show. A few brief minutes after settling onto a bottom bleacher, for safety reasons of course, the overhead lights dimmed slightly and an imaginary band’s welcoming tune blasted through the speakers.
A portly young man approximately 5′ 5″ graced the centralized stage and clasped his pudgy hands onto the dangling microphone. He wore the standard red Ringmaster jacket decorated with gold braids and buttons which I suspect he borrowed from his dad in the hopes of demonstrating an air of authority. His black breeches fit a little too snuggly around his crotch and thighs and I feared if he were to bend down quickly, there could be a lot of traumatized children in the stadium. In the event of that unfortunate outcome, I prayed that his underwear was black and not a thong.
He removed his oversized top hat before speaking. “Fans! Thank you for attending our show. My name is Andy Billows; I am the trainer for our next act. Your patience was greatly appreciated while we prepped to present our star! Please put your hands together and welcome Triangle!”
Confetti danced through the air and high pitched whistles topped even the loudest chant. Rainbow flashes zigzagged over the audience seats until they finally merged to create a single large vibrant circle in the center of the stage. A hush fell over of the crowd as the music became muted and was replaced with trumpets, as if a king was about to arrive.
Looking around, I wondered how many of these fans, if any, were regular attendees of the shows that Dr. Tom took his dog to before the alleged kidnapping. Was it possible that they believed Triangle had upgraded his act to a travelling circus? Supposedly everyone has a price so perhaps the consensus was that the dog had in fact been sold off. Maybe people just assumed that the owner loved the prospect of getting rich more than he did his pet; and since Triangle had never officially been reported missing the reasoning could be justified.
Yet, something about this interesting situation seemed odd to me. Here the animal was, the center of attention for thousands of people, with a chip in him providing proof of ownership. Why not just have him picked up by the authorities? I could understand Dr. Tom’s claims of concerns for everyone’s safety and wellbeing, but if this was my missing animal, right now would appear to be the most opportune time to have this whole kidnapping predicament resolved.
Triangle walked into the light and sat on a red X marking next to Andy. Within seconds, various work stations became illuminated on either side of the dog. After a quick pat on the head and a small treat that definitely wasn’t a rock, the dog rose and stood on his single hind leg. I had expected that feat alone to set off a wild applause, but the audience seemed to be more intrigued than excited.
Triangle lifted his front legs high in the air and began spinning around like a ballerina without a bun. At this point even I was speechless, and that rarely happens. He was so graceful and poised, it was unbelievable! He made his way over to Master Fatty Pants, who steadily balanced a small Schwinn bicycle as the dog climbed on. After three complete circles it was parked and the kick stand was put down. The next trick began as he stood next to a table that had an egg carton and an empty medium sized, yellow ceramic bowl with a whisk lying next to it. Triangle stood perfectly erect as an apron was tied around his waist. One by one, he pulled an egg between both paws, cracked them into the repository and discarded all of the empty shells into the trash barrel on his right. Finally with a few quick whips of his whisk, the contents were mixed together. Andy proudly picked up the container and leaned it just enough to show the crowd. This time, the response was overwhelming.
Over the next hour Triangle continued to wow the onlookers; he released doves that would land on his head, threw basketballs into a hoop; all while standing on that peg leg. My ankles were tired just from watching. Prior to the final act, Andy welcome the crowd to receive autographed photos and meet the talented animal, compliments of the circus as a kind gesture to make up for the first appearance which had been cancelled without prior notice.
My sugar buzz was starting to decline, but I wasn’t ready to kill it yet by eating sensible food. Alice had cut me some slack on dinner time since I gave back; I mean had my uniform stolen. Just seeing me dressed ‘like a respectable member of society’ caused her to have a private discussion with Surgeon General’s picture in her favorite cookbook and together they decided that as long as my breakfast was hearty, I was allowed to be up to one hour and 30 minutes late for supper. Pretty much any excuse I delivered after that curfew had better be accompanied by a call from the hospital.
I made my way down to the show floor to get a closer look at this Andy Billows character. Hopefully some big
mouth would spill an interesting tidbit about the kidnapping that I could pick up on; just like the kind you always see on the gangster movies when they catch a big score and someone gets whacked for talking too much. Okay, I wasn’t planning on anyone getting killed, but the fantasy made for a nice diversion while waiting on approximately two hundred screaming kids to retrieve their pictures. Concerned that I might have used all my luck up with the angry sister at the candy counter; since I never had expected to catch any information there, I made a mental note to stop by and see her on my way out. Maybe that was the trick, to pretend I’m not on an investigation and see where it leads me. Alice always said it’ll come to you if you’re not looking for it, kind of like my newly detailed Escalade.
The multitudes of miniature people had dropped to a count of about fifty when I felt a light nudge from a cold, round object that grazed my lower back where my sweater had peaked over my jeans. I ignored it, assuming it was unintentional as elbow space was still pretty tight. But then I felt it again, only stronger this time. Quickly I spun around and found myself face to face with a big red rubber nose and an unsightly painted matching grin. It was that same dirty clown from earlier and he was poking me with his horn. If Mitexi was here, there would be no doubt in my mind that she would have made room to bury this fool in her backyard, but I decided to take a different approach by rationalizing that perhaps this goofball was the unforeseen opportunity I hadn’t been looking for.
“Well hey there hot stuff…” He looked me up and down, “boyfriend in the restroom?”
“No.” I did not look him up and down.
“Anywhere in the arena?”
“No. I came with my dad.” Hot ears, hot ears.
“Really now baby cakes… do you call him daddy?”
At first I was couldn’t believe my ears, but then it became obvious that this was the big mouth from my earlier mob fantasy. Clearly he was thinking with his little head and if I was careful with my dirty girl responses, I might be able to get more than I hoped for; in the verbal department that is.
“You know I do!” I offered Bozo a quick wink.
Doctor's Orders Page 4