The Disappearance of Penny

by Robert J. Randisi

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  They let me out of the hospital after they’d taken a look inside my head and decided that all was as it should be.

  “Looks like you’ve had a recent blow to the head before this,” the doctor observed as he put a larger bandage where the smaller one had been. The bullet had struck me in almost the exact spot I had cut my head earlier, ducking the car.

  “You’ll have a headache for a while,” he added. “Just take some aspirin.”

  “And call you in the morning?” I asked.

  “No, why?” he asked me, dead serious.

  “Forget it. Thanks, Doc.”

  I paid my bill and left. When they asked me who they could call, I thought about Brandy, but that wouldn’t have done any good. She would have had to find a cab. Shukey had a car, but when I got out it was almost seven. I didn’t want to wake her, or worry her.

  So I grabbed a taxi.

  By the time I got back to my place it was almost quarter to eight in the morning. I was surprised to find Brandy still there. Normally, she would have been at the track very early.

  “Where the hell have you, “she began as I walked in, then she saw the new bandage on my head and started fussing.

  “Hank, you’re hurt!” she shouted, catapulting off the couch and grabbing my arm, as if I were an old man she was helping across the street.

  “I’m fine. It takes more than one bullet to kill us hardboiled private eyes, you of all people should know that.”

  “Stop that!” she shouted, stepping back and stamping her foot. “This is not fiction, damnit, this is reality! I finally find a man I — I think I might — and you go and try to get yourself killed, you damned idiot!” she stammered, and then the tears started.

  I chose that inopportune moment to have a dizzy spell.

  “Oh, shit,” I said, as I realized that I wasn’t going to be able to stand up much longer.

  “Hank!” she called again, and caught me before I could fall. She helped me the rest of the way to the couch and sat me down.

  “Oh, I’m sorry I yelled at you. Are you all right? Tell me what happened?”

  “Could you get me some aspirin first?” I asked her. “I have the Triple Crown of headaches.”

  “Sure, wait here,” she told me.

  You ever notice how people say stupid things in times of stress or crisis.

  Where the hell would I go?

  She brought two aspirin and a glass of water and sat down next to me. I was suddenly very, very sleepy and it must have showed.

  “Let me help you to bed, “she insisted. “Get some sleep, and then you can tell me what happened when you wake up.”

  “You can’t stay here,” I told her. “You have to ride — ”

  “I’ve already canceled all my mounts for today. Besides, I only had three. I’m staying here with you, so you just get into bed and go to sleep.”

  She helped me into the bedroom, where she undressed me and tucked me in. I didn’t remember falling asleep, but when I woke up it was three-thirty in the afternoon.

  I swung my feet to the floor and started to stand up, but it was not to be. My legs turned into wet noodles and I sat back down on the bed. The creaking bed springs must have been a giveaway because Brandy came running in, snapping, “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “I’m trying to get up, but my legs won’t cooperate.”

  “Well, good. At least your legs have more sense than your head does.”

  She came around the bed and put her hands on my shoulders, to keep me from trying to get up again.

  “Just lie back, Mr. Po. We’ve got something for you to eat.”

  I did as she said, then realized what she had just said. “We?”

  She turned sheepish.

  “I’m really not that good a cook, so I called Shukey and asked her to come over.”

  “To cook?”

  “And why not?” Shukey asked, walking in with a tray. “I’ve cooked for the three of us before.”

  “I don’t have to eat in bed,” I told them. “I’d rather come into the kitchen.”

  They looked at each other.

  “I’ll make you a deal. Help me to the table and I’ll tell you what happened this morning.”

  They thought about it, then Brandy nodded to Shukey.

  “Let me bring the tray back, then we’ll help you,” Shukey suggested. Brandy and I waited until Shukey returned, then they both helped me to my feet — ha, ha, legs, three against two — and to the kitchen table, where the three of us ate while I recounted last night’s — or this morning’s — happenings.

  “You can’t blame yourself, Henry,” Shukey assured me. “It’s not your fault.”

  “Sure it is, but let’s not argue the point. At this stage of the game it’s a moot one at best.”

  They both looked as though they’d rather argue some more, but they were women, weren’t they? They gave in, though, and we finished Shukey’s delicious soup before conversation resumed.

  “I’ve got to get dressed,” I told them when we finished eating.

  “Before you do that, I’ve got something for you,” Shukey told me.

  “What?”

  “I remembered what you said at Chris’ house,” Brandy put in, “about having to find out more about Louie Melendez. I called Shukey and told her, and she said she’d take care of it.”

  I looked at Shukey.

  “I went to his apartment, but he still hasn’t been there. At least, no one there has seen him. I asked some of the neighbors about him, though. People said he was quiet, he might have been a fop — ”

  “A what?”

  “ — gay, he might have been gay. If he is gay, though, he has an unusual hobby.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Guns, Henry. He’s a member of a gun club. That’s the only thing about him that stands out, except for the fact that he’s not a very good jockey, but insists on attempting to make a living at it.”

  ‘“Not very good’ is an understatement,” Brandy added. ‘As a rider he’s gross. He’s got no sensitivity, he’s heavy handed, he’s got no seat — ” she interrupted herself, shaking her head.

  “Guns,” I muttered.

  “What?” they said, almost in unison.

  “Guns … dirt all over him … the movie … disturbed young girl … gullible … Louie could help her …” I was muttering, fitting the pieces together. I must have sounded crazy, and I wished I was.

  “Hank, you’re not making any sense,” Brandy told me. Then she turned to Shukey and said, “Maybe we’d better get him back to bed.”

  I had it, I knew I had it, and I was sorry I had it.

  “Oh, God,” I said aloud, resting my forehead on the heels of my hands, my elbows on the table.

  “Hank, are you all right?” Brandy asked with concern.

  “Oh, Christ,” I said, then looked at Shukey. She was chewing her bottom lip, watching me closely.

  “What is it, Henry?” she asked softly.

  “I’ve got it, Shuke. I know where Penny Hopkins is. I know where she is, and God help her.”

  I stood up. “Shuke, have you got your car with you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Mine’s still in the Village. I’m getting dressed, then we’re going to the Downs, the three of us. We’re going to find Penny Hopkins.”

  Shit, yes, I knew where she was now.

  How I wished I didn’t.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  “You the guy that called in a murder?” the young cop asked. Actually, he was probably a couple of years older than me. His name tag identified him as Officer Bagarozza. His partner, a man some eight or ten years older, wore a tag that said DIBENEDETTO.

  “I didn’t say anything about a murder. I said I had found a body.”

  They looked at each other and then the younger one said, “Okay, where?”

  I pointed out toward the meadow spread out in front of us, which was right behind Island Downs
.

  “Out there.”

  “Show me,” he instructed, and I took the point and led him to it. His partner followed.

  When the young one saw the arm sticking out from the dirt he asked, “Is that it?”

  “That? No, that’s a variety of South American snake,” I told him. It wasn’t his fault, really I was just testy because Penny Hopkins had turned out to be right where I thought she would be.

  He turned around and called to his partner, “You better call Homicide, Charlie.”

  His partner nodded and walked back to their radio car. “You’d better tell him to have Detective Diver of the Manhattan South Homicide Squad notified also. He’ll want to know about this. It might be connected with a case he’s working on.”

  “You got some ID, bud?” he asked me. I showed him my license and suggested, “Let’s get everybody here so I only have to tell it once, okay? It’ll be easier all around.”

  I guess it made sense to him. He glanced at the arm in the ground, sticking up like some obscene plant, was about to walk away, then looked back at it.

  “I’ll make sure it doesn’t go anywhere,” I assured him.

  He threw me a dirty look, then walked to his car to relay the message to his partner.

  I had instructed Shukey to drive to Island Downs, where we dropped Brandy off inside the track, in spite of her arguments. If we were going to find what I thought we were going to find, I didn’t want her along.

  Once we dropped her off I had Shukey drive us out of the track and around back, where the meadow was. It took us half an hour, and I was glad it was me who found her and not Shukey.

  I had found a mound of freshly turned dirt and dug a bit with my hands until I encountered the arm. I jerked back as if it had been a variety of South American snake, then stood up and called to Shukey to take the car and go back inside the track to the security office and call the cops.

  I waited at the meadow for them to show up, thinking about Louie Melendez showing up in the Turf Club Lounge, covered with dirt.

  Fresh from burying Penny Hopkins?

  I had been fairly sure that, when they dug her up, they’d find that she had been shot.

  Diver and Stapleton were the last to show and I held everyone up until they did. They spoke to the local precinct people and Homicide Squad for a few minutes, then came over to me.

  “Another stiff, Po?” Diver asked.

  “I’m afraid so.”

  He took a closer look at the arm.

  “Looks like a broad’s arm,” he said, still crouching over it. Looking at me over his shoulder he asked, “You know who she might be?”

  I nodded. “I think so. I think we’ll find that she’s a young girl named Penny Hopkins. I told you last night I was working on a missing persons’ case which brought me into contact with Eddie Mapes. I think that’s the girl I’ve been looking for. I hope it isn’t, but I’m pretty sure it is. I think you’ll also find that she’s been shot to death.”

  “Is that so?” he asked, standing up. “Do you think there’s a connection between this and the Mapes killing?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. I just figured you wouldn’t mind knowing about this.”

  “Well, I’ll tell you, I appreciate it, I really do,” he told me. He turned to a few men with shovels and said, “Let’s dig her up and see what we’ve got.”

  I walked away, to join Shukey by her car. She’d arrived just before Diver and had kept her distance.

  “Is it her?” she asked, hugging her arms as if she were cold.

  “We’ll know for sure in a couple of minutes, but yeah, I’m pretty damn sure it’s her.”

  “How did you figure this, Henry?”

  I looked at the sky, which was clear and blue. It was a nice day to be alive. I’d seen a lot of death in the last twelve hours. I looked at Shukey and smiled. It was nice to be alive and standing with a gorgeous young girl.

  “The movie,” I told her. “The girl in the movie had to die before her two men got together.”

  “You think that Penny was disturbed enough to think that her death would bring Hopkins and Lassiter together?” she asked.

  “She thought they loved her,” I answered, as I watched the men with the shovels pick up a body and put it on a body bag. The M.E. knelt by it and did a cursory examination.

  “She wrote in that childish, naive way that people who have never really grown up have. I think she needed help when she was younger, and her father never got it for her. I think she was just childish enough to believe that this “ — and I pointed to where she lay now — ”would bring those two bastards together.”

  “That’s sad,” was all she said.

  I was about to agree when I saw Diver walking over to us.

  “It’s a woman, and she’s been shot,” he announced, “in the head.”

  “A redhead?” I asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Young?”

  “There ain’t much face left,” he said, and Shukey grabbed for my hand in a convulsive movement. “Sorry, Ma’am, “he apologized to her. I wouldn’t have expected that from him.

  “That’s quite all right,” Shukey told him. “Was she young … as far as you could tell?”

  “The M.E. is fairly certain she was under twenty-one.”

  “If you get a local detective over here, I’ll make a statement for both of you,” I told him.

  “Fine. Theirs will be the official one. Mine is just for my own records, in case these two cases link up.”

  I nodded, didn’t say anything. He called one of the local homicide detectives over and introduced him as Detective Jackson. He was a heavy-set, prematurely white-haired man with rather sad eyes. I told them everything, beginning to end, didn’t hold anything back except for my resulting personal relationship with Brandy. I had been dead serious the night before when I told Diver I would not risk my license by holding back information. I hadn’t mentioned Penny’s name, or her father’s, or even Biel’s, because I wasn’t sure that they connected up with the Mapes killing. Now two track people were dead and that was connection enough for me. I was ready to dump the entire matter into their laps and say the hell with it. I had done what I was supposed to do.

  I had found Penny Hopkins.

  When I was finished with my statement, Stapleton came over.

  “They’re gonna close up the bag now,” he told his partner. Diver turned to Jackson. “I’ll send you a copy of my report on our homicide last night. Both victims were track people. Who knows, the two just might end up being connected.”

  Jackson nodded and answered, “We might be able to help each other.” He turned to me and said, “You found her, you were hired to look for her, that means you know her family.”

  “Her father is the only family I know of. He’s a trainer here at the track, as I said in my statement.”

  “Do you want to tell him, or do you want me to?” he asked.

  I knew it really made no difference to him, so I said, “How about I just tag along with you?”

  “Fine. You want to ride with me?”

  “Yeah, I’d rather do that,” I agreed. “Give me a couple of minutes, okay?”

  “No hurry,” he assured me. He, Diver and Stapleton walked off together and I turned to Shukey. I put my arms around her and hugged her tightly, as much for my sake as for hers.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  “Sure,” she answered into my shoulders. She put her arms around my waist and squeezed. It started to feel too good so I broke the clinch and held her by the shoulders, at arm’s length.

  “Why don’t you go on home. I’ll go with them to break the news to Hopkins.”

  Holding the lapels of my jacket she said, “Okay, thanks.”

  “For what? This isn’t exactly a great way to spend a day, you know?”

  She yanked on my jacket and told me, “Shut up. You need me again, you let me know, okay?”

  “Okay, Shuke, thanks.”

  She starte
d to walk away, then turned back.

  “Don’t hurt that girl, Henry. She doesn’t know you as well as I do. She doesn’t know that it will do no good to try and rope you. She’s still got to find out. Okay?”

  “Sure, Shuke. I’ll remember.”

  “See you. “I watched as she got into her car and drove off.

  Her last statement surprised me, or was I just misinterpreting it? She already knew that it would do no good to try and rope me? I never even knew she had even thought about it.

  “That’s a hell of a fine-looking woman, “Diver remarked from behind me. “Is she yours?”

  I shook my head. “No, she’s not mine. She’s just a very good friend.”

  “Wish I had friends like that,” he commented. “You ready? I’m coming along for the ride, too.”

  “Yeah, sure, I’m ready.”

  They had taken Penny away without my even noticing. Diver, Jackson and I were the last to leave.

  I was genuinely curious about Benjamin Hopkins’ reaction to the news that his daughter was dead.

  I wondered if it would mean as much to him as losing a big stakes’ race.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  “He killed her,” Hopkins told us.

  “Who?” Detective Jackson asked. This was his turf — if you will pardon the pun — and we let him carry the ball.

  “Lassiter. He must have had her the whole time, but when she insisted on coming back to me, he killed her.”

  The frightening thing about it was, it made sense to him. He actually had himself believing it.

  He saw me shaking my head in disbelief and popped his cork.

  “If you had done your job, Po, this wouldn’t have happened! I’m going to make sure Howard Biel knows that you fucked up and caused my daughter’s death!”

  Now I really couldn’t believe him.

  “You’re a sick man, Hopkins,” I told him. “I pity you.”

  At that point he took a wild swing at me that I ducked with ease. I made no attempt to return the blow. Jackson and Diver kept him from trying again.

  “Easy, Mr. Hopkins,” Jackson told him, throwing me a dirty look. “We understand your grief.”

  “Grief?” he shouted. “You don’t know anything about grief. You think I’m going to let Lassiter beat me like this?” he demanded.