Dead on the Island

by Bill Crider

  "You got a Big Red?"

  Dino made a gagging sound. "I got it. I knew you were coming over. Bourbon and Seven for me, Ray. Big Red. Jesus." He sat on the sofa.

  I went to an overstuffed straight chair nearby. "What's the deal?" I said.

  "Let's wait for Ray," he said. So we waited.

  Dino and Ray and I went back a long way. We grew up together on the Island, though in different parts of the town. When the Island had been wide open, which it had been until the mid-1950s, a couple of Dino's uncles had controlled all the gambling and most of the prostitution. I didn't remember anything about that time, having come along at the tail end of it, but I'd heard plenty. You couldn't grow up on the Island and not hear. Ray had been born in one of the black whorehouses, and somehow one of the uncles had gotten to know him (or maybe it was Ray's mother that he got to know). Ray had been brought up practically like a member of the family. Me, I was just another guy, until high school, when I have to admit in all modesty that I became the best damned running back that Ball High had ever known. My ability on the field got me inside a lot of doors that would have otherwise been slammed in my face, and Dino had been on the team.

  Ray came in with the drinks. "I forgot you liked yours out of the bottle," he said, handing me a glass of Big Red and a napkin.

  "I'll manage," I said, taking the glass and wrapping the napkin around it.

  "So, Tru, how long you been back on the Island?" Dino said, sipping at his drink. "A year now? Little more?"

  "About that," I said.

  Ray had left the room again. He hadn't had a drink for himself. I took a swallow of the Big Red. Some people say it's like drinking bubble gum, but I like it. I figured Dino would get to the point eventually.

  "You think you'll be staying?"

  "It's a thought," I said.

  "You got any money?"

  "A little. I've been painting a few houses. Not too many lately, though. But business will pick up in the spring."

  "I got a little job you could do," Dino said, twirling his glass between his palms as he leaned forward on the sofa. "You could make a little money before spring."

  I took another swallow of Big Red. "What's the job?"

  "I want you to find somebody," he said.

  "I don't do that anymore."

  Just about then Ray walked back into the room. "That's what I told him," he said.

  "Yeah, but I figured that was just bullshit," Dino said. "You aren't the kinda guy who'd just quit like that. Not you."

  "Sure I am."

  I set my glass down on the floor. There was a coffee table that had legs that started somewhere in the middle and curved out to the edges and were tipped with something that looked like copper claws, but it was too far away to reach.

  "Look," Dino said. "I knew Jan, too. I liked her. Ray knew her. He liked her. Everybody liked her. Nobody blames you. You got to get over that."

  "Why?" I said.

  Dino put his glass on the coffee table, got up, and started pacing around. "It's not your fault she disappeared," he said. "It's not your fault you couldn't find her."

  "He's right," Ray said. "Maybe she just wanted to disappear. She may turn up any day now with a story about spending a year in Vegas."

  "No," I said.

  "OK, probably not," Dino said. "I got plenty of contacts in Vegas. I checked that one out."

  "That was just sort of an example," Ray said. "She could be anywhere."

  "She's dead," I said. "We all know that. We just don't know who did it, or why, or what he did with her."

  Dino sat back down on the couch. "OK. OK. Maybe so. But that's no reason for you to fold it up. You can't just lie around and paint houses when you get the chance. I checked you out, too. You had a good thing going when you were a P. I. You could find anybody."

  "I couldn't find my sister," I reminded him.

  "Let me put it this way, then," Dino said. "You owe me one. I called in a lot of markers to help you look for Jan."

  "Yeah," I said. "I know. I owe you one."

  "Besides that, I . . . what'd you say?"

  "I said, 'I know. I owe you one.'"

  "That's what I thought you said. You mean it?"

  "I mean it," I said. "You helped me out, and you didn't have to, not even for old time's sake."

  Dino laughed. "That knee still bothers you, huh? Well, I didn't help on account of that. You were a buddy, and you needed help. So I helped. It didn't work out, but I tried." He picked up his glass and tried to take a bite off one of the ice cubes that was left. "So, you gonna help me with this one?"

  "Maybe. Tell me what it is, first."

  "I don't think he trusts you, Dino," Ray said. He was standing somewhere behind me.

  "It's not that," I said. "It's just that you might be asking something that I really can't do. Or won't do. So tell me who you want me to find."

  "Get the picture for him, Ray," Dino said.

  I didn't hear Ray leave the room, but he must have. In a minute he was back, holding a cardboard folder. The outside of the folder had a sort of woodgrain look, just like the folders we'd gotten our own high school pictures in twenty years before. Ray handed me the folder.

  "Take a look," Dino said. I opened the folder. Inside was a five-by-seven color glossy of a girl about sixteen or seventeen. Straight hair, the color we used to call mousy blonde. Blue eyes, a strong nose, a firm mouth. She had a prettiness about her, but there was nothing fragile in it.

  "So," I said. "A nice looking kid. She the one that's missing?"

  "That's right," Dino said. "Two days now."

  "And you want me to find her."

  "Right again. No wonder you were such a hotshot investigator."

  "No need to be touchy," I said. "Whose daughter is she?"

  "A friend's," Dino said, looking at his empty glass.

  "That won't get it," I said. "If I do this little job for you, and I'm not saying I will, I'll have to talk to her parents. Kids disappear for a lot of reasons. Some of them are right at home.”

  "Not this kid," Dino said. "Take my word for it."

  I handed the folder back to Ray. "This isn't going to work," I said.

  "Goddammit, Tru!" Dino jumped to his feet.

  I stayed in my chair. "Look, Dino, I work the way I work. In a case like this, I always talk to the parents. Besides, it's bound to be complicated. I'm sure you've already tried a few things yourself, like you did for me."

  "Tell him, Ray."

  "We've checked with the cops," Ray said. "We've put out feelers in other cities where we still have contacts. I've been to the bus station here and in Houston. And in a few towns in between."

  "What'd you find out?" I said, but I figured I knew.

  "Not a goddamn thing," Dino said. "Not one solitary goddamn thing. The cops don't know from nothing. Nobody's seen her. She's just gone. Just like--"

  "Like Jan," I finished for him. "You can say it. I won't mind."

  "She's younger than Jan," Ray said. "It's not the same thing."

  I could have told him that he was making a mistake right there. You never assume anything. If you do, you mislead yourself. But I didn't tell him. Instead, I said, "What about her friends? Teachers? Does she work? When was she last seen? I've got to talk to her parents and find out things like that."

  "I can tell you," Dino said.

  "This is beginning to smell," I said. "I don't think I want to be involved in it, even if I owe you." I stood up.

  "You're gonna have to tell him, Dino," Ray said.

  "Shit," Dino said. He looked at me hard and then said, "All right, goddammit. Sit down. I'll tell you."

  I didn't move.

  "Please," Dino said. "Please sit down. Is that polite enough for you? You want pretty please with sugar on it?"

  I sat down. Ray handed me the folder again.

  "There's not any parents," Dino said. "I mean, there's not any father. The mother is one of my uncles' girls."

  I looked at Ray.

>   "He's telling it, not me," Ray said.

  "She stayed in town after the houses closed down," Dino said. "Nobody knew where she'd worked before, and she's a respected woman now. She had the kid a few years after leaving the houses but before she'd really established herself. She was naturally a little upset at the idea that part of her past might come out in an investigation, and she asked me to see what I could do."

  "Another favor from big-hearted Dino," I said.

  "Yeah, another favor. Nothing wrong with that. We take care of our own, you know?"

  "I know."

  "I know a few people on the cops," Dino said. "They didn't ask to see the parents." He gave me a hurt look.

  "They don't work like I do. They've got computers and terminals everywhere, which is good in a way, but it keeps them from doing some of the legwork they used to do."

  "Well, Evelyn--the mother--didn't want to talk to them, and she didn't have to. I guess she'll talk to you, but you gotta promise that you won't talk to anyone about her past, uh, occupation.”

  "No promises," I said. "I don't really want to do this."

  Dino looked at me for a second or two. "Go call Evelyn, Ray. Tell her the deal. See what she has to say."

  Ray faded out of the room again.

  "This Evelyn have a last name?" I said. "A job?" I opened the folder and looked at the picture again. "I'm just curious, but I'm going to have to know sooner or later. Why not now?"

  Dino walked back over to the sofa and sat down. He picked up the button-covered TV control and turned it over and over in his hands. "Her name's Matthews," he said finally. "Evelyn Matthews. And, yeah, she's got a job. She works at the Medical Center as a receptionist. I don't think she's going to want to talk to you there, though."

  Ray came back into the room. I didn't hear him coming, but there he was. "She'll talk to him," he said. "But she's not too thrilled about it."

  "That's just because she hasn't seen me yet," I said.

  Dino smiled faintly. "I forgot what a high opinion you had of your looks. But somehow I don't think you'll impress this one."

  "We'll see. When and where?"

  "Her house," Ray said. "After she gets off work. I'll write down the address."

  This time he was back quickly. He handed me a piece of white paper with the address written in black ball-point. It was just off Ferry Road.

  "Easy enough to find," I said. "All the streets over there are named after fish, though." I looked at Ray and then at Dino. "There're probably a few more things you guys want to tell me now."

  "Huh?" Dino didn't get it.

  "I mean, you must've found out something about the girl, maybe something I should know. You must've done a little nosing around here in town."

  "Oh," Dino said. "Yeah. We did that. A little. But it's your turn now. Maybe we did it wrong, and anyhow, everything we know, we got from Evelyn. If you're gonna talk to her, you can get everything we got. After that, it's up to you. You're the ace private eye."

  "Your faith in me warms my heart," I said. "Especially considering my track record around here."

  "Look, Tru," Dino said. "You gotta quit blaming yourself. We told you it wasn't your fault."

  "I know. I just can't convince myself."

  "Well, this may help you get it off your mind. Working for somebody else, I mean."

  "Maybe." I didn't believe it any more than he did.

  "Sure it will. Now, what's the freight?"

  "It's a favor," I said. “Like you did for me."

  Ray laughed somewhere behind me. "How much money you got in the bank, Tru?"

  I turned my head so I could see him. "A little."

  "I bet 'little' is just the right word," he said.

  "I never thought house painting was going to make me rich."

  Dino stepped over to my chair. "I want this official, and I want your best shot. What do you usually charge? Two hundred a day and expenses? Tell me if that's not enough."

  "Well," I said, "it beats painting houses."

  He reached into the pocket of his wool-blend slacks and pulled out a sheaf of bills folded in half. He counted out ten of them. "Here's for five days, not counting the expenses. You can keep a record or not. I'll trust you on them."

  I took the money. It had been a long time since I'd held that much. "What if I don't find her? I looked for Jan hard for six months, a lot of the time for three more, and off and on for the last three. I still haven't found a trace."

  "You get paid for doing the work, not for the results," Dino said. "Besides, this is just a kid. This is different."

  "Sure it is," I said. I stood up. "I'll be in touch."

  3

  From Dino's house I cut back to Broadway and drove toward the beach. There's a lot of Galveston's history along Broadway. The wide esplanade is covered with oleander bushes and tall palm trees and often looks quite pretty, but on either side of it are the signs of what's become of a once beautiful city.

  The long cotton warehouses of the old compresses, once jammed with bale after bale of cotton, stand deserted and empty. It's a polyester world, but all the cotton shipping had long departed Galveston before people started dressing in miracle fibers. Signs of decay are all around. A huge hardware store, empty, its windows boarded up, its parking lot cracking and weeds growing through the cracks. An old movie house that's gone through every phase there is. Not so long before it had been showing Debbie Does Dishes and now it was trying to make a go by showing G-rated family films. Muffler shops. Pawn shops.

  But on down the street are Ashton Villa and the Bishop's Palace, once a private home that would knock your eyes out if you could see it in the middle of a lavish country estate instead of cramped up between other houses of a less noble appearance. Galveston had once been the most powerful and richest city in Texas; now it was a vestige.

  I turned over to The Strand, named for the famous London street. This was where the town was really making its comeback, restoring the old buildings and regaining some of the grandeur of the past with the Tremont House and the 1894 Grand Opera House. I drove on down to the Medical Center, one of the few things in Galveston that Houston hadn't managed to steal. The wonderful old main building, Old Red, was still there, but it was hardly visible from the street, thanks to all the new buildings that surrounded it and almost hid it from view. Evelyn Matthews worked somewhere inside the complex, but she had said that she wanted to see me later, at her home, so I wouldn't bother to stop.

  I had a thousand dollars in my billfold and what appeared to be an unlimited expense account. Whatever she wanted was fine by me.

  I drove on up Seawall Boulevard and down to the South Jetty. The area was deserted, thanks to the weather, which had not improved a hell of a lot since my run that morning. I didn't mind. I liked having the jetty to myself, and I didn't feel too cold in the sweatshirt. The wind had died down somewhat, but the sky was still gray and low, the temperature still hovering in the forties.

  I parked the car and walked out on the jetty, which was basically just a pile of granite boulders with the Gulf water sloshing around them. It was fairly smooth walking if you kept to the middle, but the edges were just a jumble. The granite had been hauled in on railroad flatcars, and the railroad had been built right on the jetty as it got longer and longer. The engines had backed the flatcars right into the Gulf, so to speak.

  About halfway out I sat down and thought about Jan. Black hair, brown eyes that laughed all the time. White teeth, just the least bit crooked. The kind of kid sister that could keep up with her older brother when he climbed a tree or rode his bike. She'd disappeared at just about this time of year, or a little earlier. I'd missed her letters for a couple of weeks, and it was unusual for her not to write. So I called. No answer. I called back every few hours for two days; then I'd gotten into the Subaru and driven to Galveston. Her apartment had been neat but empty. There was dust on the tables and knick-knacks. There hadn't been anyone there for a while. There was no note, no message, nothing.
She was just gone.

  I'd gotten in touch with some old friends, including Dino. I'd talked to her co-workers, her friends, anyone who might have known her. They were no help. Neither were the cops.

  I waited. No credit card bills came in. There were phone calls, but just from people wanting to know where the hell Jan was. I couldn't find her car. The cops couldn't find any trace of it in their computer records of arrests or accidents.

  It was as if she'd just vanished into the Gulf breeze.

  There was nothing unusual about a woman vanishing, God knows. It happens every day, and probably several times a day, in and around a city like Houston, and Galveston is certainly a part of the Greater Houston area, no matter how much it galls the BOIs to admit it. Sometimes bodies and bones are found months or years later by some kid playing in a field or taking a short cut home from school. It makes the news for a day or two. Then everyone forgets.

  I showed her picture everywhere. In the places I knew she went, in the clubs and dives, in the shops and the corner groceries. Nothing. No one knew a thing, no one had seen her. For six months of hard looking, nothing. And all the time after that. Nothing.

  Dino was right. I'd quit the business for a year, obsessed with my own search, and I'd found nothing. It was time for me to get back to trying to find something for someone else. Just to see if I still could.

  But I knew I was never really going to stop looking for Jan.

  A woman and a small boy came out on the jetty. She was holding his hand. A gull flew down by them hopefully. The woman had on a long cloth coat, and the boy had on one of those iridescent jackets that looks sort of like a life jacket with sleeves. They were carrying a sack of popcorn, and the boy started tossing it into the air a piece at a time. He couldn't get it high enough to interest the gull, but his mother took over and pretty soon there was a wheeling and screeching flock all around them. The boy was laughing and the gulls were swooping close enough to snatch even his clumsy tosses out of the air.

  I thought about the rat. Too bad he was at the other end of the seawall. He would have enjoyed the popcorn.

  After a while the woman and the boy left. The gulls hung around and picked up a few of the puffy bits lying on the jetty. Then some of them flew over to where I was sitting in hopes of picking up something else.