by Rick Polad
He ignored her. “What I can tell you is I don’t think you should.”
“Yeah, I don’t think I should either.”
“But?”
“But my gut says I should. There’s something to be learned here.” The burgers were gone. “Speaking of learned, I have some new information.” I filled them in on the conversation with Cletis.
Stosh held up his water glass and the waitress walked over with a pitcher.
“So, that brings it into our lap,” said Rosie.
“I think so, but still some options with the murders. And what the hell is with the frame?”
Stosh folded his arms on his chest. “And where is it? But first on the priority list is Pitcher.”
They both looked at me. “I’m going. Instructions?”
“Yeah. Don’t do anything dumb.”
“Gotcha. Hey, have you guys played the tape of the calls for the boys at Simmons?”
“We did, both of them. And the girl. They were sorry, but they couldn’t help.”
“I bet they were. I’m gonna go home and shower off some of this heat.”
I reached for the check but Stosh grabbed it first.
“Hey. Since when are you buying?”
“Since I’d feel bad as hell if I let you pay and then you ended up croaked.”
I nodded slowly. “I’ll take that—free food is free food.”
He got up, leaving Rosie and me at the table.
She reached out and took my hand. “Spencer, do you want to talk about Kathleen?” She looked so sad. “You must be devastated.”
“I’m trying not to think about it.” I stared out the window. “You know, we’ve been around dead people. We’ve watched them die. I’ve never given it much of a thought—they were the bad guys. But…”
“I know. It’s horrible.”
I pulled my hand away and looked her in the eye. “I’m going to get him, Rosie. I’m going to…”
“Spencer. Revenge is never a good thing. Yes. Get him. But let the law take care of him.”
I looked up and lost my anger. All that was left was sadness. The anger was easier to handle.
Chapter 35
I turned off Highway 41 just south of the Wisconsin border onto a dirt road, as instructed, and wound down a ridge through small stands of oak trees. I thought about whether I should be going off to the middle of nowhere by myself. I had weighed that and decided it wasn’t the dumbest thing I had ever done, and I had survived that.
A cloud of dust billowed up behind my baby-blue Mustang. Around a bend, I saw deserted buildings left over from days when the area was a weekend getaway for those who couldn’t afford the expensive real estate on the lake.
I scanned the ridge and the prairie beyond the buildings and saw no one and no place where anyone could hide.
Single, small, dilapidated wood units, with numbers one through six painted above the doors, stood next to a slightly larger building with a faded sign above the door that said “Office”. On the other side of the office were three bare concrete pads with pipes stubbed two feet above the pad—expansion plans gone awry. Only one door was closed. Two were missing. The others stood open, inviting all of nature to join the desolation. Broken windows, missing shingles, and rotted wood left no memory of what must have been better times. A signboard precariously attached to the roof above the office advertised the Wayside Motel in faded red letters. The landscaping was dry, sandy soil and weeds—lots of weeds.
I stopped thirty feet from the office and got out of the car. The air was hot and dry, so hot and dry that my lungs hurt with every breath. The last weather report said we had tied the record. The only sound was muffled tires whining on the concrete highway the other side of the ridge. No one was in sight and there was no evidence that anyone had been there in quite a while. But the caller had specifically said that what we were looking for would be here.
I got out of the car, walked around the buildings and into every unit. Nothing. The cabins were empty. Every piece of furniture was gone. The walls were bare except for a crooked painting of a sad clown hanging in Unit 3. He was frowning and tears dripped down his cheeks. I guessed nobody wanted a sad clown. The remains of a nest in the cubbyhole of a bare counter in the office was the only sign of life. It was the right spot and I was exactly on time, but the place was deserted.
After waiting an hour, I left and drove back to the highway. I stopped at the first gas station and called Stosh, who answered with a hopeful hello.
“Nothing Stosh. The place is deserted. Not even a cockroach.”
Lieutenant Powolski let out a worried sigh. “Spencer, I’m sure you will recall the many discussions we have had about the line that you’d better not cross or you’d have to deal with me.”
“How could I forget with all your reminders?”
There was a long silence.
“Spencer, the line is gone—find her.”
Chapter 36
I got back to Chicago in fifty minutes, but it seemed like hours. My mind was racing as I tried to put all the pieces together. I failed. There were so many pieces, and I didn’t know if they were all connected or parts of different puzzles. I thought of a friend who is a medical examiner who told me about a case where there were three bodies torn apart in an explosion. It was a puzzle and he had to figure out which body the pieces belonged to. He did, but it took a while.
Rosie and Steele were already in Stosh’s office. He asked me to close the door behind me.
“Have you stopped the phone tap?”
The lieutenant pulled out his yellow pad. “No. I don’t think it’s over. I don’t think whoever sent you north was part of the other calls.”
“Then what?” asked Rosie.
She looked at all three of us with wide eyes and raised eyebrows, like she expected an answer.
I answered. “Too many pieces not fitting together, Rosie.”
Stosh ripped five pages out of the pad and started writing. “Let’s make a page for each crime and see what we have.”
I suggested making one for the suspects. I figured it most likely that the same guy was behind everything. He ripped out another page and started writing.
The lieutenant spoke as he wrote. “William Bloom and Tony Vitale at Simmons, Edvard Gunderson and Cletis Mudd at Framed, and Maggio. And maybe someone we haven’t met yet.”
I leaned forward and looked at his list. “Two things. You’ve only got two Ds in Mudd.”
I got a look of disgust.
I shrugged. “It’s MUDDD. Might as well get it right. What if years from now someone’s pulling up this case and they see MUDD. They’re going to shake their head and wonder who screwed up the name. You going to sign that? Cuz I don’t want someone thinking I…”
“What the hell’s the matter with you?”
“Just saying. Second, there’s a dead guy on your list.”
He looked at me with daggers. “He may have been involved in whatever the hell is going on.”
“I agree. But write deceased next to his name. What if years from now…”
“Shut up.” He turned to Steele and Rosie. “Either of you have anything concrete to say?”
“Just note that Cletis has an alibi for Gunderson,” Rosie said. “And maybe add Kathleen. It’s unlikely, but she may have been involved somehow.”
She glanced at me, probably expecting an argument. I had no doubts about Kathleen but I had been told to shut up.
Steele shifted in his chair. “I’m putting my money on Maggio. It would be nice to know who bought the painting.”
“It would,” said Stosh. “We’re working on it. I’m guessing Bloom knows but he’s not talking.”
“Maybe I can get something out of him,” I suggested.
Stosh shook his head. “You can try, but I doubt it. He got himself a high-priced lawyer.”
“A gallery manager makes enough to afford a high-priced lawyer?”
“Probably not.”
Rosie chimed in. �
��I wonder who’s paying the bill.”
“Me too,” said Stosh.
“You been keeping an eye on Simmons?” I asked.
Stosh answered. “Yes. We set up across the street in an apartment above a cleaners.”
“Anything unusual?”
“Nope.”
“Anyone not showing up for work?”
“Nobody’s missed a day.”
“So if it’s one of them, he has help to watch Pitcher.”
We talked for an hour. Stosh wrote for an hour. He took another page to list what I saw at the motel. Steele made few comments. One was to ask what a painting of a clown would be doing in a deserted motel. I told him it was a sad clown—who wants a sad clown? He shrugged. At the end of the hour we didn’t have any answers.
So I was back to none of it making any sense. I like things to make sense. Dad once told me that not everything does and sometimes you just have to give up and move on.
“Get to work, people,” the lieutenant said.
I waited for Rosie and Steele to leave and turned to Stosh. “What exactly did you mean, the line is gone?”
He nodded toward the door. “Close it.”
I did and sat down.
“Spencer, you sometimes do things that are legally questionable. So far, you haven’t ended up in jail because you haven’t crossed the line to definitely illegal. You’ve managed to dance around in the gray area and you do things we can’t. And you get results. I want Pitcher back. If you find yourself questioning if what you’re going to do is a little over the line, do it. I trust your judgment.”
“And you’ll back me up?”
He sighed. “Depends on what happens. But I won’t be the guy in your face. And results speak pretty loud, especially if there’s a cop involved.”
I nodded. “You guys have nothing?”
“Nothing. This guy is either really good or really lucky.”
“I’m going with lucky.” I got up and announced that I was going home.
Chapter 37
There was a new man on the phones—Mike. But man was stretching it—he looked like he was still in high school. We introduced ourselves and chatted for a minute before I headed for another shower. The air conditioner was running nonstop.
Sometimes I think better while I’m taking a shower. I stand and let the hot water beat on my shoulders and clear my mind of everything except the problem at hand. So I was looking forward to some inspiration. I didn’t get the chance.
I stuck my hand under the water. Just right. Then there was a knock at the door.
“Mr. Manning?”
“Yes?”
“We got a call. I told him you were indisposed. He’s calling back in five.”
“Okay. I’ll be right out.” I threw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.
“What did he say, Mike?”
“Said he would let you talk to her and he’d call back in five minutes.”
“I wonder if it was the same guy. Can you play it back?”
He did. The voice sounded familiar but I couldn’t tell for sure. We could compare it to the others after the next call which came a few minutes later.
“Okay, Manning, here she is. Don’t try anything funny.”
A very timid voice said, “Spencer?”
“Yes. Brenda?”
“Yes. They told me not to say anything.”
I recognized her pinched voice.
“Okay. Are you…”
“That’s it Manning. I have what you want. Do you have what I want?”
“I don’t, but I know how to get it.”
“What the hell does that mean?” he demanded.
“That means I need a few days. There’s too many people involved in this and I need to be careful.”
“Okay, you be careful. But I’m calling back tomorrow, and if you don’t have it by then you can say goodbye to the girl.”
“Can’t get it by tomorrow. I need till Friday.”
“You think I’m stupid?”
“Listen, you made a lot of mistakes with this thing. I need to unravel your screw-ups to get what you want. I’ve got something going down Friday. Call back at one.”
“If you’re screwing with me, she’s dead.”
He hung up.
I took the deepest breath I’d ever taken.
Mike rewound the tape and played the first call. It didn’t sound the same. But the second one did.
“Mr. Manning, I was briefed on what is going on. I thought the problem was we don’t know what this guy is after.”
“It is.”
“But you figured it out?”
Another deep breath. “No clue.”
He looked worried. “So?”
I smiled at him. “So, I’ve got till Friday to figure it out.”
“Maybe you should skip the shower.”
“Now I need it more than before. Call Lieutenant Powolski and invite him over to listen to the tape.”
“Should I tell him…”
“No, just tell him we got another call and I’d like him to listen to it.”
“Will do.”
Now I was really hoping for an inspirational shower. I washed off the sweat, but I still didn’t have a clue.
Chapter 38
Lieutenant Powolski walked in the door twenty minutes later with a serious look on his face and sat down at the dining room table where Mike was set up.
“So, tell me,” he growled.
“Listen to the tape.” I nodded to Mike.
When it was done, he looked at me with what I thought was relief. I had trouble enjoying his relief knowing about the shoe that was about to drop.
“So what happened since you left my office?”
“Well, I was about to take a shower when Mike knocked on the door and told me…”
“Spencer, cut the crap. How did you figure it out?”
Mike was looking up at the ceiling, perhaps hoping it wouldn’t fall.
As I hesitated, I watched Stosh’s face slowly change from hopeful to incredulous.
“Oh my God. You were bluffing.”
“I had to. He sounded desperate. He wasn’t going to buy ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about’ again. I was lucky to get him to wait till Friday.”
Mike was still looking up at the ceiling. It was still there.
“I guess there is that. But what next?” he asked calmly. I was surprised at his self-control. I expected an angry bull.
“Prayer?”
“Considering that we have nothing, we’ll need more than that.”
“I had to give him some hope, Stosh—to give Pitcher some hope.”
“Yeah, you did okay, kid. But what the hell now?”
“I guess I take more showers.”
He just looked at me like I was nuts. Maybe I was.
***
I called Rosie and invited her over to eat some pizza and watch TV. She said her other three dates had canceled so she’d be glad to.
I ordered an extra-large sausage, onion, and peppers that she and I and Mike finished without any leftovers. Mike assured us that he wouldn’t be offended if we had beer while he drank a Coke. Rosie and I sat on the deck and watched clouds building in the west. It had only hit ninety and there was a slight breeze and a smell of rain in the air. Maybe a storm would cool things off.
“So, that’s some limb you’re out on,” she said.
“Yeah, and there’s a little troll sitting by the trunk with a saw. I don’t like the look on his face.”
She didn’t smile.
“Rosie, I…” I wanted to tell her I cared about her.
“It’s okay, Spencer. Just leave it alone. Some things just aren’t meant to be.”
“Seems to me that’s up to the people involved. Is it something you want to be?”
Now she smiled. “I think it’s more whether you want it to be. I’ve never changed my mind.”
I was quiet while I looked at her. She was so pretty. “You are very special, Ros
ie. I just get close and then at a certain point, I…”
She smiled again, like a loving mother smiles at a clumsy kid. “I know. It’s okay. I’m glad we’re friends.”
“Me too, Rosie.”
A robin landed on the railing, looked around, and then flew away.
“Should we see what’s on TV?” she asked.
“Sure.”
I started to get up.
“Hang on a minute, Spencer. Wait. I’ll be right back.”
She was back in less than a minute with her wallet and pulled something out and handed it to me. It was a photograph of her and me at the academy. We had our arms around each other and were smiling big smiles.
“You saved this.” I felt a wave of emotion wash through me.
“I did. And I look at it often. You mean a lot to me.”
I was speechless and confused. Conflicting emotions and thoughts were bouncing off each other.
She reached out to take it back.
The emotions stopped and I just stared at the picture. I ran my fingers over the smooth paper.
“Spencer, you’re acting weird. What’s the matter?”
I looked up at her and then back at the photo. “Rosie, this is a photograph.”
“Of course it is. Why are you acting so strange?”
“Because it’s not a painting.”
“Was there something in that pizza? What are you talking about?”
“When Stosh asked what I saw up at the motel I said there was a painting of a sad clown.”
“I remember. So? It wasn’t a clown?”
I gave her a serious look. “No, it wasn’t a painting.” I tried to visualize it. I hadn’t been that close to it. “I think it was smooth, like this photo. And…”
“And what?”
I just looked at her. “And can you take a ride in the morning?”
“That’s not what you were going to say.”
“No. But I need to think some more. Can you?”
“I think so. I’ll have to check in first. Where?”
“Wayside Motel.”
We found Mike watching M*A*S*H. He was sitting in the recliner. We sat on the couch, not touching, but close enough that we could if we wanted to. I was glad Mike was there because I had no idea whether I wanted to or not. Or rather, a part of me did and a part of me didn’t.