The Spider Bites

by Medora Sale

  She stared at me.

  “My god. Rick? Is that you? But you were killed in the fire!”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT

  “Of course it’s me,” I said. “Who else?” She moved over to the top of the stairs to get a better look.

  “You’ve changed. You look different.”

  “That doesn’t matter,” I said. “Listen, Susanna, I’m worried about you. You can’t just stand on the porch out here in the dark.”

  “What am I supposed to do?”

  I didn’t have an answer to that. “I have to talk to you, Susanna.”

  “About what?” she asked.

  “What have they told you about the fire?”

  “Nothing, Rick. And I’m going crazy. They won’t tell me anything. I’m so scared.”

  She looked cold, standing there on the porch. She was shivering. I had to get her into someplace warm. Right now.

  “No need to be scared,” I said. “Come on, Susanna. Come with me. Let’s go grab a pizza.”

  * * *

  We walked back toward the familiar, comforting sound of traffic going home. It was getting to the end of rush hour. We reached West Central, and Susanna seemed to relax a little.

  The pizzeria was crowded with people waiting for takeout. I found us a quiet table at the back and ordered a large pepperoni pizza with extra mushrooms.

  “Is that okay?” I asked.

  “It’s what I always have,” said Susanna.

  “I know. I remembered,” I said. “But people change.”

  “I don’t,” said Susanna.

  “I guess not. You never did like change, did you? Even as a kid.”

  She stared across the table at me.

  “I can’t get over how you look. What happened?”

  “Nothing much,” I said. “I’ve been on a farm. Working hard. I lost some weight and grew a beard. It’s still me. You look different too.”

  She glanced down at her outfit. She was wearing a red dress and expensive-looking brown boots. She had tied a brown and red silk scarf around her neck. There were blond and silver streaks in her dark hair, and her face was covered in makeup. She looked like a model. I was more used to seeing her in jeans.

  “Oh,” she said, “I just had my hair done. I had a date tonight.” Her eyes filled with tears. “It seems kind of stupid to be dressed like this now.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Tell me about the fire.”

  “I can’t. I don’t know anything. I was at work today.”

  “How is the job going? Are you still working at 52 Division?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “It’s going well. I’ve been meaning to thank you.”

  “What for?”

  “Recommending me for the job. All the guys there are really nice.”

  “You like cops?” I asked, trying to smile.

  “Most of them,” she said. “Anyway, like I said, I had a date. So I took the afternoon off to have my hair done.”

  “You got dressed like that to have your hair done? Do you have to do that?”

  Her cheeks turned red under her makeup. “Of course not. I put it on before I left work. I thought maybe I wouldn’t have time to go home and change. Anyway, it was almost five o’clock before I got back to the station. They told me about the fire.”

  “And you came over.”

  “They told me Cheryl was dead, and I came over.”

  The waitress set the pizza down on our table. Susanna stared at it. Like she had never seen pizza before.

  “Help yourself,” I said, pushing it closer to her. But my mind wasn’t on pizza. I was wondering why she always called her mother by her first name. I had asked her that once before, and she had laughed. “Cheryl thinks we’re like friends. Not like mother and daughter,” she had said.

  I still wondered.

  She pulled off a wedge of pizza and took a bite.

  “It’s too hot,” she said. She waved it in the air to cool it down. “You know, all the way home, I kept thinking I had to cancel my date. After spending all that money for my hair. And getting my makeup done too. And my nails. I even had to take a half-day off work without pay.”

  I must have looked shocked. She shrugged her shoulders.

  “Stupid, eh? It’s funny the weird things that go through your head like that.”

  “Was the date something very special?”

  “No. Just dinner and a movie. But I was really looking forward to it. And instead, here I am, eating pizza.” She took a huge bite, swallowed and then took another huge bite.

  “With me. Sorry about that.” I tried to think of something better to say. I couldn’t.

  So I sat and watched her finish off the second slice as fast as the first one. I’ve had to tell a lot of people that someone very close to them had died. The bad news takes them in different ways. Some scream and cry. Some reach for the liquor bottle and get drunk. Others just go still. Like they were frozen inside. But I’d never come across someone who ate pizza and talked nonstop. It was weird. Maybe other people do that too. I don’t know. It takes all kinds.

  I didn’t ask her about it.

  “Why did you say you were scared?” I said.

  “Did I say that?”

  “Yeah. On the porch. You said you were scared.”

  She blinked and took another piece of pizza.

  “Well—wouldn’t you be scared? I mean, I could have been home. I would have died in the fire too. Maybe someone wanted to kill us both.”

  “But whoever it was must have known you’d be at work,” I said.

  “I guess. But then they told me that you’d been killed too. You and Cheryl. There were two bodies. And here you are. If the second one wasn’t you, who was the man in the basement?”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ALONE

  “This is so weird,” said Susanna, taking another slice of pizza. “If you hadn’t come back today, we would have buried that guy, thinking he was you. Who was he anyway?”

  I shook my head.

  “I don’t know who he was, Susanna.”

  “You mean we’ll never know?”

  “I didn’t say that. These crime-scene guys are geniuses at sorting out burnt and fragmented evidence. They’ll probably have a confirmed id in a matter of days. But you must have known it wasn’t me in the apartment.”

  “Not really. Of course I noticed someone had moved in a few days ago. But I lived on the third floor,” she said. “And I’m at work all day. I didn’t know who it was. I asked Cheryl. She said it was none of our business. It was your apartment. You could do what you like with it.”

  “She did?”

  “Yes. I thought maybe you were hiding out down there. Weren’t you wanted for questioning?”

  “Listen, Susanna. Everyone knew where I was. I wasn’t hiding. They knew how to reach me, night or day. Cheryl, the guys at 52 Division, the big brass running the investigation. Everyone.”

  “You weren’t hiding?”

  “No.”

  “So why did you leave?”

  “I wanted to get away for a while,” I said. “Cheryl knew that.”

  “She didn’t tell me,” said Susanna, frowning. “But I can’t believe she’d lie to me.”

  “And you never saw the man in the basement?”

  “No,” she said slowly.

  “And you never heard anything?”

  She glanced up at me.

  “Well…I thought I overheard Cheryl call him Fred.”

  “Really?” I said. “Are you sure?”

  “No, not completely.”

  “But you still thought it might be me down there?”

  “I thought maybe it was one of her jokes. I mean, calling you Fred. Then I wondered if he was a new boyfriend. She could have been sleeping with him. I don’t know. She never talked about her private life.”

  “I really don’t think Freddie was Cheryl’s kind of guy, Susanna.”

  “How would you know? What did y
ou ever know about her? God—men can be so stupid.” She spat the words out.

  “I guess we can be,” I said. “Sometimes. But Cheryl…”

  “Look, Rick. I don’t want to talk about her, okay? Not tonight.”

  “No problem,” I said. “Are you going to be all right?”

  “I guess so. But the guys at work are betting on it being arson. And they wanted to talk to me. Do they think I had something to do with it?”

  “Come on, Susanna. Of course they don’t,” I said. “But you know more about Cheryl and the house than anyone, don’t you?”

  “I guess.”

  “So they have to talk to you. Did you stay and talk?”

  “No! I said I was going over to the house and I left. Do you think they’re mad at me?”

  “Of course not,” I said. That was a lie. Those guys weren’t very good at sympathy. Still, it wasn’t my problem. “It can wait until tomorrow.”

  “I hope so.”

  “Why do they suspect arson?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “They didn’t say. So where are you staying? With Angela? I see her around sometimes. I guess she hasn’t moved.”

  “No,” I said. I didn’t feel like talking about Angela with anyone. Especially not now.

  “Are they going to prosecute you?” she asked, picking at her fifth slice of pizza.

  “I don’t know,” I said.

  “I asked Tony. He said they were still going over the evidence. I guess this fire really screws up the investigation.”

  “Why would it?” I said. “They’ve been through my apartment enough times already. They found everything that was down there.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “If there was something there, they found it.”

  “Tony thought you were innocent. Probably.”

  “Why?” I asked. I was curious.

  “He said you’re too smart to stuff twenty thousand dollars under your mattress. Only a total idiot would do that. And you’re not a total idiot.”

  “Nice,” I said.

  “Is that why the guys call you the Spider?” she asked. “Are spiders supposed to be clever?”

  I shook my head. “Ask the guys,” I said. “They know more about it than I do.”

  “I did. They wouldn’t tell me. It’s such an awful name. I hate spiders.”

  “Sorry. And I appreciate Tony’s support. But not being dumb enough to hide money under my mattress is not evidence. Even clever people do stupid things sometimes.”

  “So—was it money they gave you?”

  “For the record, Susanna, love, no one paid me off. It was a frame. I was getting too close to them. They wanted me off the investigation.”

  “I guess it worked, didn’t it?” said Susanna. “Too bad.”

  “Sure,” I said. “In real life, the bad guys win once in a while. Some of them win all the time. But it doesn’t explain why someone wanted to burn down your mother’s house.”

  Susanna shook her head. Her expensively streaked hair gleamed as it moved.

  “I haven’t got the faintest idea,” she said.

  “I don’t either,” I said. “It doesn’t make any sense, unless…”

  “Unless what?” she said quickly.

  “Nothing. Just a few stupid ideas going through my clever head.”

  “I better go, Rick,” said Susanna. “No one knows where I am, and I’m pretty tired.”

  “Do you have someplace to sleep for the next few days?” I asked.

  “I’ll be at Jenny’s.” Jenny lived next door to the old house.

  “Good,” I said.

  “She’s going to lend me jeans and stuff. This dress is all I have now. Everything else is gone.” She looked suddenly grief-stricken.

  “Don’t worry, Susanna. We’ll find out who did it.”

  “You will? How?”

  “A lot of evidence is left behind after a fire. People think everything gets burnt. It doesn’t. They’ll find out who did it.”

  She stood up abruptly. “I have to go.”

  “Wait,” I said. “How can I get in touch with you?”

  She picked up a clean paper napkin and scribbled a number on it.

  “My cell,” she said and ran out of the pizzeria.

  CHAPTER SIX

  LOOKING BACK

  Back in the hotel, I was stretched out on the bed, thinking. A jumble of ideas ran around in my head. But none of them fit together. How well did I know Susanna? Her behavior tonight surprised me. But she was an adult now. People change.

  When I first met her, she was about ten. I had just started with the police department. I was a raw recruit, scared to death of doing something wrong. And I needed a place to live.

  I walked up and down the streets near the station, looking for a room. I saw a sign in a window. Basement apartment. Partly furnished. Reasonable rent. That sign was pure Cheryl. She believed in telling the truth. The apartment was in the basement and the rent was low. But it had its own kitchen, a bathroom with a shower, and one more big room. It had a couple of chairs and a couch in it. And there was a comfortable bed in the corner.

  We sat in the kitchen and talked. Cheryl was in her thirties, shy and pleasant. I was just a kid, shy and nervous. We found each other easy to talk to. Her husband had died three weeks before. She was still in shock. But she had gone out and found a job as a waitress. Now she wanted to rent out the apartment. She needed the extra money. “Anyway, the house is too big just for me and my little girl.” She pulled out a tissue and blew her nose. “Sorry,” she whispered.

  I liked her and the apartment. Cheryl liked the idea of having a cop in the basement, even a young one. We got along just fine for the next few years. It was not a happy household in those early days. Cheryl was struggling to cope with her grief. And her daughter’s unhappiness. The first thing Susanna told me was how much she missed her father.

  “He loved me more than anyone else in the whole world,” she said. “He did. I know it.” She sounded angry.

  “Of course he loved you,” I said. “But surely he loved your mother just as much.”

  “He liked her okay,” said Susanna. “But it was me he loved.”

  I remember being shocked, then thinking, Poor little kid. She’s young. She’s upset. She’ll get over it.

  Now I lay there, wondering if she had.

  * * *

  I was sure that Susanna was wrong about one thing. Cheryl could not possibly have been having an affair with Freddie. It didn’t seem possible. Freddie was a sewer rat.

  I used to tease Cheryl about finding some rich, handsome guy at the Coffee Corner. She would shake her head. She always said that she was too busy for a lover. I had breakfast there almost every day. All the regular customers loved her. But she was attracted to the quiet, serious ones. Those were the guys she would sit with on mornings when it wasn’t busy, talking to them about all kinds of things. Not to a loudmouth like Freddie.

  Then I met Angela. She had just been posted to our division. She was lively, funny, clever and beautiful. We fell in love. We found an apartment not far away and moved in together. Soon after that, we got married. But we still had breakfast at the Coffee Corner.

  That was before Freddie moved into my life. And destroyed it.

  * * *

  After kicking these ideas around in my head, I picked up my cell phone. Susanna answered on the first ring.

  “It’s you,” she said. I couldn’t tell if she was pleased or disappointed. Most likely, she just didn’t care right now.

  “Are you at Jenny’s?” I asked.

  “Where else would I be?” she said. “Look, I’m sorry. We’re going to bed. I’m really tired.”

  “I’m not surprised,” I said. “I just want to let you know that I’m going over to the house. There are some things I need to check out. So if you see a flashlight moving around, don’t freak out. It’s just me.”

  “Why do that?” she asked.

  “You know, Susanna, m
aybe someone was out to kill me. I’d like to know who the hell he is,” I said. “I think the easiest way to find out is to go over there and look around.”

  “That doesn’t make sense, Rick,” she said.

  “It does to me. Good night, sweetheart. Try to get some sleep. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “What do you expect to find?”

  “Nothing, I hope. Nothing at all. And that would make me very happy.”

  I changed into a pair of jeans, my new heavy shirt and an old warm sweater. I slipped a big flashlight and a bottle of water into my backpack. Last of all I put on my steel-toed work boots and picked up my jacket. I was ready for a long night.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  THE CRIME SCENE

  A bright bluish light surrounded the burned-out house. Like something from a sci-fi movie. But there weren’t any creatures from outer space on the scene. Only a small crew of crime-scene investigators. And a few bored-looking uniformed cops. Right now the CSI guys were crawling through the rubble. One of them raised his arm.

  “Hey, Chris, I found another one,” he called.

  “Good,” said someone. “Mark it and I’ll put it with the rest.”

  Another what? I wondered. What exciting things were they finding? The melted remains of my old toothbrush, maybe? Pieces of my coffee pot? I was in the park across from the house. Most of the emergency vehicles had left. The CSI team’s white van was sitting in the neighbor’s driveway. I had a clear view of what was going on. Not much.

  A few people walked down the street and stopped to stare. None of them stayed long. It really wasn’t very interesting. Unless it was your life they were pawing over. I was interested.

  Then a woman came along. She was moving fast, taking long strides. But she wasn’t hurrying. Just walking like someone I used to know. Someone who loved taking long walks. Then the woman stopped in the pool of light from the powerful lamps and looked around.

  My stomach lurched. I sat down on a park bench, stunned. It was the last thing I expected. I took a deep breath and stood up again. She must have seen me move out of the corner of her eye. She turned her head and looked straight at me. It really was Angela. The full force of how much I missed her hit me. She was standing in harsh light. She had on a pair of baggy pants and my old thick red sweater. She looked unbelievably beautiful. And desirable.