by Ed Gorman
‘Do you eat dead animals?’ she asked.
‘Sometimes I eat soy substitutes. Several people at my office in Chicago eat them all the time. I’m starting to get used to them.’
‘I get sick to my stomach just thinking about eating a dead animal.’
‘You mind if we talk about Jim Waters a little?’
‘Oh, yeah, right. Well, first of all I should tell you that I really feel like shit about this. I gave my solemn word. Solemn. You know what that means?’
‘I have a pretty good idea.’
She kind of threw herself back against the booth as if she’d been electrocuted. Then she crossed herself. I couldn’t tell if she was kidding. She squeezed her eyes shut and said, ‘Forgive me, Jimmy.’
The only thing I could do was wait through her sighs, her lower-lip biting and her nail drumming on the table between us. ‘About a week before he died Jimmy told me that there was a kind of trapdoor in his kitchen. Only it wasn’t really a trapdoor that led anywhere. They must have made it at the time the house was built. Anyway, it was about a foot deep and two feet wide, he told me. He said it was underneath the refrigerator. That’s how he found it. One day he had to pull the refrigerator out because he accidentally broke a bottle of something and it was leaking everywhere. He didn’t want it under the refrigerator. That’s how he spotted it – the trapdoor, I mean. He said it was pretty cool. He wondered if it had been built when the mob was strong out here.
‘Jimmy read up on the mob in this part of the state all the time. He thought they were pretty cool even though they killed people. Anyway, he said that if he ever wanted to hide something, that’s where he’d put it.’
‘You think he hid something there?’
‘Maybe. It’d be worth a look.’
That one I had to think about. The police wouldn’t have had any reason to move the refrigerator. The apartment wasn’t the crime scene. On the other hand they were probably still going through his things, looking for anything that might lead them to the killer. Which meant that they wouldn’t want anybody prowling around in there. And despite the fact that a trapdoor had a nice Hardy Boys ring to it, the chances of finding anything meaningful was a long shot at best.
‘Your forehead wrinkles when you think.’
‘Ah.’
‘Makes you look older.’
‘I see.’
‘You’re not a bad-looking guy from certain angles. But not when you’re thinking like that.’
‘I’ll have to be careful not to think.’
‘And to just hold your head at certain angles.’
‘That, too.’
Halfway through her food, Jenny said, ‘I can tell you’re thinking again.’
‘The wrinkles?’
‘Uh-huh. Personally, if I had wrinkles like that I’d try Botox.’
‘I was thinking of Botox for my butt.’
Her explosive laughter caused several tables full of people to gawk in our direction.
‘God, I wish my father would say stuff like that.’
Every time she mentioned her father I thought of my shortcomings with my own daughter. She loved me and forgave me for all the times I wasn’t there but I wondered if she had the kind of moments I did. I’d see a father strolling with his four-year-old little girl and I’d regret all the moments I could have shared with my own little girl.
‘One of the things that’s been giving me wrinkles is how we might get into Jim’s apartment now. The police probably told the manager not to let anybody in. It’ll be locked and there’s probably a piece of yellow crime scene tape across it.’
‘The manager? He’s an idiot. I can get him to do anything. He thinks we’re going to sleep together.’
‘Why would he think that?’
‘Because I sort of told him we would if he’d let me in when I forgot my key and stuff like that.’
‘So you could convince him to let us in?’
‘Not ‘us.’ No way he’d let you in. He’d get jealous if he thought there was something between you and me. You know, like you were moving in on his territory.’
‘I see.’ She was a passing fair judge of male psychology. We get territorial about women who wouldn’t have anything to do with us even if we had a bag of cash and an Uzi.
‘But when I get in there I can open the window off the fire escape and let you in.’
My recollection of the place – I’d only seen it at night – was that Waters’ apartment had a fire escape running past his bedroom window. I also recalled, or thought I did, seeing the side of another apartment building next to it. I didn’t particularly look forward to being seen on a fire escape in daylight.
I told her about that.
‘Well, his wife works at the supermarket down the street during the day. He’s always hinting that we could “have some fun” when she’s gone. I’ll just get Pierce to let me inside his apartment for a few minutes then you can sneak upstairs and hide somewhere.’
‘I don’t like the idea of you being alone with him.’
‘He’s a moron. I won’t have any trouble with him at all.’
‘What if he decides to stay with you in Jim’s room?’
‘I’ll tell him to go get nice and spruced up and wait for me downstairs.’
At first I thought she’d had a seizure of some kind. Her body jerked and then jerked again. Her hands went to her Goth face and covered it. Her wail wasn’t quite as loud as her laugh had been but now, when the other diners shot glances my way, they were filled with recrimination. Surely I’d said something terrible to this strange girl. Mean bastard.
‘He’s dead,’ she managed to say. ‘I just realized that I’ll never be able to see him again. Never.’ At least she kept her crying in the low decibels. ‘I never thought of that till now. That I’ll never be able to see him again. I loved him and his apartment and all his comic books. He was the only person who understood me.’ Her mascara had started running. That much makeup, it wasn’t a pretty sight.
‘I’m sorry, Jenny.’
She plucked some Kleenex from her purse and went to work on her face. ‘I know you are. And I know his other friends are, too. But sorry doesn’t do much good, does it?’
‘It’s about all we’ve got.’
‘I just want to go home and hide under the covers and pretend it didn’t happen.’
‘Can we go to his apartment first?’
‘Oh, sure. I just need a little while to sit here and sort of suck it up. Is that okay?’
TEN
I don’t know what she had to do but whatever it was it worked. When I peeked through the front door glass of Jim Waters’ apartment building I saw that the mailbox area, which was on the right side of the vestibule, was clear. I eased in, surveyed the area, then began tiptoeing my way up the steps.
A few minutes after I reached the second floor I heard a door below me open and the oily voice of the manager say, ‘Remember now, you promised.’
‘If it wasn’t my time of month we’d do it right now.’
‘And I’m going to hold you to it, babe.’
Discreet he wasn’t. He was broadcasting his infidelity to anybody who’d listen.
Two doors left, two doors right. One narrower door at the far left. I rushed over there. An interior rear staircase that apparently Jenny had either not known about or had forgotten.
I closed the door to the staircase and put my ear to it. Soon enough they made their way up the stairs.
‘Hey, don’t do that! You don’t want to get caught, do you?’
‘Right now, I don’t care, babe. I’m just one of those guys that lives for danger.’
‘Uh-huh. Well, don’t I deserve a little respect?’
‘I’ll give you all the respect you can handle, babe.’
There would be so many pleasant ways to kill him. Shooting, stabbing, strangling, stomping, drowning, immolating. Or a combination of all of them.
‘When did they put that up?’ Jenny asked.
&n
bsp; ‘Do not enter by order of the police? They did that last night. And it pissed me off, babe. Ruins the look of the whole hallway.’
So much for that spread in Home Beautiful.
‘But remember, the cops hear about this, you got to help me out. You went up here by yourself. And you waited until you were sure that I was down to True Value or somewhere getting supplies. You remember?’
‘I remember.’
‘So what say I come in with you for a few minutes?’
Jenny was as surprised as I was. ‘I thought you were worried about getting caught. What if the cops show up when you’re in there with me?’
He had a sort of Cool Dude laugh. ‘Like I said, I live for danger. It wouldn’t take that long.’
I had to give him credit for that one anyway. Admitting he couldn’t last very long.
‘And I don’t need none of those pills, either. I’m all man.’
‘Please take your hand off my butt. Right now I’m thinking about Jimmy. He was my best friend.’
‘No offense, but I never could see what you saw in that weirdo. But hey, takes all kinds, I guess.’
Now he was a philosopher. Definitely stomping and then setting him on fire. Make it real, real personal.
‘All right. I’ll stop and say goodbye before I leave.’
‘I’ll be waitin’.’
I heard her open the door. I was still waiting to hear him tromp down the stairs. All I could imagine is that he was still standing there, watching her. With his brainwaves on her butt.
Finally he started working his way back downstairs. But since I was dealing with a man who loves danger, I had to be careful. He might come bounding back up the stairs. I moved as quietly as possible. Jenny was in the door waving me in.
She closed the door behind me then put her fingers to her lips and her ear to the door. She was as suspicious of him as I was. We waited three minutes in silence.
She pointed to the kitchenette and the refrigerator. It was the same sort of Kelvinator my maternal grandparents had had. Meaning it was made long, long ago. The original color had been pastel blue but the harsh mistress time had faded it into a color I couldn’t identify. That somebody had once stove in the bottom fourth of it with a few savage kicks hadn’t helped the appearance either. Nor had the fact that the long chrome handle had been secured in place with a variety of tape over the years. The most recent was sturdy fiber tape. It seemed to be doing the job.
The fridge was wedged tight between a small stove on one side and the sink on the other. We wouldn’t be able to wiggle it out. We’d have to pull it out straight on. That wouldn’t be easy. I remembered from last night that there wasn’t much inside so emptying the contents wouldn’t help.
‘Sh-h-h.’
Then I heard them, too.
Footsteps. He was creeping up this time; an appropriate word. He was going to surprise her with greasy l-o-v-e. Valentine’s Day had come early this year.
He knocked softly with a few knuckles. The apartment was tiny enough that we could hear him clearly even from here. I guess he was under the impression he was whispering.
‘I got a little surprise for you, babe.’
She rolled her Goth eyes and gave him the finger. She strode to the door. ‘I’m cramping real bad right now. Just please wait for me downstairs, okay?’
‘Y’know, me’n the old lady do it sometimes when it’s her time of the month.’
‘Please just do what I say. Please.’
‘I can barely control myself. You’ll never forget it. I promise ya.’
Again she gave him the finger. What the hell, I gave him the finger, too.
Then the cavalry arrived in the form of a ringing phone downstairs. He must have left his door open because you could hear the ringing throughout the building.
‘Shit. The owner of this pigsty said he’d call me.’
‘Better answer it. Could be important. Maybe he wants to give you a raise.’
Or fire your ass, I thought unkindly.
‘Yeah, shit.’
This time he took the stairs fast, swearing all the way.
‘We’d better get moving,’ I said.
I tried seizing the refrigerator by placing my hands on either side of it. It was heavier than it looked. The problem was that I couldn’t angle it sideways even a few inches to help move it out of its slot. At best there was a half-inch on either side. Useless.
I assumed Pierce Rollins would be back soon.
Jenny came in. She’d been listening at the front door.
‘I’m going to get in the sink and see if I can get enough leverage to push it out a ways. You go back to the door.’
I crawled up into the sink. Three inches separated the back of the refrigerator from the wall. I stood up and shoved my right arm to the center of the thrumming machine. I pushed. It moved maybe an inch. But it moved. I wondered why it would move with relative ease from this end but not from the other.
I hopped down and then got on my hands and knees so I could see underneath the front of the refrigerator. The big machine had been set on small wheels for easy moving. The trouble was that somebody had put small wooden blocks in front of the wheels at midpoint, I guessed as some kind of precaution. Nobody wanted a runaway refrigerator, the stuff of a sci-fi movie. So I reached back through a century of dust and grime and probably rat shit to dislodge the small encumbrances that had made my job so difficult.
I washed my hands in the sink before I went back to work.
No problem this time. I extracted the Kelvinator and left it standing in the center of the kitchenette. It nearly filled the place. I had to slide around it to find room enough to kneel down and search for the trapdoor.
And there it was. Ancient brittle linoleum covered the three-by-three outline of it. A small rusted handle sat in the center of it. It was like lifting a lid to check on a pot roast.
A rat toilet was what I found inside. The dried kernels of fecal matter formed an inch-thick bed on the wooden floor of the hidey-hole. And lying on top of this bed was a manila envelope that had been folded in half and wrapped tight with gray duct tape. I would have been more excited if the rat droppings hadn’t suffused my senses and made me want to throw up.
I reached in and grabbed the package and crammed it into my suit coat pocket and then I did myself the favor of shutting the trapdoor again. This time I had no trouble getting the refrigerator back in place.
Then I heard the footsteps. The one and only Pierce was paying Jenny another love visit. The dear.
This time he’d brought his anger with him.
‘You let me in right now, babe. I’m not stupid. I know somethin’s goin’ on in there.’
‘I was just going to the bathroom, Pierce. God. I’m about done here anyway. I’ll be out in a minute.’
‘No. I wanna come in and get this thing over with. Ya know what I’m sayin’?’
She was frantic, gaping around as if she was lost and the roof was about to collapse on her in a second or two. There was only one way out and if we were seen, so be it.
I waved to her.
‘Just a minute, Pierce. Just let me put my lipstick on.’
‘No sense in that, babe. I’ll be takin’ it right off anyway.’ I imagined he was winking to himself as he said that.
I pointed to the bedroom and she nodded.
Many of these older windows have been painted shut. Fortunately, this wasn’t one of them. I got it about halfway up which was good enough. I helped Jenny through first and then I climbed through myself. I slid the window shut behind me and we began clanking our way down on a fire escape so old it swayed like an amusement ride.
When we were in the rental and driving away, I said, ‘Pierce is going to be pissed.’
‘“Pierce.”’ I heard his wife call him Lou one night.’
‘Figures.’
‘You find anything?’
‘Something. I don’t know what it is yet.’
‘Poor Jimmy. The last ti
me I saw him, he was wearing that stupid Captain America jacket I bought him.’ She sounded as if she couldn’t decide whether to laugh or cry. She made a sound that was a mixture of both.
We drove back to the hotel in silence. She found a radio station that was apparently all rap all the time. I had my Glock in the glove compartment. I wanted to kill that station real, real good.
After I pulled into the hotel parking lot, I said, ‘You’ve been a big help.’
‘Will you let me know what you found?’
‘I will.’ But I didn’t say when.
‘By the way, I saw his aunt or whatever she was at the press conference. She’s hilarious.’
‘That seems to be the consensus.’
She started to slide out the door. ‘My mother said that my father wrote Burkhart a thousand-dollar check last night and so did most of the people at the country club. I hope you can nail his ass. He’s even creepier than Pierce.’
I smiled. ‘You mean Lou?’
‘Yeah,’ she said and was gone.
As I was driving back to campaign headquarters I passed a billboard that came to me with the force of a religious revelation.
There she was in living black and white. Burkhart had his arm around her and it was only appropriate. The copy read: ‘Help me and my wife take our country back.’ BURKHART FOR CONGRESS.
It was the woman I’d seen snapping photos of Jim Waters.
ELEVEN
I got a cup of coffee at a Starbucks’ drive-through and then sat in the parking lot taking the duct tape off the package with my pocket knife. Was this what Jim Waters had died for? Had he been given the chance to tell his killer where it was? Or had the killer simply meant to kill him and wasn’t concerned with this small taped package? Then again – long shot – there was the possibility of a random killing.
I got it open. Inside the package was another package. This was wrapped in plain brown paper. But from the edges of the merchandise I had a pretty good guess what was waiting for me. One of two things.
The brown paper required only my fingers. I set it on the pile of duct tape and exterior paper. And there it was. I’d guessed a CD or a DVD. Turned out to be the latter. Nothing was written on the clear plastic container or on the DVD itself.