The Girl Who Ran Off With Daddy

by David Handler

  “Not for liquor it isn’t, Lieutenant,” I informed him. “The stores close at eight in Connecticut.” I glanced at Grandfather’s Rolex. It was nearly eight now.

  “And us without a thing in the house to drink,” Barry added. “Quite honestly, the thought of spending an entire evening sober discussing Thor’s murder with someone named Chick Munger was simply too horrifying to … to …” He shuddered. Slowly, his eyes returned to Ruth. “Aw, Ruthie,” he moaned. “What did they do to you, Ruthie?”

  “Why’d the both of you go?” Very asked Marco.

  “We wanted to be alone together for a few minutes, okay?” Marco answered defiantly, placing a meaty arm around his distraught lover. “We stopped off at the Black Seal for a drink.” Again with the Black Seal. “To psych ourselves up for the questioning. This whole thing has been such a drag.”

  “And getting to be more of one by the hour,” I put in.

  The ambulance pulled up behind Barry’s rental car, followed by a pair of troopers in cruisers. Slawski went over to fill them in. Very and I remained with Barry and Marco.

  “How long were you two there?” Very asked Marco.

  “Oh, who the fuck knows?” Marco snarled. The anger was always simmering just below the surface with this one. “Ask the bartender there. Go ahead and ask him. Go look in the trunk. There’s liquor and groceries in there. Go ahead and fucking look. Ask the clerks. They’ll remember us. Go on!”

  “Christ, we didn’t do this, Lieutenant,” Barry protested. “We had nothing against Ruth. You have to believe me.”

  “I don’t have to do anything, Mr. Feingold,” Very pointed out politely.

  “Any idea what she was doing out here in the dark?” I asked them.

  “No idea,” Barry replied.

  “None,” echoed Marco.

  Slawski strode briskly back to us. “They’ll take over from here. C’mon, we’ll walk the rest of the way.”

  We pretty much had to—Ruth was blocking the road. Marco grabbed the booze from their trunk to take along and we five started up the road toward the house. Lulu kept her nose to the ground, snarfling vigilantly. Klaus stayed behind in Slawski’s cruiser. Possibly the officer needed a nap.

  We walked in silence. I was thinking about how solid Barry and Marco’s alibi was. And about how solid it wasn’t. Because they could have gone out shopping exactly like they said yet still have attacked Ruth after they got back. It wouldn’t have taken very long to hack her to death. Especially for someone as big and strong as Marco. Especially if Barry helped him. Their “return” just now could have been a complete ruse. Strictly for our benefit.

  They could have done it. Sure they could have.

  I didn’t know what Very and Slawski were thinking, but I suspected they were thinking the same thing.

  There were floodlights on outside the house. Munger’s unmarked cruiser was parked out front. Barry’s bug-eyed Sprite occupied the garage. Very stopped to lay a hand on its bright yellow hood. He gave Slawski one brief shake of his head. The engine was cold. We went inside.

  Munger was in the living room slurping from a container of Dunkin’ Donuts coffee and talking to Arvin, who was sitting on the sofa wringing his hands. The lead investigator was not at all happy to see me there in the doorway. Or Slawski either. Romaine Very he just sort of sniffed at.

  “I guess you’ll be the hotshot from New York,” he growled.

  Mr. Serenity smiled and stuck out his hand.

  Munger shook it grudgingly. “Dunno what you hope to accomplish vis-à-vis being here, Very, but you may as well hang around long as you’re here. Spot Ruth Feingold on your way in?”

  “We did,” I affirmed, my eyes on Arvin, who was staring at the expression of utter horror on Barry’s face. Neither Barry nor Marco would make eye contact with the kid.

  “Where is she?” asked Munger, glancing impatiently at his watch. “We oughta get started.”

  Slowly, Arvin rose to his feet, teetering slightly. His face was ashen. “She’s dead, isn’t she?” he whispered.

  “Yes, Arvin,” I said. “She’s dead.”

  “What?!” Munger erupted. “She can’t be dead! She just went out for a walk! To stretch her l-legs after the l-long car ride …” He was starting to sputter, his career, his pension, his life passing before his eyes—one of which, the left, was busy sending out an SOS. “She said she had sciatica,” he added miserably.

  “When did she go out?” asked Very.

  “Geez, I dunno. Few minutes after seven maybe.” Munger hung his head and ran his hands through his rather limp hair. “Oh, geez.”

  “And you, Arvin?” asked Slawski. “Where were you while she was out?”

  “Now you just hold it right there, superstar,” Munger warned, pointing a trembly finger up at the towering resident trooper. “If there’s questions to be asked, I’ll ask ’em. This is my investigation.”

  “And you’re doing one hell of a job, Lieutenant,” I observed. “One of your prime suspects just got chopped up with a hatchet out there while you were sitting in here drinking coffee.”

  “Don’t push me, Hoag!” he spat angrily.

  “Someone ought to,” I shot back.

  That sent Arvin running out of the room. I heard footsteps on the stairs, going down to the basement.

  “Drinks, anyone?” offered Barry, slipping nimbly into the role of urbane host. A bit forced. And more than a bit Noël Cowardish. But it worked for him.

  Not that anyone answered him. He motioned to Marco, who went off to the kitchen to fix both of them something stiff.

  “Where was Arvin?” Slawski asked stubbornly.

  “In his room,” Munger answered, reaching for his coffee.

  “It’s downstairs,” said Barry. “I converted the basement into a guest room.”

  “Is there an outside door down there?” I asked him.

  “Of course,” he replied. “Why?”

  “I’m with you, dude,” Very interjected, hopping aboard my train of thought. “The kid could have gone out after his mom and done her and the lieutenant here wouldn’t have seen or heard a thing.”

  “But that’s impossible!” cried Barry, his voice cracking with emotion. “Arvin loves Ruth. And she loves—loved him. There was a bond between them. A special bond.”

  I stiffened. The hair on the back of my neck was standing up all of a sudden, the way it does whenever I hear Jeff Healey’s guitar solo on Confidence Man. But I wasn’t hearing any music right now. No, that’s not what was happening. It had just fallen into place for me was what was happening. It had all become clear. Just like that.

  But how to prove it? How indeed?

  Lulu gazed up at me expectantly, sensing a major breakthrough. I shook my head at her. Timing is everything, which is something she has yet to learn. That and how to do her own tax returns.

  “Maybe we should keep an eye on him,” said Very, glancing at the hallway. “In case he decides to split or who knows what.”

  “That boy won’t go anywhere,” insisted Barry. “He’s harmless.”

  I gave Lulu a brief nod. She went downstairs after him. If his door was open she would keep him company. If his door was closed she would stand guard outside it and start yapping if he went anywhere.

  Munger watched her go, then turned his flickering glare on me. “What I want to know,” he said harshly, attempting to seize back the offensive, “is where you was when it went down.”

  “With us,” Very answered.

  “He’s been with us for the past two hours,” added Slawski.

  “Sorry to disappoint you, Lieutenant,” I said. “I truly am.

  Munger grimaced and climbed dejectedly to his feet. He started to pace the carpet, hands knotted behind his back, his knuckles white, his eye twitching furiously.

  Marco returned from the kitchen with two scotches. He handed Barry one and stood there next to him, sipping his own, his face flushed with fever in the bright living room lights. He seemed frightene
d to me. Genuinely so.

  “You didn’t hear anything outside?” I asked Munger.

  He stopped pacing. “Like what?” he demanded, clearly not enjoying this role reversal.

  “A car pulling up, a scream, anything?” Me, I was loving it.

  Munger shook his head. “Nah, I had the TV on. That show, Hard Copy, is on at half-past seven. Wanted to see if they had anything.”

  I tugged at my ear. “I get it. So while you were busy watching yourself on the tube Ruth was busy getting herself hacked to death. Nice work, Lieutenant. What’s your secret? Or don’t you share it with amateurs.”

  “Who you talking to, huh?!” Munger screamed at me, quivering with rage. “Who the fuck you think you’re talking to, punk? Huh?!” And then the man, well, the man just plain lost it.

  Charged me from halfway across the room and knocked me to the rug with a textbook Pop Warner league tackle. The two of us landed with a thud, him right on top of me, throwing cupcake punches.

  I sure was glad Lulu wasn’t in the room to see it.

  “I’m tired of you pushing me, Hoag!” Munger gasped, his breath sour on my face. “You’re pushing me, pushing me, pushing me!”

  Me, I kept my cool. I just wished someone—anyone—would get him the fuck off me.

  Slawski obliged. He lifted Munger up by the scruff of the neck, one-handed, and tossed the lieutenant into a chair like he was an overnight bag. I decided right then I never wanted to find out just how strong Slawski was.

  Barry and Marco just stood there with their drinks, transfixed. They reminded me of those mannequins in their apartment.

  “Cut the man some slack,” the resident trooper ordered me angrily. “He knows his job. Can’t help it if this went down on his watch. Could have happened to anyone.”

  Munger slumped there trying to catch his breath, a curiously pained and bitter expression on his narrow face. Clearly, he was not happy that Slawski was standing up for him. Because this meant that Slawski was a better man than he was, and I don’t believe he was prepared to admit that to himself. “Where’d it go down?” he asked after a moment, his voice thin and quiet.

  “Down the road,” Slawski replied.

  “You can’t miss it,” added Very.

  “Fine.” He shot me a cold, hard last look. Then he stormed out.

  “Whoa, dude,” exclaimed Very, shaking his head at me. “I thought I didn’t like you. But he really doesn’t like you.”

  “You’ve got that all wrong, Lieutenant,” I said, straightening my clothing. “The man’s crazy about me. He’s just having a hard time dealing with his feelings.”

  “Uh-huh,” said Slawski.

  “Clethra must be told.”

  “Not yet.”

  “But he has to notify her of her mother’s death, dude,” Very said.

  “It’s my official responsibility to notify her,” Slawski said.

  “Not yet.”

  The three of us were choking down cheeseburgers, spiral fries and chocolate shakes at the Hallmark, a venerated local drive-in situated on the Shore Road down near the beach. They made their own ice cream, all kinds of flavors, though I still couldn’t get them to make licorice for me. There were picnic tables around back. We were seated at one of them under the floodlights, the marsh grass out in the darkness smelling somewhat yeasty from that day’s rain. Munger was still at the murder scene. A trooper in uniform was baby-sitting Barry, Marco and Arvin. Slawski’s mission was to notify Clethra. I had persuaded him to stop and talk it over first.

  “Well, why the hell not?” he demanded.

  “I have my reasons,” I said quietly, not liking a single one of them.

  Slawski stared at me. “What, you think she the one did her?”

  “I have my reasons.”

  “Dude always has his reasons,” Very informed him, chewing on a fry. “And they always seem kinda whacked on the surface. It isn’t until you trip on ’em awhile, check ’em out from a million different angles, that you realize how totally whacked they really are.”

  Slawski ate the last bite of his hamburger, dabbing at his mouth with his napkin. He was a dainty eater for such a big man. “If I’m going to be sticking my own individual neck out, then I got to know what those reasons are. What’s on your mind?”

  “Two things, Trooper. One of them has to do with Lulu.”

  She immediately sat up, tail thumping eagerly.

  “What about her?”

  “The way she behaved that day you and I went to Barry’s house to tell everyone Thor had been murdered.”

  Slawski frowned. “How did she behave?”

  “The other thing has to do with something an extremely wise old man said to me not long ago.”

  “Gibbs?” said Very. “What did he say?”

  “I may be completely wrong about this,” I continued. “And, frankly, I hope I am. But if I’m right, our killer has all but gotten away with three brutal murders. We haven’t got much of a chance, not unless we move fast and we move smart. That means we have to have a plan when we show up to notify Clethra. Before we go, Lieutenant, there’s something you need to check out from the New York end. Something you can do that I can’t. I have to make a couple of phone calls myself. I’d like to make one of them right now.” My mouth was getting dry. I took a sip of my shake. “If we stick together we’ll have this whole case wrapped up by morning. And Munger will be left hanging in the breeze, saluting his own shadow. You’ll be the big hero, Trooper. You and the lieutenant here. What do you say?”

  Slawski hesitated, scratching his square chin with a big thumb. His eyes met Very’s, then returned to mine. “I say the pay phone’s over there by the men’s room. And I hope you know what the hell you’re doing.”

  “So do I, Trooper.”

  The narrow, twisting stretch of Joshua Town Road approaching the farm was blessedly dark and deserted, almost like old times. Almost but not quite. Our timing was good, that was all. The resident press corps had gone tearing off to Essex to cover the hatchet murder of legendary feminist leader Ruth Feingold. Their lucky night.

  They didn’t know yet just how lucky.

  We pulled up in front of the carriage barn next to Dwayne’s truck and got out. We were one fewer. We’d dropped Very off at Slawski’s house to do his phone work. Klaus stayed in the cruiser. Klaus always stayed in the cruiser.

  They were sitting down by the salt marsh where we’d left her, an oil lantern throwing light on the greasy pizza box and a dozen or more empty beer bottles that lay there in the grass. Lulu made straight for the pizza box in hopes of finding anchovies. And right away there was a flurry of movement in one of the Adirondack chairs—Clethra scrambling up out of Dwayne’s lap. She staggered to her feet, eyes bright, face wet and shiny, her clothes rumpled and partly unbuttoned. Dwayne stayed where he was, looking pretty much the same way.

  “Evening, Mr. H,” he mumbled guiltily, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes avoided mine.

  “Good evening, Dwayne,” I said coolly.

  Clethra reached for her cigarettes and lit one, straightening herself. “We were just, like, talking,” she whined, going indignant teenager on me. “It’s not like we were doing anything.”

  “Ms. Feingold,” Slawski spoke up. “I’m here to inform you that your mother is dead.”

  Clethra froze. “Wha … ?!”

  “She was murdered earlier this evening on the grounds of your father’s residence.” Slawski took off his hat and examined the brim. “In a rather brutal fashion, I’m sorry to report.”

  Clethra’s eyes filled with tears. She tried to speak, but no words came out. Just a gurgle.

  “Fuckin’ A.” Dwayne’s voice was a hollow gasp. He looked up at her in astonishment, then ducked his head, shaking it. “Fuckin’ A,” he said softly.

  “If you so desire, Ms. Feingold,” Slawski offered, “I can transport you there so that you may presently join the immediate family.”

  “D-Do I have to?�
� she moaned.

  “You may remain here if you so prefer,” Slawski assured her. “The choice is entirely your own. I am merely here to inform you of her demise and to offer you any professional courtesies of which you may choose to avail yourself.” The resident trooper stayed there a moment, grimly turning his hat in his hands. Then he put it back on his head and said goodnight. He started back up toward his cruiser without looking at me.

  Clethra stayed where she was, looking blindly around at the darkness surrounding her, the cigarette between her fingers forgotten. “Like, c-could I be alone for a while?”

  “Of course,” I said.

  Dwayne and I trailed Slawski across the pasture.

  “Guess I owe you an apology, Mr. H,” he said, tugging at his scraggly goatee.

  “Now isn’t a good time, Dwayne.”

  “I remembered what you said—how I shouldn’t be bustin’ a move on her or nothing. And I wasn’t, I swear. We was just chillin’ is all. And next thing I know she’s all over me. Practically tore my clothes off. I’m only human, y’know?”

  “I said now isn’t a good time.”

  “You pissed at me?”

  I sighed wearily. “I suppose if I gave it any thought I’d be a little disappointed, but I have a lot on my mind right now.”

  Slawski was leaning against his cruiser, waiting for me with his arms crossed.

  “You’d better run along now, Dwayne,” I said, not unkindly.

  The kid lingered, pawing uneasily at the gravel with his work boot. “You firing me?”

  “No. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “You got it, Mr. H,” he said gratefully. He hopped in his truck and started it up. The death metal came right on, blaring. He turned it down, waved and took off.

  Slawski and I stood there watching his truck head down the drive. Then I heard the phone ring inside. I raced in the kitchen door and answered it.

  It was Very. He said one word. He said, “Bingo.”

  I called Merilee when I got into bed, Lulu snuggling close to me for warmth. The bedroom was chilly in spite of the fire I’d made. A storm had blown in, this one complete with lightning and thunder and cold gusts that shook the dark old house and rattled its windows.