by Eric Bernt
He did so, then said, “I don’t like it here. I want to go back to my room.”
“We can’t do that just yet. I need to speak with Detective McHenry for a few minutes.”
“How many is a few?”
“I can’t give you an accurate estimate until we see how this goes.”
“Until we see how what goes?”
“My conversation with the detective. I want you to play for him what you played for me in Dr. Fenton’s office. Would you do that, Eddie?”
He furrowed his brow and exhaled audibly, because that was what he’d seen people do when they acquiesced reluctantly. “Yes, I would do that.”
She popped open the trunk and took the laptop supercomputer. Eddie took the echo box. Together, they approached the entrance.
“What is Red’s, Skylar?”
“It’s a sports bar.”
“What’s a sports bar?”
“A place for guys with nothing better to do.”
They entered, walking down the half flight of stairs to the main floor. Eddie grimaced at the cacophony. Four different sports broadcasts fought with a dozen different conversations and a jukebox playing distorted Bob Seger. The oversized proprietor immediately moved toward the two strangers in his bar. Red addressed Skylar. “What’s wrong with your friend?”
“I have been diagnosed with Asperger’s syndrome, which falls within the high-functioning end of the autism spectrum.”
Red looked like he’d just heard Mandarin. Skylar translated. “It’s too loud for him in here.”
“Why’d you bring him, then?”
“We’re looking for Detective Butler McHenry.” Red eyed her suspiciously. She added, “He’s expecting us.”
After a moment, he motioned down the bar. “He’s the ugly guy who looks like an asshole.”
“Not mine,” Eddie said.
Red was speechless as Skylar and Eddie made their way toward Butler. “Hello, Detective.”
He studied her quickly. “Hello, Skylar. What’s going on?”
“This is Edward Parks, one of the patients at the facility where I work.”
Eddie interjected. “Harmony House is a special place for special people.”
“Hello, Edward. I’m Detective McHenry.” Butler extended his hand to shake.
Eddie did not extend his hand. He just stared awkwardly at the detective’s.
Skylar intervened. “Eddie doesn’t shake hands. He’s not comfortable with most forms of physical contact.”
Butler nodded as pleasantly as he could. “Okay.”
“Is there somewhere more private we can talk?”
The detective turned down the bar to Red. “You mind if I use the office for a minute?”
Red shook his head. “Don’t mess anything up. I just had it cleaned.”
Eddie made his BUZZER sound.
Red wasn’t sure how to take it. “What was that?”
Butler answered, “He said your momma was good last night.”
“That is not true, Detective. I’ve never even met his mother.”
McHenry led Skylar and Eddie through a door marked “Private” at the rear of the bar. The small office was an absolute pigsty, but at least it was more quiet than in the bar.
“Not cleaned. Definitely not cleaned. You see?” Eddie ran his finger along the dusty desktop, just like Skylar’s little brother, Christopher, used to do around the surfaces of their childhood home. With her mother out of the picture so early, and her father not much of a domestic, it was left to Skylar to keep the house clean. By Christopher’s standards, she usually failed miserably, but did her best because dust made her brother uncomfortable, just like it was putting Eddie ill at ease now.
“I do see.” Her tone was soothing, intended to calm Eddie down. It worked, at least to some degree.
Eddie watched the grainy black-and-white images on two old surveillance monitors. The video flickered through badly scratched glass. One angle showed the cash register. The other showed the bar’s entrance. “Are places for guys with nothing better to do always so loud?”
McHenry stifled a smile. “For this place, that’s actually quiet.”
Skylar turned to Eddie. “Would you play him the last conversation you played for me when we were in Dr. Fenton’s office?”
“Because he’s a detective who is going to help us?”
“That’s what I’m hoping for.”
He stared at Butler for a moment and turned back to Skylar. “Yes.” Eddie turned on the laptop, which took a moment to boot up.
Skylar explained to Butler, “What you’re about to hear is a conversation that took place on Wednesday afternoon, approximately four hours before the incident in the subway occurred.” She said it in such a way that the detective understood Eddie did not know about Jacob Hendrix’s death, and that she did not want him to.
“Where did this conversation take place?”
“In my boss’s office at Harmony House. His name is Dr. Marcus Fenton.”
“Was he aware the conversation was being recorded?”
Eddie chimed in quickly. “The conversation was not recorded.”
“You lost me.”
Eddie immediately launched into his lecture. “The basis for sound-wave retrieval and reconstruction, which is called acoustic archeology, has existed since 1969. We just haven’t had equipment sensitive enough to acoustically map an enclosed space or the computing speed necessary to re-create the original sound wave.” He paused for emphasis, just like he had in the recreation room at Harmony House. “Until now.”
Detective McHenry turned to Skylar. “What the hell is he talking about?” He didn’t notice the two men who could be seen entering the bar on the two old black-and-white monitors.
Red’s was a locals-only bar. And it was a cop bar. If someone new wasn’t either, every set of eyes in the place was on them until an acceptable explanation as to their presence was given. Red knew when he approached Skylar and Eddie that they weren’t going to be trouble. The opposite was true when he moved toward Lutz and Hirsch. “Can I help you?”
Hirsch eyed the massive bartender. “We’re looking for Detective Butler McHenry.”
The bar quieted ever so slightly, but Red didn’t flinch. “Never heard of him.” He returned to cleaning glasses behind the bar.
Lutz didn’t appreciate the lack of cooperation. “Are you the proprietor?”
Red positioned himself next to one of the photographs on the wall in which he was clearly identified. “Good guess.” He glanced behind the bar, where his trusty baseball bat was located. From the dings and dents in the bat’s surface, he was obviously not afraid to use it.
Down the bar, another off-duty detective quickly typed in a text message on his phone: You’ve got company.
Inside Red’s office, Butler felt his phone vibrate as Eddie babbled. When the detective read the message, he glanced at the security monitors. The two strangers were talking to Red. He interrupted Eddie’s lecture, addressing Skylar. “Do you know who those guys are?”
Skylar’s face went white. “They work at Harmony House. In security.”
Eddie looked confused. “How did they know we were here, Skylar?”
“I had a feeling we were being followed.”
“What kind of feeling?”
“I’ll explain it later. Eddie, just play the conversation you played for me earlier.”
He nodded and clicked “Play” on the laptop. Eddie had managed to clean up some of the harmonic distortion, which made the conversation sound clearer than it had previously:
FENTON: Mr. Barnes, to what do I owe the pleasure?
BARNES: Your new doctor’s boyfriend has been looking into Eddie.
McHenry looked to Skylar. “By new doctor, is he referring to you?”
Skylar nodded.
“Who’s the guy talking to your boss?”
“We believe he’s head of Harmony House security.”
Eddie chimed in quickly. “His name is Mr.
Barnes, but I call him the mystery man because he’s very mysterious.”
FENTON: What have you got?
Papers could be heard flipping.
BARNES: Either she’s got loose lips or he’s been sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong.
Skylar grew increasingly nervous. “Eddie, skip forward a little.” He did so.
BARNES: Will you want to know the details?
FENTON: Nothing in his residence. Make it look like an accident.
BARNES: He takes the subway.
FENTON: All kinds of bad things happen in subways these days. I’m sure you’ll figure something out.
“Eddie, that’s enough.” Skylar’s hands were trembling as she turned to McHenry. “What do you think?”
The detective stared at the echo box in amazement. “I think it’s going to be a while before I get to enjoy any Rolling Rock.” He paused. “This is for real?”
She nodded. “I need your help.”
McHenry believed her. “First things first.” He typed a response to the text message: Get them out of here.
On the surveillance monitor, the detective who received the message looked directly into one of the security cameras and nodded.
In the bar, the detective made his way through the crowd of fellow officers, patting them on the shoulders. “Hey, Red, why don’t you give the fellas a couple on the house?” He might as well have said, “Lock and load, boys.”
Six off-duty officers and detectives joined him, surrounding the strangers.
Red answered the detective. “I did. Said they weren’t interested.”
“Then what are they doing here?”
“Looking for a Butler McHenry. Ever heard of him?”
“Can’t say that I have. Any of you?” He turned to the others, who all shook their heads. “Looks like you two are shit out of luck.”
It was a standoff. Hirsch and Lutz knew they weren’t going to get anything from these guys. Cops were a tight fraternity. Almost as tight as former intelligence operatives. Hirsch never broke eye contact as he and Lutz backed toward the door. “Luck changes.”
Outside the bar, they walked toward their vehicle. Lutz was not pleased. “You know they’re in there.”
“Of course they are.”
“Assholes thought they were cute.”
“We would have done the same thing.”
“How do you want to handle it?”
“We wait. They have to come out sometime.” They moved to the rear of the car.
“And if they don’t?”
“We go back in.” He opened the trunk, revealing a rather astonishing arsenal. Instead of weapons, they grabbed protein bars and energy drinks, preparing to wait as long as it took.
CHAPTER 38
Red’s Sports Bar, Queens, New York City, May 27, 1:01 p.m.
Eddie studied Skylar as she stared at the security monitors inside Red’s office. “Skylar, why are your hands shaking?”
“Because I’m a little nervous.”
“Why are you a little nervous?”
“There’s a lot going on, Eddie.”
“You mean, more than us standing with a New York City Police detective in a cramped and dusty office?”
“Yes.”
Butler turned to Skylar. “Does he always talk like that?”
She nodded. “Pretty much.”
Eddie was confused. “Talk like what?”
“The detective was commenting that you have a unique way of communicating, and I was agreeing with him.”
Eddie nodded, imitating her. “Pretty much.” He turned to the detective. “I am not very good at nonverbal forms of communication, but that is something Skylar has been trying to teach me. We walked to nowhere in particular.”
“How long did it take you to get there?”
Skylar stifled a smile as Eddie answered, “I don’t know. We didn’t time it.”
Butler waited for him to get the joke, which, of course, he didn’t. Skylar jumped in. “I think he was teasing you, Eddie.”
The detective corrected her. “No, I really want to know how long it took.”
Eddie made his BUZZER sound.
Skylar explained, “If you say something that isn’t true, he does that.”
Butler’s eyes widened. “Every time?”
She nodded. “Every time.”
Butler shook his head. Just what he needed. He texted the detective in the bar: They still out there?
His friend nodded toward the security camera, then nodded toward the entrance.
Butler typed: Distract them.
His NYPD brother nodded again, then turned to the off-duty officers around him.
Sitting alone in his government-issued vehicle, Lutz grew increasingly impatient as he waited outside Red’s. It had been over an hour. Hirsch was around the corner, standing in the alley behind the bar, watching the only other exit. He checked in with his partner in the car. “Anything?”
“Nada.”
“How soon do you want to make a move?”
“Soon as boss man says so.” Lutz hung up and listened to sirens passing as he dialed Michael Barnes. Some were far off in the distance, others within a few blocks. Maintaining sanity in Queens meant learning to tune out the erratic but never-ending urban cacophony.
Barnes answered the phone in his office on the first ring. “Any change?”
“Negative. They’re still inside.”
“Continue holding your position. I want this thing contained.”
“Copy that.” Lutz clicked off the phone, still ignoring one of the approaching sirens, until the New York City Fire Department ambulance pulled up right alongside his car and parked, blocking him in. Two paramedics hopped out and opened the rear doors to remove a gurney. They quickly wheeled it toward the entrance to Red’s.
Lutz stepped out of his vehicle, speaking loudly. “What the hell?”
The ambulance driver glanced over briefly. “Medical emergency.” He continued into Red’s.
Lutz speed-dialed his counterpart in the alley. “We have a situation.”
“You want company?”
“Stay there.” He walked briskly inside Red’s, moving toward the crowd circled around someone lying on the peanut-shell-covered floor. It was one of the off-duty officers, who was being tended to by the two paramedics. “What happened?”
One of the more senior detectives turned toward Lutz. “None of your business.”
The former intelligence operative stared him down. “I can make it my business.”
Red stepped toward him, baseball bat in hand. “You sure you want to do that?”
One of the paramedics screamed rather convincingly as he worked on the fallen cop. “He’s having a heart attack!”
The escalating drama was visible on the security monitors inside the private office. Lutz could not see that, behind him, the detective who’d arranged the whole thing was quietly exiting the bar.
Eddie turned to Skylar. “Why did you give that man your phone and keys?”
Outside the bar, the detective unlocked Skylar’s Honda and got into the driver’s seat. He put her phone on the passenger’s seat and took off quickly.
Lutz could not see the car speeding down the street. His cell phone rang. It was Barnes. “Yes, sir.”
“Why aren’t you following them?”
“They’re still here.”
On the electronic map inside Barnes’s office, Skylar’s car was speeding away from the bar. “No, they’re not.”
Lutz glanced out the window to see that the Honda was gone. Determination filled his voice. “They won’t get far.” He bolted out of the bar and jumped into his car, which was still blocked in by the ambulance. But not for long. Wham! He slammed into the car parked in front of him, pushing it forward a foot. Wham! Then he did the same thing to the car behind.
Hearing the collisions, Hirsch came barreling out of the alley as Lutz maneuvered onto the sidewalk. Hirsch jumped into the passenger’s seat. “Wha
t the hell?”
Lutz motioned to the empty space where Skylar’s car had been parked.
“How’d they get out?”
“Fuck if I know.” He punched the gas, and the car screeched back onto the street as they resumed their pursuit of Skylar’s vehicle.
Inside the bar, one of the cops who’d been acting concerned over his fallen comrade tapped one of the paramedics on the shoulder. “Show’s over.”
The guy who’d been faking the heart attack opened his eyes and started dusting the peanut shells off his flannel shirt. “If my car is one of the ones that prick just rammed, he’s gonna be awful sorry.”
Red moved to the office door and knocked twice. McHenry opened the door, giving a nod of appreciation to all in the room. No words were exchanged.
Skylar and Eddie followed him out of the office. They carried the laptop and the echo box with them. Eddie paused, staring blankly at the paramedics. “Why did you pretend to help him if you knew he wasn’t having a real heart attack?”
The paramedic clearly did not appreciate Eddie’s lack of gratitude. “As I understand it, we were saving your ass.”
Eddie looked behind himself, trying to see his own backside.
Skylar apologized to the paramedics. “Eddie, just say thank you to these nice men for helping us.”
Eddie did so. The paramedic turned to McHenry. “This guy for real?”
Eddie chimed in. “I am flesh and blood and teeth and bones and—”
Skylar jumped in. “They were only acting, Eddie.”
“Acting is pretending, and pretending is lying, and lying is not something paramedics should do because they are like doctors and doctors shouldn’t lie.”
“I’m a doctor, and sometimes I lie.”
Eddie seemed genuinely shocked. “You do?”
“Everybody has to lie sometimes.”
“I don’t.”
“If you spend enough time outside Harmony House, you will, trust me.”
Butler could feel his colleagues’ frustration rising. “Dr. Drummond, we need to get your patient out of here before one of my guys kills him.”
She and Eddie followed the detective out the door. “Skylar, have you ever lied to me?”