The Complete Matt Jacob Series

by Klein, Zachary;

  “And you’re not guarding the door?”

  He chuckled. “You are very stubborn.”

  I didn’t find anything amusing. “I’m standing here looking at a bunch of yours.”

  “Mine?”

  “Records. Your office records.”

  He never skipped a beat. “Of course. If you’d like I’d be happy to pick them up. No reason to make you run.”

  I wanted to wrap the telephone cord around his neck. If I told him I’d spent the day discovering gory murals he might relent, but I didn’t want to tell him anything, much less beg.

  “Fuck you.” I slammed the receiver down so hard I had to check to see if I had cracked it. It was a ‘40s phone that I’d found in a junk store and resurrected. If I had broken it I would have found Holmes and beaten Gloria’s whereabouts out of him. As it was the phone was intact.

  I reopened the refrigerator door and remembered standing in front of Starring’s yesterday. That settled the question of cooking and I slammed the door shut. When I called the neighborhood sub shop, the guy swore he’d have the pizza at my door in fifteen minutes. That gave me about forty-five, so I decided to shower and change.

  I had just finished strapping the holster over my clean tee shirt when I heard someone rap on the door. “Wait a second,” I called while I fumbled with my wallet to get the money. The delivery was surprisingly quick. It was a relief because I was starved.

  I pulled the door with one hand and held the money in the other when suddenly the door flew open and Simon came streaming through. His action pushed me aside and knocked the money from my grasp. I knelt down on the floor to pick it up. It was a good way to ease the panic that hit when the door swung open.

  I looked up. “What the fuck are you doing?”

  He slammed his hand on the table and glared at me. “That’s my question. What the fuck are you doing?”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” I stood up and closed the door.

  He didn’t have a chance to answer because there was another loud knock. This time I took the gun out of my holster and waved at Simon to move to the side. I wasn’t going to be caught looking again. At least not today. I grabbed the door handle and yanked it open. I’m glad I had the gun facing down; the pizza boy was scared enough. I was still a dime short and a dollar wide with everything. I reholstered the .38 and paid for the pizza. I gave him a big tip. Then I turned around and placed the pie on the table.

  “You eat yet? It’s Greek, but edible.”

  “I don’t want to eat.” He didn’t sound any friendlier.

  “Suit yourself.” I feigned mellow and sat down to eat. Some of my anxiety showed. The tape on the box took me three rounds. All the while Simon stood, glowered, and breathed. Loudly. I finally got the box open and he began to speak.

  “I told you I didn’t mind paying you, I only wanted you to work. ‘Sure I’ll work,’ you said. Look at you. You disappeared again. Only this time you’re fucking dangerous. Who the hell are you imitating? Hunter Thompson?”

  I tried to interrupt but he kept ranting, “Are you shooting up now? Or is it the DTs? You can’t even get a goddamn pizza box open. Christ!”

  “Wait a minute. That tape was tough.”

  “Fuck you and your jokes. I got a wife who is close to a breakdown, a marriage that’s falling apart, and you can’t follow one fucking lead. I’ve been calling regularly and you’ve been too stoned to hear it ring.”

  I was getting tired of being thought of as a junkie or a lush. I didn’t think of myself that way. “My dope isn’t that good, Simon. If I’da been here I would have heard the phone. I’m surprised to hear that Fran is doing worse. I was sure things would turn around.”

  “Come on, Matt. You haven’t been out of the house for three consecutive hours since the accident. And I’m sorry if I’m not up to date on the substance you’re abusing.”

  The pizza looked like an overhead camera shot of open heart surgery. I stuffed the top of the box into the uneaten pie and rose to my feet. “Look, you asshole, I said I was out.”

  “Out where? Another pleasure jaunt with Boots? On my dime?”

  “Pleasure jaunt? If looking at a head splattered against a naked wall gets you off, I suppose you could call it pleasure. You ever see human brains, Simon? You know what a big fat bullet does to a face? Spend the day with me, asshole. On your fucking dime? Your dime bought me admission to a very ugly death. You’re damn right it’s your dime. That corpse was the kid I’ve been looking for, for you. And before you get self-centered about it, his fucking murder has nothing to do with you. He was into some shit, but it wasn’t yours. Let me tell you again what I been trying to tell you all along. Alive or dead, the kid don’t have nothing to do with your problems. Get it?”

  I suddenly ran out of steam. “I’m sorry things aren’t improving with you guys. I truly thought they might.”

  “What the hell are you mixed up in?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know what you’re involved with, but you know things were going to improve for me. If what you’re telling me is true, why, goddamnit, did you think anything was going to change?”

  “I don’t know. Time, I guess.” I scratched around for something to say. All I felt was fatigue and I wanted him to leave.

  He walked over to where I was standing. “Time, my ass. You’re holding out. What the fuck do you know that I don’t? If it isn’t information about this kid, what is it?”

  I wanted to escape. I shrugged helplessly and could feel my face flush. Though the heat from both our tempers was gone, the tension in the room was electric. He kept staring and I kept trying to hide. Neither of us moved a muscle.

  Suddenly his eyes flashed and I knew he had it figured out.

  “You son of a bitch. I don’t believe it.”

  I didn’t move. Or say a thing. Or ask what he didn’t believe. I didn’t have to. He looked around the apartment like he had lost something and shook his head. He started to talk, but stopped. He turned away and walked slowly to the door. From the rear he looked like another Willy Loman. Before he got there he turned back toward me and showed his teeth. I suppose it was a grin.

  “You could have said it wasn’t so. You know, like Shoeless Joe.”

  I looked at him. I didn’t know what to say. Shoeless Joe hadn’t. All I could do was shrug. He turned back toward the door and walked out. I didn’t want him to leave but I didn’t follow. I still had nothing to say. I heard his car squeal out of the alley before I locked the door.

  I lit a cigarette and wound up on the couch. I was too exhausted and too miserable to watch TV. I stuffed the cigarette but kept the gun. It made me feel better, despite the delivery boy fiasco. It was too early to sleep but no one told my eyes. Even with my eyes shut I couldn’t shake the image of Simon frantically glancing around the apartment like a trapped animal.

  Somehow that image transformed itself into another . . . Simon had my gun and was pointing it at me and Fran who were naked in bed. I kept trying to explain that I wasn’t the one, but he wouldn’t listen. Fran kept telling him that it was all over, but he wouldn’t believe that either. He kept looking at the gun and back at us. Then he put the gun to his own head in front of a blank wall. I knew the way the wall was going to look and I heard myself pleading with him to put the gun down, but he just stared with the same look he’d worn when he left my apartment.

  I saw his finger squeeze the trigger and I braced for the explosion. But instead of the roar of the gun I heard the bell of the phone and the picture of Fran, Simon, and myself began to fade, and I was confused about whether I was awake or asleep.

  The telephone kept ringing. I shook myself alert and glanced at the clock. It was 3 A.M. and the phone was ringing, but the sound was a relief: I didn’t have to watch Simon paint the wall.

  The ring refused to play itself out. I struggled to my feet and padded across the floor and stabbed at the receiver. “It better be good!”

  “
Excuse me?”

  The voice was familiar but I couldn’t place it.

  “Who is this?”

  “It’s Eban Holmes. I’m sorry to disturb you at this time of morning, but something happened and I think you ought to be involved.”

  Although his voice was quiet I could hear the raggedness around the edges. “What’s going on?”

  “Gloria was assaulted and her house ransacked.”

  I felt my stomach lurch and my hands begin to sweat. “Is she all right?”

  “Not really. Nothing fatal or long-term, but serious.” His voice cracked, but he took a deep breath and continued, “Look, I can’t talk about this on the phone. Will you come over to her house? I know this is quite an inconvenience . . .?”

  He was winding up to go into a sell. “You don’t have to convince me, Eban. I’ll be there as soon as I can. I take it you’re with her?”

  “Yes, yes, of course.” He sounded friendlier now than he had this afternoon.

  “Where is it?”

  He gave me an address in Brookline. “I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

  “Thank you, Matthew. It’s a relief.” “Right.”

  I put the phone down and tried to regroup. Despite the change in calendar, yesterday continued. I tried to push the thought of Eban comforting Dr. James from my mind. This really wasn’t the time to pander to weird jealousies. Hell, she had been my shrink until a couple of weeks ago.

  I pushed myself toward the bedroom and quickly dressed, gathered my things, and headed into the dark alley for the car. Someone was sleeping by the rear wheel and I was met with a drunken protest. When he saw the gun in my hand he stopped talking and pulled himself to his feet. I slipped the gun back into the holster and climbed into the car. I wasn’t in a coddling mood.

  I was halfway down the alley before realizing I’d left without cigarettes or dope. Nothing was going to be open this time of the morning, so I jammed on the brakes and threw the car into reverse. You couldn’t buy dope from a convenience store anyhow, this wasn’t New York. While I sat at the table rolling, Simon’s words rattled in my head. It took a moment to decide whether I’d use a cigarette or joint to get rid of them. I took a toke of grass, held my breath, exhaled, and did another.

  I was conscious of the time but still delayed leaving. My initial intensity was dissipating, something was telling me I’d seen too much and done too much to do any more. It didn’t matter; an image of Gloria attacked kicked me out the door.

  The drunk looked at me reproachfully. Rather than feeling guilt for moving him, I moved him again. I was beginning to lose my lethargy.

  The overnight parking ban meant I had Dr. James’ block to myself. I walked up the brown concrete steps. There was only one mailbox. Only one bell. The door opened and Holmes stood there looking like shit, and somehow that calmed my own tight nerves. He waved me inside, signaling for silence.

  “She’s dozing.”

  He must have seen something in my face because he rushed to reassure me. “I’ll wake her, I didn’t ask you out in the middle of the night for no reason.”

  “What do you mean you asked me out? Doesn’t Dr. James know you called?” I was annoyed by his authoritative tone though I found myself whispering. “Is there a room where we can talk? The place looks big enough.”

  “Of course, please excuse my manners. I’m not doing my best thinking. As far as Gloria knowing that I called, frankly, she doesn’t. She wouldn’t even allow me to call the police.” He shrugged his shoulders, indicating he had fought the good fight but lost. I believed him.

  “I didn’t want to mention you.” He didn’t want to lose again.

  “Well, I’m here.”

  For a moment he stood there confused. He really wasn’t doing his best thinking. Just then Dr. James called from another room. “Eban, who are you talking to? I wasn’t knocked deaf, you know.”

  Holmes looked trapped. It pleased me but hearing Dr. James’ voice rekindled my anxiety, so there wasn’t much room to gloat. I listened as he ripped the words from his throat. “I called Matthew Jacob, Gloria, and he’s just arrived.”

  Her groan was clear and unmistakable. “I told you that I wanted nobody to know, goddammit.” She paused for an instant. “That’s no reflection on you, Matthew.”

  I walked across the hall toward the sound of her voice. “Matt, Gloria, Matt. Informality for those bonded by blood.” Holmes dragged after me.

  I walked into the room at the tail end of her laugh, and heard myself gasp. I was sorry I’d made the joke. It must have hurt to open her mouth. Gloria’s face was swollen and already turning a blotchy purple. She looked like a late-night public service announcement about wife abuse.

  Gloria moved the arm that rested over the bedspread. “It looks worse than it is.”

  She was lying. It was as bad as it looked. “What’s the matter with your other arm?”

  She moved her free hand and pulled aside the blanket. She was wearing a sweatsuit and her arm was bandaged and set in a sling.

  “They broke your arm.”

  She was wearing a giddy smile. “Not they, Matthew, he.”

  I looked at Holmes. “She has to get to a doctor. If her arm is broken it has to be set correctly.”

  Holmes looked at me and some of the color returned to his face. “It’s set right. I did it.”

  Gloria chipped in, “Eban studied medicine, tell him, Eban.” She smiled, “Eban studied lots of things, didn’t you, Eban?”

  I turned toward Holmes. “I didn’t know you were a doctor. I thought your Dr. meant Ph.D.”

  “You almost have it right, Matthew.” She was blinking. “I’m the Ph.D. Fid.”

  I smiled at her and nodded to Holmes. “What’s she on?”

  “A little Demerol.”

  “Is there such a thing as a little Demerol?” I tried to keep the anger out of my voice. I didn’t want to fight the only coherent person in the room.

  He nodded. “I know what you mean. No, I’m not a licensed doctor but I’ve studied a great deal of medicine, and we’ll go to her own physician in the morning.” He looked at her. “As soon as the painkiller wears off.”

  I couldn’t stop myself. He was a little hard to believe. “Are you nuts? Aren’t you taking this anti-professional thing too far? You want to wait for the fucking Demerol to wear off so you don’t get busted?”

  He coughed and glanced away. “Perhaps. I’m not sure this is the time and place to discuss it, do you?” He met my eyes and smiled. “Don’t you think it’s interesting that you object to my setting a broken bone, but said nothing about my work in psychology?”

  He abruptly changed topics. “It was a clean break. All I did was some advanced first aid and shake a few tablets from a bottle. Nonetheless, if it had been up to me, we would have gone directly to the emergency room.”

  I had a couple of rejoinders but they weren’t going to help the situation. I pushed my misgivings away. Hell, after Starring’s painted wall, what was a broken arm? I turned my attention back to Dr. James. She was lying quietly, looking a little more sober but no better for wear.

  I felt my theory of relativity slipping away. “Look, Holmes was right to call. This is too serious for heroics. If you’re too tired to talk I’ll just wait until you’re ready.”

  Gloria’s eyes opened a little wider. “Why would you wait? Eban is here.” At the sound of Eban’s name the corners of her lips trembled and her pupils began to dilate. I didn’t say anything and waited quietly for her to come down.

  She was so hostile toward Holmes I wondered if he had beaten her. I turned toward Holmes. “When did you get here?”

  His face grew puzzled. “Why do you ask?”

  “Let me see your hands.”

  It was his turn to be incredulous. “What are you suggesting?” But even as he became indignant his hands drifted out in front of his body. He hadn’t hit anyone.

  Gloria muttered from the bed, “You are very suspicious, Matthew. Eban’s tortur
e is of a less tangible nature.”

  Holmes had had it. “Gloria, please! I know you’ve been through hell and the drugs are still affecting you, but enough already. I don’t blame you for being angry but, despite Mr. Jacob’s accusation, it was me you called from the floor. I was not your assailant. I am not a thug. I relented when you refused to go to the police and the hospital, but you have been assaulted and it was no damn accident. You can talk to Matthew now, or I can, or,” he gave a brusque nod to me, “we can wait. But I am not going to sit and listen to a drug-induced history of relational recriminations.”

  With his speech he grew more like the powerful dynamo he was when we first met. I liked him better this way, but his relationship with Gloria less. Her eyes seemed clearer and frowns of physical discomfort were starting to flash across her face.

  “I understand, Eban. We will have to talk about these things later.” She shifted her body slightly in my direction. I wanted to look away from her face but didn’t. “Not too pretty to look at today, huh?” She tried to smile but the effort was overtly painful. “I’ll tell you what happened but first you answer one question.” I was going to argue but decided to take the path of least resistance and nodded instead.

  “What’s going on? If you know something, please tell me.”

  Just her effort to ask the question deserved an honest answer. “I don’t know what’s going on. I found the office records today . . . not today, yesterday. I found them in the car of someone who was murdered.”

  Dr. James blinked and seemed to sink into her pillows. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Holmes’ jaw drop. I didn’t want to say anything about Clifford. Some suspicions are better kept unsaid.

  Holmes was the first to speak. “My God, you said nothing about this on the telephone. Are you certain?”

  “If seeing a corpse is certain, I’m certain. Look, if I’ve shocked you, good. We’re involved in something that’s gotten two of us beaten and someone else dead and we don’t understand shit about what’s going on. Now tell me what happened.”