And he’d kill them all before he even set the fire. They had to be told why this was happening to them. He thought they may have figured it out by now, but they were stuck. Nowhere to run to, baby. Nowhere to hide.
He loaded up his cleaning equipment, removed the magnetic sign from the side of the truck, and then went to grab a couple of last-minute items from his apartment. He had an electrical converter for his cigarette lighter that allowed him to run something with a parallel blade wall plug in his car while he drove. He would drive with the Bose tonight. He wanted good music to think to. He wanted the right tunes to plan the end of his personal passion play.
50
While Eric finished his business at the Majestic, Bud rolled in the front door of his town-house. He was tired but keyed up. He rarely did anything anymore with live criminals. Detecting had turned into a cerebral practice. He often felt like he was moving toward middle age and changing from James Bond into Columbo at an identical rate. Maybe he wasn’t morphing from James Bond. It was probably Our Man Flint. At least, that’s what his brain told him.
Betsy ribbed him playfully. “Did you have fun with your new boyfriend? You two have been spending a lot of time together lately. Maybe you’re just star-struck at getting to work with some fancy actor for a change.”
Bud walked over to her and gave her a deep kiss before going to the refrigerator and grabbing a piece of chicken. He was starving. Adrenaline burned food, and he’d dumped more adrenaline into his system tonight than he had in the last four years combined. “Yeah. It was swell. We looked at pictures of guys, got bored, braced a couple of thugs, told them to beat it outta town and not come back. I had to put one guy down like a dog. I didn’t kill him, but he’ll feel it tomorrow.” It was the truth, but he could tell she didn’t buy it. It made him feel even better.
“Oh, you. I’m glad he doesn’t drink or you’d smell like a distillery. Speaking of which, you seem to be slowing down in that area of recreation. I’m glad. I never worry about you losing your job or anything, but I feel like you drink to escape the humdrum life of studying other people’s work and coming home to your same old wife and same old kid. By the way, Buster wanted to tell you to kiss him when you got in. I told him he wouldn’t know because he’d be sleeping. He told me he’d know because he would ‘detectify’ it tomorrow morning. I swear, he is gonna be a handful.”
“Like he’s not already?” He said this while placing his chicken leg on a plate, wiping his hands on a paper towel, and leading her by the hand into the next room.
“Where are we goin’, Bud? You gotta tell me bad news? Did someone get hurt?” She was always worried for his friends that were still out beating the streets and dealing with the really bad guys.
He steered her over next to the couch and started kissing her neck. While he was doing this he was unbuttoning her simple dress that buttoned up the back. “Everyone’s fine. I think everyone will be finer in a few minutes.”
“Bud! What are you doing?”
His kisses were getting lower and her breath coming in quicker, shallower little gasps. “If I have to explain it to you after ten years of marriage and a kid, I’m doing something wrong or you’re getting senile.”
The dress obeyed the laws of gravity--it had no choice with a cop in the room--and fell into a diaphanous cloud on the floor. When they’d met it was g-strings and lacy bras. These had given way over the years to more utilitarian undergarments. Bud secretly liked the cotton panties and the supportive, equally comfortable looking cotton bras. Her boobs had gotten bigger when the kid came, and they just didn’t seem to have any intention of resuming their former “C” cup status. He’d have been happy with that. He was happy with this. He would have been happy with anything. He loved her. There would never be another woman for him. He was lowering her to the couch. “On the couch? What about Buster?”
“He’s asleep. If he ‘detectifies’ the fact that his parents did it on the couch, I’ll enroll him in the police academy.” His clothes were coming off now. He was a large man. Good living, an easy job, and home cooking had put a coat of fat on Bud, but he still had a rack of strong muscle underneath it all. He lifted weights every work-day on his lunch break. He was a Chicago guy, built like a Chicago guy. She thought he was sexy in spite of or because of it all.
They made love quickly at first, then slowly and deliciously, then finished like a couple of college kids. It was the kind of passion sandwich that one rarely finds in long relationships. It had been a long time since they had made love like that. He got up and walked naked to the kitchen--another oddity; Bud was a clothes on in the house kinda guy. He came back with a glass of white wine for her, a beer for himself, and his dinner plate she had wrapped in Saran Wrap for him. He brought two forks.
He asked what she’d done for the day. She’d taken Buster to see the dinosaurs at the Field Museum and strolled about with him. Bud could tell she was getting tired of the stay-at-home-mom gig. “I’ve been thinking. If you went to work, even half time, it would get Buster to start on the road to being social, you back into doing something with adults, and the money would be a wash. Your money would pay for his day care, but I don’t care if you don’t make what it costs. You might even make more, which is just gravy. If we lost a little money on the deal, it would be worth it. I think Buster and I are big enough men to share you with the world. Whattya think?”
She was on the edge of tears. “First thing’s first. Yes. I would love to go back to work. I don’t know if you can tell, but this isolation has been killing me lately. So, I’ll start on that tomorrow; I’ve actually been thinking about it. I’ve picked out a couple of day care places that I think Buster would like. I’d love for you to come check them out with me. I was also talking to Emily over at the accounting department.” Bets used to work in the accounting department of a large textile firm. “She said they had an opening and was pretty sure they’d take me back. She says the boss had asked after me from time to time.”
“Great! Go for it! If that’s what you wanna do, then go for it. You said first thing’s first. What’s the second thing? I sense another shoe is about to drop.”
“Yes. I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but you seem so much happier since you met Al. You guys working together seems to be lifting your spirits…and other things.” She put her hand on his crotch and gave it a friendly rub. “Is this leading somewhere?”
“You caressing Mr. Happy is most definitely leading somewhere. The other thing, I don’t know…” He trailed off, but he did know. She knew as well. They’d decided that he should scale back on his dangerous duties when he was offered his present assignment. The brass liked him in this position. He did the work of three men and was great at busting open heretofore closed cases. “Working with Al has reminded me why I like this job. I can help do the job in my present position, and if you give the word, I’ll stay in this position until promotion, death, or retirement move me along. But goddamn it, Bets, I really love doing the hands-on cop stuff.”
“I’ve been waiting for you to say so. I felt like if I brought it up I’d be saying I feel better if you’re constantly in harm’s way. Trust me, that’s not it. If I could, I’d wrap you in tissue and keep you home in your favorite chair. I never want to lose you or see you hurt, but Bud, you gotta do what you got to do. And that means…”
“Detectify?”
She leaned over and kissed him. It wasn’t a little peck on the cheek. It was a prelude. “Yes, Marlin, detectify.”
So Marlin “Bud” Smythe detectified. Once he solved the “Case of the Awesome Wife,” the solution being a need for some more physical contact, he sat back with Betsy. They ate cold chicken, drank warm beer and wine, and talked till 11:15pm. It was way past their bed-time when they finally went to bed. He grimaced when he set his alarm for 6:30. He had called Eric Bannerman’s PO and learned Eric would be in at 11:00 tomorrow. Bud wanted to get there with plenty of time to look over the guy’s files and try to get a bead on
who he was. They needed to decide if he was having this pinned on him, or if he was a cold-blooded murderer, whether he was a victim or a perpetrator. He’d find out. He’d talk to Al. They’d crack the case and Marlin “Bud” Smythe would go back to doing what he did best: working the streets and making the bad guys go to Joliet or one of the other places that served as a hotel for people who needed a little “time out” from society. He slept the sleep of the just. He and Betsy slept naked. He thought he might make that a new house rule.
51
“So you kicked him out of the upper Midwest?” Edith asked.
Al thought about it for a second. “That’s about the size of it. Yup. I’d say that is an affirmative.”
“Jesus, Al. I wouldn’t use ‘subtle’ in my top ten descriptive terms for you.”
“I’m subtle. My subtlety is just stealthy.”
“Bullshit. You can’t justify your lack of candor by saying it comes from an abundance of candor.”
“I think I just did.” He started pulling her into his lap as she walked by. “What’s eating you? You’re pretty keyed up.”
She let herself be pulled into his lap. “I’m worried.”
“I know. Do you want to expound on that or do you want me to venture a guess.”
She leaned her head back a bit so she could see the entirety of his moon-pie face. “You tell me. I’m interested in seeing if you’re right.”
They had discussed the news about Lance and the situation with Eric Bannerman’s parole. He’d told her Bud was heading out there tomorrow. “Now that Lance is out of the picture, there are only three extant people on our target list. If we’re wrong, some person we could have kept an eye on may get killed. If it isn’t Bannerman, then Gill, Sheena, or Marty could get tagged anytime. It’s getting down to where the rubber hits the road, there’s a ton of shit riding on our research and, to put it bluntly, our guess work.”
“Oh.” She looked a little dumbfounded.
“Oh? What’s ‘Oh?’ Am I close?” He was confused about how his extensive intuition would only elicit an “Oh.” It didn’t scan for him or his ego.
“Silly old bear.” She smiled when she said this. They’d discussed Winnie the Pooh’s Taoist approach to life. They were both fans of Milne’s menagerie. “Sure. All of that stuff, but that’s part of this game. I expected all of this. Even the Bannerman parole. I know you said not to make assumptions, but I have, and he’s guilty. I’ll make you a bet; if I’m wrong, I’ll watch your Sergio Leone box-set. If I’m right, you spend a day with me at the Art Institute and we spend the whole time in the modern art wing.” Al hated modern art.
“You’re on. I kinda agree with you, but I’d do anything to get you to see Leone’s work. I’d even risk exposure to modern art. But why ‘Oh?’ I’m still in the dark.”
“Well, shit. This isn’t the appropriate time, but I think we need to have a talk.”
“Should I sit down?” He asked wiggling his eyebrows. He was not only sitting, but she was sitting on him.
“Well. I was pretty sure I’d never get involved seriously with a guy again. I thought I might have some cheap sex here and there, but I like my space, my privacy and, you know, my stuff. As in, not your stuff or our stuff, but my stuff.”
“Ah.”
“Ah? You don’t even know where I’m going with this.”
“Well, you said ‘Oh.’ I thought I at least merited an ‘Ah.”
“Let’s stay on topic here, little man. Like I was saying, this is all coming pretty fast. I went from flying solo to having slumber parties.”
“I get it, and it’s cool. We can slow down. I have nothing but time.”
She got up, slapping him in the chest at the same time. “God! Al! I like being with you and having you around. What’s freaking me out is that I am not having a problem with you being around. I like it. I want it. I want more.”
“Just to set the record straight, you’re freaked out about not being freaked out, but I can’t be stealthy about being subtle.”
She stared at him, dumbfounded once again, then started to laugh. It was small at first, but continued to grow. He stood up and went to her. She continued to laugh harder and harder. He held her, and before the ink dried, she was crying softly against his strong shoulder. “I’m falling, no, I’ve fallen pretty hard for you Al. I’m not going to be clingy or a pest, and we have time to figure it out, but I’m crazy about you. I feel better about myself than I have in… ever, I think. So that’s what’s on my mind.”
Al continued to hold her, not speaking, just feeling her body against his, occasionally experiencing a minor hitching breath, but mostly just leaning softly against him.
“I spooked you. Did I spook you? I spooked you.”
“Edith, if you still feel like this in three more days, I’ll move in for the duration of my stay here in Chicago. We’ll look at the long-range implications from there.”
“Really?”
“Do I still get espresso if I move in?”
“As long as you’re good.”
“Will you watch Sergio Leone’s box set with me if I move in?”
“It’s against the rules to bring a proposed marker into a second deal before the first one is resolved.”
“I’ve never heard that.”
“This is Chicago, Al. You don’t mess with the rules.” She was forehead to forehead with him. She followed this sentence with a kiss that turned into a series of kisses that turned into a full-blown lovemaking session on the dining room table. Afterward, he carried her to the couch, where they snuggled and drank club soda together.
“Mmmmmm…” She said finally.
“Yeah. That was totally yummy.”
“How you gonna play the thing with Sheena, Marty, and Gill?”
“I’ll wait till I hear from Bud, then I’ll make a call. If I don’t hear from him by the end of the day tomorrow, I’m going to drop by and have that chat with Gill. He’s pissing me off, and I need to put it to rest. It’s starting to fuck with my acting work. Plus, his behavior isn’t acceptable, and I’d like to let him know I think so.”
“Will that help him negotiate his life or help you feel better about him being a shit?”
“Probably the latter.”
“You gonna kick him out of the upper Midwest?”
“Nah. I might throw him out of his apartment window, but it’s only a one-story fall, give or take. It’ll be like a love pat.”
“I trust your judgement in these tough guy things. I’m certainly not going to dole out advice to you. You know when you’ll be done tomorrow? I have some studying to do at school, but I’ll be done around 8:00 tonight.”
“I should be done by then. I’ll call at lunch and let you know how it looks. I think we should get some sleep. This thing is going to wrap up soon, and sleep might get a little scarce when we get to the heart of the matter.”
“Lead the way, good sir.”
He led the way. They lay in bed with his arms wrapped around her small, strong frame, sleeping deeply and well. She didn’t even mind when he had to get up in the middle of the night to pee.
52
“You can have this room as long as you want. I don’t expect Bannerman in until eleven. It’s 9:30 now, so you should be able to get through it all.”
“Is this everything, Charlie?” Bud was looking at a file-storage box sitting on the table in the small interview room.
“Open it up, man. There’s about thirty pounds of dead trees in there.” Charlie Earl wiped a handkerchief across his bald head. It was early and cool in here, but Charlie was carrying an extra hundred pounds and drank too much. A friend of Bud’s had known him for years and thought Charlie was going to get a gift from the heart-attack fairy pretty soon if he didn’t mend his ways.
Bud removed the top of the box and found himself looking at almost a foot of paper pressed together into a bunch of dark green hanging folders. “Why’s there so much goddamn shit in here? Was he a trouble-maker in Jol
iet?”
“Just the opposite. He was a model inmate. He got attacked a few times in his first year, then some big guy was found in the showers with his head stoved in. He was the guy who had been tormenting Bannerman. Bannerman knew nothing about it, but after that little discovery, everyone gave Bannerman the right of way. He’d grown a bunch while he was in custody that first year. He also did pushups, chin-ups, every other kind of up you can think of. He got solid. It’s all in there. If you get tired of reading it, come talk to me and I’ll tell you the whole story. My morning is totally open. I was supposed to go to court, so all my appointments were cancelled until eleven, but court got cancelled.”
“Postponement?” Bud asked absently. He didn’t care. He was starting to thumb through some of the papers now.
“You could say that. Permanent postponement. One of my guys was looking at a violation, missed two consecutive parole checkins, robbed a liquor store, and got shot by the Vietnamese owner. Game over.”
“Uh-huh.” Bud was obviously not listening.
“Shit. You’re worse than my third wife. I’ll be at my desk. Coffee’s out in the main room. Help yourself.” Charlie left without waiting for an answer, leaving only a faint potpourri of old whiskey, sweat, and Axe body spray.
At first, Bud didn’t think he’d learn much from the expansive paperwork. The reason there was so much was because Eric had a lawyer who visited him and was actively involved in trying to get Eric out. There was more shit in the file from the lawyer than anything else. A lot of duplicate paperwork that was held for Bannerman because, as a guest of the state, he didn’t have a file-storage location.
Eric had come up for parole many times. It looked like the lawyer had pushed for it. Every time, it looked like it should have gone through, except at every hearing, every fuckin’ one, the Honorable Judge Rufus MacFarlane had come in and produced photos from the crime scene and talked about how making examples of irresponsible young men like Bannerman made the world safe for everyone else.
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