There Was a Crooked Man

by K. J. Larsen

  When the back porch light popped on, the woman Ponytail called Saleen stepped onto the porch. “Do your business, love,” she said. “And then you’ll cuddle with Mom and keep her company.”

  Saleen closed the door and I beeped Roger.

  “Sam I Am, come here, boy,” I whispered.

  There was a whimper and in a moment he was in my arms.

  The pink coat was fastened with Velcro. One rip, a pull over the head, and Voila! Nature boy.

  Roger was waiting at the fence with the sacrificial lamb. I passed Sam over and grabbed Thor. Thor didn’t get the sweater thing. He was far less cooperative. We wrestled and came to an understanding. When the sweater was snug I told him he was beautiful and hugged him tight. I would be back, I promised. And then I gave him a dog biscuit from my pocket.

  In the wonderful world of dogs, I was forgiven.

  I put Thor on the ground and he barked wildly. I jumped the fence, hopped in the car, and Roger hit the gas hard.

  “Roger,” I said. “This is Sam I Am. Sam, this is Roger.”

  Roger smiled. “Sam I Am, I am enormously pleased to meet you.”

  Sammy thought Roger’s breath smelled delicious. He wagged his tail and poked his nose at the bucket of gnawed chicken bones.

  Chapter Twenty

  I came back a few hours later. The yellow house was dark downstairs but the bedroom lights upstairs didn’t go out until after midnight. I gave them an hour to reach a deep REM sleep. I made one last leap over the fence and let myself in the back door.

  I swept the flashlight across the kitchen and dropped the bug into a dry daisy basket flower arrangement in the middle of the kitchen table. The bug was motion- and voice-activated. It would reach up to thirty feet in every direction but would only last a limited time on its battery.

  I studied the family pics in the hallway. At first there were four. Mama and Papa and Saleen and a little brother. In the last pics of four, the boy appeared increasingly thin and pale. And then there were three. Their smiles seemed more forced after that.

  I thumbed through a pile of mail on a small table. There was a letter to Saleen Nelson from Chicago State University, inquiring if she was still interested in fall enrollment. There were outrageous medical bills addressed to Rana Nelson that included some chemotherapy. And a number of brochures describing an alternative cancer immunology treatment. It’s revolutionary, promising, and expensive.

  Ponytail had asked how Saleen’s mother was. Her answer was that she wasn’t good. Rana Nelson was running out of time.

  The kidnappers needed money for treatment. It was their one last hope. It’s why they were coming after Bob and Papa now. They were trying to save Saleen’s mama.

  I get it. It’s what families do. I’m not saying I’d kidnap a dog in Saleen’s shoes. But if Mama or Papa or even my switched-at-birth sister were dying, I’d move heaven and hell to save them.

  Upstairs a bedroom door opened and I heard Thor growl. “What is it, boy?” a woman’s voice said. “There’s nobody downstairs.”

  Thor exploded into a fury of barks and tiny feet pattered down the steps. I flew across the kitchen and out the door.

  I ran to my car and turned on the receiver. After a few minutes, the bug I planted in the dry flowers started talking.

  “Nobody’s gonna sleep tonight with that barking dog,” Saleen said.

  “He’ll settle in,” Pops said. “We’ll sleep fine.”

  I heard water run. “I’ll make tea for Mom. Want some?”

  “Please.”

  “Honey?”

  “Hmm.”

  “Hey,” Saleen said, “what happened to his collar?”

  I stopped breathing. Crap. How could I forget Sammy’s collar?

  There was a long silence. “What did Marco say when you asked about tomorrow?” Saleen asked.

  “He’s in.” I could hear water begin to bubble on the stove.

  Saleen sounded angry. “It’s the kid’s fault.”

  “He’s not a kid anymore.”

  “He’s not getting away with murder. He’s gonna pay. He owes us, Pops. He owes Mom.”

  Pops was quiet a long moment. When he spoke again, his voice was tired. “I never wanted to involve you, Pumpkin.”

  “You didn’t. I crashed the party.”

  Murder? My chest felt heavy. Was it possible they were talking about the Baumgarten hit? Did it have anything to do with Papa and Captain Bob’s dark secret? Was there another player involved who was the guy to go after? I only knew a den of thieves just upped the ante. Sam I Am was safe. It was time to call off the troops. We needed some answers before we confronted the kidnappers.

  There was the rattle of dishes and footsteps but no more conversation. After a while I decided they’d gone to bed.

  I drove back to the Dreamscape and flopped on top of the covers. I dragged my bag onto the bed and rifled through it.

  “Dammit,” I said and tossed the bag on the floor.

  I was out of quarters.

  ***

  I heard the obnoxious beep beep beep of Bob’s alarm clock first. And then the padding of slippered feet on the hardwood floor above me. The flushing of a toilet.

  Bob was a busy guy. And he hadn’t been answering my calls. I thought he might appreciate some company. And even if he didn’t, who brings a gun to breakfast?

  That would be Bob.

  I poured two cups of Columbian roast coffee and settled back in the kitchen chair to wait for the captain. A Smith & Wesson appeared around the corner first, the arm attached to it was draped in a black satin robe. An image of a bat was stitched on the sleeve.

  “Are you actually wearing a Batman robe?” I said.

  The captain growled and his head poked out. “You broke into my house, Caterina. I could shoot you. It would almost be an accident.”

  “You’re much too afraid of Mama for that.”

  He reluctantly lowered his arm. The black satin robe with a giant yellow-and-black bat across his chest stepped into the room. A hood with bat ears hung off his back, and big yellow letters, announced I AM BATMAN.

  “Do something about your security system, Bob. At least make it a challenge.”

  “You need help, Caterina. See a doctor, for God’s sake.”

  “You gave me no choice. You won’t take my calls. You instructed your desk sergeant to throw me out. I’m bustin’ my butt to help you. Why didn’t you tell me the kidnappers contacted you?”

  “They didn’t.”

  “Liar, liar. Forty g’s. Ring a bell?”

  Bob growled and took a few sips of coffee and blew a sigh. “Okay. So they want forty thousand dollars. I don’t have it. Even if I did, I wouldn’t give it to them. I didn’t steal a goddamn necklace.”

  “It was a gold medallion. The lion had emerald eyes. Shimmery diamonds in the mane.”

  “Stop staring at my robe.”

  “I can’t help myself. That’s a really special robe.”

  “It was a Christmas gift from the grandkids.”

  “Don’t make it weird.”

  “Peggy makes me wear it.”

  “She’s not here. Unless she got here sooner than…”

  I stopped myself.

  The beady black eyes balked.

  “Oops,” I said.

  “Oh, God. You talked to Peggy.”

  I opened the white bakery bag. “Have a lemon crème.”

  He sank on the chair. “You opened your big mouth and Peggy’s on her way home.”

  I heaved a sigh. “I’m sorry, Bob. I wanted to tell you the good news first.”

  His eyes darkened on the revolver on the table. “Leave the donuts on the table and run. Before I reach that piece, so help me…”

  For one unsettling moment I thought he meant it. “I have Sam I A
m,” I blurted. “He’s safe. I rescued him last night.”

  The murderous expression in his dark eyes morphed to astonished joy. He looked happy enough to kiss me. I found that face even more disturbing.

  “Sam is safe? Why isn’t he here?”

  “Because the kidnappers believe they still have him. For just another day or two, I need you to play along.”

  “I won’t do it.”

  “You will.”

  And I told Bob why.

  ***

  I pulled Jack’s loaner into the motel lot and parked behind the Silver Bullet. My head dropped on the steering wheel and I closed my eyes. I was exhausted and I wanted to go home. I’d hardly slept in days. I hated this motel and its lumpy mattress. I missed Savino. All the quarters in the world couldn’t compete with the magic in his fingers.

  When I lifted my head my eyes caught a shimmering of light on the pavement by the Silver Bullet’s driver’s door.

  “Oh no, no,” I murmured. “You didn’t break my window.”

  I tumbled outside and stomped over to the scattering of broken glass. My driver’s window was smashed. The phone charger was untouched, new stereo plate and camera undisturbed in the glove box. Only the bogus roll of Life Savers, the hidden camera aimed at room seven, was gone.

  “Dammit, dammit, dammit,” I said. I was exhausted, and irritable and a bit PMS’y.

  A soft voice spoke behind me. “Babe.”

  I turned around and Savino took me in his arms. His strong arms wrapping me in a cocoon of safety. I breathed deep. He smelled like my lavender shampoo.

  “You slept at my house,” I said.

  “You didn’t come home. Are you on Bob’s case?”

  I nodded. “I got a little shut-eye here.”

  “Some jackass broke your window.” He glanced around. “I don’t suppose there’s a surveillance camera on this motel.”

  “Not anymore.”

  I pulled him against me and kissed him. “How did you know I was here?”

  “I tracked your phone.”

  “Seriously? Doesn’t anyone call anymore?”

  “I called a dozen times. I was worried.”

  I dragged out my cell and winced. My ringer was off.

  “I turned my phone off last night when I rescued Sam I Am from the kidnappers.”

  “You rescued Sam? Tell me you weren’t alone.”

  “I had Roger. He’s big and scary.”

  “He’s as scary as the Pillsbury Doughboy. And he’s too nice to shoot someone. I know he doesn’t have a gun.”

  “I do.”

  “It’s in your dresser at home. I checked.”

  He lifted me onto the Silver Bullet’s hood and kissed me again.

  I heard a familiar smack and I smelled Juicy Fruit. I looked behind Chance and the housekeeper arched her brow reproachfully. She smacked her gum again.

  “Damn, girl. Look at you carrying on with this hunka man. Does Max know?”

  One of Savino’s brows lifted. “Max?”

  Ami rocked back, hands on hips. It was a posture of moral outrage and carnal envy. “Max is her husband, dammit. Girlfriend, what is your problem? You think you have to have Mr. Smith too?”

  Both of Savino’s brows were on high alert. “Who’s Mr. Smith?”

  “Stop,” I said and turned to the housekeeper. “Ami, don’t you have some work to do?”

  “I’ll check on room seven first.” She rolled her eyes. “I expect you need fresh sheets in six.”

  “My room is fine. The sheets are clean.”

  “Home with your husband?” She flounced to her cart for an armful of towels and washcloths and a few bars of cheap-ass soap.

  She rapped on Ponytail’s door. “Housekeeping!”

  The sound unleashed a fury of barking. Thor might look like Sam but he was way more vocal.

  “Mr. Smith?” When there was no answer she let herself in.

  “Is there something you want to tell me?” Chance said.

  “Ami thinks I’m shameless.”

  “If she was a man, I’d punch her.”

  “You’re not curious about what she said?”

  He kissed the tip of my nose. “I trust you.”

  “That might be the hottest thing you ever said to me.” I slid off the hood and caught his hand. “Come to my room. The bed’s lumpy but it’s got a Magic Fingers machine.”

  He checked his watch and smiled. “I’ve got a pocketful of quarters and I’m not due in court ’til noon.”

  A blood-chilling scream cut the air. It was Ami.

  “Wait here,” Savino said.

  “Not a chance.” I pushed past him and dashed into seven. We raced past Thor, tied to a foot of the bed, and into the bathroom.

  The room smelled of Brute and Juicy Fruit gum. The housekeeper stood at the foot of the tub. The towels had fallen to her feet and a strangled whimper came from her throat. I braced myself and looked past her. Ponytail was lying in the tub. He’d taken his last bath.

  He’d been in the water long enough for his fingers and toes to wrinkle like prunes. A soggy bar of soap drifted in the water and a hairdryer floated between his legs. There was surprise in his unseeing eyes. I guessed the killer let himself in and discovered Ponytail in the bath. If he brought a gun, he didn’t have to use it. The hairdryer on the sink made it too bloody easy.

  I felt a crushing wave of sadness. What kind of monster would do such a thing?

  Ami’s voice quivered. “Is Mr. Smith d-d—”

  “He’s gone,” Savino said gently.

  “How…?”

  “A hairdryer and a hundred twenty volts of electricity,” I said.

  “But Mr. Smith’s hair isn’t wet. Why…?”

  Her eyes bugged and her voice pierced like nails on a chalkboard.

  “Murder!??”

  “Cat, if you take Ms.—”

  “Ami Snow,” she shrieked.

  “If you would take Ms. Snow outside, I’ll call this in.”

  The woman was in shock and her legs were like lead. I dragged her outside. Then I unchained Thor from the bed and carried him to my room. I bought a bottle of water from the vending machine.

  “Drink this.” I put the bottle in Ami’s hand and it fell to the floor.

  “Yesterday you were blond.”

  “Not today.”

  “You’re a bit of a bosh, you know. No offense. Just sayin’.”

  I picked up the bottle of water and waited for her to drink some.

  “Who would do such a thing to Mr. Smith?” she wailed.

  “The cops will figure it out. I’m not sure it helps but there’ll be justice for Mr. Smith.”

  I wasn’t holding my breath. Only twenty-eight percent of last year’s murders were solved.

  Ami’s voice was a hoarse whisper. “Was it Max?”

  “What?”

  “The way you were throwing yourself at Mr. Smith…”

  “It wasn’t Max.”

  “I wouldn’t blame him.” She didn’t believe me. “People kill for two reasons. Love and money.”

  “So now you’re an expert.”

  “Here are the facts. Max loves you. And Mr. Smith didn’t have money. If he did, he wouldn’t be in this dump.”

  “So?”

  “So obviously Max whacked Mr. Smith. It was a crime of passion.”

  “That makes no sense.”

  “It’s a gift. I got a sixth sense.”

  “You got a screw loose.”

  “I see things. I could be a detective like Erin Lindsay on Chicago PD” She air-tapped her eyes. “Nobody pulls the wool over these baby blues.”

  Chapter Twenty-one

  I called my mechanic. “Jack, this is Cat.”

  He blew a long-
suffering sigh. “What have you done to Marion?”

  “Who’s Marion?”

  “The car I loaned you. Against my better judgment.”

  Jack has an odd relationship with his cars. He names them and he coddles them. And he’s furious if I blow one up.

  “Marion is fine, Jack.”

  “No wrecks? No bullet holes? No C4?”

  “She’s perfect. Unfortunately, some jerk busted a window on my Honda. I’m at the Dreamscape Motel. Would you send someone over for it? I’ll leave a key under the seat.”

  “My nephew Devin is here.”

  “Perfect.”

  “That’s it? You don’t want to remind me that Devin is a screw-up?”

  “Ancient history. He’s probably over trying to kill me. I hope he’s doing well.”

  “Are you feeling okay? I don’t want you driving Marion if you’re having a seizure or something.”

  “I’m fine. I’ll return Marion when I pick up the Silver Bullet.”

  “In one piece, Caterina. I want this one back in one piece.”

  “Jack, you know I can’t make promises.”

  ***

  The cops arrived in a fury of blue lights and screaming sirens. They came as the pudgy clerk who checked me into the motel had dreamed. And now he was pissed at me. His little fat fist pounded my door.

  “Sonya Ollson! I know you’re in there.”

  “Am not!” I rocked Thor on the bed. “Go away, Bert. No one’s home.”

  “I knew you were trouble, missy!”

  I heard Chance’s voice after that and Grumpy seemed to melt away.

  Savino spoke with the first responders and made a statement. Ami would tell the cops that Max murdered Ponytail in a fit of jealous rage. They would come for me but I wasn’t worried. Chicago’s Ninth is chockablock full of DeLuca cops and their friends. The only one out to get me is Detective Ettie Opsahl. And nobody’s got her back.

  The cop who came to question me was my crazy Cousin Frankie. Savino followed him in and stood, arms crossed, by the door.

  Frankie looked around the room with a goofy grin. “Hard times, Caterina?”

  “You’re hilarious.”

  “Why you wanna hang around a dump like this when you got a nice place of your own?”