“All right. Do you remember where his brother is?”
“Bay Area, I think. Jake said something about his brother being a techie.”
“San Francisco?”
“Something like that.”
“A name? Did he mention a name?”
“He might’ve, but I don’t remember.”
“Nothing?”
“Nope. He didn’t talk much about family.”
“What about other friends? Anyone else around here?”
“Not really. He was pretty quiet.”
“What about friends in the Bay Area?”
“Why?”
“Jake owes me money.”
“A lot?”
“A lot for me.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Are you really a friend?”
“Yeah. I was just at his place. He left me a key. But the thing is, he hasn’t been home in a while.” He smiled. “You sure you don’t want to get a drink after work?”
“I’ve got a boyfriend.”
“You don’t know if he had other friends, someplace he might go?”
“Nah. He didn’t tell me much about—” She paused. “He did talk about an ex-girlfriend once. We were hanging out here late and drinking. Something about him getting dumped.”
“Around here?”
“Nuh-uh. Bay Area. I guess he’s got connections down there.”
“Remember a name?”
She nodded slowly. “He had a picture of her I saw. Nice looking. I don’t think he got over her. Maybe it was the beers talking.”
“Name?”
“Hold on. Yeah. Plain name. Mary something. I thought the whole name was her first name. Like Mary Ann. Or Mary Lou.”
Bobby waited.
“Mary Lin. Yeah, something like that. Mary Lin—no, wait. I thought it was Mary Lin, but it was Mary Lim.”
“Mary Lim? That’s her name?”
“Think so. You could tell he was still a little hung up on her.”
“Why?”
“Just the way he acted.”
“You sure it’s Mary Lim?”
“Pretty sure. I gotta get back to work. You find him, you say ‘hey’ for me.”
“I will. Thanks.” He watched her hurry off to a table, pulling out a pad and pen. He stared at her for a while, wondering if he had time to get her into bed. Probably not. Jake covered his trail pretty good, and if Bobby didn’t move fast, he might lose him. The thing was, Jake probably didn’t expect anyone to get this far.
Bobby limped out of the restaurant, searching for a bus stop. He’d grab his bag, and head down to San Francisco. Hell, it was on his way back to L.A. anyway. He still had a small wad of cash from Chih. Nice of him to give it away so easily.
An ex-girlfriend and a brother in the Bay Area. Jake had to have run down there. Bobby could do a little looking around. If Jake wasn’t there, at least Bobby might get a better fix on where he might be. His brother would have to know something. Bobby felt, though, that he was getting closer. Jake had run far and fast, but Bobby wasn’t about to give up. You shoot me, he thought, you better finish the fucking job. You shoot me, I better be really dead.
PART III
41
Throughout the week Jake continued selling and consigning jewelry to stores around the city, the best sales going to Pacific Gems. He now had nearly eighteen grand at the bank, some in his checking account, most as cash in his safe deposit box, and he still had three-quarters of his jewelry left. This was much slower and more complicated than dumping everything with Chih, but at least he knew he was getting market prices.
He had just returned from an afternoon in North Beach, where a large jeweler owned by Asians had bought everything he showed them except a 14K gold bangle bracelet with three small mediocre diamonds set on the top. Besides the fact that the diamonds were inferior, bracelets apparently didn’t sell, so Jake had this in his pocket when he walked along Union street, turned a corner, and headed to Franklin & Sons.
The jewelry store was still open, two customers inside. The alarm that he had seen before, the old-style broken circuit kind, was a relic, and he suspected the store must have something else. He had recently heard about auditory alarms, microphones stationed around the store with a listener at a central office, but he hadn’t seen anything along the walls. It was also possible that the alarms were contained in the back room, part of a storage system that didn’t require anything sophisticated in the show room.
Jake crossed the street and sat on the steps of a two-story Victorian. The E-Zone Café next to the jewelry store was still under construction, the windows sheeted off but the glass door exposing the interior. The molding and paneling along the door and windows had been removed. Swatches of blue and yellow paint were streaked along the frame. It was dark and quiet in there, and he wondered if he could enter the back room of the jewelry store through the café.
He turned towards a group of teenagers approaching. He hadn’t even sold off most of the jewelry from the Chun job, and he was already looking at this new place. He had never overlapped jobs before, and he wasn’t sure why this store seemed so ripe. The teenagers—a mix of boys and girls—glanced at him as they passed. He stood up and moved away; he still had twenty minutes before the store closed.
Jake entered a bookstore on Union and wandered through the “Philosophy & Religion” section. He found an introduction to ancient philosophy with two chapters on the pre-Socratics, and promptly bought it. When he returned to the side street, he saw the owner of Franklin & Sons pulling down the security grilling. Jake checked his watch. The owner was closing early. Jake had missed the other security measures. He noticed, though, that the man wasn’t carrying anything with him—no briefcase, strongbox, not even a small satchel. Nothing. The man secured the padlock, then walked in the other direction.
Jake began walking as well. He stayed a half block behind.
The man moved slowly, his gait heavy and labored. He stopped often to look in store windows, catching his breath, and Jake thought he saw the man talking to himself. After walking for another two blocks, the man climbed into a silver sedan, and drove off. Jake caught the first few letters of the license plate.
Back at the jewelry store, Jake examined the padlock again, and peered through the main windows. A security light shone on the glass counter, the contents empty. So, every night the displays were taken out and stored in the back room somewhere. A safe, of course, but what kind? What sort of security?
Jake looked up at the telephone lines, and realized that only the Union Street shops had their electricity and telephone lines piped underground. These side streets had everything on poles, perfect if he needed to cut off a central alarm system. He moved to the café door window. The stacks of drywall were still on the bare concrete floor. He was tempted to survey the back alley again, but he didn’t want to linger in this area.
He flipped though his new book and skimmed the opening pages. He walked leisurely to the apartment, a lightness in his step.
Rachel was on the phone. She had the classifieds open in front of her, scribbling in the margins. She glanced up at him and waved hello. She said into the phone, “Two months’ rent is your fee?”
Jake sat down and watched her take notes. She listened, pressed the pen against her lip, then asked the person on the other end to fax her an application. She hung up and told Jake, “This is going to be tough. I had to hire a rental agent.”
“A rental agent for what?”
“For finding an apartment.”
“You’re moving out?”
Rachel said, “I’m looking into it.”
Jake didn’t know what to say. “So you two are splitting up?”
“Separating. A trial.”
“When did this happen?”
“Recently.”
“I see,” he said. “How are you doing?”
She stopped, and turned to him. “Okay.”
“Car stuff all taken care of?”
“Euge
said he’d handle the insurance. It should be fine.”
“You never told me what you meant.”
“What I meant?”
“You’re sinking.”
“I’m what?”
“In the car. You said you were sinking—”
She grimaced and waved this off. “God, I’m sorry about that. I was weepy and disgusting. Never mind.”
“No. It’s okay.”
“It was dumb,” she said.
“Right after that you and Eugene decided to separate.”
“I decided,” she said. “Everything became clearer.”
“After the accident?”
“After talking to you.”
“Me? Don’t say that.”
“It’s true. Look out for number one. Damn the consequences. You said it.”
Jake nodded. “I did.”
“I have to think about me.” She shook this off. “All this is so depressing. Must we talk about it? Where were you?”
“Selling.”
“Successful?”
“Yeah,” he said. He pulled out the bracelet. “Except this.”
“Let me see.”
He threw it to her and she caught it. She slid it on her wrist and held it up. “Not bad,” she said.
“You like it?”
“It’s nice.”
“It’s yours,” he said. “A birthday gift.”
“You’re late by a few months.”
“Happy Car Accident?”
She frowned. “I don’t know if I like that.”
“How about it’s yours because I like you?”
She studied him for a moment. “I don’t know.”
“Oh, come on. Take it. It’s a gift.”
“Does this mean we’re going steady now?” She held up her arm again.
“I would never be so lucky.”
She laughed. “All right, Jake,” she said, shaking her head. “I’ll take it. Thank you.”
“Let’s work out again one of these days.”
“You got it.” She pointed to the phone. “I have to make more calls.”
He went to the kitchen. As Rachel began talking on the phone again, Jake listened to her voice fill the living room. He watched her over the kitchen counter, the bracelet still on her wrist, sliding down with each of her telephone movements. He liked the way her voice lowered when she asked a question. She nodded into the phone, her expression focused. She seemed to glow. Everything around her melted away.
42
Bobby Null was taking the bus out of Seattle. After a few dozen long-distance phone calls, he found a Mary Lim in Oakland who had known Jake. The conversation was strange, because Bobby realized that they must have had some kind of fight. She didn’t want to talk about him. She had said, Yes, I knew a Jake Ahn, and then clammed up. He asked if she had heard from him recently, and she said No. He asked if she knew where he could find Jake, and she said No. Finally, he asked if she knew anyone, like Jake’s brother, who could help Bobby, and she said No. When he told her he’d be in the Bay Area soon, and asked if she wouldn’t mind talking to him some time, she said, What’s this about? He said, I need to find him. She said, I haven’t heard from him in years. Then she hung up.
It was always tough doing things over the phone. Bobby knew that meeting her in person would be better. He could tell if she was lying, if she was protecting him, and he could then get the truth out of her. He could be very persuasive.
Bobby stared out the window. He was so goddamn glad to get out Seattle. It stunk of family.
His stomach hurt. He was beginning to feel like he had to piss more, even though when he went to the bathroom, not much happened. He just stood there, waiting, maybe a small sting inside. He knew it had something to do with his wound, and it just added to his urgency. He wanted to get Jake and he wanted it soon.
Everything was easier when you knew what you wanted.
He had tried to break into his mother’s house before leaving town. She kept a pretty good stash of money in her bedroom, but it was harder than he thought. First of all, she had changed all the locks. He was shocked. Changing the fucking locks on your own son! What the hell kind of mother did that? And he wasn’t any good at the picking, so he went to the bathroom window in back, the translucent one that slid to the side and which he knew his mother kept partially open to let shower steam escape. The window was higher up, so he had to use a lawn chair to boost himself, then he had to rip the screen open.
The problem was that his neighbor, Mrs. Hathaway, an old woman who had lived there ever since Bobby was a kid, saw him through her kitchen window. She came out of her back door and yelled, “Hey, you! What are you doing?”
“It’s just me, Mrs. Hathaway,” he said. “I forgot my key.”
“Oh no, you don’t! Your mother said she changed the locks! You stay away! I’m calling the cops!”
Bobby cursed and climbed down. He said, “It’s my house.”
“Your mother told me about you. Why can’t you give her a break? She’s still upset over Kevin—”
“Don’t worry,” Bobby said, climbing back up the chair. “I just want to check—”
“I’m calling the cops, then I’m calling your mother,” she said, hurrying back into her house and slamming her door. Bobby sighed, since she probably would call. The old witch. He ran off.
So he left Seattle with a ratty suitcase and less than a hundred bucks in his pocket, the other three-fifty he had taken from Chih blown on more bennies, food, and his hotel bill. He should’ve been leaving with a shitload of cash and jewelry, but Jake had beaten him to it.
The bus was too warm and Bobby felt queasy. This was one of the newer buses with an air nozzle above him, but when he opened the nozzle, nothing came out. He shifted back and forth in his seat, kicking the foot rest. What did Hathaway say? His mother was still upset over Kevin? That bothered Bobby, since Kevin had them all snowed. You act nice and polite, you smile and pretend you’re interested in someone, and you’re suddenly a good guy. When Bobby lived at home throughout his teens, Kevin used to sucker punch him whenever he walked by. Hey, Bro, he’d say, and then give Bobby an uppercut to his ribs or kidneys. Whap. Bobby was no match for Kevin’s steroid freak strength. Sometimes Kevin liked to hold Bobby by his throat, closing his fingers slowly, watching Bobby grow red and choke. Bobby didn’t even have the arm or leg length to hit his brother. One of his brother’s bulging arms could hold Bobby up onto his toes, stretched out beyond kicking reach.
Even the thought of his brother made Bobby uneasy. Kevin’s acne-covered face was disgusting to look at—steroid side-effects—and those tank-top T-shirts he always wore, even in the winter, showing off his chemical muscles, stretch marks on his arms from the abnormal growth. What a loser. A dead loser.
“Excuse me, will you stop kicking?” a man in a crew-cut asked, peering over the back of his seat.
Bobby looked up. He hadn’t even realized he was doing it. He didn’t stop, though, and said, “Bothering you?” The man, about Bobby’s age, narrowed his eyes, and Bobby thought, I can take him.
“Yeah it is. Cut it out.”
“Move, if you don’t like it.” Bobby continued kicking the footrest with his toe. He stared at the man with a blank expression, and waited to see what the guy did.
“Are you fucking with me?” the guy said, raising up further. Bobby pushed aside his jacket, revealing the handle of Chih’s automatic in the side of his pants. Bobby said, “Move or shut the fuck up.”
The guy stared at the gun, then grabbed his duffel bag from the seat next to him. He walked to the back of the bus. This didn’t make Bobby feel any better, though. He stopped kicking the seat. He had to use the bathroom again, and was tired of all that was happening to him. He stood up slowly, feeling the pain in his stomach, his mood growing darker, and walked down the aisle. Kevin was killed by a bunch of bullets tearing into him. Some kind of robbery gone bad. Not much all that muscle could do against the cops. He must have though
t he was Superman. All those steroids probably pumping up his brain as well as his muscles. What a stupid move.
Bobby passed the guy with the crew-cut, who looked quickly away. Yeah, that’s right, Bobby thought. To hell with you all.
43
Jake was watching a PBS documentary when Eugene walked in with a box under his arms. Sweat stains darkened his armpits, and a glossy film covered his face. He dropped the box onto the ground, and something inside clattered. He kicked it aside and asked, “What’s on TV?”
“Something about jungle cats,” Jake said, staring at his brother.
“Why?”
“It’s relaxing.”
Eugene sat down at the dining table and yanked off his tie. He flicked it away.
“What’s in the box?” Jake asked.
“Office stuff. I was fired today.”
Jake sat up. “Fired.”
“Canned. Kicked out. They had a fucking security guard watch me.”
“You’re kidding.”
“It’s standard procedure ever since a guy got fired and he knocked over shelves and cursed everyone out.”
“You didn’t do that.”
“No. I knew it was coming. All my friends are gone.”
“What about Caroline?”
Eugene looked up. “Yeah, she’s gone too. She jumped to a start-up.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
“Where’s Rachel?” he asked.
“Went out. I think looking at rentals.”
“Christ. Already?”
Jake nodded.
Eugene turned towards the darkened window. “She must be in a hurry,” he said. “So she told you.”
“Told me what?”
“That she’s leaving.”
“Not really,” Jake said.
“She says she has to look out for herself. She says she has to be selfish.”
Jake found it strange to hear his words echoed through his brother. He said, “What does that mean?”
“The hell if I know. I’ve been walking around all day thinking about it.”
“All day?”
Eugene said, “I was fired this morning.”
The Lockpicker Page 14