BODY IN THE BOX a gripping crime thriller full of twists

by E. R. FALLON

  “Hello? Dino, this is Tulia.”

  “Oh, hi, Tulia. How are you?”

  “Fine, thank you. Is Terry with you by any chance?”

  “No, he isn’t. Actually, he told me he was taking the day off. I figured he was at home, with you.”

  “Oh.”

  “He isn’t with you?”

  “No.”

  “Did you try his cell? I spoke to him this morning.”

  “No,” she said. “Uh, I’m sure he just went somewhere, maybe to see his father. But thank you anyway.”

  “Sure, no problem. You know, I thought he didn’t get along with his father. You really think he’d be visiting him?”

  Tulia should have known better than to believe she could have tricked a detective. She couldn’t say that Terry had been trying to reconnect with his father, because if that was the truth he would have certainly told his partner.

  “He might be,” was all she said.

  Dino was quiet for a moment. “If I hear from him, I’ll let him know that you are trying to reach him.”

  “Okay, thanks. Bye.”

  “Bye.”

  What was Dino thinking? Why did Tulia get the feeling he was on to her?

  She held the phone in her hand for a moment after she’d hung up. Calling Dino hadn’t been a smart move. She could tell from his tone that he had wondered why she was using him as a messenger. He’d probably tell Terry. Her hand shaking, she reached out to place her phone on top of the dresser. The sound of it falling to the floor instead made her jump. She picked it up and tossed it at the unmade bed, then returned to the vanity and stared at the mirror again. Who was this woman gazing back at her, a woman who didn’t care where her husband was?

  Jimmy watched her suspiciously as she trudged down the living room steps. “Why are you dressed so pretty?” He was sprawled out on the couch, drinking a can of soda and watching a Western on the classic movie channel.

  “When did you start getting interested in old films?” she asked.

  “Since they started showing Clint Eastwood movies,” Jimmy snapped back.

  “Oh.” She tried to laugh off his sassiness. But, lately, he reminded her a little too much of a side of herself she didn’t like. She motioned for him to move over, and then took a seat next to him on the couch.

  “When’s Dad coming home?”

  “Who knows?” she said, but when she saw she had upset him she added, “I’m sure he’ll be home soon, sweetheart.”

  “So, what’s your big secret?”

  His question startled her, as though he’d seen right through to her plans with Andrew. “Big secret?”

  “Yeah, you’re all dressed up.”

  “You’re just not used to seeing me dressed up. I’m not that dressed up. It’s Denise’s birthday,” she said. She wondered if he sensed she was lying. She had never been a good liar. She sniffed the air, and then tapped his foot. “You need to change your socks, they stink.”

  He laughed, and she began tickling his foot. But he quickly pulled away.

  “I’m not a little kid anymore,” he said. “Please don’t do that.”

  “Okay, sorry. I know you’re not a little boy. But sometimes I guess I just forget that.”

  Jimmy rolled his eyes. “You forget I’m not a little boy? Yeah, whatever.”

  She patted him on the shoulder and then got up to leave.

  “I love you,” she called out as she retreated into the kitchen.

  She heard him turn up the volume on the TV and take a drink of soda, but he didn’t say anything to her in return. She thought about saying it to him again before she left for the evening, hoping that maybe this time he would say it back.

  She didn’t, and the only sign that she was gone was the peanut butter sandwich and note she had left for him on the kitchen counter, telling him that she’d be back before he went to bed.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The Second Avenue House was an old brewery that had been converted into a transitional facility for misdemeanor-level convicts, and also for recovering alcoholics and drug addicts.

  The building itself was around four stories high and slate gray. It was past holiday time, but a seasonal wreath with pinecones and red ribbons hung on the front door. It was dry and had long since turned brown.

  Terry’s wife didn’t seem to know where Terry was, which was strange. Dino would give him a call after he’d finished up here.

  He knocked once and then asked himself what the hell he was doing? He had his badge, and Henry might be a real sicko. This was an emergency. He turned the doorknob, found it unlocked, and stepped right in.

  Inside, the building looked like a seedy hotel where guests paid by the hour. The white wallpaper was peeling, and what was left of it was covered in obscene graffiti. Then there was the stench. The floors were cracked and had a thick layer of crud. They were sticky with what reeked like old piss. Two tattered couches and a few chairs had been placed around an old-fashioned TV with a coat hanger as a makeshift antenna, propped up on two milk crates.

  In the middle of the mess was a guy who barely fit behind a small desk with a protective glass surround, reading what looked like a porno magazine. His tank top only exaggerated his massiveness. He put on a pair of glasses and looked over at Dino uncertainly, then tossed the magazine to the floor and sat up straighter. Dino figured the guy knew he was cop.

  Dino kicked a few empty beer cans aside as he made his way across the lobby to the desk. He tapped the glass. “What is this, bulletproof?” he said.

  The guy gave him a shrug and gestured to a small speaker, like the kind you would find at an old theater ticket booth.

  Dino leaned over into the speaker and stated, “Newark police. I need Henry Riley’s room number. No BS.”

  The guy looked at him blankly. When he finally did speak, his voice was edgy and nasal, as if he had just sucked a high out of an aerosol can. “Room twenty-one, second floor. He just got back.”

  “Oh, yeah, from where?”

  “A meeting with his probation officer?” The guy laughed.

  Dino shook his head. “Come on, cut the crap. See those beer cans all over this shithole? And this is supposed to be a rehabilitation house? I bet there’s dope in the rooms too. All of that is going to be a real problem for you if I want it to be.”

  The guy shifted on his stool. “All right, I was lying when I said he saw his probation officer. He came back shit-faced. Are you happy now?”

  “Actually, I am, thank you,” Dino said. “Where’s the stairs?” There was no way he was riding the elevator in this place.

  The guy pointed to a door marked Exit at the other side of the lobby.

  But Dino wondered if he should have reconsidered his concern about the elevator since, although, he’d thought the piss and crud in the lobby was a whole lot, he noticed that the stairs contained the mother lode.

  Glass crunched under his shoes as he made his way up.

  When he reached a door marked Second Floor, he found a guy slumped down in front of it, still sleeping off what must have been a hard night.

  “Hey, buddy, I need to get by.”

  The old guy, who had gray hair and an unkempt beard, moaned once and then slid over. He stank badly, though Dino wasn’t sure if it was him or the staircase.

  Dino turned around before he stepped through the door. “Are you all right, buddy?”

  “Yeah,” the guy mumbled. He used his butt to shuffle off farther to the side.

  “Have a hard night, is that it?”

  He felt bad because the guy was so old he probably should have been in a nursing home and not in this dump.

  “Yeah,” the guy said, and his answer echoed in the stairwell.

  Dino entered the second floor. The hallway was slightly cleaner, but was carpeted and smelled badly. The ceiling had little dots of black mold on it. At the end of the hallway there was a window that was nailed shut, and the smog from outside had created a thin film of dirt on the glass. T
he doors of the rooms at either side of him were coated in chipping dark paint with white room numbers.

  Room 21 was the last one on the left. Dino knocked twice. He then knocked a third time.

  Someone finally called out, “Who is it?”

  Dino recognized Henry’s creepy voice.

  “Police. Open up. We need to talk.”

  “What?”

  “Henry Riley, it’s Detective Cooper from the other day. Open the door.”

  Henry undid the lock and the knob slowly turned. He poked his head out, hiding his body behind the creaky door. His breath reeked sourly of beer.

  “Henry?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Can I come in?”

  Henry shot him a sideways glance, and then said, “Sure,” as he moved to the right so that Dino could pass by him.

  “Sorry,” Henry said after he had closed the door and checked four times to make sure it was locked. “I have to be careful around here. Guys get jumped all the time. Two days ago I was robbed.”

  “Is that right?” Dino asked. “You should’ve called us. We could’ve helped you.”

  Henry shrugged.

  “Would you like a cigarette?” Dino asked him.

  “We’re not supposed to smoke in the building. Only outside. Doesn’t stop some people from smoking inside, though. But I’m going to follow the rules.”

  “Do you always follow the rules?”

  “I try.”

  It looked like Henry had moved in recently. Dino glanced around the sparsely furnished room, which was surprisingly tidy. The wood floors appeared to have been swept. A bed in the far corner was made. A rocking chair sat in front of a window with thin white linen curtains. Henry took care of his room regardless of his problems.

  Pictures that had been cut out of magazines hung on the walls. They were mostly of women, models. And cars. But there were three cut-outs of small children, which Dino found odd. He stepped over to look at them closely, and noticed they were each a picture of the same young boy that had been cut out of a clothing catalog.

  In one, the child was sitting on a snow bank throwing a snowball toward the camera and he was wearing a parka. In the other, he was standing by a tall grandfather clock in a fancy living room. In the last photo, the boy was wearing navy blue pajamas with large white buttons.

  Chapter Sixteen

  It took Tulia forty-five minutes to drive to Andrew Falter’s condominium in the suburbs. It was even nicer than she’d imagined. She phoned him when she’d parked outside.

  “Hi, Andrew.”

  “You’ve arrived?”

  “Yes. I found a space in the street, outside of your building, if that’s all right.”

  “Sure, that’s fine. Do you have enough quarters for the parking meter? I can bring some down for you.”

  “That’s all right. I have enough on me.”

  “Dinner’s nearly done. I picked up this terrific jazz record.”

  “You still have a record player?”

  “Yes. You know me, I’ll never get used to an iPhone.”

  Tulia laughed faintly. “I’ll be up soon.”

  “Wonderful. See you shortly.”

  Tula hung up and tucked her phone back into her purse. She sat still for a moment and traced the steering wheel with her finger. Then she grabbed her purse, got out of the car, and locked the doors.

  A dog barked happily in the distance, and a few children played in the driveway of the large house across the street.

  She put quarters in the meter. She stepped from the clean sidewalk to the path leading to the entrance of Andrew’s building.

  The lobby was small yet graceful with gleaming floors and tasteful art on the walls. She walked to the elevator and pressed the second floor button.

  Tulia let out a deep sigh when the elevator doors closed without anyone entering after her. She was afraid she’d be seen by someone, even a stranger.

  In the bright hallway she found number four and knocked gently. Andrew answered the door immediately, wearing a white shirt and dress pants and dark shoes. He smelled of musky cologne.

  “You look beautiful,” he said with a bold smile.

  “Thank you. You look good, too.”

  He looked pleased by her compliment.

  “What a beautiful place you have here,” she said. Her hands were shaking.

  He grinned. She got the feeling that he was imagining her naked, and it bothered her.

  “Do you still like prime rib?” he asked. “I remember it was one of your favorites.”

  “It still is.”

  “And some red wine, of course.”

  He led her into the kitchen where dinner was set out.

  “This is wonderful.”

  He pulled a chair out from the table. “Please, take a seat.”

  “Thank you,” she said as she sat down. “It’s lovely.”

  He gently pushed her chair into the table. He poured her a glass of wine before he took a seat at the other end of the table. She was surprised by how relaxed he seemed. Then again, he wasn’t married anymore, and she still was.

  Andrew looked at her, concerned. “Tulia, are you okay?”

  “Yes, but this is all very new to me.”

  He smiled at her. “It’s all right. There’s no need to explain.”

  “The dinner looks delicious. Thank you again.”

  “You’re welcome. I wanted it to be exceptional for a very extraordinary lady.”

  “You were always such a good cook,” Tulia said, quickly changing the subject. “The wine’s terrific but can I have some water?”

  “Sure.” He stepped away and returned to the table with a glass of water. “I must confess, I wondered if you’d bring Terry.”

  Tulia peered up at him. “What do you mean?” She sipped the cold water but her mouth still felt dry.

  “Well,” he said, sitting back down. “You’re married to him, aren’t you?”

  She rested the glass on the table. “Yes, I am.”

  “I assumed you wouldn’t want to come here alone.”

  “And why’s that?”

  “Because it might tempt you.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I know how you feel, Tulia, it’s obvious. I feel the same way. Come on, don’t act so innocent. You decided to come here in the first place, alone.”

  “What are you saying? Why are you talking like that?”

  Andrew rested his elbows on the table. “Remember my wedding?” he said in a low voice, heavy with lust.

  Tulia leaned back in her chair, distancing herself from him. “Yes, I do.”

  “And you remember what happened between us in the parking lot?”

  “Yes, vaguely,” she lied.

  Andrew sat up. “I remember it clearly.”

  “Where’s that record you wanted to play for me? I’d like to hear it.”

  “Tulia, don’t change the subject again.”

  She cleared her throat. “Andrew, I came over here to enjoy a meal with you. We’re friends, you know that.”

  “I want to be more,” he said bluntly. “Don’t you? I thought you did.”

  “Andrew . . .”

  “I can tell you’re unhappy. I was, too, when I was married to Cheryl.”

  Tulia didn’t like how his voice was getting louder.

  “Let’s eat, please,” she said. “And I’m not unhappy. Terry and I are just going through a rough patch in our marriage, that’s all. It’ll pass.”

  She knew then that she still loved Terry and she would never betray him.

  “Sure, try to convince yourself of that,” Andrew said. “That’s what I did for a long time. Let me tell you something, Tulia. It’s going to get harder, and each day it’s going to kill you just a little bit more.”

  “Nothing’s going to kill me,” she fired back. “I’m strong.”

  “All right, I’m sorry. You’re strong. I know that. But ask yourself this, are you really happy?”

  “Is anyone
really happy?”

  “I am. Because being with you makes me happy. And I know that when you’re with me you feel the same way.”

  Tulia shook her head and tears pooled in her eyes. “Can you please stop this now?” Her voice trembled. “Can’t we just — can we just enjoy dinner?” She wiped her face with her napkin.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “What’s your fascination with little boys, Henry?” Dino said, staring at the catalog clippings.

  “I . . .”

  “You what?”

  “I don’t have a fascination with them. They’re just pictures I thought were nice.”

  “Yeah, but you hung them on your wall. That’s some strange stuff, if you ask me.”

  Henry’s posture became defensive. “I didn’t ask you.”

  Henry seemed meaner than he had been, and Dino suspected that this was his true personality.

  “Do you like little boys, Henry?”

  “No. I am a boy.”

  “No, you’re a grown man.”

  Henry shook his head as he went over to his made bed and sat on the edge. He put his hands to his face. “I’ve got to stop.”

  “Stop what?”

  “Drinking.”

  “You really should. It’ll only hurt you in the long run.”

  “I know,” Henry said quietly.

  “Are they helping you here?”

  Henry shrugged. “I’m not sure.”

  “Are you sober now?”

  “Sober enough to talk.”

  “Why do you drink?”

  “So that I don’t see bad things.”

  “What bad things?”

  “Things I’ve done.”

  Dino lowered his voice and used a gentler tone. “Henry, is there something that you need to tell me?”

  “Tell you?”

  “Yeah, about when you said you found that kid.”

  Henry quickly shook his head.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “You know, I remember when we were growing up and your brother disappeared. You lived right across the street from me. Your old man was always yelling at you on the front steps, right? Or do I have you confused with someone else? God, Henry, I’m sorry about how mean your father was to you. He was kind to your brother, Jake, though, I remember that. I didn’t know you that well. You were a pretty quiet kid.”