Private Lies

by T. E. Woods

  “When was that?” Horst had his pen poised over his notepad. “Mr….?”

  “Gordon. Ben Gordon. Folks like to call me Gordy. I’m okay with that.” He nodded to the skinny man sitting next to him. “This is Elderon Daniels. Folks on the street call him Smoke.”

  “On accounta I’m always looking for one,” the older man explained earnestly. “You wouldn’t have one you could gimme to enjoy after dinner now, would ya?”

  Horst shook his head. “I got a lot of bad habits, but tobacco has never been one of them. Sorry. Gordy, you said you spoke with Billy. When?”

  “Let’s see. This is Monday, right? Musta been, what? Last Wednesday. Maybe Friday. No. It was Tuesday. I know because that’s the night I had a couple of slices down at Ian’s. I was sitting outside, trying to make the most out of the six bucks I’d spent on the pizza. The evening was warm. It was nice to sit there and watch the world go by. Know what I mean?”

  “And Billy was there?”

  “Not at Ian’s. But he walked by. Saw me sitting there. We’d crossed paths a few times. Here at Grace. Couple of times over at Bethel. Billy was always willing to share a table and talk. He sat down when he saw me. He’s good people.”

  “How’d he seem? That Tuesday night in front of Ian’s?” Horst asked.

  “He was good. Cleaned up. Looking sharp. Gave me a hundred bucks without me even asking for it. A hundred bucks!”

  “He say where he got the money?”

  “Billy come into some luck,” Elderon interjected. “Like Gordy say, Billy’s one of the good ones. Always willin’ to give a hand, even though he got nothin’ hisself. Last week or so, Billy been free with the money. Givin’ it out. Helpin’ out. I saw him in the park ’bout a week ago. He walks with me straight to the store. Bought two packs of Camels just for me.” Elderon’s face sagged. “I done smoked ’em all, though. Sure could use another pack.”

  “Did Billy offer any details about this luck he came into?”

  Both men shook their heads.

  “I figure some family came through for him,” Elderon offered. “Man, I just knowed it was Billy when I heard ’bout them findin’ a dead guy. Can’t be flashin’ that kind of roll around without folks wantin’ their own piece. Damn them family for givin’ it to him.”

  “No.” Gordy frowned. “I think he got a job.”

  “What makes you say that?” Horst asked.

  “When he gave me the hundred,” Gordy explained. “I told him I couldn’t take it. It was too much. He told me not to worry. Said there was going to be a never-ending supply of money from now on. Said he just got paid and would get paid again next week.”

  “And he gave you no clue as to where this supply came from?”

  Gordy shook his head. “Just said there was always going to be plenty more where that came from. Said he’d moved into some motel over by the beltline. Said he’d be getting his own apartment real soon. Offered to let me crash at his place anytime I wanted.”

  Elderon leaned back in his chair. “Wish I could say he was that generous with me. Billy didn’t tell me ’bout no apartment. He did say he was at the Imperial, though. So, I asks him that mean his perch is available.” He shook his head rapidly back and forth. “No, sir! Billy was having none of that. Said he was keepin’ that perch and if I wanted any more smokes I’d stay the hell away from it.” Elderon was quiet for a moment. “Didn’t have to tell me twice. Two packs of Camels that boy bought me. Two!”

  “His perch?” Horst asked.

  “It’s where he lives,” Gordy explained. “Or lived, I guess. Before he moved into the motel.”

  “I’m confused,” Horst offered. “I thought Billy was homeless.”

  “The world would call him that,” Elderon offered. “Just like the world calls me the same. But, brother, most of us, least those of us been on the street any time at all, we all got our place. Me? I got me a sweet loading dock over by Wilson. Business closes ’round eight. Workers all gone by 8:30. Everybody on the street knows they wanna find me, come to that loading dock any time after ten. I’ll be there.”

  Horst looked to Gordy. “And you?”

  Gordy shrugged. “Broke my leg seven months ago. No health insurance. Lost my job when I couldn’t work. Got kicked out of my apartment about three months after that. I’m doing the best I can. Leg’s healing up nice. Hard to find work when you can’t fill out all the boxes on the application.”

  “Like address and phone number,” Elderon added. “How’s anybody s’posed to call a brother for a job interview when he got no phone?”

  “Anyway,” Gordy continued. “I’m going to be okay. I know it. Right now, I’m sharing a space with two girls under the overpass on the bike path. Think they feel safer having a man around. We don’t like to set up, though, till way after midnight. By then all the people using the path are home in bed. If we get there any earlier there’s complaints. Cops come. We gotta move on. It’s rough. We gotta be out early, too. Folks start jogging and biking before the sun’s up. Tell you the truth, Billy’s perch would be a sweet spot for me. Maybe I could sleep more than a couple of hours at night. But, like Elderon here, I asked him about it. He told me to stay away.”

  “You both know where this perch is?” Horst asked.

  Both men nodded.

  “Could you show me?”

  The men looked over to where the line for the evening meal was beginning to form.

  “You mean like, now?” Gordy asked. “Right now?”

  “I mean like right now,” Horst answered firmly. “And if there’s a Mickey D’s on the way, I’d be happy to buy you guys a couple of burgers and fries.”

  “And a pack of Camels, right?” Elderon assumed.

  Chapter 13

  Sydney gently lifted Clay’s arm up and off her hip. She slid out of bed as quietly as possible, tiptoed to his bathroom, splashed water on her face, and gingerly reentered his bedroom. She gathered her clothes and turned to head back to the bathroom to dress.

  “You leaving?” Clay’s voice rumbled with sleep. “Come back to bed. I’ll make breakfast.”

  She bent, kissed his forehead, and pulled the blankets up to his shoulders. “Shh. Sleep. I’ve got a lot to do today. I’ll call you before Hush Money opens.”

  He nodded and drifted back to sleep without a protest. She stood over him, admiring the way his hair curled against his cheek as he slept. Even in the dim light of dawn, his rugged good looks pulled on her.

  You’re a good man, she thought.

  Their lovemaking the night before had been warm and sincere. It seemed exactly what the two of them needed after the tension Leslie’s brother had brought to an otherwise pleasant evening.

  I could love you forever. You’re every dream I’ve ever dreamt.

  She watched him as she wiggled into her jeans. A comfort warmed her to her core simply to be in Clay’s presence. She pulled her shirt over her head, then looked around his room. He’d built a lovely, simple home for himself and his son. Steel was grown now, off to explore the world before he settled down to college and career.

  But Steel’s home will always be where his father is. The man who raised him on his own after Steel’s mother left, even though he was just a teenager himself. Clay will always be his son’s rock. Like he is mine.

  She shuffled in the dim light, looking for her sandals.

  Then why isn’t that enough?

  She froze midstep at the intrusive thought. Forcing it out of her mind, she found her shoes, slipped them on, and went over for one last whisper of a kiss goodbye.

  * * *

  —

  She powered the windows down and let the early-morning summer breeze blow through the cabin of her Mustang as she drove the streets back to her condo. She loved the city. And even though she’d made a career out of two restaurants catering to the eve
ning activities of Madisonians, it was the early hours that enchanted her the most. The rising sun coloring the lakes and buildings with pink and gold. Fishermen lining the bridges of John Nolen Drive, eager for the tug on the line. Students and professors, even in summer, scurrying to the enormous buildings comprising the university’s campus. Joggers and bicyclists plying the miles of trails weaving through neighborhoods that prided themselves on having their own unique character. She didn’t listen to the radio as she drove home, but lost herself instead to the music of another day beginning in Madison. By the time she pulled into her parking stall and got on the elevator that would lift her up to her unit, she could feel the energy of the city pulsing through her. She showered, brushed and dried her hair, and pulled a yellow cotton sundress from her closet. She read the newspaper as she ate her breakfast of yogurt, berries, and juice, and lingered over a third cup of coffee while watching seagulls glide over Lake Monona. She had time. Showing up to her first appointment before ten o’clock might signal an eagerness she didn’t want to acknowledge. Finally, when the wall clock on her kitchen read 9:45, she went back into her bathroom, swiped a pale gloss over her lips, and headed back down the elevator.

  * * *

  —

  Sydney walked into room B6-413 of University Hospital at exactly a quarter past ten. The three uniformed officers standing around the room didn’t surprise her. She was surprised, however, to see Rick Sheffield smiling and sitting up.

  “He’s alive!” She tried to sound more jovial than relieved as she crossed to stand next to the bed. She held on to the side bar, steadying herself against the wave of gratitude that threatened to knock her off her feet. “Does he speak? Does he know what planet he’s on?”

  “I’ve been asking him all kinds of stuff since I got here,” Bonnie Malory, an EMT and frequent Ten-Ten customer, answered. “I couldn’t even trip him up when I asked him about the inside fly rule. Son of a gun’s firing on all pistons.”

  Sydney looked down at Rick. His dark eyes flashed a reassurance that he was fine. She reached through IV lines to give his hand a quick squeeze. He returned the pressure just long enough for a frisson of electricity to tingle through her body.

  “This is how Superman recovers?” she asked, smiling.

  “Doc said he did some of his finest work on me.” Rick held her gaze long enough for a silence to fall over the other visitors.

  “I gotta run,” Bonnie said as she stepped forward and laid a hand on Rick’s foot. “Great to see you on this side of the grass, man. I’ll tell the squad the good news.” She turned to the two men leaning against the wall. “We’ve about worn out our welcome, fellas. Besides, don’t we have some protecting and serving to do?”

  The two officers spoke their goodbyes in unison. Sydney waited until they were gone to return her attention to the patient sitting in bed.

  “My God! I can’t believe it. Friday…when you were in surgery. They said…the doctors…we all were afraid…”

  “Shh.” He reached for her hand. “I’m okay, Syd. I’m okay.”

  “You were shot!”

  “And the idiot’s aim was about as keen as his IQ. Docs tell me the bullet nearly went through and through, touching nothing along its way.”

  “Nearly?”

  “Nicked my spleen. They took it out, sewed me up, and topped off whatever blood I lost.”

  “You could have been killed!”

  “You drive that Mustang of yours over here? With your lead foot I could say the same about you.”

  “This is no time for jokes, Rick. How are you feeling? How’s the pain?”

  “Not bad. They gave me some heavy-duty stuff the first couple of days as I understand it, but today they’ve had me up and walking. That helps. Now it’s just pills. Got one just a few minutes ago. Poof! Bye-bye pain.”

  “What do they say is the prognosis?”

  He tightened his hold on her hand. “Will you wipe that worried look off your face? It gets in the way of the pretty.”

  “What do the doctors say?”

  “The usual. It’s been pudding and beef broth today. They’ll start me on real food tomorrow. Then I gotta show ’em the plumbing’s working right. Tomorrow a therapist is coming by to see how well I can walk, climb stairs, that sort of thing. If all goes well, I don’t see any reason why I wouldn’t be out of here tomorrow afternoon. Thursday at the latest.”

  “So soon? You were a bloody mess.”

  “And they fixed me up. Welcome to health care in the real world, Syd. In and out. Just the way I like it.”

  “What about once you’re home? What are they saying?”

  “What they always say. Let your body tell you what it needs.” His eyes narrowed in a daring tease. “I didn’t have the poor taste to tell them I always give my body what it wants.”

  Sydney tugged her hand away. “What kind of help will you require?”

  “Are you kidding?” He looked so pale against the pillow. “Desk sergeant’s got it all organized. She’s got teams assigned for walking Jocko, bringing meals, playing cards…I even think she’s got people signed up to come watch the Brewers games with me. I got a feeling I’m gonna need help to get away from the help.” No longer smiling, he looked up at her. “You wanna be in charge of that, Sydney?”

  She wondered if the pain medication was taking effect.

  “I’ll tell you what, the menus at Hush Money and The Ten-Ten are yours. While you’re healing, if you get a taste for something we have, just call. I’ll have it at your door as soon as it’s ready.”

  “Fuel me up for physical therapy, is that your plan?”

  “Do what the doctors tell you. Your recovery isn’t a race.”

  He laid a hand on his blanketed stomach. “Gotta get back in shape. Don’t know how long I’ll be off work. It’s easy to turn to mush if you don’t hit the gym.”

  “Have the doctors even talked about you going back? Seems a little premature, don’t you think?”

  His face wrinkled in disappointment. “It’s not up to them. Like I said, I’m supposed to follow what my body tells me.” He was quiet for a while. When he spoke, his voice was softer. “I shot a man.”

  “After he tried to kill you.”

  “You know that. I know that. All God’s children may know that. But until the department has its official investigation and determines whether the shooting was righteous or not, I’m on leave. It’s Jocko and me riding the couch until all the Ts are crossed.”

  “How long will that take?”

  “As long as it does. Chief takes shooting a civilian as seriously as he ought to. My job is to sit by, answer any questions that come my way, and wait like a good little soldier until the all clear sounds.”

  She knew he wasn’t a man well suited to idleness. “I’ve got an opening for a sous-chef.”

  “I look like a Sue to you?”

  She smiled. “A sous-chef. Assistant. Second-in-command. Roland’s off to New York for a couple of weeks. His assistant is taking over. If you can impress me with your knife skills I can put you to work right away.”

  He tried to laugh, but it turned into a groan. She heard the drowsiness in his voice. “My mother would turn in her grave at the thought of me in a kitchen. Besides, I’ve always been better with a gun than a knife. Sorry.”

  “Just trying to do my part to keep you from being bored while you’re on leave,” she teased.

  He closed his eyes. “Like I said, desk sergeant’s got the boredom brigade in full swing.” He sounded like a child fighting sleep. She imagined it took lots of energy to heal from what he’d endured. “I think I’m going to dream about how pretty you look in that yellow dress.”

  “The drugs are setting in, I see.”

  His smile was dozy. He kept his eyes closed. “Color of daffodils. Straps got some white on the edges. Cut j
ust low enough to give me a bit of hope.” He stopped talking long enough for her to wonder if the medication had taken full effect. Then he mumbled again. “Didn’t think I’d notice, did ya?”

  A warmth surged inside her. “Hush. You’re supposed to listen to your body, remember? It’s telling you it’s time to sleep.”

  “Stay, Syd.” His voice was barely a whisper. “Stay with me.”

  “I’m right here,” she murmured, blinking away a sheen of tears. “Sleep now.”

  She waited until his chest heaved in the slow and steady cadence of medicated slumber before she turned to leave. Her hand was on the door when she changed her mind, pulled a plastic chair next to Rick’s bed, and sat down.

  Chapter 14

  Horst hated this place. It looked different in the daylight. Nothing like all those years ago. When Gordy and Smoke had brought him to Billy’s perch last night, there wasn’t much Horst could make out. Maybe he’d been too distracted by the knot in his neck when the men had pointed out the building he knew too well. They’d shown him the utility ladder Billy kept hidden behind some bushes. He’d positioned it against the brick wall of the unused warehouse and climbed to the cast-iron balcony twelve feet above the ground. Horst estimated the suspended porch to be about fifteen feet wide, maybe ten feet deep. He imagined it was used as a foreman’s platform, or perhaps a fire escape back when the warehouse was part of the workingman’s district that once comprised Madison’s east side. He knew that in the first half of the twentieth century, this part of town bustled with manufacturers, bakeries, mills, and small assembly plants. Somewhere around the 1970s, the businesses began to relocate or fail, and this section of town began a long, steady march toward decay. Most buildings stood vacant for decades. But the new century brought another chapter for the area. In-fill is what the mayor called it. Old houses and derelict buildings were demolished, making way for stylish row houses, coffee shops, and boutiques. Dozens of acres had been cleared, allowing the development of the massive Central Park running along the railway. Block by block, the neighborhood was forging a new identity.