Malachi, Ruse Master

by Pamela Schloesser Canepa

  “What’s up, Malachi?” He sounded like he was taking a drag off of a cigarette.

  “I need some advice.”

  He chuckled. “Girls?”

  “Uh, no. Nothing like that. First, can you tell me how to run a check on a guy I’ve met. His name is G.D. Bink. Phone number is 555-0101. Second, well, it’s my neighbor. He beats his wife. I know this for a fact; I’ve seen the bruises. I went over to help her one day, and I’m pretty sure he knows that. He didn’t catch me there, but I think he has been told.”

  “So, you helped her. Did you take her to the doctor, call the cops, or what?”

  “He is a cop.”

  Jack sighed deeply. “You’ve gotta be careful.”

  “I know I do. And I am. I asked a neighbor to take her to the ER. But I can’t just leave things be and wait for it to happen again. What do I do?”

  “I don’t know, Malachi. I don’t even like discussing this on the phone. You’ll be coming in to see me Wednesday. We’ll talk then.”

  “But what if—”

  “If anything happens before that, call me. I’ll think of a strategy. If they’re in your neighborhood, I can probably figure out who it is. I have friends who are cops. I can do this, without them knowing I am doing this.”

  “Do you need his name?”

  “Stop being so eager. I mean, I know you want to help her, but, look. I just told you I could figure out who he is. You can’t keep on throwing things in my lap like this, or I’ll take it out of your pay.”

  “I’d do it myself, Jack, but I don’t know any cops. I’m afraid to even go over there and ask if she’s okay.” I sighed in frustration.

  “For good reason. You just stick to yourself; mind your own business, that is, unless another incident happens. Which it probably won’t. He’s probably recovering himself. And I’ll check on that G.D guy.”

  “I wouldn’t ask so much of you, but I don’t want him to find me out or ruin our operations here.”

  “Yeah, true.”

  “Okay. See you Wednesday.”

  “Bye.”

  I was still dissatisfied. If anything happened again it would probably be worse, and it could end up being my fault. If anyone told him they saw me go there, he’d have that to make him angry and fuel for any possible suspicions. I understood why she had shooed me away so fast; this had probably happened before. Don’s car wasn’t in front of their house, so I walked down to Stephen’s, pointedly taking the other side of the road then crossing back. Boy, that would probably look suspicious to anyone who was watching. Curse that Mrs. Bannon, the Big Brother in old-lady form. She was probably watching me right now. I’d have to consider her watchful eye; it hadn’t helped Sofie yet, but it could come in handy for my plans.

  Stephen answered the door with no shoes on. “Just got home. What’s going on, Malachi?”

  “Nothing, well, nothing new. Can I come in for a minute?”

  He extended his arm, inviting me in. “She’s okay,” he said, closing the door behind us.

  “What happened?”

  He sat down in a recliner. “He wasn’t there, and she was in the middle of cleaning up her floor, blood running down her leg. I made her allow me to take her to the ER. She actually did need stitches. She didn’t want to go.” He shook his head.

  “What did she tell them at the ER?”

  “Said she dropped a glass plate in the kitchen. Though I’m sure they were suspicious as to why she didn’t go in until an hour later.”

  “I don’t know what to do, Stephen.” I leaned against his door uncomfortably.

  “Right now, I think you’ve done all you can. I talked to her a little, hoping to give some fatherly advice. She just shrugged her shoulders and said it’ll be alright. It’ll blow over. Said they’re going to counseling next week.”

  “Hmm.” I wasn’t so sure that would change him, if it was even true. I also was fearful of what could happen in the following week. Still, was it really any of my business at this point?

  “Just lay low. There may come a day you need to call the cops, but sadly, I’m not sure it’ll do any good.” The man picked up his remote in disinterest. I had to fight the urge to wring his neck.

  “Alright. I’ve gotta go. Thanks.” My hand was already on the doorknob; I had heard enough. There was no way I would just let things lie. Not that I knew what to do, but I was sure a plan would come to me soon enough. Things were just gonna get a whole lot stickier with my neighbors.

  Chapter 6

  Kitty Smithsfield

  “You normally won’t meet the clients,” Jack had informed me the day I received my first job. He presented me with a picture of a woman. She was very blonde and very made-up.

  “Kitty is pretty much a trophy wife. After ten years of marriage, she is tired of her husband’s cheating. They have been separated for two months. All she wants to do is serve him divorce papers. Here’s where you come in.”

  I rubbed my hands together. “I’m ready.”

  Jack chuckled. “Good. You may need to pull out all stops. Your new ID will likely come in handy. Be ready to follow the man. I noticed you came here in a cab.”

  “Well,” I reasoned, “I don’t want to be traceable by a license plate.”

  “Good thinking, young man, but I have this covered. You’ll be using a loaner car of mine.”

  “What about the license plate?”

  “Trust me, I take care of these things. I’ve been doing this for ten years.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Ten years? What did you do before?”

  “You don’t need to know that.”

  “Sorry. I need to learn when to not ask questions.” I looked down in shame.

  “No problem, as long you know when you should not answer them.” He sat back and crossed his arms.

  “Or when I shouldn’t answer them honestly?” I asked with a smile.

  “You’ve got this.”

  “I had a lot of practice trying not to disappoint my mom.”

  Jack looked concerned. “Are you and she close?”

  “My mother is in very bad health. We don’t talk much, and when we do, I don’t think she understands much of what I say.”

  “You’re telling the truth?”

  I sighed. “Yes. It’s almost a good thing; hearing that I dropped out of college might be the last straw for her. When I last spoke to her, she asked me if I missed her home cooking yet. I’d be no good to her there anyhow. My brother handles everything, hired a nurse, all the rest. And no, he and I are not close. He thinks I’m a pariah, and I think he’s a pompous ass.”

  Jack just nodded his head, neither conveying approval nor disapproval of what I had just said.

  “Okay, back to the business at hand. I’m sorry I asked such a personal question, but it actually concerned me for a moment. However, your answer was satisfactory. Our next client, Kitty Smithsfield, has become quite the socialite during her marriage to Matt Smithsfield.”

  “Matt Smithsfield? He’s a boxer, right?”

  “Yes, he was quite successful. Just not so much lately. You may need to tail him for a while. He hasn’t gotten over the party life.”

  “Okay. I can do it.”

  “Yes, but do it in a way that does not require you to talk to the man. Until you serve him the papers. You may need to follow him a while, learn his routines and his schedule, and then show up at his home. In other words, do not be seen following him.”

  “Okay.”

  Jack handed me a file with photographs and papers. Included was a photo of Matt. Yes, he did look pretty rough. His hair had grown out. He obviously wasn’t boxing anymore; his belly paunch was proof of that.

  “Is he into drugs or just partying?”

  “I don’t know Malachi, and it doesn’t matter. Kitty has enough proof of his unfaithfulness. She just needs those papers served.”

  I left there with two addresses and a loaner vehicle from Jack that had been parked in the back behind his place of business. T
he first address was Matt Smithsfield’s home address, a comfortable big house. I knew after about an hour that he was not there. A skinny gardener had been tending to the front lawn and went in, only to come out twenty minutes later and lock the door.

  The second address was not a boxing gym, surprise, surprise, but rather a seedy little bar on the edge of town. Great place to hide out. He left fairly early though, so I followed him. He ended up right to the home of a young woman, red-haired and curvy in her robe, fresh lipstick applied just to answer the door and invite him in. What a life, I thought.

  Well, it was obvious to me I wasn’t supposed to serve papers here. Jack had mentioned that the wife wouldn’t want him to know I was following him. That left only two options: work and home. How would I catch him at home? How long would he be at his mistress’s house? Too long for my taste, but I was on a stake-out. I slumped down in my driver’s seat so as not to be seen, rolling down the car window a little so that I could hear my surroundings. Perhaps I would hear him when he left.

  It was 5 a.m. when the front door opened. I wiped the drool from my mouth and rolled my neck to get the kinks out, hand poised above my key in the ignition. Yes, I was going to follow him, but only at a distance. I knew better than to let this guy catch me in the act. I would show up at his house mysteriously just minutes after he got back home, serve him the papers, and get out of there. He didn’t go right home, though. I guess this guy had a lot of energy left, or he had a lot to do that day, because he led me to The Waffle and Coffee Shop. I was done. It had gotten colder as the daylight hit, and I was tired. It wasn’t as if I would just go in, sit down next to him, and grab a cup of coffee. I headed home for some rest. This first job would not be as easy as I thought it would be.

  Still, I was a good understudy. I set my alarm for noon, allowing myself five more hours of sleep. On waking at noon, I called Jack to see if he had a little time to advise me. I could do this. I was just a little green.

  “Malachi, I thought you knew about this. You can serve him those papers anywhere. Even the bar he hangs out at.”

  “Okay, okay. Good to know. I’m still glad I didn’t go into the coffee shop. I just felt like I couldn’t talk to the guy, you know, considering what I was there to do.”

  “Well, you’re gonna have to get over that feeling. You’ll never reach your goals if you let fear stop you. I didn’t hire you to second guess yourself. There are many times in this business you have to just go with your gut.”

  “Okay. I’ve got it. I suppose it doesn’t help that I know who the mistress is?”

  “Hmm. The mistress. Hang on.” It sounded as if he moved away from the phone and then came back. “You wrote down the address, right?”

  “Well, yeah.” I reached into my pocket to get the paper out. “It was 49 West Loop. On the edge of town.”

  “Okay. Thanks, Malachi. That just may prove quite valuable. Now, stop being scared. Chase down your first payday.”

  He made it quite clear. I wasn’t getting the pay for this job until I completed it. When I was hired, he’d made it sound as if there was no lack of work for an actor and a great liar like me. I hoped that was true.

  The next morning I was up at the crack of dawn. Coffee and a buttered slice of bread sustained me. I was Johnny-on-the-spot at 6:30 a.m., parked just down the road from Matt’s house where I could easily see his front door. An hour and a half later he came out to get the paper dressed in boxers and a white undershirt. How embarrassing. Though I suspected he wasn’t the one who felt a hint of embarrassment.

  “Matt Smithsfield?”

  “What do you want?” He must have thought I was a fan of his boxing career.

  I momentarily imagined if playing that part would work better for me.

  “You left this in the Sputtering Engine Bar the other night—”

  He squinted back at me, probably struggling to imagine what he could have left. In the meantime, it allowed me to move in closer.

  I extended my hand with the papers enclosed in an envelope. Matt reeked of alcohol. He reached out his hand and took the envelope.

  “Matt Smithsfield, you’ve been served papers. Your wife, Kitty, has filed for divorce. Please read the enclosed for your date to report and for your options.” I turned to leave.

  Matt reached out and grabbed for the back of my neck, but I slipped out from his hold, not without suffering a few scratches. The guy evidently didn’t keep his nails trimmed. He kicked the back of my leg right behind the knee, making me buckle onto the ground for a moment. He came around to the front of me and gave me a swift punch to the nose. Shocked, I got up, wishing I knew where to hit and deliver him the most pain, but it was kind of hard to see with all those stars right before my eyes. He must have taken pity on me, because I made it to my car, one hand over my now bleeding nose, the other feeling in front of me. I was afraid I’d pass out and fade to black, but it didn’t happen. He didn’t come after me for any more blood. I wouldn’t really know what to do if he did.

  Car door locked, I sat there for a moment, blood still gushing from my nose. I reached to the back for the sweatshirt I had left there in case of cool weather. He continued hollering at me from his yard, but it sounded more like a yell of self-pity. I contained myself and said nothing, rolling up my car window as he hollered one last time.

  He slumped to the ground with a final call. “I had no idea,” he sobbed. “She gave me no hint. Acting like everything was okay.”

  Funny that he was playing the victim, but I was glad he forgot how angry he had been at me. It was much better to see him crying like a baby, though I’d certainly not say a word to him about it. I took out my cell phone to call Jack.

  “Yeah?”

  “Papers served. I need your help, though.”

  “You don’t sound right, Malachi. What’s up?”

  “I’m not sure I should drive. He hit me in the nose. It—” I took a deep breath, “It could be broken. Hurts like hell.”

  “Can you make it home?”

  “It’s kind of far.”

  “Go to the closest gas station and call me again. Go wash it up in the restroom and survey the damage. Or do you need to go to an ER?”

  “Nah, I’ll be alright. I’ll call you in a few.”

  I carefully pulled out, noticing that Matt was still on his knees in the yard, staring forlornly at the divorce papers. Not my problem. One hand holding the sweatshirt to my nose, I turned out of his neighborhood and drove until I found a gas station.

  Jack answered on the first ring. “I just got off the phone with Kitty. Matt was pissed! But you did it. We’ll take care of your nose and you can get your pay.”

  “I’m kind of scared to stay here; what if he shows up, just happening to need gas or some smokes?”

  “Just stay there and I’ll come and get you.”

  My face was clean by the time he got there, but judging by the color of my face and blue circles under the eyes, my nose must have been broken. Jack had a woman in the car, an older, rough-looking woman. She must have been in the business, too. He got out and signaled for her to leave, so she drove off, leaving him there with me.

  “Get in the passenger seat; I’ll drive.”

  Truth be told, Jack’s office was twenty minutes away, but he hightailed it out of there. He led me to the restroom at his office, a room I didn’t know existed, but then again, I had never asked.

  “Sit down,” he commanded, motioning to the closed toilet.

  He rummaged in the cabinet, taking out a bottle of pills, cotton, and some sort of liquid in a bottle.

  “Take one.” He handed me a pill, and I swallowed it. “This is gonna hurt, but you’ll sleep the rest of the day. Are you going to press charges?” he asked, wiping around my nose with a wet cloth.

  “Heck no. I don’t ever wanna see him again. He’d probably fight it.”

  “Good.” He put his hands on my nose, grabbing it, and pushed it back into place. As I heard a crunchy pop, pain seared through
my brain.

  “Aaargh!” I screamed, putting a hand up to my nose, as if that would help. The floor seemed like it was about to come up to meet me.

  Jack put his hands on both my shoulders, steadying me. “The pain reliever will kick in soon. Hang on to this cloth. I’ll replace your sweatshirt.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’m pretty sure you don’t have medical insurance.”

  I shrugged. I didn’t know if there was a grace period after I quit college. It was less complicated this way.

  He reached into his pocket. “I almost forgot your pay. Oh, you’ll get extra for, um, hazard pay.”

  I sort of wondered if he was paying me extra for not pressing charges, then I lost the thought in a foggy haze that spread through me. He took me by one arm out to the car again.

  His car was back already, but the woman was nowhere in sight. The keys were in the ignition. After settling me into the passenger side, he started the car.

  I looked around, but I still didn’t see my pal Otis. I really wanted to make good on my promise, now that I had some cash money on hand. Maybe next time.

  ***

  Jack got me back home in a blur. I headed back to my basement room and studied the scratches and bruises. I still had two black eyes.

  “It’s not always this bad,” Jack said.

  “Eh, it’s alright. I mean, a hundred dollars extra? I’ll take that. And you even fixed it for me. I should pursue that career in boxing after all.” I chuckled.

  He set the pill bottle on my coffee table. “Well, let me know if you ever want some sparring lessons; it may come in handy, just for self-defense. By the way, you’ll only need one of these every six hours.” He tapped the pill bottle. “No drinking, okay?”

  I nodded.

  “I’ll get those back day after tomorrow.” He left with a grunt and a gentle pat on the back, as if I had just been initiated into manhood.

  I pulled out an old Loius L’amour Western and opened it up. It had been a while since I’d read a book other than to scan it for a class assignment. Bad habit. The storyline and the concept of frontier justice could soothe me after a hard day’s work, but I could not focus my vision or my mind. My shoes were off, but my jeans were still on, and my money was still in my pocket. All of this made me feel a little more secure in the moment, as long as I didn’t think about the blow to my nose. Maybe he was right, and it wasn’t always this bad. I tried to focus on the pay, and soon gave up, dropping the book down on my lap as I lay back and drifted to sleep.