“Do you expect him soon?”
“No.”
“Do you know where he is?”
He looked at me suspiciously.
“It’s okay,” I said. “I’m his hairdresser.”
“What’s it about?”
“It’s personal.”
He started to close the door, so I blocked the attempt with my strong Slavic foot. “Look,” I said, “whoever you are, you told the guard to let me in. Now why can’t you tell me where Dan is?”
He squinted one eye at me. “I thought you were bringing the pizza I ordered.”
If I could be mistaken for a pizza delivery man, my winter wardrobe needed serious evaluation. But more important, what ruse would this “friend” of Dan Doherty’s believe? I thought quickly and said, “I owe Dan some money, and I wanted to pay him back, but if I can’t find him …”
The mention of money caused him to reconsider. “You can give it to me. I’ll make sure he gets it.”
“No offense, but it’s a lot of cash, and I don’t know you.”
“Fuck,” he said. “Then go find him yourself. He’s in Abigail.”
“Abigail-by-the-Sea?”
“Is there another one?” he replied sarcastically. Then he pulled the door open, but I sensed he was preparing to bash it closed against my foot. I prefer my instep unbroken, thank you, so I removed my foot. The wedge gone, he slammed the door shut, but he’d given me my next lead. If Dan Doherty was in Abigail, perhaps he was with Prentiss Kingsley at his summer house. Abigail was too small a place for any other conclusion. In fact, it’s so cloistered you almost need a permit just to drive through.
I left the protection of the walled complex and returned to the street where the snow was driving harder now, unpleasant and more in keeping with the hardship aspect of winter. I guessed I wouldn’t be going out later, not with the snow and wind coming up like that. Maybe a hot herbal bath and an even hotter video would fill the cold, empty place where there was no love to keep me warm on a stormy winter night. Despite the weather, though, I decided to walk home, just to burn off some of the extra calories that lingered around my midriff. I got home around nine o’clock.
Outside my apartment door the building superintendent had left the regular weekly package from my mother in New Jersey. I could smell the buttery pastry through the wrapping paper. I knew she’d made them by hand during the week, then wrapped them like porcelain and sent them to me, insured. I always wondered why she insured homemade pastries. What could they be worth, since to me they were priceless?
Inside the apartment, Sugar Baby greeted me somewhat cautiously. She wanted to make sure the coast was clear of Tobias before she did an elaborate little welcoming dance for me—two figure eights, two circles, a fall-down, a long crescent stretch, and finally a roll onto her back followed by some very unladylike squirmy-wormy writhings across the carpet, belly and crotch exposed shamelessly. Sugar Baby’s vocabulary comprises mostly throaty vowels expressed throughout the audible range for humans. For variety, she adds the occasional G or W or K. A visiting friend once remarked that Sugar Baby had said “Beowulf” to him one night, but I never heard it. Tonight, her little fandango meant she was happy to see me again. Perhaps she sensed that after my recent adventures I needed some extra kindness, instead of a haughty and disdainful sniff that meant, “Who needs you, human?”
While I peeled away the layers of insulating outerwear, Sugar Baby continued rolling around on the carpet, purring loudly. I picked her up while I checked my mail: Today it was bills and trash, and, in a plain brown envelope, an unsolicited copy of the operating instructions for the Spring Waters Septic Tank System. Someone’s marketing demographics were slightly off-target.
I checked my answering machine. After a couple of the usual blank messages, I recognized a welcome voice saying, “Stan, it’s Tony. Remember me? I’m in town tonight and wondered if you want to get together. Are you there? Pick up the phone…. Hello? I guess you’re not in. I’ll try again later. I hope I can see you tonight.”
Did I remember him? Was he kidding? I once spilled so much of myself thinking and dreaming about Tony that I was declared a National Drought Area. I met him years ago, when he was still a church organist and choir director in Maine. Even back then I was convinced he was on a one-man crusade to redefine the staid image of his churchly duties. Tony is, as they say in the vernacular, hot, with the best genes from an Italian father and a Polish mother. He also has great musical talent—world-class, in fact—and it was only a matter of time before the world noticed it. These days he lived in London and conducted opera at major houses throughout Europe. Occasionally he returned “stateside” for guest appearances. And tonight he wanted to see little old me. All I had to do now was wait for his call and then keep my heart still as I said, “Come on in.”
One more blank message, and then I heard Nicole’s voice sounding serious and alarmed.
“Call me immediately!”
I didn’t bother listening to any more, but called her right away.
“Nikki?”
“Tobias is gone. We can’t find him anywhere.”
“When?”
“About half an hour ago. He was in the living room. Chaz and I were in the kitchen preparing dinner. When we came out, he was gone.”
“You’ve looked everywhere?”
“Of course! The security guards are still going through the entire building.”
“What about the police?”
“Chaz has already called them.”
“I’m on my way, Nikki.”
“Stanley, wait. Chaz thinks you should stay home, in case Tobias tries to get to your place.”
That gave me pause. “All right, I’ll stay put. But call me if anything turns up.”
“You do the same.”
Then she hung up.
I poured myself a drink—my usual winter libation, bourbon and bitters—and had just taken a good slug when I heard someone banging loudly on my apartment door. Could it be Tony, so impatient? How had he got into the building? I peered through the peephole and saw two uniformed cops outside. I opened the door.
The bigger brute said, “Mr. Kraychik?”
“Yes,” I answered.
“We’d like you to come down to the station and answer a few questions.”
“Can’t we talk here?”
“We got orders to bring you in.”
“For what?” I asked, alarmed.
“Questioning. Just come along.”
“Okay, but I have to make a phone call first.” Nikki would have to know where I was.
“You can call from the station if necessary.”
“But I—”
“Get ready.”
What do you do when two armed cops are giving you orders? You obey them, that’s what you do. Back on went the wet winter clothes. Sugar Baby made a sad little questioning sound Gwow?—as I once again closed the door and left her alone.
There I was, back at Station E. You’d think I wouldn’t mind seeing Branco again, him and his long Italian love-thighs. But I had other things on my mind, like finding Tobias, and then relaxing and getting warm for the night. For his part, Branco didn’t seem pleased to see me. He was sitting at his desk, arms crossed, when I was thrust roughly into his office by the two cops who’d hauled me in. In a second, I took in the classic proportions and lines of Branco’s whole body. Even without knowing exactly what lurked under the fabric of his clothing, I sensed that the musculature was worthy of a permanent record in marble.
“There are easier ways to beckon me, Lieutenant.”
“Sit down, Kraychik.” His eyes glittered angrily at me. “We got a problem here.”
“So have I. I don’t really like being hauled—”
“I don’t care what you like.” He got up from his desk and paced around his office with a heavy, aggressive tread unusual for him. He finally stopped when he was standing directly behind me. “We found Tobias Cole.”
“Where?
Is he okay?”
“He was wandering around Government Center … alone.”
“But he’s all right?”
“Aside from being scared, yes. But he doesn’t let on about that. He says he’s fine.”
“My brave little tiger,” I said, relieved that Tobias had been found and was safe, especially with the weather so harsh now. “What was he doing out there?” I asked.
Branco answered with a voice too severe for the circumstances. “He was lost, so he got a passing stranger on the street to call us. Then he told the patrol car that he wanted to see his mother. My men brought him here instead.”
“Thanks for calling me, Lieutenant. I’ll take him home now.”
“That’s where the problem comes in, Kraychik.” His words bristled with anger.
“Lieutenant, what exactly is this problem you keep mentioning?”
Branco walked around to face me directly. He sat on the edge of his desk and folded his arms across his chest. The scent of pine around him softened his belligerent stance. His shirt-sleeves were rolled up for work, with the cuffs of starched white cotton embracing his strong forearms—olive-toned skin veiled with shiny dark hair.
He said, “That kid said something that’s bothering me.”
“He says a lot of bothersome things, damn precocious four-year-old.”
“But this one is a real problem for me.” Branco’s look was almost hateful, and I wondered what I’d done to earn it this time.
“Lieutenant, are you going to tell me, or just keep me curious? What did the little bugger say?”
“Don’t push me, Kraychik.” Branco stood up and leaned toward me, putting his face close to mine. “What he said was, and I quote, ‘My Uncle Stan’s got a nice dingdong.’ ” Branco said the final word with such force that a few flecks of spit flew out and landed on my jacket, which I took as a gift bestowed from an angry god. I felt my face and ears getting hot with blood.
“Lieutenant, I think I can explain—”
“I don’t want your explanation. Not yet. I want to say what’s on my mind first.” He sat down and put his one hand to his forehead, momentarily at a loss for words. “You know, Kraychik, I try to be reasonable with people like you. I know you have the right to choose a different kind of life, even though I don’t know why you do it. But I also know that the way you live can cause … problems … the kind that normal folks don’t have.
The skin around my nipples tingled.
“Lieutenant, my preference for men is not a problem for me.”
“It is for some of us.”
“Then face it yourself.”
“I do.” Branco shot me a spiteful glance. “But when you start fooling around with kids, that’s beyond a matter of choice. That’s breaking morals. It’s just plain wrong.”
“I did not fool around with him.”
“Then how does he know about your ‘dingdong’?”
“Damn it, he stayed with me last night. He had to, since you so clumsily decided to jail his mother. When I woke up this morning, I forgot he was there, and I walked into my kitchen without a robe. Is that against your morals too?”
Branco twisted his mouth while he considered what I’d said.
“I live alone, Lieutenant. Sometimes I don’t bother with clothes. Don’t you ever do that?”
“Never mind about me.”
“Tobias saw me and made the comment. Believe me, it made me squirm too.”
“It’s strange for a young kid to be so interested in sex.”
“No, Lieutenant. Not strange at all. In fact, it’s completely natural. At that age, sex is just part of their world, without all the religious and emotional traps that adults insist on applying to it.”
“If a kid ever said that about me, I’d …”
“You’d what, Lieutenant? Hit him—? Put the fear-of-god in him? Screw up his view of sex forever?”
No answer from the he-man.
“You ever have kids around?” I asked.
“I’m not married.”
“The conditions are not mutually dependent.”
“If you believe in God and family, they are.”
“There’s nephews and nieces. Being Italian, you ought to know.”
Branco dismissed my logic with an annoyed flick of his hand. “I can’t figure out why the boy would say that unless you tried to do something to him.”
“Come on, Lieutenant. It’s me, Stan Kraychik. I’m not a goddam child molester. I may be lonely, but I’m not desperate.” He stared at me as I continued trying to appease him. “Look, Tobias’s mother has a boyfriend who’s naked around the boy a lot.”
“You mean the dead man?”
“Well, yeah…. But Lieutenant, Tobias’s interest in male organs is just a phase. Even Freud claimed that girls have penis envy.” I shrugged and added, “Maybe boys have penis curiosity.” I almost wanted to ask him, What’s yours like? But I didn’t.
Branco set his face into a pensive scowl. Apparently my version of pop psychology was reaching some remote gate in his logic circuits. Finally, he said, “I’d like to believe you wouldn’t do anything perverse, Kraychik.”
“I can’t guarantee that, Lieutenant, but I can assure you that I don’t want sex with children. Sheep, goats, and chickens, maybe, and the occasional plastic bag filled with Jell-O, but not children. Now, can I take Tobias home, please?”
Branco grunted, which meant he’d heard me at least. “Let’s see how he feels about it,” he said, then made a phone call and ordered someone to bring Tobias into his office.
When Tobias entered and saw me, he exclaimed, “Uncle Stan!” Then ran to me and hugged me. “I didn’t do it. I didn’t run away. I just wanted to see my ma.”
I held his little body close to me and said, “It’s all right now.”
Of course, Branco had to intrude. “Son, do you want to stay with this man?”
“I have a name, Lieutenant.”
“Quiet, you.” Then he knelt down and spoke directly to Tobias. “Do you want to go home with Stan?”
Hearing my name from his lips caused my heart a little skip.
Tobias nodded energetically.
“And you’ll feel safe with him?”
Tobias nodded again.
“You’re not afraid?”
Tobias shook his head and said, “Uncle Stan will protect me.”
I couldn’t have paid him to say it better. Can we go now, Lieutenant?”
“I guess so,” he said tiredly. “Just one more thing, though. How did the boy end up staying with you in the first place?
“His mother asked me to take care of him.
Branco nodded at my answer as though he’d happily found a loophole. “We’ll have to get a signed affidavit from her if she wants to continue the arrangement. Otherwise the boy will have to be placed in court care.”
“No,” said Tobias. “I’ll stay with Uncle Stan and Nick.”
“He means Nicole,” I added quickly. “Matter settled. Lieutenant?”
“Not officially. Good night, Kraychik.”
I was leading Tobias out of Branco’s office when I thought of something. “Lieutenant, do you know where I can find Dan Doherty?”
“Why?”
I lied, “His facial products arrived today, and I know he wants them, but I can’t reach him at his place.”
“So?”
“I’m sure he wouldn’t leave town without telling you, and I thought maybe—”
“I can’t help you,” Branco interrupted.
“Is he staying in Abigail?”
“If you know, why are you asking me?”
“I don’t have his address there.”
“I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”
“Just thought I’d ask.”
“You just keep yourself covered up at home.”
“Are you policing my bedroom now?”
“Get outta here!”
Tobias and I got to ride back in a cruiser, and despite the slippery
roads, we were back in front of my building by ten o’clock. As I was opening the outside door, Tobias asked if we could watch a video.
“Sure,” I said agreeably, hoping to curb any other ideas he might have to run away again. Besides, a movie had been part of my alternate plan that night anyway, when I was going to be holed up warm and cozy and alone. No, not alone. With Tony. Tony! What if he’d called while I was out? Had I lost my chance? And now Tobias was with me. How as I going to stage this scene?
The video store was just around the corner from my apartment, and since the snow was letting up a bit, Tobias and I walked there together. Once inside I headed us directly for the animation/children’s section, but Tobias had other ideas.
“Where are you going, Tobias?”
“I want Body Talk.”
“Tobias, that’s for adults.”
“Trek watches it all the time. When him and Ma go in the other room, I play it slow-motion.”
What, I wondered, was going on here? Just minutes ago I’d been arguing with Branco about not limiting a child’s experience of sex, yet here I was myself resistant to rent a sexy movie that Tobias wanted to see. If I said no, would it adversely affect Tobias’s attitude about sex? If I said yes, would I be too permissive? Perhaps Branco had a point after all. I solved it quickly by telling Tobias that if we were going to watch a video, it should be something that we both wanted to watch. And truthfully, Body Talk was not on my list of must-see’s. We finally agreed on Bambi II, not a sequel to the classic but an “adult animation sensation” as it was billed on the box.
We got home, and sure enough, Tony had called again and left a sad little message.
“Well, Stan,” he said with a mournful tone, “looks like you’re out whoring. Too bad I missed you. Maybe we can try again next time I’m in town.”
So much for romance that night.
While I fed Sugar Baby and put a frozen pizza in the oven, I called Nicole.
“Nikki, I’ve got him. He was at the police station trying to visit Laurett.”
“That boy gets around for a four-year-old.”
“He’s got definite opinions about film too.”
“Did you talk to Dan Doherty?”
“No.”
Love You to Death Page 11
