A Cloud of Suspects

by Laurence Gough

  Sue got a six-pack of beer from the fridge. She flicked off the kitchen light and led the group into what Annie mistakenly thought was the living room but quickly realized was a bedroom furnished with a couch and large TV. The bed was a big square of foam covered with sleeping bags. Pillows and cushions were artfully piled up at the head of the bed, against the wall. Sue handed Annie a beer and flopped down on the bed. Jess snatched the remote off the TV. She aimed the remote at Annie and then at Paige and then at Sue. “Anybody want to watch a movie?”

  “No,” said Annie.

  “You’re so predictable,” said Paige caustically. She drank some beer, and smiled at Jess. “What did you have in mind?”

  “Sue rented that Anne Heche movie, the one where Harrison Ford crashes his airplane into a remote island and they hate each other at first and then fall in love? We could watch that. It’s supposed to be pretty good.”

  Annie felt the tension ease out of her. She’d seen the movie and didn’t think much of it. But it certainly wasn’t what you’d call threatening.

  “I love Anne Heche,” said Paige. She lay down on the bed beside Sue. Jess shoved the film cassette into the VCR, and flopped down beside Paige. The three girls stared challengingly up at Annie. Sue patted the bed and said, “Sit down, make yourself comfortable.”

  “I am comfortable,” said Annie.

  Paige said, “Fine, but why don’t you sit down?”

  “I don’t feel like it, that’s why!”

  “Whoa,” said Jess. “Chill out, babe.”

  “Don’t tell me to chill out,” said Annie. “In fact, don’t tell me to do anything. You’re not my mother.”

  “I’m not?” Jess laughed. Her teeth were mottled brown. She said, “Not your mother! Somebody tell me it isn’t true!”

  Sue and Paige both laughed a lot harder than the joke warranted. Jess popped the tab on her can of beer. Paige said, “d’you want some help with your beer, Annie?”

  “No thanks.”

  “Annie’s an alcohol virgin,” said Paige.

  “I am not.” Annie was furious, partly at Paige but mostly at herself, for allowing herself to be baited so easily.

  Jess turned on the TV. There was a long search for the VCR’S remote control, until finally Sue found it hidden among the sleeping bags. She turned on the VCR, and fast-forwarded through several minutes’ worth of tape. The movie started. Jess yelled at Sue to adjust the tape speed. In the blue light of the TV screen, the faces of Paige and the two other women looked drawn and solemn. All three were watching the film so intensely that Annie didn’t quite believe it was real. Sue and Jess looked like people who were pretending to watch a movie, not people who were watching a movie. What were they were thinking?

  Paige said, “Annie?”

  Annie looked at her.

  Paige said, “Come and sit down. Don’t be so stuck-up.”

  “I think we should go,” said Annie.

  “Go where?”

  “Home.”

  “I don’t want to go home,” said Paige. “I want to stay here and watch the movie with Sue and Jess.”

  “It’s past ten. We won’t get out of here before midnight, if then. You won’t be able to drive, because you’ve been drinking.”

  “One beer isn’t going to be a problem. If you had any experience at all, you’d know that a person can’t get drunk on one measly can of beer.”

  Annie wanted to turn and walk out of the apartment without another word, but she didn’t want to abandon Paige to her fate, if she had one. Paige had such a high opinion of herself, thought she was so totally hip and together. She couldn’t have been more wrong, because she was even more innocent and naive about life than Annie, and that was saying a lot.

  Annie said, “i’ve seen the movie, Paige. I know how it ends and I don’t want to watch it again.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  Annie glanced around, angry, not really seeing anything in the dim light from the television. She said, “Do you have a phone?”

  “In the kitchen,” said Jess.

  Paige said, “You gonna call your mommy to come and rescue you?”

  “From what?” Said Annie.

  Paige clamped her mouth shut. She glared at the TV. Annie slipped out of the room and made her way cautiously around the darkened apartment. The kitchen was dimly lit by a streetlight on the far side of the alley. Something brushed against her leg, and as she drew a deep breath to scream, she recognized that it was nothing but a cat. She found the light switch and turned it on. The cat was large, and jet black, with a few flecks of white here and there. Annie knelt and scratched the cat behind its ears. It mewed gruffly, and wandered away with its tail sticking straight up.

  A coral-coloured rotary telephone hung from the wall by the fridge. There was no telephone book. She decided to dial information for the number of a cab company, then remembered that BC Tel charged a dollar for directory assistance. She put three quarters and two dimes and a nickel on the kitchen counter, and dialled 411.

  From close behind her, Jess said, “Oh, for Christ’s sake!” She strode towards Annie and violently swept the coins off the counter with the flat of her hand. The coins rattled on the worn linoleum floor. The black cat scooted out of the room with its tail between its legs.

  Annie said, “What’s your problem?”

  “What do you think?” Jess controlled herself with an effort. “How do you think it makes me and Sue feel when you act like you’re afraid of us? We aren’t going to hurt you.” Jess’s face softened as she saw that Annie was listening to her. She let out a deep breath and said, “How long have you two been friends?”

  “A couple of months. We met in school. At UBC … ”

  Jess nodded. She said, “I went to Simon Fraser. I graduated with a major in Psychology. Not that it did me much good.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Sue and I have our own garden-maintenance business. I wouldn’t say I get to use my degree in any meaningful way.” Jess smiled ruefully. “Life can take all sorts of unexpected twists and turns, Annie. Sometimes it takes you by the nose and leads you where you never meant to go.”

  Annie didn’t know what to say to that. She wasn’t even sure she understood what Jess meant.

  Jess said, “I’m going to tell Sue I’m tired and want to call it a night. I’ll make her kick Paige out whether she wants to go or not.”

  “Thank you.”

  Jess said, “Maybe it would be fairer to Paige if you gave some thought to what kind of friend you need her to be.”

  Annie nodded. “i’ll do that.”

  Jess stepped towards her. Annie thought Jess wanted to give her a hug, but all she did was take the phone out of her hand, and gently hang it up.

  Chapter 17

  Selling out

  Jan saw Harvey to the door, and then came in from the kitchen with a can of Malpin’s and a can of Budweiser, and a single glass, for herself. She handed Sandy the Malpin’s and sat down on the far side of the sofa, about as far away from him as she could get. She clearly wasn’t in the best of moods. Sandy wondered who she thought had smacked her hubby semi-senseless, him or her. She said, “I probably don’t want to know, but what do you think of Harve?”

  “What’s to think? Whoever let the guy out of jail made a big mistake.” Sandy raised his can of beer to his lips but didn’t drink. He put the can down on the coffee table. “I guess you noticed he didn’t even ask to see his son.”

  “Well, he had a lot on his mind.”

  “Yeah, himself.”

  “Come on, he’s not that bad.”

  “No, he isn’t. He’s a lot worse.”

  Jan said, “Harve’s parents abandoned him when he was twelve. He did six months for stealing and wrecking a car. By the time he got out, they’d moved to another town. No forwarding address. He’s had a tough life.”

  Sandy nodded. “Just asking, but whose car did he steal?” Jan didn’t say anything. Sandy said, “His father’s,
right?”

  “How did you know that?”

  “Just a lucky guess.”

  “Really?” Jan gave him a sceptical look that set him on edge. The diamond robbery, heist, Harvey had called it, then score, and then boost and then, finally, caper, was closing in on them. No wonder Jan was a mite touchy. Sandy told himself to concentrate on doing his job, and not rile her.

  But somehow he couldn’t stop himself from speaking his mind. “Guys like Harvey are all the same. Bone-lazy. They want to take a ride, they steal whatever’s closest, whatever’s easiest.” Sandy took a long pull on his beer. He added, “I bet it wasn’t the first time he stole from his own family. I bet he stole from you, didn’t he?” Jan busied herself pouring beer into her glass. Before he’d taken the big fall, Harvey had indulged his weakness for cocaine at every opportunity, real or imagined. There was nothing worse than living with a drug addict, because an addict would do whatever it took to get his next snort. Harve had ripped her off, in large ways and small, more times than she could remember. He’d sold her TV out from under her, the stereo, microwave, a really nice area carpet she’d bought on time from The Brick. He always knew where her purse was, if she couldn’t find it. He’d even pawned her Mr. Coffee machine. Every time she went into the kitchen, she was damn near astounded he hadn’t made off with the fridge. It was a huge relief, like being granted an extended vacation, when Harvey was sent off to the slammer. But even then, he was a constant drain. Always sending her letters, telling her how much he loved her and how much safer he’d be if he only had a few bucks in his prison account so he could buy his fellow cons a pack of cigarettes, or a candy bar — something for them to chew on other than his own sweet self …

  She said, “So, anyway, Harvey had quite a few things to say about how he thought the robbery was supposed to go down, didn’t he? I noticed you didn’t seem to have any opinions one way or the other.” She managed a half-smile, “I’m not saying you were acting out of character, or anything. I just wondered what you thought about his take on the situation.”

  Sandy said, “Is it all that complicated? I don’t think so. Basically, what we’re going to do is a simple smash-and-grab. The only difference is, we’re on the fourteenth floor of a downtown office building, instead of in a suburban mall, with lots of escape routes. So we have to take out the phones, handcuff the victims to a radiator or toilet, make sure they stay put until we’re out of the building. But that’s the only difference, the five minutes or so we need to scoot.”

  “What about the elevator? Harve said there’d be a surveillance camera.”

  “He’s right, there will be a camera. That’s why Harvey and I are going to wear baseball caps and sunglasses and fake beards or moustaches.”

  Jan said, “What worries me is that we didn’t even think about cameras. What else did we miss, that could put us in jail? It’s driving me crazy.”

  “You’ll be okay.”

  Jan rolled the cold beer can across her forehead. She said, “I hope so.” She wanted to ask Sandy how he felt about Harvey insisting that she drive, so he could be there in case Sandy needed some muscle. She had expected Sandy to veto the idea, but he’d surprised her by jumping at the idea. His enthusiasm confused her. She could understand it if he was afraid that she’d fold under pressure, but why wasn’t he worried about getting stabbed in the back by his girlfriend’s violent, intensely jealous jailbird husband?

  Sandy had asked Harvey point-blank if he had a knife or a gun. Harvey looked him in the eye and said no, he didn’t have a weapon of any kind, except his razor-sharp wit. Making a joke of something that wasn’t the least bit funny.

  Jan was in love with Sandy. But despite her own sense of self-preservation, and endless love and concern for Tyler, she still loved Harvey. Was it possible to love two men at once, especially when they were so different? It was sad and bewildering, but the answer was yes.

  She found herself saying, “Harvey can’t be trusted. You know that, don’t you?”

  Sandy nodded. She studied his face, but it was impossible to say what he was thinking. He drank some Malpin’s, and said, “If you feel that way about your husband, maybe we should call it off.”

  “What? The robbery?”

  He smiled. “Yeah, the robbery. What did you think I meant, you and me?”

  Jan said, “I’m flat broke, Sandy. The tattoo parlour didn’t work for me. I sunk every dime I owned into it, and it was the biggest mistake of my life.” She thought a moment and then gave him a wan smile and said, “No, that’s wrong. That honour belongs to Harvey. Call it my second-biggest mistake.”

  Third, thought Sandy, because by the time he’d done with her, Harvey would have been relegated to a distant second place and the failure of her tattoo business would be, comparatively speaking, a deliriously happy memory. He said, “You could sell your equipment. It must be worth a few grand.”

  “I owe two months’ rent. Sixteen hundred and fifty dollars. Mr. Chong’s a nice enough guy, but he’s going to grab everything, if he hasn’t already done it.”

  “We could drive down there, have a look. Throw everything into the back of the truck, if it’s still there. You could sell it, or start over, whatever you want.”

  “I’d have to sell it,” said Jan. “I don’t know what it’s worth, second-hand. Not a lot, probably.”

  Sandy said, “If you want, I could lend you two, or maybe even three, thousand. It’d be a loan, but you could pay me back whenever you wanted, no interest and no big rush.”

  “How could I pay you back, Sandy?”

  “Get a job. Don’t ask me where. In a gallery, someplace like that, where you could put your artistic skills to use.”

  “In retail sales?”

  “You’ve got to start somewhere. That’s what everybody else does, right? Tyler will be back in school in a couple more weeks. That’ll make things easier. Afterwards, he could go to after-school care for a couple of hours. It wouldn’t be that bad. In a couple of years, he’d be old enough to take care of himself after school, if he had to.”

  Jan pictured herself working eight hours a day at some rotten minimum-wage job, coming home so tired she could hardly stand up straight. Cooking dinner, helping Tyler with his homework, catching up on the housework, watching a little TV, climbing into a cold and lonely bed. Waking up too early and starting all over again. Squeezing every dollar, always worrying, never having enough. She remembered how awful it had been before Matt Singh took care of her. Buying used clothing and day-old bread, fighting with bus drivers over expired transfers … What kind of life was that?

  Sandy touched her arm, startling her. He said, “I’m in if you are. But i’ve got a bad feeling about Harvey. If you want to call it off, that’ll be fine with me. Will you at least think about it?”

  Jan nodded, not putting much into it. Sandy drained the Malpin’s and twisted the empty can into a figure-eight. Jan had a feeling that the light they shared had somehow faded, and was about to die.

  *

  The acting game

  Harvey, during the lengthy period of enforced idleness bestowed upon him by this proud nation’s boundlessly generous judicial system, rigorously catalogued all six of his mindsets, from suicidally depressed to catatonic-gloomy. Now he could add a seventh level to his personal hell — his post-ashtray mood.

  He’d seen the blow coming too late to duck. Jan had popped him so hard his whole world had vibrated like a tuning fork. His first thought, when he’d finally started thinking again, was that she must have filled in her social calendar with a whole bunch of kung fu classes. He’d lain there on the rug, rendered miserable and semi-conscious by the sudden dreadful knowledge that his wife now had a right hook as lethal as her tongue. Then, as his vision cleared, he saw the shiny-sharp bits and pieces of the humble weapon that had laid him low.

  He knew Jan was on a tight budget. He hoped she wasn’t trying to glue the ashtray back together, because he’d walked away with a pushpin-sized chunk stuck
in his scalp. His questing fingers had found the intrusive lump of embedded glass as he’d taken the elevator down to ground level. The glass was slippery with blood, but he got a good grip on it with his index finger and opposable thumb, and kind of pry-wiggled it out. The instant he plucked the piece of glass from his scalp, a waterfall of blood poured from the wound, and ran in a relatively wide stream down his relatively narrow forehead, blinding him.

  He plugged the gaping wound with his little finger, and wiped most of the gore from his face with his T-shirt. He looked like hell, but every cloud has a silver lining. He’d almost made it to the Firebird when an elderly woman driving her electric scooter down the sidewalk registered his blood-spattered appearance, and fainted dead away. Her gout-swollen foot came down on the scooter’s accelerator pedal. The scooter accelerated to its top speed of 10 KPH. It veered sideways, crashed into a telephone pole, rebounded onto the boulevard, and keeled over on its side, throwing the woman onto the grass.

  Harvey crouched down beside her. “You okay?”

  She nodded. A pair of tinted glasses lay on the grass beside her. He picked them up and put them on her. She batted her eyes at him.

  Harvey looked around. No witnesses, except for a dozen starlings balanced on a wire. He said, “You should’ve worn a seatbelt.”

  The woman said, “Don’t hurt me.”

  He smiled and said, “Why would I? Did you do something bad?” He eased her watch off her flabby wrist, wriggled her gold wedding band and diamond engagement ring off her finger, plucked a matching pair of diamond earrings off her ears, grabbed her purse, and continued on his way.

  The Firebird was where he’d parked it. He drove a couple of blocks and then pulled over and emptied the purse onto the car’s wide bench seat. It was a very large purse, but there wasn’t much in it: a bunch of used birthday cards and a plastic bottle of evil tasting pills, a B.C. Government health card, monthly transit pass, a badly worn pair of lightweight gardening gloves, seven five-dollar bills, a lottery ticket, roll of quarters, a small photo album stuffed full of snapshots of really ugly kids. His wound had almost stopped bleeding. It seemed he was going to live. He shoved the money and lottery ticket and health card and pills deep into his jeans pocket, and tossed everything else out the window.