Drug Affair

by Rick Polad

  Ben laughed. “They don’t have to be clean. They just have to appear to be.”

  “Yeah, well, his son is dead and was involved with Reynolds. Who knows?”

  He pushed back his chair and stood. “I’m pretty sure you will by the end of this.”

  “One can always hope.”

  “Thanks for the steak, Spence.”

  “My pleasure. Thanks for the chat.”

  “Let me know how things go.”

  “Will do.”

  Chapter 18

  My favorite part of the day has always been just before dawn, sitting on the deck, listening to the birds, and watching the black night slip into the subtle colors of dawn. Friday was no different.

  I made coffee and sat on the deck thinking about how something that started with a simple drug arrest had turned into two dead kids. I knew bad things could snowball when someone stepped off the path of legality, but there was something about this that I was missing. Those kids had walked into something that was much bigger than them. I just had to find out what that was.

  Just past five thirty I noticed a bit of brightening, but the sky was cloudy, and it didn’t get much brighter. It wasn’t supposed to rain, but there was little hope for a sunny day.

  ***

  I parked right in front of Time To Eat a little before eight. I looked down the street and saw the same teens on the same stoop. Another day of waiting had begun. Benny and Sister Katherine were sitting at a table next to the windows. There were three other customers in the diner.

  “Good morning, Benny… Sister Katherine.”

  “Good morning, Spencer,” they said in unison.

  There were three glasses of water on the table and a pot of coffee and three mugs.

  As I was about to ask if they had ordered, Carmen arrived with a tray and breakfast, including the Double Special for me with wheat toast, the same as I had ordered yesterday. I gave them both my best skeptical look. Benny just smiled. Sister poured coffee.

  As I took a cup from her I said, “I can’t help wondering how my food arrived without me ordering, one minute after I got here.”

  Benny smiled some more, and Sister said, “The Lord works in mysterious ways.” She passed a cup to Benny.

  “So does Sister Katherine,” Benny said.

  “And how did you know I’d be here?” I asked. “I mean, I did say I’d come two days in a row, but something might have happened to change my plans.”

  “I knew,” said Sister Katherine.

  I nodded slowly, gave her my best skeptical look, and started in on my eggs.

  We chatted about nothing important for a few minutes, and then Sister said, “Benny told me what you’ve been doing. I may have something for you.”

  “I could use something.”

  “Well, it’s not much, but I have a man who says he saw someone in the alley the night Reynolds was killed.”

  I changed my look from skeptical to interested. “That’s not something… that’s a lot. Tell me.”

  “He says he saw a half-track in the alley. Two men lifted something out and carried it into the alley.”

  I stopped chewing. “Pardon? A half-track? Like an army half-track?”

  Sister smiled. Benny had a bit of a smirk.

  “Well, of course not, but… yes.”

  I finished chewing. “Care to explain?”

  As we ate, she told me a sad story about a man named Rafael Melendez. But the only name he responded to was Corporal Melendez. Rafael had served in the army in World War II and fought in the Battle of the Bulge. He was a foot soldier, and his duty was as an overnight front-line lookout. He spent the nighttime hours watching for German soldiers, for any movement or lights that might mean trouble was coming. And his last position was in a farmhouse. He was one of the lucky ones who made it home, but he didn’t make it back in one piece. His mind was still in a farmhouse in France. That was how Rafael dealt with the horrors of war. Some escaped with alcohol, others with drugs. I had been lucky. I hadn’t seen any horrors. I was stationed in Germany with the military police. The worst I saw was soldiers who had too much to drink.

  Rafael now lived with his sister, Maria, in an apartment building across from the alley where Reynolds was found. Maria, with the help of a government stipend, took care of him.

  I finished the last of my eggs and asked, “What was he doing up in the middle of the night?”

  “He’s still in that farmhouse, Spencer. He takes up his position at the window every night and watches… all night long. He goes to bed after breakfast and tells his sister the horizon is clear.”

  I just shook my head in amazement. “How sad. Was it a body they carried into the alley?”

  She shook her head. “He didn’t say.”

  “Did you ask him?”

  Her reaction was odd. She scrunched up her face and said, “You don’t really ask him things. He just tells you what he thinks is important.”

  “Did he say anything else about that night?”

  Benny said, “One odd thing. He said he saw a tracer.”

  “A tracer.”

  “Yup.”

  Sister said, “I didn’t know what he was talking about. Benny told me it is a round of ammunition with a chemical that burns and leaves a visible track of its path.”

  I nodded. “But that would require a round to have been fired. Were there any reports of gunshots?”

  Benny replied. “I checked. There weren’t. And there are nights when there are.”

  “Coulda used a silencer. I gotta tell you, Sister, I was pretty excited when you said you had a witness. But this guy isn’t even on the credibility scale. Seems like a good chance he’s making it all up.”

  “Except for the fact that a kid died in the alley that night.”

  “Yeah, except for that. But we don’t even know if it was the same night.”

  “Yes, we do,” Sister said.

  “How?”

  “Because Rafael keeps a log. His mind only does one thing, but it does that one thing very well.”

  “Did you ask what time it happened?”

  “It’s in his log. I don’t remember the exact time, but I’m sure it’s accurate… three something.”

  I asked if I could talk to him. She said I could, but I wouldn’t get any more information. I said it couldn’t hurt to try. And I wanted to meet Corporal Melendez.

  I told them breakfast was my treat and offered to drive to the apartment building. It was about a mile away. Benny declined, saying she needed to open up the church basement. As we drove I asked Sister if he would be awake. She explained that he had a meal after the sun came up and spent time writing in his logbook. He slept from around ten until five or six while Maria worked. Our timing was perfect.

  ***

  The stone apartment building had once been white. It was now the color of worn-in dirt. It could have used a good sandblasting, but it wasn’t going to get one. It held memories of better days when the west side of Chicago offered something better. Rafael and Maria lived on the second of three floors. Sister Katherine led the way up stairs covered with worn carpet. The walls were gray stucco that had once probably been white. She stopped at the second door on the left from the top of the landing, a door with a cross hung in the center.

  Sister’s knock on the door was answered by a timid “Who’s there?”

  I heard a chain slide, and the door was opened by a thin, dark-haired woman who, despite being worn down by life, was obviously happy to see Sister Katherine. Subtracting a few years for what life had offered her, I guessed her to be in her sixties. She was equally happy to see me as she shook my hand and welcomed me into her home, offering no apology for its look of bare necessity. Rafael was sitting at a small, rickety table by the window, writing in a notebook. Next to the notebook was a pair of beat-up bin
oculars with one eyepiece missing. A pole lamp with a torn shade stood next to the table. The lamp was on. The southern exposure didn’t let in much of the dull day.

  It was a one-bedroom apartment with a kitchenette. Three bottles of pills stood next to the sink. Crocheted pillows on a worn couch, a few knick-knacks on an end table that may have been handed down, and two pictures behind the couch added a touch of home to the dark room. One picture was of Jesus, and the other was of Maria and Rafael in his uniform standing next to a train. He looked happy and proud. Both of them had lost that look.

  “We are sorry to bother you, Maria. I know you’re getting ready for work. Mr. Manning is a private detective looking into the murder of the young man in the alley. I told him about what Rafael saw, and Mr. Manning would like to talk to him.”

  Maria looked sad and worried. “You can, but I’m afraid he doesn’t talk much, Mr. Manning. He—”

  “Please call me Spencer. Sister Katherine explained, and I fully realize the situation. I’m so sorry. I’d like to try.”

  She still looked worried.

  “If he gets upset, I’ll stop. I don’t want to add to your troubles. I was in the army too. Maybe we can find something to talk about.”

  “Okay. Please pardon me. I need to get ready for work.”

  “Sure.”

  She walked to Rafael and kissed him on the forehead. He didn’t react.

  I walked over to him, stood on the opposite side of the table, and said in a firm voice, “Corporal, I’m Lieutenant Manning.”

  Before he even looked at me he was standing. He came to attention and held a salute.

  I returned it and said, “As you were, Corporal. Be seated.”

  He sat and said, “I’m sorry, Lieutenant. I didn’t hear you come in. It was a long night.”

  “I know it was, Corporal. Was there anything of concern?”

  “No, sir. It was quiet.”

  “Good. Good job. I’d like to talk to you about what happened a few weeks ago, the night you saw the half-track and the tracer.”

  “Yes, sir. I have my log.” He flipped through his notebook. “Here it is. What would you like to know? I did file a report.”

  I nodded. “I know. I read it. Very thorough. I just have a few questions.”

  “Yes, sir.” He sat rigidly in the chair.

  “You can relax, Corporal. You had a long night.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  I glanced at his notes. “You wrote that you saw a half-track. Did it have any markings? A plate on the back or front?”

  “None that I could make out. It was very dark. No moon that night. I’m sorry.”

  “No problem, Corporal. I understand.”

  Sister Katherine walked over to the window and looked out on the gray day. Even on a sunny day this room would still be dark. It faced south and never got any direct sunlight.

  “There were two men?”

  “Yes. And they lifted something out and carried it away from the vehicle.”

  “You couldn’t see what it was?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Your log says they got there at 3:10 and left at 3:25. Could you see what they were doing for fifteen minutes?”

  “No, sir. I couldn’t see them… the half-track was blocking.”

  I nodded. “You saw a tracer. Did you hear a shot?”

  “No.”

  “Did anyone else hear a shot?”

  “No one else was here, sir.”

  “I see. And when they left, which way did they go?”

  “They went east.”

  “Did you go down to the ground?”

  “No, sir! My orders are to observe only.”

  I nodded. “Yes, Corporal. Very good. And have you seen anything since then that was suspicious?”

  “No, sir. Nothing other than a few locals out early before sunup.”

  “Okay, Corporal… thanks.”

  Rafael went back to his logbook as Maria came out of the bedroom. She had changed from a simple house dress to a yellow one with flowers and a white blouse. Instead of pulled back in a ponytail, her hair was just touching her shoulders. A bit of makeup had given her a healthier look.

  “Do you have a minute, Maria?” I asked.

  “I have a few, but I can’t miss the bus.”

  “If you do, I’ll drive you. Did Rafael say anything to you the night he saw the half-track and tracer?”

  She shook her head, and her eyes welled up.

  “No, he didn’t. But you have to understand, Mr. Manning. He doesn’t see things or hear things like the rest of us. He’s in his own world most of the time. And that world is back in that farmhouse in France.”

  I nodded. “I understand. I’m so sorry.”

  She wiped her eyes with her fingers. “But he’s happy. He doesn’t have a care in the world. The only thing he cares about is standing his nightly duty.”

  Sister Katherine had walked to Maria and put an arm around her shoulder.

  “Well, thanks for taking care of him, Maria. Just one more question. This happened a little after three. Do you recall hearing anything that could have been a gunshot?”

  “No. After Sister Katherine told me what had happened I tried to remember. But there was nothing that woke me up.”

  “Okay… thanks, Maria.” I handed her my card. “Call me if you think of anything.”

  She took it and nodded. “I have to go now.”

  “So do we,” I said.

  We all walked out together, and I thanked Maria for letting me talk to Rafael.

  Maria walked to the corner as the bus was coming down the street.

  Sister and I stood on the sidewalk at the bottom of the stairs.

  “So, Spencer, did you get anything that helped?” she asked.

  I sighed. “Not noticeably. But there are times when something that seems unimportant suddenly becomes meaningful. This job is mostly about digging and moving pieces around until they fit.”

  “Do they always fit?”

  I laughed. “So far I’ve been lucky. But our friends in the police department have a lot of cases with missing pieces. What’s on your agenda?”

  “I have to go see Father Brown at the church. After that, back to doing what I do… just find where I’m needed.”

  “Would you like a lift? I’d like to chat for a few minutes if you have time.”

  “Sure. Thanks.”

  I held the door of my baby-blue Mustang and drove the ten blocks to the church.

  Chapter 19

  I parked on the street and waited for Sister on a wooden bench in the fenced-in garden behind the church. The same man was asleep on the ledge at the side of the front stairs. A light breeze rustled tree leaves and made the spring day a little chilly. The bench sat on brick pavers and was surrounded by beds of multi-colored flowers. Mom would have loved it. Two maple trees would offer shade on a hot summer day. Twenty minutes later Sister joined me.

  “That took a bit longer than I had thought. Sorry to keep you waiting, Spencer.”

  “No problem, Sister. This is a nice spot to spend some time. Who keeps up the flowers?”

  “We call it the Ladies’ Garden Club, but there are two men who help out too. I don’t think they mind the name.”

  “My mother loved gardening. She would have liked this.”

  “Would have?”

  I briefly told her the story of how I had lost my parents a few years back and my sister when we were kids.

  “I’m so sorry, Spencer. That’s so sad.” She reached out and touched my arm.

  “Thanks. But I had a lot of good years. They were great parents. That’s one reason I find it so hard to understand families like the Margots who seem to have been so… I don’t know how to describe it… disjointed? Unloving? They had every
thing, and yet they had nothing that mattered.”

  “That happens a lot, Spencer, especially when a lot of money is involved. The money becomes more important than the family.”

  “I guess.”

  We watched a robin fly in and land on a branch of the maple.

  “Then I look at someone like Maria who gives her life to care for her brother and has so little. Yet there is a lot of love there. Do you know what her job is?”

  “Yes, she’s a secretary for one of the department stores downtown. They let her come in late so she can take care of Rafael.”

  “Who watches him during the day when she’s gone?”

  “No one.” The bird flew off.

  That seemed odd. “I would think he’d need twenty-four-hour care.”

  “That would be optimal. But there is no money for that. She has all she can do to pay the rent and buy his pills. And since he keeps watch all night he sleeps during the day while Maria is gone.”

  I wondered if the pills were worth it. “Isn’t she afraid he’ll wander out?”

  “Not at all. He is very dedicated to his orders, which are to keep watch from that farmhouse. He wouldn’t leave unless he was ordered to, and who is going to do that? And there are neighbors there during the day who know about the situation and are more than willing to help if need be.”

  We watched the breeze in the trees for a minute.

  “Spencer, I don’t see how anything Rafael said is going to help you.”

  I nodded. “Probably not, but he did see Reynolds being pulled out of a car and carried into the alley.”

  “Well, not quite. He saw a half-track. How do you think that’d stand up in court?”

  “Not well, but I don’t plan on seeing him in court.” I turned to face her. “What we have to do is take his story and work backwards to reality.”

  She smiled. “Pardon?”

  “His mind creates a new world, but it has its basis in our world. If a car hadn’t pulled into that alley, he wouldn’t have seen a half-track. He doesn’t invent things… he just reworks them and makes them fit in the only world he knows.”

  “Makes some sense. How do you fit the tracer into your theory?”