Drug Affair

by Rick Polad

  If we were having coffee I would have asked why a person dedicated to what she was dedicated to, which was dealing with the trouble he caused, wouldn’t lead him to change his ways. But that wouldn’t have been a successful conversation. My parents hadn’t raised an idiot.

  “Yes, she is,” I replied. I watched the parade walking by for a minute and then turned back to him. He was still waiting patiently.

  “You also said you weren’t involved in the murder.”

  He nodded.

  “Let’s say I believe you.”

  He didn’t respond. Normally I would have thought someone like him wouldn’t care whether I believed him or not. But he had arranged a meeting to tell me just that. While sitting in the lobby, I had thought about why he would do that. I hadn’t thought of a reason that made any sense.

  I took a deep breath and said it. “Since I believe you, I could use your help.”

  I spent five minutes telling him what I wanted and the next twenty talking about how to do it. He didn’t hesitate at all before agreeing, and he made some suggestions I hadn’t thought of. It depended on timing. At some point I would need to contact him. He gave me a number where someone could reach him within minutes. I added my pager number and gave him my card with all my contact information.

  He stood up, nodded, and said, “Manning.”

  I nodded from the chair and said, “Williams.”

  I watched him walk away and thought about Sister Katherine. She had been right about two things. The Lord had provided. It wasn’t dished out on a silver platter, but He had provided. And the second was that the Lord certainly does work in mysterious ways. I sat in the chair for ten minutes, wondering about what I had just done and remembering what Dad had told me more than once… those who make deals with the devil play by the devil’s rules.

  Chapter 28

  I called Ben from the car. Today the postman had stopped, but he was the only one. I told him I’d meet him for dinner around six and then I’d check out the apartment. But first I needed to have a chat with my sidekick, Watson.

  He was lying on his bed on the side of Carol’s desk. He stared at me when I came in the back door. I thought I saw his tail move, but I may have imagined it. I knew it worked… he used it plenty when he saw Billy.

  “Hi, Spencer. You making any progress?” Carol asked.

  “Nobody has shown up at the apartment. I’m going to check it out tonight.”

  “You think that’s a good idea?” she asked as she handed me the mail. I had told her several times to handle everything, but she didn’t want to be responsible for something that didn’t matter to her but might matter to me. So I took the mail. There wasn’t a single thing that didn’t end up in the garbage.

  “Good is subjective. I usually don’t stop to wonder if something is a good idea or not… I just do what seems like the next thing to do. So far, so good.”

  She smiled. “So far, so lucky.”

  “I’ll take all I can get.”

  “If you have a minute, I have some information on computers.”

  “I do, but you’re the office manager. If you think it’s a good idea, then go ahead and get one.”

  “Good is subjective.”

  “I’ve heard that. In this case, you’re the subject. If you think it will help, by all means get whatever you think is best.”

  “Could be over a thousand dollars.”

  “It’s a write-off. Get it.”

  “But—”

  “But nothing. You run the office because you do a good job of it, and I don’t want to. Let me know how it works out.”

  I glanced at Watson. He was asleep, or pretending to be. Either way, I was on my own. I made a few notes in the Margot notebook and headed north.

  ***

  Ben was sitting at a table by the window at Mama’s when I got there, nursing a Peroni. It had been raining off and on all day, but only a drizzle. That changed as I turned onto Park, and I had to run from the car to the restaurant. I hung my jacket on the back of a chair where it dripped onto the floor.

  Ben smiled and said, “About time you got some exercise.”

  “You mean like you who has been sitting here all day?”

  “Hey, I more than make up for it chasing that little white ball.”

  A waiter came and asked what I preferred to drink. What I preferred and the Coke I ordered had to do with working or not. There obviously were times when I drank while working. I hadn’t turned down Maggio’s Scotch. But I wasn’t planning on breaking into someone’s apartment at the time. I am capable of forethought.

  He brought the Coke and asked Ben if he wanted another. Ben declined. We asked for a minute to look at the menu.

  “So just the mailman?”

  He nodded. “Just the mailman. I wonder if your man has moved on.”

  “I wonder. And if he did, I wonder why.”

  Ben finished the last of his beer. “Mind if I offer a suggestion?” he asked.

  “Of course not.”

  “If it were me, I wouldn’t…”

  The waiter was back.

  “What have you had?” I asked Ben.

  “Spaghetti for lunch. Thought I’d try the lasagna.”

  I closed my menu. “Two lasagnas with meat sauce, please.”

  “Yes, sir.” He picked up the menus and bowed slightly.

  I smiled at Ben. “Did he bow at lunch too, or do they get formal for dinner?”

  “He wasn’t here at lunch. But no bow.”

  “So, let me guess. You wouldn’t let yourself into someone else’s place of residence.”

  “It’s a habit you get into while working as a prosecuting attorney for the state.”

  “Yeah, every job has its drawbacks. If it makes you feel any better, I’m not too thrilled about it myself.”

  “Then…”

  I sighed deeply. “It’s come in handy in the past. Not exactly dealing with your high-class upstanding citizens.”

  “You are forewarned.”

  “I am.”

  We watched the apartment and chatted over some good Italian food. I told the waiter to give my regards to Mama. He told us not to tell anyone, but there wasn’t a Mama. The owner was a Greek who liked Italian food. You can’t count on anything these days.

  I had hoped that by some miracle our man would show up during dinner, but he didn’t. I’d much prefer having a chat with whomever answered the door. Not much else happened either. Only two cars drove by in the last hour. But Highwood wasn’t a destination… it was just the town you had to go through to get somewhere else. And there was only one other couple in the restaurant. I wondered how they stayed in business.

  At a little after seven we made plans. Ben took up watch in my Mustang and would honk three times if anyone showed up. That would give me a chance to be outside the door knocking if someone came in the front door.

  The rain had stopped. Street lights were on, shimmering in puddles on the street. The wind was coming in off the lake, bringing with it a slight fishy smell. I crossed to 211 and quickly went inside. I stood for a few minutes and, hearing nothing, carefully climbed the stairs. I got to within about ten steps of the top when I smelled it. I had smelled it before… it wasn’t a smell I would ever forget.

  I headed back down the stairs, this time not worrying about being quiet.

  Ben rolled down the window as I approached my car, a confused look on his face.

  “I’ll be right back. Gotta make a phone call.”

  “There’s a phone in your car.”

  “Yes, there is. But I don’t have the number for the police department. Be easier to call from Mama’s.” I started to walk away and then turned. “I wonder if they even have a police department?” When I got back I explained.

  ***

  Ben asked if I wante
d him along when the police came. I told him that the things I tended to say were usually best said without witnesses. I thanked him and told him I knew help was nearby. A patrol car pulled up five minutes after I made the call. His lights were going, and he left them on when he got out of the car. I figured he didn’t get much chance to run the lights.

  I had told the woman who answered that there was a foul odor coming from an apartment at 211 Park. She asked what it was from, and I told her I didn’t know, but that I’d meet the officer in front. A slightly overweight man, a head shorter than me, who looked to be at least fifty, got out and pulled on a ball cap. I walked across the street and met him. There was a stain just above the “Laney” name tag on his white shirt.

  “You the guy who called?” he asked.

  “Yup.” I moved back a step. He smelled like he hadn’t showered in a while.

  “What kinda foul odor?”

  I stopped myself from saying it was like him except worse. “Like something died.”

  “What?”

  “Be a good idea to look and find out.”

  “You got some ID?”

  I pulled out my wallet and handed him my license. I couldn’t help staring at his eyes. They were almost perfectly round, but they had no color and no sign of life. They needed a neon sign that flashed “Nobody Home.”

  “Private, huh. This odor have to do with business?”

  I shook my head with a bit of exasperation. I was tired of his questions and just wanted to get the door open. “Depends on what’s causing the odor.”

  “Hmmm. You carrying a gun?”

  “Nope.” I got a look of disbelief.

  “PI working on a case and no gun?”

  “My hero was Sheriff Taylor.”

  “Who?”

  “Never mind.” I nodded toward the door. “We’re not going to get anywhere standing out here.”

  He gave me a look, turned, and headed for the door. I followed him in, and he flicked on the light.

  Almost to the top he stopped. Without looking back at me, he said, “Somethin’ smells.”

  “Hence my call.”

  We continued to the landing and turned the corner. He glanced up at the bare bulb hanging from the ceiling and then took two steps to the door where he listened for a long minute. All was quiet. The smell was worse at the top. I wasn’t looking forward to going inside.

  Looking over his shoulder, he said, “I’m going to knock. You stand back, tough guy.”

  Tough guy? I held back the many comments that were on the tip of my tongue and felt sorry for the citizens of Highwood if they ever needed help.

  He pulled his gun with his right hand and knocked with his left… three hard raps. There was no answer. I had no hope that there would be. He stood there for another minute and knocked again.

  I had a feeling he had no idea what to do next, so I made a suggestion.

  “Why don’t you try the knob?”

  He nodded slowly, like he was thinking about it. I wanted to tell him it wasn’t breaking and entering if you were the police and had plenty of probable cause.

  He tried it. It was locked.

  He turned to me. “It’s locked.”

  I nodded and waited for him to figure out his next move.

  “Guess I could break it down… or call a locksmith.”

  “I guess you could.” I could have had it open in thirty seconds, but I knew Ben wouldn’t have agreed with my telling him that. I actually figured that out all by myself. And I knew there was no hurry. If there had been some reason, I would have put my shoulder into it and had it open in two seconds.

  He keyed his radio and called the station. After a brief conversation he had it worked out that the fire department would come and deal with the door. When he didn’t move I suggested we wait outside. I figured that even if I had to stand near him the smell would be better.

  I waited for a car to pass and then walked over to my Mustang. I leaned against the car and filled Ben in while we waited.

  Chapter 29

  A fire truck turned onto Park and stopped in front of 221 within five minutes. We had passed the fire station on the way into town, and it’s a small town. Three men got out, and one had a chat with Laney. Ben stayed with the car. He figured I now owed him several beers and said he didn’t want the smell to affect his tastebuds. So I crossed the street alone.

  As I stepped onto the sidewalk, Laney said, “This is the guy who phoned it in. PI. Says he’s on a case but doesn’t know if this is part of it.”

  The firefighter looked at Laney and said, “You can turn your lights off. Everybody knows we’re here.”

  Laney looked sheepish and headed for the patrol car.

  I introduced myself to the firefighter. The other two were getting gear off of the truck. They came back with an axe, a large pry bar and what looked like it would do the job of a battering ram. They stepped toward the front door.

  Laney joined us, turned to me, and said, “You wait out here, tough guy.”

  “I don’t think so.” I could hear Ben rolling his eyes.

  He puffed out his chest for the firemen who were waiting with the door open and said, “This is a crime scene. You’re waiting.”

  I laughed. “A crime scene? Guy goes away and forgets to have someone come in and feed his dog and the dog starves to death and you’re calling that a crime scene?”

  He half opened his mouth. I had confused him. He closed it and then said, “Your case is a dog?”

  “Not saying what my case is. All I’m saying is I called this in, and I’m going up the stairs. And you’re wasting everyone’s time.”

  One of the firefighters spoke up. “He’s right about that, Laney. Let’s get this done so we can get back to status.”

  He gave in. “Okay, okay. But you’re going in last.”

  He led the way and then stood aside. The pry bar did the trick. There was no dead bolt, and the latch gave with just a little pressure on the frame. The firefighter pushed the door open with his foot, and the smell got a lot worse. It certainly wasn’t a dog.

  We all covered our mouths and noses with our arms and walked into the room. Two of the firefighters backed out and said they’d put away the gear. The room was about as bare as a room could be. One wooden table and chair, a small metal cabinet, and a couch were all that was there. A small bedroom was off to the left. Laney and the firefighter headed into the bedroom, so I was the first to spot the shoe sticking out from behind the couch. I walked toward it. It was the kind of thing you knew you had to look at, but you didn’t want to… hoped it wouldn’t be what you thought, but knew it was. And then I looked.

  He was lying on his back and had on jeans and a brown shirt. There were several clues that the medical examiner would be able to use to take a stab at the time of death. The body was starting to bloat, and bugs of some sort were crawling on his face. A dead body takes up a new rung on the food chain. There was a thin red ring around his neck. Not hard to guess what had killed him.

  I called Laney and walked away from the couch. He and the firefighter walked back into the room, and I pointed to the couch.

  “Holy Jesus!” said Laney.

  The firefighter just shook his head. He’d probably seen worse at fire scenes. He was already out the door when Laney ordered everyone out with, “Okay, this is a crime scene. Nobody touch anything.” I was right behind the firefighter. When Laney figured out he was all alone, he followed us down the stairs.

  The firefighter held the door for me, and I walked back out where life was happening. It was a dark, cloudy night, and the drizzle had started again. And I had brought the smell with me. It was in my nose, and I’d probably have to burn my clothes. I walked over to the Mustang and filled Ben in.

  “This is going to be a long night,” he said.

  I agreed.

/>   ***

  A half hour later we were in the office of Chief Rayburn, a man with a full head of white hair and a slight look of discontent at being called in after hours. Laney had stayed at the scene, guarding the front door. Two other officers arrived before Ben and I left, and one of them told me they had called in a crime scene team from Highland Park, the village to the south. Laney had wanted to take me in. He probably had visions of bright lights and an attitude that he could only get away with because of the badge. But he was overruled by someone, and I was allowed to find the police station by myself.

  The chief looked at me. “Manning. Any relation to Chief Manning?”

  I nodded. “My father.”

  “My condolences, son. I had a lot of respect for him… a good man.” He took a deep breath. “I hear we have a problem.”

  He didn’t wait more than ten seconds before realizing I wasn’t going to respond.

  PI 101… don’t offer information. I was sure Ben was proud of me. But I was wondering what he meant by we.

  He then turned to Ben. “And you are?”

  “Ben Tucker.”

  PI 102… just answer the question.

  The chief nodded slowly and sat back in his swivel chair. “Okay, Ben Tucker. Why are you here?”

  I started to answer, and the chief held his hand up.

  “Ben looks like a big boy. Let’s see if he can handle this one.”

  “Friend of Spencer. We had dinner at Mama’s.”

  “Always appreciate a little business in town.” He smiled and turned back to me. “And what brought you to knocking on the door of Mr. Swayne?”

  A name for the body.

  “A case I’ve been working.”

  He smiled. “This is going to take a while, boys, if I just get little answers every time I ask a question. Pretty soon you’re going to want your lawyer.”

  I smiled back at him. “That won’t be necessary. He’s sitting right next to me.”

  He sighed and said, “Jesus. Care to tell me about the case?”

  “Client privilege, Chief.”