~ * ~
Grocery bag in hand, Marly had stopped off on the way home from work to pick up a few things for their dinner. It would seem strange in the house without Joey, even though he’d been with them for only a few days. She missed him.
Dr. Campbell had convinced Eddie to go back to Canadian Tire and ask for his job back. “They can only say ‘no,’” Campbell had said. “And if they do, there are lots of other stores up that way. You have skills!” That meant Eddie wouldn’t be home by three when she got there. She walked the last block from the bus stop and turned the corner to find a late model SUV parked in front of the house. It looked occupied, but the reflection off the glass prevented any identification. She was at the door before noticing the car’s occupants had exited and were following her up to the house.
She set her bag down inside the door and turned to face her visitors, a well-dressed older couple. The man was in pressed denims and plaid shirt under a sport coat. He looked to be in his sixties.
The woman was—her mother! Marly almost didn’t recognize the tired, frazzled woman she’d deserted so long ago. She was coifed and clad in a simple but expensive-looking woolen suit. A stylish purse hung from her shoulder.
“Hello, Marly.”
“Mom!” she gasped.
“This is Mike,” Merle Quinn—now Pantone—said, turning to her husband. “We’ve been married over three years now.”
Mike Pantone stepped forward and took Marly’s hand in one of his, dry and hardened by a life of building a successful residential construction business. “Good to meetcha, Marly.”
She was stunned. “Ah…well, better come on in!”
The house seemed shabbier than it had this morning when she’d left for work. At least Eddie hadn’t messed it up before leaving. She took the groceries into the kitchen, calling over her shoulder for her guests to make themselves at home while she brewed some coffee.
The first several minutes were awkward. Conversation skirted the sensitive issue of Marly’s leaving home and what she could have been doing to support herself while in Toronto.
Marly learned more about her sisters and brother. Her younger sister, Fay, was graduating from high school and bound for university. Grace, the older of the girls, was newly married and living in Sudbury. And then there was Tim.
Timmy Quinn had been officially diagnosed as autistic not long after Marly left home. His mother had been told he was “high functioning,” but that there was no known cure for the condition. The family and Tim, himself, would have to learn how to deal with it. Merle told her daughter how hard the first step was for the family, Tim, his teachers and even friends to accept the condition as just that—a condition that could be managed. His sisters, Grace and Fay, played a large part in his learning he could feel safe outside the home. They included him among their friends whenever possible.
“He’s at home today with Fay and Mike’s daughter, Linda,” Merle said. “I didn’t know what we’d encounter here.” She scanned the threadbare room as she talked.
Marly stiffened, saying, “I’m fine!”
Mike began, “Marly, she didn’t mean anything—”
He was interrupted by the sound of the rear door banging against the kitchen counter. “I’m home! Marly?”
“In here,” she came back.
“Guess what!” he shouted before seeing the unfamiliar pair perched on the settee. “Uh, hi.”
Marly said, “Eddie, this is my mom and, um, Mike.”
“Pantone,” Mike said. “Mike Pantone.” They shook hands.
After a moment, Merle said, “So, Eddie, this is your house?”
Eddie commenced to tell how he came by owning the property, going into more detail than necessary. Marly ultimately stepped in.
“Yes, it’s his house, and he rents me a room upstairs.”
Mike said what was hanging in the air. “So…you guys are a couple?”
Eddie was quick to say, “No, no, we—”
Marly rose and moved to his side. “Yes!”
Eddie stood there, slack-jawed, his eyes locked on Marly’s.
Time stopped.
“Well, all right!” Mike chuckled.
“Oh my!” Merle smiled, trading looks with her husband.
After a moment, Eddie said, “I guess we are.”
Twenty-five
Almost an hour later, Kevin Campbell showed up, apologizing for being late. He’d meant to meet the Pantones at the house and arrive together. By then, Eddie had told his big news. He’d been hired at the Home Depot north of town.
“I’ll have to do crap jobs at first, but it’s a steady paycheck.”
Campbell’s presence turned the conversation to Joey, recently revealed as Joey Urban.
Eddie recounted his impressions of Joey’s father and the boy’s aversion to being returned home. Marly told how well Joey seemed to respond to acceptance of his mannerisms, fears and obsessions; how he felt “safe” while with Eddie and her.
Campbell concurred. His short exposure to Joey, both there at Eddie’s house and while transferring him to Social Services, was informative. Joey had had a meltdown in Campbell’s car on the way to the social worker’s office. Later Campbell learned they practically had to physically carry Joey into Dale Urban’s home, kicking and screaming.
Mike asked a question. “If the kid was missing for days, and the police learned where he’d been, why haven’t any charges been made by the parents?”
“It’s a good question,” Campbell said. “Mr. Urban is a prominent developer here. Possibly doesn’t want his private life aired. Who knows?”
“What happens now?” Merle asked.
“That’s what I want to know from you. The child obviously adores your daughter and Eddie. Right now, they are in no position to qualify for what I think needs to happen with Joey.”
“Which is—?” Mike said.
“Joey needs to be in an environment where he can thrive and prosper to the limits of his demonstrated potential. That’s why I looked you up when I was in Sudbury. I thought Marly’s touch in calming Joey had to come from her experience with her brother, Tim. Seeing what you did for him made me think I was right.”
Merle held her hand up, palm out. “Wait. You’re thinking of Mike and me fostering the boy?”
“It could be in some other caring environment, but yes, you came to mind.”
“Hold on,” Mike said. “You’d have to legally get the boy away from his folks.”
“The mother doesn’t seem to be in the picture,” Campbell said. “I’m not so sure that home isn’t a toxic environment.”
Merle said, “Wait. Let’s see if the good doctor here is right. If Social Services pursues this and is successful in removing the child, then we can talk about where he should go.”
“Why not with us?” Eddie asked.
Marly put a hand on his. “Because I make peanuts as a waitress and you have no history of employment for more than a few months at a time…among other things.” She eyed him, raising her brows imperceptibly.
“Whatever,” Kevin Campbell said, “it will be a hell of a court fight getting that boy into the system. His father will not like being seen as unfit.”
~ * ~
Eddie stood in the open front door watching as Marly’s mother and new husband walked toward their car. They seemed so content—so normal?—chatting amiably. He wished he’d had that in his life.
He shut the door and turned to find Marly already in the kitchen putting away the few things she’d laid out for the guests. “Marly,” he said. Her back was to him, standing at the sink. She stopped what she was doing, and he approached her. “Marly, did you mean what you said…you know?”
She turned to face him, wiping her hands with a towel. She’d been crying, he thought, because her eyes were puffy.
“Marly, I liked your mom and Mike, too. I…Marly, did you mean that—about you and me?”
Her face brightened. “That’s your toothbrush next to mine, isn�
��t it?”
“But you said—”
Marly put her arms around Eddie’s waist, her head on his chest. She held him like that for a moment before looking up. “Eddie Hoyne, you are a good person. That says a lot, but there’s more. You respect me. I haven’t known that feeling before. I love you for that.”
“You love—?”
She kissed him and the kiss seemed to fill a void he’d not known existed.
~ * ~
Urban stormed out of the school and into the sanctity of his Lexus. He remained there, getting his temper back under control.
Mrs. Pearl had returned home with Joey from her attempt to reinstate the boy back in his class after the hiatus of several days. The principal insisted on seeing Joey’s father before allowing him back. It seemed the social service worker who returned Joey from wherever he’d been had visited the school, asking a lot of questions and implying that things weren’t “as good as they could be” in the boy’s home environment.
Urban had given that creep who called himself an educator a piece of my mind, by God! He’d walked out of the office, leaving Joey sitting there. If they were going to expel him, they could jolly well bring him home themselves!
He started the car and headed for home. He was behind doing his “paperwork” that involved laundering the cash and converted Bitcoin receipts for the past few weeks into fungible assets. The last thing he needed to deal with today was that kid.
~ * ~
It was noon before Andy had gathered and compiled a complete report on Raymond Hobbs for Nolan Robert’s own report to OPP HQ in Orillia. Hobbs had been operating in the Sault area for a little over two years. Apparently, things had gotten too hot for him in Southern Ontario and he’d found it prudent to change venues. Reports from jurisdictions as varied as Toronto, Mississauga, London and Windsor included rap sheets on either “Hobbs” or “Teacher” for assault, possession of illegal firearms, and suspicion of dealing drugs. At thirty-one years of age, he’d spent time in various institutions since puberty.
Her cell phone buzzed just as Arnold Terry returned from a morning of cruising the streets of the Steelton neighborhood. She smiled a greeting as she answered the call. It was Kevin Campbell.
“Can we have lunch somewhere?” he asked.
“I thought you’d said something about dinner tonight,” she replied.
“That’s a date. This is different.”
“Different,” she repeated.
“I need to talk to you about something that might be up your alley.”
“I was about to ask my partner about a sandwich at Tim Horton’s.”
“Better yet. Meet you at the one near you in a quarter hour?”
~ * ~
Terry sipped his “Iced Capp.” Watching through the restaurant’s window at Dr. Campbell returning to his car, he said, “Dinner? Again?”
Andy felt a flush in spite of herself. “He’s a nice guy. There’s nothing to it.”
“Bullshit, Blake. Who cares, anyway? You run your love life any way you please. I’m not giving you a hard time.”
“Just let it drop.” She retrieved her bag from the pack of her chair, “What did you think of what he said?”
“What’s not to like? This person he knows who’s had a problem with ‘oxy’ has been working for some guy he ‘thinks’ might be dealing. This person is also the guy who was holding that boy who went missing for a week. Yeah, we ought to follow up on that.”
Andy nodded agreement. “I didn’t get a chance to ask you about this morning. How did it go?”
“Came up with nothing. He’s either an early riser and gone, or his truck is garaged.”
“Or he doesn’t live there,” Andy said.
Terry didn’t respond. He slurped the last of his drink through the straw.
Andy stood with her tray. “If we’re going to follow up with this kidnapping dude, let’s do it together.”
Twenty-six
Marly finished up with her shift and caught the Wellington Ave. bus back into town. She watched the streets slide by, thinking about seeing her mother yesterday. It had been a shock for two reasons. For one, her mom looked terrific. The guy she married seemed solid…and flush if their late-model Acura was any indicator.
But most surprising was her mother’s lack of recrimination for Marly’s skipping out on the family or interrogations on what her life must have been while in Toronto.
She’d leveled with her mother to the extent that her existence there was anything but savory…or even legal. She also told her mother that she’d confided to Eddie every detail about her time there. “I’ve found someone who loves me, Mom. That’s all I can ask for.”
Her thoughts almost caused her to miss the stop. She got off and made the short walk to find, once again, an occupied car parked in front of the house. Two people immediately got out when she turned up the walk.
“Excuse me,” the woman said, holding up ID of some kind. “Do you live here?”
“Who are you?” Marly asked. The woman was an attractive brunette, maybe in her forties. The guy with her looked older, a dome-headed hulk of a man.
“Provincial Police Detective Blake, and this is Detective Terry. This your house?”
“It belongs to my…landlord. I rent a room.”
“That would be Edward Hoyne?”
“Yeah. It would.”
“We rang,” the man said, “but no answer. Know when he might return?”
“Eddie—Mr. Hoyne—has a new job. Won’t be home until after six, maybe.”
“Do you mind if we come in, ask a few questions?”
Oh, shit, Marly thought. “I guess.” She unlocked and led them in, motioning to the same settee her mother had used twenty-four hours earlier.
“Where does Mr. Hoyne work?” Detective Blake asked.
“Home Depot. He just started.”
“And where before that?”
“What’s this about?” Marly removed her jacket and held it in her arms.
The male cop held up a hand. “Don’t get excited. We just want to know what kind of business Mr. Hoyne’s last job was.”
“You’d have to talk to him about that.”
“No, Ms. Quinn, we understand you may know quite a lot about Mr. Hoyne.”
Marly struggled to keep her poise. She made a quick assessment of her situation and decided there was no point in lying or stalling at this juncture. “Eddie worked for an auto body shop. Nick Savos’ place.” She gave them approximate directions.
“What did he do there?” Detective Blake asked.
“He…well, he did odd jobs, errands. He owed money. It wasn’t a full-time thing. He was working to pay the guy back.”
“The ‘guy.’ Savos?”
“Yeah.”
The male cop had been checking his cell phone. “I’ve got it here: Savos Custom Auto.”
Andy held out a card. “Well, thank you, Ms. Quinn. You’ve been most cooperative. If you see Mr. Hoyne, let him know we’d like to talk with him as well.”
They left. Marly watched them get into the unmarked Buick sedan and pull away. Those two know more than they let on. She was sure they knew something about Joey but hadn’t asked her about it. Maybe they knew everything.
Better warn Eddie.
~ * ~
Stavos Custom Auto stood on a corner that might have once been a filling station. The gravel parking lot was empty except for a lone red and white vintage Chevy Corvette. Andy watched Terry eye it longingly. They pushed through the front door, making a buzzer sound in the rear of the building. There were three bays for cars; only one was occupied by a 1950s era Chevrolet body, its interior gutted and the engine removed.
A man poked his head up in a glass enclosure at the rear. He stood and opened the office door. “Yeah?”
“Mr. Savos?”
“Maybe.”
Both detectives flashed ID. Andy’s first impression was that of a thug. The man’s posture was defensive; shoulders hunched, as
if ready for combat. His long hair was slicked back into a bun, exposing the business end of a tattooed snake—fangs and all—creeping up the side of his neck from somewhere below. Andy thought she’d never seen more lifeless, intimidating eyes.
He made a failing attempt at smiling. “What can I do for the OPP today?”
“You employ a guy named Hoyne?” Terry said.
“From time to time. He’s not on no payroll or nothin’.”
“What kind of work does he do, Mr. Savos?”
“Nothin’ much. Deliver and pick up parts—you know—pretty much a go-fer.”
“I don’t see him around,” Andy said.
“Like I said. From time to time.”
Terry looked around. “What kind of work do you do here, Mr. Savos?”
“It’s a body shop. What else?”
“You don’t look very busy. Business not good?”
“I do a lot of consulting. House calls. Know what I mean?”
“Not really.” Terry looked Savos in the eye for a second or two before saying, “What else do you do here, Savos?”
“Why would I do anything else?”
Meanwhile, Andy had stepped away and was peering through the glass into the office, making Savos glance away from Terry’s gaze.
Terry continued. “Must take a lot of turnover to maintain the taxes on this corner lot, much less the upkeep on that expensive ride you’ve got parked outside.”
“I do all right,” Savos said, still occupied with Andy’s curiosity.
She spoke from her position at the glass partition, “So, your sole source of income is automobile body work.”
“What I said,” Savos shot back.
Andy gave Terry a look and said, “Thank you for now, Mr. Savos. Incidentally, do you know where Mr. Hoyne is now?”
“Nah. He—you know—comes and goes.”
“Okay,” Terry said, “we may be back with a few more questions. Thanks for your time.”
When they were outside, he turned to Andy. “Why the hurry to leave? I thought we had him sweating there.”
“Arnold, I think we have enough for a warrant to search the place. Have you ever been to a body shop?
Steel Town Page 12
