Savage Summer

by Ruth Bainbridge

  If she was the anonymous caller, then why did she have to see me in person to say the same thing? It could be she wanted to see if I’d divulge receiving her calls. Or perhaps it was to reinforce the idea. If one stranger said it, maybe I’d dismiss it, but if she validated the contention, maybe I’d jump all over it. And she did seem interested in the investigation. And she’d admitted to seeing the ad. Perhaps she was moving me in what she considered the right direction, but it would only be right if what she alleged were true.

  My cell phone rang. Seeing it was Wolfie, I chanced a ticket.

  “Hi, Wolfie. You got news for me?”

  “His name is Henry Wallace and he sings opera.”

  Using the code for “he’s a choir boy,” it meant that Hank was clean.

  “Why aren’t things ever easy?” I queried. “Why couldn’t he have a wahoo full of priors on prowling, lurking, and poisoning dogs.”

  “Because then we’d know who the bad guys are and life would be simple. If that were the case, they wouldn’t need people like you and me to figure things out.”

  “I suppose you’re right.”

  “You given any more thought to those card games?”

  “Is this because you want to get even? It’ll never happen, Wolfie. Not while I have those extra four aces up my sleeve. Oh, gosh, did I say that?”

  My friend laughed in that lazy style he had. It made it seem that he wasn’t rushing the enjoyment gained, but more lingering over a delicious meal.

  “Maybe. And I stuffed a copy of what I found under your door. I’m not about to chance using a computer either at work or at home. You can track anything on them and I don’t want my big feet leaving prints leading to you.”

  “Hey, thanks. Sweetest thing you ever said to me, you big lummox. Now I’m really going to get those games going again so I can clean your ass. Hope you and the Mrs. enjoy the poorhouse.”

  I loved getting in the last word and I knew he hated when I did. Sounded like a win-win to me. Stepping on the gas a bit more than was necessary, I was anxious to get home and begin my job as night watchman.

  Dinner had run a little long, so I decided to forgo the treadmill for one night. I’d get my exercise following Hank back to his digs. It would sure help to know what the hell he was up to, but you had to let investigations lead you to the answer. Wolfie assured me that answers opened like flowers, but then that was when his wife had gotten on a Zen kick. I had no idea how long the downward dog had lasted.

  Speaking of dogs, my borrowed one jumped all over me when I got home. After grabbing the manila envelope that had been shoved under the door, I picked up the rapscallion and planted my ass on the couch, scanning the pages that told me there was nada to go on with Wallace. Wolfie had summarized that fact pretty neatly, but stubborn ole me had to see for myself. Well, there was that one speeding ticket when he was a youth. Can’t hang a nineteen-year-old for that.

  Deciding to live it up, I grabbed a chilled sports drink and had at it. I’d already changed into jeans and a black turtleneck. Two could play the surreptitious game. I checked the outside frequently, making sure to use the binoculars. There was no sign of Hank. I was mostly relying on little Moochie’s sensitive radar to detect when he returned.

  I spent the rest of the time on the computer, reading everything I could about Demeter. Following up on the Rites of Elysian, getting beaten in a cave sounded nothing more than fraternity hazing that would get you kicked out of a good college. As for Demeter, she was an earth mother. It kind of surprised me that Ruthie would identify with that trait. I remembered conversations we’d had about having children and she wasn’t too keen on the idea. She didn’t rule it out, though. I put it down to her being involved in finishing her degree and becoming the psychologist she wanted to be. It was one of the many things I had loved about her.

  At one o’clock, my cell rang. It was Mike, checking in.

  “Hey, you bailed again, you asshole!” she chided.

  “No, I’m getting in my workouts early because of my new gig.”

  “Oh, that’s right. I’m just concerned that you’ll turn into a fat pig again. Women don’t like fat slobs. I should know.”

  “Yeah, and men don’t like women with smart mouths. I should know.”

  “Touché, Bright Eyes!” she replied. “You always say just the right thing.”

  She was laughing her ass off. Didn’t know what it was about Mike, but I loved to make her laugh. Think it was because she’d had a tough time of it growing up. Although I didn’t know the specifics, there were hints. That kind of hurt takes a while to go away.

  “Just be glad you never had to wear crinolines,” I taunted.

  “Stop! You’re killing me,” she responded as she dissolved into bigger chortles. “Anyway, thought you’d like to know that I got the skinny on our man.”

  “You mean Henry Arthur Wallace?” I asked.

  “Yup.”

  “You do work fast.”

  “Have to. I charge too much to make like a sloth.”

  “I’ll bet you do, but Hank came back clean. Already got the report in my hand,” I responded.

  “Then your friend came through.”

  “Of course, but this didn’t help much.”

  “Everything helps, you yutzo. You just need to see more pieces of what we’re dealing with. And he’s been clean for a while, but there was that incident in his youth.”

  “What incident? You talking about the traffic ticket at nineteen?”

  “Nope. And it goes back to when he was fourteen. His parents lost custody. He was put in foster and something happened. He ended up in juvie, but his records are sealed.”

  “That’s not on the official version.”

  “You got to know where to look. For instance, did your colleague find out his mother was divorced? And the name of his stepfather? And then do cross searches on them? That’s what makes me special.”

  “And that’s why we all love you. Now let me go back to gawking.”

  CHAPTER 14

  The next morning, I arose chipper and ready to start the day. After all, Dr. Shadows hadn’t bombarded with me more guessing games, but at least I had the answer to his latest riddle.

  I demolished some breakfast. It was the first time in quite a while that food accompanied my two cups of morning coffee. I rediscovered that it made quite a difference to have a buffer between the acidic liquid and your stomach lining. After I rinsed and stacked the dirty china in my dishwasher, I headed out with Moochie in tow.

  With the records Wolfie supplied not coming up with anything solid, it was time to find the only true source of what was going on in someone’s life—neighbors. If you think investigative reporters are tough, you haven’t lived within a radius of people with nothing better to do than sticking their noses in your business. Try it sometime. It’s a gas.

  As I strolled by 452 Tullis, Moochie gave me time to gaze at the quiet façade of the contemporary by peeing on the mailbox post. I didn’t see any life stirring in the two-level home. Hank could be at work or just not doing jumping jacks in the front of his living room window. On a hunch, I opened the mailbox and peeked inside. It was as empty as my brain at this early hour. The carved owl secured to the top of the receptacle mocked my intuition. Can’t always be right.

  I decided to do some legwork by looking to see if there was a gathering place worthy of attracting these suburbanites to its shores. After a few blocks, the effort paid off. There was a small park with about a kabillion kids and just as many dogs. I moseyed on in. While lots of new moms sat on benches shooting the breeze, I decided on the fenced-in section that was reserved for the canines. I’d attract a lot less attention that way.

  Once inside the dog pen, I let Moochie off his chain. You’d have thought he’d been tethered to a pole in the ground his entire life. The earnestness of his gallop made him airborne for a few seconds. That boy was flying.

  “Cute dog,” a brune
tte in a jogging outfit remarked. “Reminds me of Marge’s.”

  Christ! Never in a million years did I think that Marge visited here—and that was the problem. I should have considered it, but no damage done.

  “Be careful, Skipper,” I yelled to the dog, who had no idea I was addressing him. Turning to the woman who I hoped was no longer suspicious, I saw that calling Mooch by the wrong name had worked. “Really?” I continued. “Well, it’s a popular breed. I’m Curt, by the way.”

  “Alice,” she said with a sort of smile. Be careful, Alice, that face of yours just might crack. Meeting my extended hand, she limply shook it. Did she think handshakes constituted infidelity? If she did, her husband must have been pretty restricted at work. “Don’t think I’ve seen you here before. We don’t get many men visiting in the daytime.”

  “I suppose you don’t. And, yes, it’s my first time. Just got Moo … Skipper. Adopted him from a shelter.”

  “A shelter?” she spat, looking at me as if I’d borrowed him from a neighbor. And here I thought lying about a good deed would win me brownie points.

  “Yes, you’d be surprised how many purebreds end up there. Got his papers and everything.”

  That did it. She relaxed again.

  “Which one is yours?’ I asked as she pointed out the bichon frisé walking on its hind legs. Neat trick. Thought I was going to have to try to get Mooch to learn that one. “Nice,” I commented with a smile.

  “Yes, Chloe is very clever. Where do you live, Curt? You seem familiar.”

  “On Waverly. It’s a few blocks thataway. I was coming here to see Henry Wallace. Had an investment tip for me. I’d be glad to share it with you, but he doesn’t seem to be home.”

  “He doesn’t work?”

  “I didn’t ask. I thought he’d said today at 10:30, but I forgot to write it down. I could be wrong. Don’t suppose you know him? Just want to find out what kind of guy he is before I start emptying out bank accounts and transferring money.”

  “I don’t know the name. Where does he live again?”

  “On Tullis. 452.”

  “Janice lives on Tullis. So does Roberta, and I think Eva. They’re sitting right over there. I can keep an eye on Skipper. He does seem to be fitting right in.”

  She was warming up. Probably because her horny female was all over Mooch. Talk about aggressive. I just hoped Mooch would put the love glove on before the fun and games got serious.

  “Hello, ladies. My name’s Curt.”

  “Hi, Curt,” the woman I guessed was Janice said. “That’s a cute dog. Looks a lot like Marge’s.”

  “So I’ve heard. The reason I’m bothering you is that Alice said you might be acquainted with Hank Wallace.”

  “Henry Wallace?” the smallest of the three responded. You’d have thought I had garlic on my toast or something.

  “Yes, and you are?”

  “Eva,” she begrudgingly admitted.

  “I’m Janice and that is Roberta.”

  The woman in the pink sweater was Janice. I was feeling better about my sixth sense. Let’s see, she was married four times and Eva ran away from the circus.

  “We all know him,” Janice continued. “What is it you want to know?”

  “May I?” I asked, pointing to an empty spot on the bench.

  “Of course,” Janice answered as the other two continued to treat me to a frigid stare.

  “Whether he’s reliable. We met at a mutual friend’s and he offered to give me some stock tips. I went over to meet him this morning, but he’s not home. Thought maybe I could save myself a lot of trouble in finding out if he pushed slush funds.”

  “He’s weird,” Eva blurted. “I don’t know anything about his investment strategies, but he’s strange … and rude.”

  “Eva, he’s not rude. He’s just into things we’re not,” Janice interjected. Eva wasn’t having any of her friend’s excuses.

  “No, he’s rude!” Eva said, addressing me. “Do you believe that he asked if Arthur and I swung—and I don’t mean from trees. All I did was invite him to an outdoor barbeque. What a disgusting man.”

  Okay, I was with Ms. Prim and Proper on this one. Without passing judgments on lifestyles, it didn’t seem the best of manners not to feel someone out before asking that kind of question under those circumstances. He could have waited until after the short ribs were served.

  “I agree on that. Just seems socially inept and is probably used to dealing with like-minded individuals,” Janice assessed.

  “He gave Nicole a pretty hard time also,” Eva remarked, adding more logs to the fire.

  “Nicole?”

  “Nicole Harding. Think he stalked, excuse me, followed her around a few times.”

  Janice squinted at the sarcasm directed at her.

  “Oh, my goodness!” Janice backtracked. “I do agree with you on those points, Eva. I think he’s creepy and I even told my kids to—”

  “I know who you are,” Eva accused, unfurling a forefinger that had a pretty long nail attached. “You’re the man who murdered his girlfriend,” she growled, standing up. “I’ve got to go.”

  Roberta took the cue from her accusatory friend. Walk a mile in my moccasins, sistah, but she wasn’t done.

  “You move into a good neighborhood and think you’re safe. Guess you never know,” Roberta philosophized.

  “Eva, Roberta, I’m shocked at both of you,” Janice defended, keeping her voice to whisper so as not to be overheard. “He was never even charged, let alone convicted.”

  “As if that matters,” Roberta blasted. “Gwen! Stella! Come here, now!”

  Two fresh-faced kids came running from the direction of the swingset. Grabbing her children’s hands, Eva led them away as Roberta stuck by her side.

  “I apologize for them, Curt. It must have been so hard losing the woman you loved.”

  Janice got it right.

  “Yes, and I appreciate the words. But you were saying something about your kids and Wallace?”

  “Yes, I don’t let them play anywhere near his house. A group of kids had started congregating in his backyard.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because he didn’t mind his lawn being torn up and their mothers did.”

  “He does work, doesn’t he? I thought he said he was in …” I snapped my fingers, pretending to have forgotten.

  “Accounting,” she filled in.

  “Exactly. That’s why I thought he would know some good tips.”

  “You may be right. He seems to be good at his job.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Well, he goes away a lot. Travels out of town to meet with clients. Think he left on another one this morning. Saw him with his suitcase.”

  “Do you happen to know where he works?”

  “No, I don’t think I remember that. Or perhaps he didn’t mention it. I’m not sure.”

  “Either way, thanks a lot for the info. I think I will delve into the world of investing. I mean, who knows? He could put me onto the next big thing.”

  “Maybe. Well, if you need anything, let me know. My full name is Janice Armstrong. I live right across the street from Mr. Wallace. And the reaction of my two friends is why I tend to stick up for people, even when they’re not my cup of tea. I don’t like judgmental.”

  Giving a wave goodbye, it was time to collect Mooch from the clutches of a pint-sized dominatrix.

  “Find out what you needed?” Alice asked, still smiling at our dogs’ interplay.

  “Yes, and thanks so much for watching Skip. Skipper!” I screamed as I unlatched the door. How was I going to get his attention without using his name? I thought I knew. “Come here, boy!” I tried, crossing my fingers and hoping to God the universal trigger worked.

  Moochie turned, bounding for me. When I kneeled to put on his leash, he licked me all over the face for reuniting him with his favorite park. I kissed him back. After all, it had been
good for me too.

  CHAPTER 15

  For several days, there was no action on the Wallace front, but at least I knew what kind of neighbors $400,000 houses buy.

  I performed due diligence in checking out Hank’s residence around 7 PM and at midnight every night. Tonight was no exception. I found no lights on and no pile-up of mail.

  I returned from my Neighborhood Hank Watch. Mooch was tuckered and so was I. I was already to conk out when a pounding at the door convinced me otherwise.

  It was Mike. She was wasted. Barely able to stand, she hit both shoulders against the doorframes before she staggered in.

  “Fuck you, Savage,” she mumbled. It was going to be a good time. I could tell.

  “And a good evening to you, too, my friend. Been drinking much?”

  When I helped her to the couch, she fell onto it, her legs sprawled out in a not very attractive manner—not that she cared.

  “How’d you get here?”

  “Cab. Think I’d drive in this condition? And don’t avoid the point.”

  “Which is?”

  “Where the hell have you been?”

  “I told you. I’m working on a case and have to be here by 10:00. It’s when the creep does his best creeping.”

  “Creep? He’s better than you, dude. At least he doesn’t desert a friend and run off to an island to screw a married man.”

  Catching on quickly that the commentary had nothing at all to do with me or Wallace, I passed on the “fight bait” dangled under my nose. I brought the subject back to Hank.

  “Hank’s a creep because that’s how his neighbors describe him—not because of any opinion I’ve formed, although if he did poison that dog …” Letting that thought stream out into the atmosphere, I figured she’d get my drift even in her impaired condition. “Now why is Candice running away to an island?”

  “How’d you know I was talking about her?”

  She was so wide-eyed, you’d think I came up with the Theory of Relativity.

  “Just a wild guess.”

  “Oh,” she replied, collapsing back into a slumping position found in drug-shooting galleries. “Yeah, that bitch Candice is going away with that tool. How can she do that, Savage? How?”

  Here came the waterworks. At least she wasn’t a mean drunk.

  “I outta beat the shit outta both of them! And then that creep for trying to kill a dog! And then you for being such an asshole!”