The Hunt

by J. M. Dabney

  5

  Andy

  Waking up in Elise’s apartment would probably be disorientating if I’d slept at all. I think I dozed for a few minutes here and there, but mostly, I found myself staring at her cream-colored ceilings trying to figure out what it entailed to change my name, face, everything.

  It was clear the police didn’t care much about my safety and I was on my own. I should’ve paid more attention in gym class that week they taught self-defense. I guess I was going to have to figure it out. The pep talk gave me about two seconds of positive energy, then Francis’ face popped into my head, “Andy, is that my holey Superman shirt you’re wearing or yours?” I was hearing his voice in my head. I missed my best friend so much.

  I waited until Elise left late in the morning to call that P.I. I found in the news article. I hoped so hard he either knew something that could help me or maybe he’d help me himself.

  An odd thought hit me right before I pressed send, what if the P.I. is the serial killer? I mean anyone could be, right? My bus driver, Augustine, Gabin? Oh my god, I was going to drive myself crazy.

  I was out of options, if he was the killer, then I was making a huge mistake. If he wasn’t, then I stood a fifty-fifty chance of surviving this.

  Breathing deeply, I hit send and pressed the phone to my ear. One ring. Two rings. Maybe he’s not there?

  “Ray Clancy, Private Investigator.” The sound of his voice both startled me and sent a shiver of lust through me. It was gravely like he was a smoker but sexy like silk. “Hello, anyone there? I don’t got time for this.”

  Oh right, I need to speak.

  “Hi… uhm, I mean hello my name is Andy I… well I got your number from an article, right?”

  “Are you asking me?” Ray asked, a hint of annoyance laced his sarcastic tone.

  “No. Sorry. I’m nervous.”

  The sigh the investigator released was loud in my ear, and I began to feel complete dread. No one was going to help me in this shitty city.

  “Look, I get whatever you have to say makes you nervous, but I don’t know if I can help if you don’t use your words.” There was a warmth there, but I could tell he was likely ninety percent asshole. I didn’t need a nice guy, I just needed one who would help me stay alive.

  “I think someone is trying to kill me.” My words came out jumbled; I hoped he was able to understand what I said.

  “I see.” There was a rustling on the other end, sounded like papers. “Your name is Andy. Do you have a last name?”

  Ray didn’t seem at all shocked by my word vomit confession and maybe that was good. Or bad.

  “Shay.”

  “Andy Shay. Okay.” More rustling. “Shit, where the hell is my pen?” Now there was banging, cursing, and then silence.

  “Mr. Clancy?” I asked wondering if we were disconnected.

  “Yeah, here. Couldn’t find a pen. I’m good now. So, Andy Shay, why do you think someone is trying to kill you?”

  “Well, he chased me and I sort of witnessed him killing someone. Hence the chasing. And so, I get the impression he or she isn’t someone who wanted to be seen, again, hence the chasing. I was able to call the police and hid at Don’s Café until they arrived. They have a car on me, but it’s not always there and…” Listening to all this out loud, I sounded like a loon.

  “Wait. You witnessed a murder?” Again, the sound of papers filled my ears.

  “Yes, my roommate.” I couldn’t say Francis’ name without bursting into tears, and I was sure this investigator thought I was insane already. No need to solidify that with uncontrollable tears.

  “Holy hell. You’re the roommate.” He said it like it was a revelation. “The murder above the laundromat.” He wasn’t asking me. He heard about it. As seedy as this city was, Francis’ murder was brutal enough to have everyone talking.

  “Mmhmm. Yeah. Look, I know you’re not a bodyguard or anything, but I was doing research after the news said this happened before. Anyway, your name came up and—”

  “Yeah, few months back. I was on the force then. Look, would you be willing to come to my office, or if you feel better, we can meet somewhere public. We should talk.” The gravely assholishness seemed to have disappeared and genuine interest, and maybe tenderness, laced his tone. I didn’t think he was the killer, but I still wasn’t meeting him alone with no witnesses.

  “I’d rather meet in public if that’s alright?”

  “I get it. You know Rudy’s Diner?”

  Everyone knew Rudy’s. Francis had lived for his Reubens. “I know it.”

  “Can you meet me in about an hour?”

  Looking at the clock I saw it was after the lunch rush, so it wouldn’t be overly crowded, but enough people would be there so if I was murdered there would be witnesses at least.

  “Yeah, okay, one hour. I have to catch the bus; I won’t make it if I walk, and to be honest, walking anywhere right now isn’t safe for me.”

  “I’ll head over there in a few. Is this your cell you’re calling on?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ll text you my cell number. If you run into any problems, just text me where you are. Got it?”

  Was it odd I liked that someone would come running if I was in trouble? “Sure, okay.”

  “What do you look like?” Ray asked, and it was the type of question I hated. How does someone describe themselves?

  “Uhh, tall I guess, lanky, dark hair… nothing special. Just look for the guy pissing himself, that’ll be me.”

  His chuckle eased the tight coil in the pit of my stomach. “Will do.”

  He hung up without a goodbye, and I hurried to the bathroom for a shower. Like every shower in existence, I crouched under the spray to wash off. A half-hour later, cleaned, brushed, and dressed, I hopped on the bus toward Rudy’s.

  Where I would normally pop ear buds in and stare out the window, I found myself too paranoid to daydream. It felt like everyone was looking at me. Was the killer on this bus? Are we passing them on the street? Can he see me through the glass?

  I saw Ray had texted me his cell number, and I hoped I wouldn’t need it because I was drowning in a pool of my own blood. God, I was dramatic.

  I took a second to drop a message with Elise that I was meeting someone who may be able to help and that I’d message her when I was on my way back. She asked if I’d grabbed the spare key, and I was glad I had, because she said she was closing at the restaurant.

  The bus stopped and I waited until I was the last person to exit. There was something about not wanting to be stabbed in the back.

  Rudy’s was directly across from the bus stop. I took a deep breath and raced across the street. Opening the door, I searched out the place. It took me a second to figure out who Raymond Clancy was.

  His eyes were staring into a coffee mug, and while I couldn’t see the color, I just knew they were dark. His hair was mostly gray, but under the fluorescent lights golden strands peeked through. He was a worn-out man, but there was no way I wouldn’t jump him if he offered.

  When he looked up, those brown pools held a lot of emotion. He knew I was who he was waiting for, and I knew he was a man who had seen more shit than what I was running from.

  6

  Ray

  Rudy had given me a strange look when I’d walked in a few minutes earlier and didn’t take my usual spot at the counter. I was still mentally processing the call I’d received from one Andy Shay. I’d done a quick search for him and found several social media profiles from different Mr. Shays, but didn’t take the time to do a more thorough investigation.

  When he’d stated he’d witnessed a murder, I’d resigned myself to dealing with another crazy person, but then after Andy had explained, my tired brain had quickly put the pieces together.

  Andy sounded young and justifiably scared. His voice was soft with slightly husky notes. I didn’t know why out of everything the kid’s voice is what I remembered most.

  I raised my mug to my mouth and d
owned half of it, hoping the caffeine would wake me up. I should’ve slept. I’d spent most of the morning researching and hadn’t come up with one mention of similar crimes. Even if there was only one detail the same, I’d grasped at hope, only to be disappointed when the suspect was dead or imprisoned. I don’t know how I felt about that, but I didn’t have time to think too much about it.

  I curved my hands around the mug and stared into the dark liquid. The bell going off over the door had me lifting my head. A thin man walked in with clothes that hung on his frame. As soon as I’d looked up our eyes met. There was no doubt in my mind that he was the one I was waiting for, and I slid out of the booth. I sensed the young man’s fear, so I patiently stayed still as he prepared to approach me.

  Andy’s first few steps were cautious, as if he hadn’t made up his mind on whether I was an ally or foe. I knew that expression, I’d lost count of how many times I’d seen it over the years. Two decades of dealing with terrified and reluctant witnesses prepared me for anything.

  “Mr. Clancy?”

  I was slightly taken aback by the sound of that voice in person and blamed it on my lack of sleep. The kid was young, maybe mid-twenties.

  “Call me, Ray. Please, take a seat.” I motioned at the bench and waited for him to slide into it. “Coffee?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Rudy, refill for me and another for my friend here.”

  Rudy smirked at me from behind the counter, and I knew what he was thinking. That was the farthest thing from the truth. I was impatient to find out what happened the other night, but I waited for Rudy to approach with the coffeepot and an extra mug.

  “Does your date need a menu, or are you planning on being cheap, Clancy?”

  “Rudy, don’t fuck with me today.”

  The words must have come out harsher than I’d thought because I caught the kid flinching in my peripheral. Skittish. I was going to have to temper my normally gruff nature.

  “Cranky,” Rudy muttered, and I waited for him to drop off the menu, then return to the opposite side of the counter.

  I watched in horror at the amount of sugar the kid doctored his coffee with and tried to hide my disgust behind my own mug of straight, black coffee. The way coffee was meant to be drank. Andy’s hands shook, and if I hadn’t paid closer attention, I would’ve missed that. I warred with the decision to let Andy take the lead and start the conversation or broach the subject myself.

  My curiosity won. “Why did you contact me?”

  “I researched the case. A crime reporter, I can’t remember his name right now, well, he did some stories and your name was mentioned. Your name came up in several articles.”

  “But why are you here? I’m not a cop.”

  Those four simple words still stung my pride. I should be on the case. Who’s to say that I wouldn’t have caught the guy sometime in the last six months.

  I observed the kid, his shoulders slumped and looking very much defeated. Andy raised his mug to his mouth with both hands and slowly sipped at it. The mug connected a little too heavily with the table when he set it down.

  “You’re doing fine. No need to be nervous.”

  Andy nodded. I figured he needed a few minutes, so I called Rudy over to take the kid’s order. I raised my hand to cover my smile at the amount of food Andy ordered. And he was so animated while he talked to Rudy, I had to admit it was cute.

  “You got enough room for all this, kid?” Rudy asked.

  I didn’t miss the color that highlighted Andy’s perfect cheekbones. I had the unbidden thought that the kid could be a model.

  “Rudy, just get the kid his food.”

  Rudy grumped and once again left us alone.

  “I’m not a kid,” Andy whispered.

  “Compared to me, you definitely are. So, keep going.”

  “I thought with me witnessing part of the…” Andy’s voice cracked.

  It seemed that Andy was only seconds away from breaking down.

  “Take your time, we’re not in a hurry.” I twisted a bit to dig my notebook out of my jacket. I tried to remain calm and empathetic.

  “I thought since I sort of saw the guy that the police would put me in protective custody or something. Maybe that’s all on TV. They just have a car where I’m staying, but not all the time.”

  “What happened before you witnessed the crime?”

  I hesitated on saying murder because I had a feeling the kid would completely break down, and I needed some answers first.

  “I came home after work. The door was unlocked and that was strange, but I just thought Francis brought someone home. Got distracted, maybe.”

  “Was it normal for Francis to bring someone home?”

  “He wasn’t a slut or anything.”

  I liked Andy’s defense of his friend. Loyalty was a big thing for me. I grew up on the streets, not homeless, but I ran my turf more than I was at home. If I couldn’t trust the person watching my back, I sensed it almost immediately. That was why I trusted Andy. My gut had kept me alive this long.

  “I didn’t imply that he was. Did Francis have a regular place he went?”

  “Not really. When he went out, he club hopped with a group, but they always ended at Epiphany. It’s a gay club.”

  “I’ve worked a few cases there.” I didn’t tell him that those cases had to do with the previous murders. “Have you ever been there?”

  “No, well, a time or two, but my job is very demanding. Augustine’s, I work as a server.”

  I whistled, that was upscale and way out of my price range.

  “Ritzy place.”

  “I worked my way up from busser to server. Augustine put me on one night, and I’ve been a server ever since. I like it, but when I’m not working I like to be at home.”

  Pride at his accomplishment was clear in Andy’s voice.

  “I hate to ask, but what happened after you entered your apartment?”

  “I went in and nothing seemed out of place. I called out to get Francis’ attention, but nothing, and I heard a thud I think. I got worried that Francis might have had too much to drink. Fell or something. When I went to his room I yelled something about him being dressed. I opened the door and I froze. I couldn’t do anything. He was on the floor. Blood was everywhere.”

  I stretched my arm across the table and took Andy’s hand. His skin was soft. Fine pale hairs covered the back of it. The tears were beading on the kid’s lower lashes and with my free hand, I handed Andy a napkin.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Andy wiped his eyes as he tried to look everywhere but at me.

  “His face and chest were all cut up; it looked like his killer was trying to remove his—”

  “It’s fine. Take a few breaths. Like I said, we’re in no rush right now. Maybe we can just talk while you eat your food.”

  I gave Andy’s hand one last squeeze and then released it. I straightened and went back to drinking my coffee.

  “Here you go.” Rudy set down the coffeepot on the edge of the table, placed two plates and a bread plate in front of Andy.

  I didn’t think I ate that much in a day, but I also wasn’t living the healthiest life with my work schedule. Rudy refilled our mugs. I was glad he wasn’t lingering and acting nosy. I think Andy, as much as he appeared to be keeping his shit together, was scared. To be honest, I was thinking my questioning for the day was over. Pushing Andy too quickly would make him shut down.

  “You’re not eating,” Andy said.

  “I’m good. The coffee is good and I think I eat most meals here.”

  “Francis used to come here.”

  “Rudy’s has been a fixture in this neighborhood since the fifties. I remember being a punk-ass kid thinking I was some gangster and coming in here.”

  “You’re from here?”

  I didn’t like talking about myself, but to put Andy a bit more at ease I’d allow him his questions.

  “A couple blocks
up the street. Back in the day I ran numbers for a local bookie.” I picked the tamest of my indiscretions to make sure he stayed relaxed.

  “You were a cop.”

  “I wasn’t always a cop. My pre-cop past is slightly shady.” I felt myself smile at Andy’s grin.

  I patiently answered questions as Andy finished off his food and drank two more mugs of coffee, realizing for what this meeting was, I felt relaxed. My shoulders weren’t tense and I wasn’t balancing on the edge of a migraine. It was nice and I didn’t exactly know how to handle that. I had to remind myself this was about the case. I wasn’t on a date or hanging out with a friend.

  “Can you help me?”

  Andy’s tone was so young and unsure, and even with all the practice I had of putting witnesses at ease I didn’t know if I could be at all helpful this time.

  “How do you think I can help you?”

  “I don’t know, find the guy. I’m tired of being on edge. Wondering when I leave my place if he’s going to find me. Kill me. The cops aren’t taking it seriously, and I don’t know what to do.”

  “Are you staying with someone?”

  “Yes, a friend from work. She said I could stay as long as I want, but I have to go home at some point. I need some stuff.”

  “Why don’t I go with you? Call and ask if forensics has released the scene, if they have I can take you over, and you can pack up a few things.”

  “I don’t know if I can go back there.”

  “Then make me a list and I’ll get your things. It would give me a chance to take a look around the scene.”

  “You’d do that?”

  “You have my number. Think it over and just text or call me. We can arrange something. But can I ask you a favor?”

  “Sure.”

  I turned to the next empty page of my notebook, placed my fingertips in the center of it and slid it along with a pen toward Andy. “Write down the names of Francis’ friends, family, and if you can remember where they work or live.”

  Andy nodded and his shaggy hair fell across his forehead. He bent his head and started writing.