Bad Company

by Jen Schoenbein

  I also found the safe Peter had told me about. It was locked, as per usual. It seemed pretty secure. Peter had told me that the night’s cash deposit bags went there at the end of the night. Every two to three days someone, typically Pete, took it to the bank.

  It was Friday night and starting to get busy on the floor. No one noticed me slipping back out of the office to grab my ready pizzas to deliver. Thankfully, they were still hot.

  “Where’d you run off to?” Phil asked as he walked by.

  “I had to use the john. Girl issues,” I replied, raising my eyebrows.

  “Well, I got drinks for the 2 top by the door for you. They’re ready to order.” He gave me an eye.

  Oops. I made a mental note to keep an eye out for his tables to even the score.

  I strode over to the new table. “Are you ready to order?” I asked. They looked to be a father and his daughter, middle school aged if I had to guess.

  “Yes, we’d like a large supreme pizza,” the dad supplied.

  “Don’t forget the pineapple!” the blonde girl piped up.

  “Oh, how could I forget,” the dad rolled his eyes and then smiled at the girl. “Can you add pineapple to half of the pizza?”

  “Sure thing,” I replied jotting down the order.

  “Pineapple’s my favorite!” the girl said, eyes shining.

  A chair behind me scraped the floor as a customer lunged from his chair to grab Marion’s arm.

  “Hey, I told you I wanted extra onions! Does this look like extra onions to you?” The customer, a tall man who’d obviously had too much too drink had his hand wrapped around Marion’s bicep. Her eyes went wide as she leaned away from the man.

  I stepped back between them, with a hand to his chest, pressing him back to fall into his chair. He grabbed the arms of the chair to get back up, but I already had my hands on his forearms, holding him down, face close to his.

  “If you’d like extra onions, I would be more than happy to get them for you. All you have to do is ask.” I ground out the words between gritted teeth. “Are you asking?”

  The man, appeared shocked and glanced around to notice the other patrons staring, stuttered “Um, yeah. I want extra onions.”

  “Great,” I said nodding. “I’ll be right back,” I gave him a pointed look and guided Marion into the kitchen, meeting Sally’s hi five as I walked by the bar. I wanted to dump the pizza on the man’s lap, but didn’t think Peter would appreciate that.

  “Oh my goodness! Thank you for handling that jerk!” Marion exclaimed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know what to do.”

  “It’s not your fault that he’s an ass,” I assured Marion. I touched her shoulder. “It’s fine. I’ve got his onions and I’ll take his table for the rest of the night, in case he forgets his manners again.” I winked at her and walked back out to take the man some extra sautéed onions, with a side of hairy eyeball.

  The shift at Mantovani’s ended at 11:30pm, but I had to stick around to help clean up and restock for the next day. I saw Peter alone in the hallway and told him that I’d give him a call tomorrow. By the time I got out of there, it was closer to 1 a.m.

  My stomach was full on growling by now. I had to admit, there were a few times during the evening while clearing a table that I was seriously tempted by untouched pizza left in the pizza pan. I headed out to the parking lot, thinking about the leftover pork chops in my fridge. When I got to my jeep, though, I remembered I had one more stop to do before I could go home and eat.

  I drove back to the betting shop in Humboldt Park and parked across the street. Jeremy’s yellow car wasn’t here and at this late hour, the shop looked closed. I got out and crossed the street, keeping an eye on the building. No lights, no movement behind the curtains suggested the place was empty. There were glass windows in the front, but I couldn’t see much around the dingy curtains. What I could see looked like a lobby with another interior door to the back. No windows on the second door.

  I crept around to the back door and tried the lock. No luck, it was locked tight. I looked around and didn’t see anyone. It was a dark alley and I was fairly well hidden by the shadow of the building. I scanned the wooden door, but there were no cameras, no obvious alarm systems. So, I slid out my lock pick set and went to work. I was able to get the door unlocked fairly quickly; the lock being small and cheap.

  Easing the door open, I stepped into a dark room. I could see some boxes on the floor and the faint moonlight showed a small storage room with trash and boxes lined against the wall. I lit up my phone against my leg for more light and slowly eased it away to control the amount of light in the room. There was a second door leading into the main building. This door had no windows at all, but it had a keyed bolt lock. This door was metal, and the lock was heavier duty than the one I had just unlocked. That was curious. It would take more work to open. However, while scanning this door, I noticed wires along the top edge. The door appeared to be wired.

  I backed up in surprise. It made sense to have an alarm system on a betting shop, as they probably dealt in a lot of cash, but the way the alarm was hidden, behind the second door, seemed a bit much. I suspected there was more going on in the building than gambling. The boxes mostly had junk in them, trash, Vienna Beef takeout bags, old office supplies, but no paperwork or ledgers that I could see. The valuable stuff was likely behind the door.

  I heard a foot scuff behind the door and froze. I held my breath and waited a few seconds but didn’t hear anything else. I was sure there was someone behind the door, but I had no idea who it was. I slowly backed out the door, quietly pulling it behind me and slid my lock pick back in to reset the tumbler. I was back at the Jeep and around the corner before I let out a deep breath. That was a close call.

  Chapter 6

  The next morning, I skipped my run to drag myself into the office by 9am. I was still tired from the late night and chugging coffee like it was life support. So, really, nothing new.

  Plunking down at my desk, I turned on my laptop to do some research. I scooped my hair up into a short, wild ponytail while I waited for the search engine to run a finance report on Petite Peter. He had separate checking accounts set up for himself and Shelly, then Mantovani’s Pizza account.

  I was surprised that he owned the building outright. He either had been in business a long time or was doing good for himself. He also could have been fronted money from his brother in law, but it did seem he had a decent revenue stream. If the pizza tasted anywhere as good as it smelled, there was no surprise as to why. I made a mental note to stop in sometime as a customer when all this was over.

  After sifting through Peter’s finances and checking my email, I pulled up the www.insideonline.com. The Tribune was a fine paper, but Inside-Booster was a community paper featuring North Center coverage of the nearby suburbs, like Roscoe Village. With what I did for a living, it paid to be up on local news.

  I noticed there was another fire, in Bricktown this time, not far from here. That was Rhodes’ fire district. I thought of the firefighter and hoped he was okay. The fire had taken down a community center. What a waste, neighborhoods need their community centers. I clicked on the link for fire and police reports and noticed there had been a rash of fires in the last few weeks. The fire 3 days ago was a non-profit organization that provided housing programs. A few days before it, a new preschool in Ravenswood had caught on fire.

  The fire happened at night and no one was hurt, but the building was burnt badly enough that they would have to rebuild. Because the program was city funded, a new fundraising committee was being formed to start funding the rebuild. The preschool had only been open for a few months and was being ran in a local church in the meantime.

  I scratched my head. Something about the fires bugged me. It seemed awfully strange that they were all community programs. Why would anyone target community programs? Those places were for the good of the people and didn’t profit any one individual.

  Before I could continue down the r
abbit hole of research into the local fires, Sam Mennon barged in the front door. He looked more ragged than usual, eyes wild.

  “Did you find anything out about that Jeremy Jones? I ran a background check on him and he’s a first-rate scumbag! He was in and out of Juvie as a kid and has been brought in on all sorts of charges from drunken disorderly to public intoxication.” Sam shouted excitedly, waving his arms for emphasis.

  “You ran a background check on Jeremy? How?” I asked

  “I run PhishNett, I have access to all sorts of databases,” Sam replied, waving me off. “Did you know about Jeremy?”

  “Yes, I ran a full report on him as well. I know his history, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that he had any motive to harm Suzy. There’s been no ransom,” I explained to Sam. “But I have been looking into Jeremy for some time now, based on his background and him being the last person to see Suzy.

  “Well, what’s your next step!” pressed Sam. “We have to find her!”

  “I know, Sam. I haven’t given up,” I supplied, standing up to calm him down. “I’ve been following Jeremy, trying to figure out what’s he’s up to. So far, he’s only been going between his place and the bet shop. The only times I’ve caught him out and about. He’s out grabbing food at Al’s Beef, Yolks, or HERO’s. I’ve not seen him meet up with Dessi or anyone else significant. The only people coming and going from the betting shop looked like regulars, not heavy rollers, and definitely no women.”

  I felt bad that I didn’t have anything else to give Sam. I shared in his frustration. “I stopped by the bet shop last night to poke around. The back door was open,” I fudged, “so I poked around a bit. But it was only open to a storage room with trash and food wrappers. The inner door was locked and armed with an alarm. I couldn’t go any further.” I definitely wasn’t going to tell Sam that I broke into the bet shop.

  “What kind of food wrappers?” Sam asked, face white.

  “What?”

  “You said there were food wrappers. What kind!” Sam grabbed my arm, eyes wide.

  “Uh, Vienna Beef,” I answered, pulling back and giving him a look of warning. Sam was losing it. The stress of Suzy’s disappearance was taking its toll on him. “Nothing special, just that Chicago dog place off Damen Ave.”

  “Holy Shit!” exclaimed Sam, grabbing my arm “It’s Suzy!”

  “What do you mean, Sam?” I glanced at my arm, frowning. “Calm down and explain.”

  “It’s Suzy! I knew it! She’s leaving a trail for us! Those are our favorite date night restaurants.”

  I looked at him incredulously, eyebrow raised. “Those are your favorite date night restaurants?”

  “Well, they’re nothing fancy, but when Suzy and I first got married, we didn’t have a lot,” Sam’s hands fluttered as he explained. “She had never gone to school and was working as a receptionist. I had, but I was underwater in college loans and hadn’t been able to find a job. We had to scrimp and save every penny to take the chance on PhishNett. It was a huge risk and a lot of money, but it paid off. In the meantime, we couldn’t afford to go out to eat much, so once a month we’d have date night and grab the cheapest places we could find. Eventually, we found some that had really good food and those were our favorites. We still visit them to remember when that’s all we could afford.”

  “That’s it, isn’t it?” Sam asked. “Doesn’t that mean that Jeremy has her locked up in the bet shop?”

  “Maybe,” I hedged. “But I doubt it’s enough to get a search warrant.” It was a great story, but I still wasn’t convinced.

  I had Sam write down the rest of the restaurants that Suzy and he visited and tried to calm him down a little. It sounded like a great lead, but I didn’t want Sam to be too let down if it didn’t turn out to be Suzy leaving breadcrumbs. It was easy to jump to conclusions when you’re desperate.

  I promised him I’d follow up on the lead and tried to send him home to try to rest. I told him I’d call him by dinner time, but I couldn’t convince him. He wanted to ride along to find out first hand. After making Sam promise to keep calm and let me ask the questions, I led him to my Jeep and we took off for Al’s Beef, the first place I saw Jeremy getting food.

  The guy behind the counter at Al’s looked high as a kite and stared into my photo of Jeremy for nearly 10 seconds until I had to ask him again if he’d seen Jeremy before. I glanced at the cooks and they just rolled their eyes and filled orders.

  “Uh, I think so,” he replied, blinking to focus.

  “He came in here a few days ago. Do you remember what he ordered? Did he say who he was getting food for?” I asked.

  “Uh, I don’t think so,” he replied after several more seconds.

  I glanced over at Sam, “This is one of your favorite date night locations? Really?

  Sam shrugged, “The Italian Beef is really out of this world. You really don’t know until you’ve had it. The counter guys are a little iffy, but the cooks are always good.”

  We stopped at Vienna Beef next, as it was the closest and I wanted a Chicago dog. We didn’t have any better luck there. They didn’t even remember seeing Jeremy, and I wasn’t sure when or even if he had been there. I had only seen that bag in the storage room, it could have been left a long time ago.

  We walked back to the car, and I edged back into the traffic to drive to Lakeview for Yolks.

  “HERO’s is closer, but I ran into Jeremy there, so I doubt they’ll want to give me a lot of information,” I explained to Sam.

  “You ran into Jeremy there?” Sam asked. “You mean you talked to him in person?”

  “Yeah, I harassed him a bit. I was trying to get a reaction from him.”

  “And?”

  “And he definitely knows Suzy, at least more than he would have from bumping into her at the gas station,” I supplied. He deserved to know what I knew. He was paying me after all. My only concern was keeping him from jumping to conclusions due to his high emotions. “That’s why I’ve been looking into Jeremy further, following up on the bet shop and Dessi.”

  Yolks was pretty busy when we got there, as it was nearing the lunch hour. I waited patiently for the host, trying to keep Sam calm. She would likely share less if she got a bad vibe from us.

  “Hi, Starla,” I asked, reading her name from her apron. “I know you’re busy today, but could you answer just a couple of questions?”

  “Sure,” Starla replied, already starting to look at us strangely.

  “I’m looking for my friend, he came in here a couple of days ago. Did you see him?” I showed her the picture on my phone.

  “He does look familiar,” Starla said, squinting at the photo. “I think he ordered something to go.”

  Bingo. “Do you remember what he ordered?” I asked. “Or anything unusual?”

  “Unusual? Uh, not really,” Starla answered, frowning now. “I think he got two orders.”

  I could tell she was uncomfortable with our questioning and the line of people behind us. “It would really help us out. We’re having him for dinner next weekend and didn’t know what he liked to eat. I was afraid he might have some sort of allergy or something.”

  “Oh! Well, I don’t remember anything about any allergies,” Starla offered, suddenly more comfortable with sharing. “I think he got crepes, the Bananas Foster. I think he got two orders of the same.”

  I had to put my hand on Sam’s shoulder as he rocked to the balls of his feet excitedly.

  “That’s so great, Starla! Thanks for the help,” I exclaimed. “We could definitely make something with bananas for him!” I edged Sam back out the door.

  “Bananas Foster! I knew it!” Sam said. “That’s what she always gets!”

  “Sam, what do you normally get from HERO’s?” I asked, still trying to contain Sam’s excitement.

  “HERO’s? Donuts and coffee, always. But Suzy’s favorite is the maple bacon long johns.”

  Now it was my turn to freeze. “Maple bacon? You’re sure?”

&
nbsp; “Definitely, anytime they had it, that’s what she’d get,” Sam explained. “If they’re out, she just got the plain maple long john. Always a long john. Did you see what he got at HERO’s?”

  “Yes. Maple bacon long john,” I replied in disbelief. I finally let myself feel hopeful about this lead. It seemed too good to be true, but there it was.

  “Holy shit,” I finally agreed with his earlier exclamation. That means that the noise I heard behind that steel door was likely Suzy. One door away and I never knew. I still couldn’t figure out what in the world Jeremy was doing with Suzy all this time. And why was he buying food she liked? Was he a stalker with a sick crush? Was he abusing her?

  I was so taking him down.

  After dropping Sam off at my office to get his car, I headed over to Mariano’s deli for a late lunch. We had decided, mostly me arguing, that it was better to wait until tonight to break out Suzy.

  It took all my convincing, as Sam had wanted to barge right over to the bet shop to get Suzy out. I wanted to, too, but really, we’d never get past Jeremy and Dessi’s goons on our own. We still didn’t have enough to get a warrant for police help. The cops would just question Jeremy and likely lead to Dessi moving or hurting Suzy.

  I had a plan, a backup plan, and even a ‘if it all goes to shit’ plan, but I kept that in the back seat and hoped I wouldn’t have to use it.

  I really didn’t want to take Sam with me. I would need to bend the rules to get Suzy out safely and I didn’t want Sam in on it. I was a licensed P.I. and had relationships with the local cops and lawyers. I knew my rights and could bullshit my way through a bad situation better on my own.

  The only way I could convince Sam from calling the cops or busting in on the bet shop on his own was to promise to take him with me. It would be easy to go on without him, and safer for him, but I never broke my promises. Sometimes I broke rules, but I never broke promises.