by Rick Polad
Both of us were silent for a few minutes.
“You had a sister?”
I let out a big sigh. “Margaret died when we were three.”
She reached out and took my hand. “I’m so sorry, Spencer. They couldn’t help her?”
“They can’t help anyone. Almost all babies who are born with it die in the first year. Margaret was very lucky to make it to three.”
“So you don’t have the problem?”
I just stared out the window at the half moon. “I do.”
Her jaw dropped and she just looked at me with wide eyes. “Spencer! Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
I shook my head. “I haven’t told anyone. I don’t want people feeling sorry for me or treating me differently. The only one who knows is Stosh.”
She still looked shocked. “But you’re almost thirty.”
I nodded. “Yes. Margaret was in a very small percentage that live past the first year. I’m off the charts.”
“Do you see a doctor?”
“I go every year for regular checkups, but there’s nothing they can do about my heart. I’ll just drop dead one day. I wake up every morning surprised.”
“Pardon my asking, but does this have anything to do with your willingness to walk into dark alleys without fear?”
I laughed. “I’ve thought about that. Maybe subconsciously, but I think more to do with my lack of common sense when adrenalin kicks in.”
She smiled.
I turned to her and put my hand on her knee. “But it does have a lot to do with my relationship choices.”
“How so?”
“It wouldn’t be fair to anyone to be in a relationship that could end any day.”
She crossed her legs and leaned back on the couch. “There’s another way of looking at that.”
“Which is?”
“Which is, it’s not fair to love someone and not be able to be with them, even for just a day.”
I was staring out the window when a cloud drifted slowly across the moon. “You’d be willing to take that chance?”
She let go of my hand. “I would have been, if it was for you.”
I thought for a bit. “Would have been?”
Running her hand through her hair, she said, “I’ve loved you for a very long time, and I’ve hoped all these years that you loved me too. We’ve had such great times but you never said anything.”
“I was afraid to… It wouldn’t have been fair…”
“I know. You told me. But you never gave me the chance to decide that for myself. Still, I kept hoping. And then there was that night last year when we went back to my place after looking for your pretend hooker.”
I turned toward her. “Yes, that was wonderful.”
She nodded. “It was. And I expected more.” She shrugged. “When more didn’t come, I started letting go of my hope.”
“But you never told me how you felt.”
“No, you’re right. I guess I hoped you would figure it out.”
I didn’t know how to tell her how sad I felt.
She continued. “So I didn’t tell you about loving you, and you didn’t tell me about your heart.”
“I’m sorry, Rosie. I was just trying to take care of you.”
“I wish you hadn’t, Spencer. I really do. I can take pretty good care of myself.”
I reached out and touched her hand. “Are you saying all hope is gone?”
She slowly shook her head. “I’m not sure. I cherish our friendship, but the rest… I just don’t know.”
I felt empty. “That’s sad.”
“It is, in so many ways.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, this is sad. But I’ve also been sad when I went home alone, wondering why you didn’t want me.”
“But I did. I…”
“I know. I get it.” She took a deep breath. “I had hope for a long time. The saddest part was when I realized I was letting go of the hope a little with every day that went by.”
She just looked at me with tears in her eyes. Silence rolled into the room like fog on a beach, sudden and ominous. I remembered thinking I had nothing when I struck out with the bus driver. I was wrong—I had plenty compared to the nothing I had now.
I thought I should leave but I felt glued to the couch. I wondered if there was any hope left at all and asked again.
“I can’t give you an answer, Spencer... other than to take some time. I’d like to see how I feel tomorrow, and the next day.”
I nodded, knowing that was the best I deserved. I didn’t want to leave.
“We could talk for a while, but not about this,” she said with resignation.
I took whatever she offered. The night turned into morning and somewhere among the sentences she fell asleep. Eventually I did too, but not before I had spent hours just looking at her.
Chapter 10
The phone woke us up to a room filled with light. Reaching across the arm of the couch, Rosie answered and pressed the speaker button.
“Morning Rosie, Stosh.”
“Good morning, lieutenant. I’ve got you on speaker.” She looked at me.
“Trying to find Spencer. He doesn’t answer at home or his pager. You have any idea where he is?”
As I looked to the end table for my pager, I remembered I had left it in the kitchen.
“I do,” she answered.
“This ain’t twenty questions. Where is he?”
“That’s a little personal, sir.”
Stosh wasn’t often silent, but he was now.
“Did he tell you about…?”
“He did. Doesn’t matter.”
“Didn’t think it would. Can you put him on?”
She pulled the phone down onto the couch. “If you don’t mind the speaker, go ahead.”
“Hey, kid. Time to get up.”
“Okay,” I said with very little energy. “That wasn’t in the plans yet.”
“Change your plans. The early work crew found a body floating in the Tunnel of Love.”
“Who?” I hoped it wasn’t Martin.
“Don’t know.”
“A kid?”
“Nope, adult male.”
I let out a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Stosh, I’ll run over there.”
“Okay… stay away from Walters.”
“I’ll try.”
“Right. And Spencer—‘bout time.” He hung up. I knew he was smiling, but I also knew he didn’t know there were two meanings to Rosie’s doesn’t matter. Those two words had just become the saddest in the English language.
“Rosie, I…”
“There aren’t any words, Spencer. Go do your job. You’re the best at it, and I’m very proud of you. And we’ll always be friends, no matter what.”
I could only nod.
“Do you want some breakfast?”
“No, thanks. I’d better just go. Thanks for letting me stay.”
“Sure. Good luck with Martin. And I’ll repeat the lieutenant’s advice—stay away from Walters.” She smiled.
I tried to return the smile, but couldn’t.
***
The Tunnel of Love had become my ride of choice after discovering girls. It was a water ride with a decorated boat winding in a flume through a park and a tunnel where a kiss was guaranteed. The park had a good record as far as accidents but, as I remembered, one of the accidents resulted in the death of a worker who fell into the flume and was run over by a boat. Maybe this was another accident. Maybe not.
I showed my ID card at the gate and followed the commotion to the ride. Several officers were chatting with employees, and Detective Steele stood just outside the entrance to the tunnel.
“Hey, Steele.”
“Manning.”
“Got anything?”
“Not yet. Just a dead body.”
“Got a name?”
“Benny Parker. Park employee.”
I told him about the man who hadn’t shown up yesterday. Unfortunatel
y, I had no way of knowing if it was the same guy. I’d recognize the voice but this guy was done talking.
He turned to say something I couldn’t hear to the officer guarding the boat.
“Could it have been an accident?” I asked.
“May have. Head bashed in and what looks like hair and skin on the bow of the boat. We’ll know more after the coroner’s report.”
He didn’t offer to let me know and I didn’t ask. We both knew Stosh would fill me in.
“Have you talked to Walters?”
“He’s been called but he’s not here yet. The Riverview Police Force is only here during park hours.”
“Do you know him?”
He lit a partially smoked cigar he pulled from his pocket. “Haven’t had the pleasure. But I know of him.”
“Had a chat with him yesterday. He was less than helpful.”
“Fits what I know.”
I told him I was going to take a walk and would stop back. He just nodded.
***
I heard a curt “Excuse me, sir” from behind and turned to see a man a bit shorter than me in a tan uniform that didn’t quite fit. A badge pinned to his left shirt pocket had Riverview Police and Sergeant stamped on it. It looked like a prize from a Cracker Jack box. The handcuffs clipped to his belt didn’t look real either, but the gun on his right hip did. There was a nametag over his right pocket—Mooney.
“The park isn’t open yet. What are you doing here?” Mooney asked me.
“I’m with the police.”
“You have ID?”
I sighed. Sometimes they didn’t ask. And with all the police around I would have thought this guy wouldn’t have either. I smiled my best smile and tried to win him over.
“Well, I’m not officially with them, just kind of helping.”
He folded his arms across his chest.
This guy didn’t look like he’d make decisions all by himself and I knew Walters wasn’t there yet but would be soon.
“How about we walk back to the Tunnel of Love and check with the detective,” I suggested.
He nodded in that direction and I led the way.
As we approached the crowd I noticed Walters talking with Steele.
“Tell you what,” I said as friendly as I could manage. “Looks like everyone is busy. I’ll just check back in later.”
“And I’ll just see you to the gate,” said my escort. He didn’t even try to be friendly.
I found Steele’s car and waited. An hour later he showed up with a smirk on his face when he saw me.
“You must be pretty important, P.I. Not everybody gets an escort out of the park.”
“Funny.” I moved away from the car. “Walters and I aren’t exactly best friends.”
“Well, don’t feel bad. He’s not the friendly type. Hop in, we’ll chat.”
He started the car, checked in, and turned on the air.
“So, missing kids,” I said. “I start asking questions and somebody ends up dead.”
“People end up dead even when you don’t ask questions.”
“Yup. Maybe nothing, but maybe something.”
“What?”
“Don’t know. I’ll ask some more questions. I’ll start with you. Whadda ya got?”
He lit a half-smoked cigar and rolled the window down halfway.
“From what I’ve heard, not much. Missing Persons is looking into the Riverview connection.”
I was getting more cigar smoke than I wanted and Steele had no info I could use.
“I’m going to take a walk through the park,” I said.
“I thought you were invited out.”
“Yeah, but in ten minutes a coupla bucks gets me back in. See ya.”
He waggled his cigar.
***
The park was clean and quiet. It had a certain feel that it didn’t have when it was full of people—more like walking through a forest. Behind the piped-in band music, I could hear birds chirping, patiently waiting for the feast that would soon fall to the ground. Employees in the booths and at the rides ignored me. I watched them getting ready for the day as I walked slowly by. None of them looked happy. But my memories were of energetic barkers with big grins, luring me into whatever magic hid behind the wall. Everything here was a show—nothing was as it seemed.
As I watched the people, I thought about Dad’s warning to stay close. Riverview wasn’t as bad as the carnivals that moved through town because a lot of the employees here came back from year to year. For what it was, it was a good job. But this wasn’t an easy life. And that started me thinking about the four kids who were missing and perhaps hadn’t had dads to give them that warning.
I remembered those glorious days fifteen years ago as I walked past the Bobs and the Parachute Drop and the Tilt-a-Whirl. I thought I was walking aimlessly, but I ended up standing in front of a sign that read, “Wonderland – Come in and See What Alice Saw”.
I learned to read by listening to Dad and Mom read to me and following along. While Dad read Dashiell Hammett and Mickey Spillane, Mom stuck with the classics. And one of my favorites was Alice in Wonderland, the magical world where nothing made any sense. She read my favorite parts over and over, and then one night said she had a new story. I was disappointed, but not for long. It was another Alice book, Alice Through the Looking Glass, and What She Saw There, where I met Humpty Dumpty and the rest of Lewis Carroll’s wonderful characters. I was fascinated by Humpty Dumpty, the egg-shaped creature who fell off the wall and couldn’t be put back together again. That made no sense to me—you’d never be able to piece an egg back together. That they would even try seemed ludicrous to me. And I never understood how the King’s horses could be helpful.
A light rain started to fall as I stood outside the entrance to Wonderland. Little puffs of steam rose as the cool drops hit the blacktop.
“Come in out of the rain, mister. All it takes is a quarter.”
It took me a second to pick the voice out of the background of characters painted on the wall. A man wearing a jester costume, with a large bulbous nose and droopy jowls was standing next to a painting of the red queen. The Cheshire Cat grinned just above his head. That cat had given me nightmares when I was a kid—something devilish about that grin.
I paid my quarter and entered through the looking glass door.
I usually find that the things I remember from childhood are different when I see them again. But Wonderland hadn’t changed. Humpty Dumpty still sat on the wall, slowly twirling his legs in circles. He was just a giant egg, no taller than four feet. When I was a kid, I had decided there must be one of the midgets from the freak show inside the egg. There was the rabbit and the red and white queens having a tea party. I was still mesmerized by the red queen’s bulging green eyes. A giant frog dressed in a bright yellow sleeveless jacket and huge boots stood next to the giant chessboard.
All of a sudden there was a commotion and I remembered what came next. I was the only one in the building, but even one person deserved a show. As Humpty started to flail his arms and wobble, the rest of the characters rushed over to him to help, but he fell backwards off the wall as the Red Queen recited the poem.
Dad fed me the real world with crime and murder and Mom let me escape through the looking glass where everything was a mystery. I always thought Carroll was wonderfully crazy, but there was method to his madness. At some point Mom had pointed out that the poem at the end of the story held the real name of Alice, the person Lewis Carroll used for his stories. The first letter of each line spelled her name—Alice Pleasance Liddell.
When I got back outside, the rain was falling harder and I stood under a canopy with the jester who was now smoking a cigarette. The Midway was empty. He nodded at me when I walked over to him.
“So what brings a grown man to Wonderland?” he asked.
“Just reliving some old memories. It hasn’t changed in fifteen years.”
He tossed the cigarette to the ground and stepped on it. “Nope. T
he book doesn’t change so Wonderland can’t either.”
That was more wisdom than I expected from a carnival worker. I’d have to change my stereotype.
“Mind if I ask you a few questions?” I asked.
He lit another cigarette. “Not if I can ask you one first.”
“Deal.”
“Did you find your memories?”
I smiled. “I did. Just like I never left.”
He nodded and a look in his eyes said he had a few memories too. “I hope it rains all day.”
“And why would that be?”
“Cuz they close the joint early if the crowds are thin. Round about dinner time I start tasting a cold beer.”
The rain had turned back to a drizzle, and a man with a clipboard passed us as he walked down the middle of the Midway.
“My name’s Spencer.”
“Harvey. I’d shake your hand, but…” He reached out with a hand in a multi-colored glove with fancy sparkly attachments on the ends of the fingers.
“Not a problem, Harvey. Beats a white rabbit outfit.”
He looked confused. “Pardon?”
“Harvey, the white rabbit?”
He still looked confused.
“Never mind. How long have you worked here?”
“Must be about eight years. I started on the cleanup crew.”
“You like it?”
“It’s a job. I’ve had worse.”
“They treat you well?”
“For what it is… yup. No travel, steady pay, and this sure ain’t hard work. Why do you ask? I gotta figure you don’t care all that much about me.”
“Well, that’s not true, but I’m working too. Private investigator.”
I didn’t get the reaction I expected.
“Now there’s a real interesting job.” He turned and looked at me closer than he had. “You don’t look old enough to be a private investigator.”
I laughed. “Well, ya gotta start somewhere.”
“What brings you here? You working on the missing kid?”
That stopped me cold for a few seconds. “You know about that?”
“Sure, we all do. The cops sent out the word that a kid was missing and told us that we should come across with information if we knew anything.”
“Interesting.” I hadn’t expected any help from Walters.
“This might be more interesting. Also said not to talk to anybody about it but Walters.”
