Missing Boy

by Rick Polad

  That made more sense. “And yet here you are talking to me.”

  He looked disgusted. “Not a fan of Walters. I do my job, but I’m not going out of my way to help him. So what’s with the kid?”

  I told him about Martin. “Ring any bells?”

  He shook his head. “Nope, sorry. That’s on the other side of the park. We don’t get around much.”

  “You have any kids working in your area?”

  “Sure. They work all over. But I don’t really know anybody here.”

  Changing the subject, I asked, “Does Humpty Dumpty ever get hurt when he falls off that wall?”

  “Hah! Looks can be deceiving. There’s a mattress behind the wall. He might bounce a little.”

  I smiled at the thought of Humpty bouncing. “Who plays Humpty? Pretty small egg.”

  Harvey shrugged. “Probably one of the midgets from the Freak Show.”

  “You’ve never seen them?”

  Before he could answer, the goon who had thrown me out of the park came around the corner of Wonderland. He glared at Harvey and turned to me.

  “Thought I made it clear you weren’t wanted around here.”

  “What you want or don’t want doesn’t much concern me.”

  Harvey stifled a laugh and got another glare.

  “How about what Chief Walters wants?”

  “Same answer. My money is just as good as the next guy’s.”

  “We’ll see.” Mooney turned and walked quickly away.

  Watching Mooney, Harvey said, “You got a lotta nerve, Spencer. People around here don’t mess with Walters.”

  “I’m not from around here.” I stuck my hand out from under the canopy. The rain had stopped. “Did you know Benny Parker?”

  He pushed the jester hat back on his head. “Not much more than I know the rest around here.”

  “But a little more?”

  He shrugged. “We chatted more than others, but people here don’t get to really know each other. It’s just a job. Poor guy. Accidents happen, but I feel pretty safe in Wonderland. No moving parts.”

  I laughed. “Many accidents happen around here?”

  He shook his head. “Nope, hardly any. They do a real good job. Each ride is inspected and run every morning. And at the start of the season Mr. Block rides each ride himself. That’s one reason people like working here.”

  I watched a roller coaster with only one person in the front car pull up the first grade. “So, maybe not an accident.”

  “What?”

  “Benny.”

  His brow furrowed. “Why would you say that?”

  I told him about the voice in the castle.

  “You think that was Benny?”

  “No clue. Maybe. But I don’t like coincidences.”

  “But accidents do happen, no matter how careful you are.”

  “They do.” I started to put out my hand again and stopped. We both laughed.

  “Watch out for Walters,” he said.

  “You too. He probably won’t be happy you were talking to me. I hope it doesn’t affect your job.”

  “Hey, how many grown men you think they can get to put on this outfit?”

  “Point taken. Thanks for the chat, Harvey.”

  “No, thank you. Nice to have an adult to talk with.”

  I gave him a two-finger salute and walked farther into the park. The Midway wound past the Parachute Drop and Kiddieland, where it paralleled the train tracks and turned along the river. As I passed the police shack, I thought of stopping in but decided not to. I’d just wait and see what effect my pot-stirring would have. I could always stir some more. The sky was overcast, which would hold the temperature down, but the rain made the humidity pretty unbearable.

  As I walked, I thought about Martin. He was a good kid who had just wanted a job, and what a great place to work. But the great place had turned to sadness. Maybe the great place wasn’t so great. Just like Wonderland, maybe things weren’t as they seemed. And maybe they were.

  I had a couple of other things to try in my search for Martin, but my gut told me I was in the right place.

  Chapter 11

  I stopped to get a hot dog on the way back to the office. I got two in case Samantha wanted one. I had no idea if she liked hot dogs, but if she didn’t I’d do the right thing and not let it go to waste. When I came in the back door I thought I heard sobbing. Samantha was dabbing her eyes with a Kleenex. Seeing me, she tucked it in her sleeve and reached for a phone note.

  “Hello, Mr. Manning,” she said with some hesitation. “Detective Steele called—he wants you to call back. And Johnny dropped off this envelope.”

  “Thanks, Samantha. Something wrong?”

  “Oh, nothing I want to worry you with.”

  I sat on the edge of the desk. “I’m pretty low on worries. Try me.”

  She sniffed and pulled out the Kleenex. “I think my father is missing.”

  “Think?”

  “Well, back in Atlanta, he’d go off with friends for a few days and not tell me. I got used to it. But he started to have trouble with his memory and I had him move in with me so I could be with him. When I decided to come to Chicago I had to bring him with me. He wouldn’t be safe by himself.”

  “Have you considered a retirement home?”

  She shook her head quickly. “He’d never agree to that, and his memory’s really not that bad.”

  “Okay. So he’s either missing or he’s not.”

  “I guess he is. He wasn’t there when I got home yesterday and he didn’t come home last night. And he doesn’t have any friends here.”

  “Did you call the police?”

  “No. I did when he left in Atlanta. They said one day wasn’t enough for them to get involved.”

  I agreed. “Maybe he hooked up with one of your friends.”

  “I don’t know anyone here either.”

  I gave her my best understanding look. “I’m sure he’ll show up. Probably be there when you get home.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  I slid off the desk.

  “But what if you’re not?”

  “Then I’ll look into it. And if he isn’t home tonight I’ll have a chat with my police friends.”

  She forced a smile. “Thanks, Mr. Manning. I’d appreciate it.”

  “Sure. And I’d feel better if you’d call me Spencer.”

  She nodded.

  I seemed to have started a missing persons department. I got a Coke out of the fridge before calling Steele and drank half of it trying not to think about Rosie. I wasn’t successful. I was usually pretty sure of myself, but I didn’t even know what to think. I didn’t like not being in control; it was such a helpless feeling, like being on a ship abeam of the pounding waves.

  ***

  Steele answered on the first ring.

  “Hey Steele, Spencer. You called?”

  “Yeah. The lieutenant figured that as long as I had the dead guy I should look into the missing kids. You got anything on that?”

  I wondered about that decision, given Steele’s son who had disappeared, but he didn’t seem upset.

  “Rosie with you?”

  “Nope. Pitcher is on this shift.”

  “I’ve asked some questions. But no—nothing. I’m just interested in Martin, but it might be easier to find four instead of one.”

  “Maybe. I’ll go have a chat with Walters tomorrow.”

  “Hope you have better luck than I did.”

  “Well, I’ve got that shiny thing in my pocket. Tends to make people listen.”

  “Or pretend to. You have anything more on Benny?”

  “Nope. Check in the morning.”

  The phone rang as soon as I hung up. I reached for it and then remembered I had a secretary. I heard her say whoever it was had the wrong number. At the moment I had enough business. But maybe it was wrong to think of it as business—neither case was going to make me any money. Thank goodness for trust funds.

&nb
sp; I told Samantha she could have the rest of the day off to go home and check on her father. She seemed relieved.

  “I’ll be here till six or so. Call me and let me know if he shows up or not.”

  “Thanks, Spencer.” She gave me her phone number.

  I gave her my fatherly nod and walked her to the door.

  My desk was too neat, the office was too quiet, nobody was honking their horn, and missing kids were hoping someone would find them. So far, that wasn’t me.

  I opened the envelope and pulled out a photo of Martin. I locked up and walked two blocks to a print shop where I ordered fifty posters: “Missing Boy, If you have any information, call the Chicago Police.”

  I spent the next few hours moving files around, trying to make some sense out of a file system that didn’t exist. Just as I was ready to turn off the lights the phone rang. It was Samantha.

  I listened to her sobbing for a minute. There was still no sign of her father. I told her I’d be over in a half hour. I left after calling Stosh to tell him something had come up, I’d be there whenever I got there, and to eat without me.

  ***

  Samantha lived in a three-story apartment building in Evanston, just north of the Chicago border. Parking was no better than in Chicago and I had to walk almost a block to get to her building. But it was a warm evening and I needed the exercise.

  Samantha buzzed open the door and met me at the top of the stairs. Her eyes were puffy and she had made no effort to fix her makeup.

  “Thanks for coming, Spencer. I don’t know what to do.”

  It was a one-bedroom apartment with a kitchen built into one wall of the living room.

  We sat on a beige couch that had a sheet and blanket draped over the back. She told me that was where she slept. As her lower lip quivered, she offered something to drink. I shook my head and asked when she had last seen her father.

  She took a deep breath. “Well, yesterday morning when I left for work. When I got home he was gone.”

  I jotted down his name, Samuel George. I was willing to bet he wanted a boy to name after himself but got a Samantha. I asked for a picture. Samantha looked a little embarrassed when she said she didn’t have one. I told her a description would have to do. What she gave me would have fit about any seventy-year-old man. I looked around the apartment—the walls were barren. I wondered how a place could be so empty of anything that showed someone lived there. I made a few notes and thought about the possibilities. I didn’t like any of them. Her father was seventy-two years old and there were no scenarios that would be okay. If I disappeared for a few days no one would worry. But Samuel was dependent on his daughter, who said he didn’t have any money or friends in Chicago.

  “Did he take his wallet?”

  She nodded.

  “Any unique features?”

  “Like what?”

  I shrugged. “Like scars, moles, one leg shorter than the other.”

  She smiled briefly and shook her head.

  “How about teeth?”

  She looked confused. “What do you mean?”

  “Does he have a gold tooth or missing teeth or a lot of fillings?”

  “Well, there are no gold teeth and none missing, but beyond that I just don’t know. We had been separated for a while. I know he hasn’t been to a dentist in the last couple of years.”

  I nodded. “Nothing that would distinguish him from the rest of the crowd?”

  “Well, he does have a ring that I gave him.”

  “Tell me about it.” I didn’t tell her that the ring would be more helpful if we had to identify a corpse.

  “It’s a Masonic ring. I gave it to him twenty years ago. He wears it on his right hand, next to the pinkie finger.”

  She told me about the ring, especially an inscription that said To Dad, Love Sam.

  “Mind if I take a look in the bedroom?”

  She shrugged. I took that for a no.

  There was a bed with a worn yellow blanket and two pillows, a three-drawer dresser, and a cracked mirror on the wall. That was it. I felt even more lonely than I had all day.

  After telling Samantha I’d get back to her in the morning, I gave her a hug and tried to offer some hope, but I didn’t feel very hopeful.

  Chapter 12

  Stosh was sitting on the porch when I pulled into his drive. He lived on a quiet street on the north side. The sun had set and a cool breeze made for a nice night to sit outside.

  He nodded at me and said, “Apple pie in the kitchen.” There was an empty plate on the wooden table between the two rocking chairs.

  When I returned, he glanced at the plate and then stared at me.

  “Two pieces?”

  “No dinner.”

  “Yeah, the hectic life of a famous P.I. with his own secretary.”

  Someone driving by honked. Stosh waved.

  “So what kept you from a steak dinner?”

  “My secretary.” I took a bite of pie.

  “My my. Somehow I had assumed your relationship with Rosie had changed.”

  “It has.” But I didn’t want to talk about it, and I didn’t want a lecture. “My secretary’s father is missing.”

  He looked at me with a raised eyebrow. “Another one? Trying to take over my department?”

  I stretched out my legs, put my feet up on the railing, and didn’t respond.

  “So, the kid of a friend’s sister and your secretary’s father. Good thing you’re not doing this to pay the bills.”

  “Agreed.”

  “What’s with the father?”

  I filled him in on the details and he shook his head. “You hear about older people having trouble. She’s taking on a lot to try and take care of him given the history. Sad.”

  “Yes, it is. She has no one to turn to here.”

  “No friends or relatives?”

  “Evidently not.”

  “Why did she move up here?”

  “I asked her that but we got interrupted and I never got an answer.”

  “Might help to get one.”

  “Can’t imagine why, but if it ever comes up again…”

  “Information is always a good thing, Spencer. You never know when you’ll find the key to the puzzle. Maybe they were running away from something.”

  “And maybe he wanted to see the Cubs play.”

  “Yeah, that’s it.” He gave me a disgusted look. “Anything on the kid?”

  “Nope. I’m going to look at a few other possibilities and pass out posters with Martin’s picture. But I gotta think the answer is at Riverview.”

  “And what would that answer be?”

  “No clue.” I ate the last of the pie. “But I start nosing around and someone dies? Wouldn’t you wonder?”

  “I can wonder all I want, Spencer. Only thing that matters is facts, and I have some if you’re interested.”

  I gave him my best inquisitive look.

  “Got the coroner’s report on Parker.” He paused to wave to a neighbor.

  “I’m still here.”

  “Yeah, I noticed. Lucky me. Let’s go inside—getting a little chilly.”

  I sat in my favorite chair in the living room while Stosh took the plates to the kitchen. He returned with two bottles of Schlitz.

  “Hair and blood on the boat match the victim, but there was no water in his lungs.”

  “So probably killed somewhere else. But he could have been hit by the boat and then stopped breathing before he went underwater.”

  Stosh nodded. “Could have. But the front of the boat is either pointed or flat. The dent on Parker’s head is concave, like a baseball bat.”

  “So?”

  “So we’ll have people there in the morning.”

  I told him about the bat in Walters’ office. “Sending Steele?”

  He nodded. “And Pitcher and a few others.”

  “Walters isn’t going to like that.”

  “Nope. I’ll see if I can get around to letting that bother me.”


  “Anything else on Benny?”

  “Team went through his apartment. A little dive.” He paused for a drink. “Found an IOU for a little over ten thousand dollars. I couldn’t read the signature, but Benny was into somebody pretty heavy.”

  I agreed and filed the IOU in my memory. I could think of only one person who would cover that kind of money. “You said Walters was a good cop and a bad cop. He seems to have his own little kingdom there at Riverview. I talked with the owner, Block. He didn’t come right out and say it, but I got the feeling that he didn’t care what Walters did as long as nothing ended up in his lap.”

  “And that surprises you?” He unfolded the card table and chairs and set them up in front of the couch.

  I took a long drink. “Nope. But I wonder how far Walters would go to keep things running smoothly.”

  Stosh pulled out the top drawer of the desk and got the cards. “I wouldn’t think too far. He knows what the rules are—just sometimes has his own interpretations. Kinda like someone else I know.”

  As he shuffled, I moved to the table and thought about Walters. Maybe he knew what the rules were, and I certainly didn’t mind bending them myself, but I thought it possible that power would change bend to break.

  After losing the first three gin hands, I asked another question.

  “You said you assigned Steele to the murder case.”

  “Among others.”

  “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

  “I don’t usually do things that I think are bad ideas. How do you mean?”

  I arranged my cards. A run of three and garbage. “I think the murder has something to do with the missing kids.”

  “So?”

  Drawing a card, I said, “With Steele’s son disappearing, I wonder about involving him with missing kids.”

  He fanned out his cards. “I already thought of that. We had a chat. He assures me it wouldn’t be a problem if it heads in that direction.”

  “You’re the boss.”

  He laid down his cards. “Gin.”

  I threw mine onto the pile and he left them there.

  “It’s your deal,” I said.

  He still left them there. “What’s eating you?”

  I pursed my lips and took a deep breath and said, “What makes you think something’s eating me?”