Missing Boy

by Rick Polad

  Chapter 19

  Gertrude Morgan’s phone rang at three in the morning. She groggily answered after six rings. A female voice simply said, “There’s a bus leaving the Greyhound terminal at seven-ten. Be on it. You’ll get further instructions.” The line went dead.

  She stared at the phone and shook her head, trying to wake up. The voice sounded the same as on past calls, but it had been months since the last one so she couldn’t be sure. All she knew was that she was getting free rent and a nice monthly check, and there was nothing keeping her in Chicago. Her children were grown and had moved away, and she had no real friends.

  As she hurriedly packed two worn suitcases, Gertrude wondered where she was going—and why.

  Chapter 20

  There was another plate of eggs and toast on the tray. Martin tried to think about how long he had been in the room. He vaguely thought he could figure it out by how many trays there had been, but as he tried to remember he decided he didn’t care. It was too hard to think. But he did remember another dream. He was sitting at a bench on a stool filling small plastic envelopes with white powder and passing them to the boy next to him. He couldn’t remember what happened to the envelopes after that, but he did remember a man with a large red nose who would suddenly be standing in front of him like a ghost that just appeared out of thin air. As he fell back asleep he wondered where his mother was.

  Chapter 21

  Samantha only had one address so far. I had given her a couple of names to call for help and she hadn’t heard back from either. She had found the one by herself. Percy Humphrey lived just west of the loop on North Avenue. Not one of your best neighborhoods, and it might be a different Percy, but I doubted it. I told her I’d check back in the afternoon. She apologized for not having had more success and I told her to get what she could. As I turned to leave, she stopped me.

  “Mister, um, Spencer. Have you…?” She looked at me with sad eyes.

  “I’m sorry, Samantha. They have nothing. And I asked some of your neighbors about him and they haven’t seen him. But the police will keep looking. The word is out.”

  She frowned and looked like she was going to cry.

  I walked back and put my hand on her shoulder. “I know it’s not easy, Samantha. If there’s anything else I can do…”

  She just nodded, covered my hand with hers, and struggled to hold back her tears.

  ***

  The barker at the Freak Show was just getting started when I walked up. A crowd of about twenty had gathered out front. He was dressed in white pants and shirt with bright red suspenders and a red and white polka dot bow tie. I liked the look. He was accompanied by the lady with three arms and the five-hundred-pound man. I questioned the extra arm, but the man looked like every pound was real. Across the way, three teenage boys were trying to coax their dates into the fun house. But the girls didn’t seem to buy into the fun part. The boys gave up and led them to the baseball throw booth to impress them with their skills. I could hear the far-off screech of one of the roller coasters and the screams of the riders.

  The barker finished his patter and another man herded people to the ticket booth as three men helped the fat man off the stage. Even as a kid I had been struck by the sadness of the poor people who were the attractions in the Freak Show. I had never gone in. About half the crowd bought tickets. I had watched the people walking down the Midway for about ten minutes, wondering what my plan was, when the barker came out of the front entrance and walked south toward the Bobs. I followed. He stopped and talked to two people at concessions before turning into a shack under the coaster. I bought a hot dog and waited.

  Five minutes later he returned and headed back toward the Freak Show. As he passed a cotton candy booth I caught up with him and made a comment about the weather. He glanced at me and kept walking. Figuring he had no interest in meteorology, I tried again.

  “Can we walk and talk?”

  Without looking at me he said, “I’m sure we can. But I see no reason to talk to you.”

  “Really?” I tried to look hurt. “You don’t even know me.”

  “You’ve made my point.” Despite the happy tie he was good at surly.

  “Well, if that’s all that’s stopping you, I’m Spencer Manning. I’m looking into some missing kids and would appreciate a few minutes.”

  He stopped and turned toward me. He was six inches shorter and at least thirty pounds lighter than me but made up for it in belligerence. “My mother taught me not to talk to strangers, especially ones named Spencer Manning. So I suggest you take a hike.”

  “Nice to know you had a mother. Don’t you think she would have been concerned if you were missing?”

  “You don’t know my mother. Now blow.” He left me standing there wondering why suddenly no one liked me. Maybe Randel was his sister. I considered catching up to him to ask, but just sat on a bench to finish my dog.

  As I got up to throw away the wrapper, I was joined by my favorite pretend cop… Mooney.

  “Boss wants to see you,” he said with a snarl.

  “About?”

  He didn’t answer and he certainly didn’t have what it would take to get me to the boss if I didn’t want to go. But if you shake trees and fruit falls out, you have to pick it up, so I started walking with Mooney at my side trying to pretend he was important. He nodded at the door when we got to the station.

  Belva was at her desk. Walters’ office was empty. Mooney waved me to a chair against the wall. I stared at her while she fumbled with papers on the desk and then looked up. I had no doubt her parents knew what they were doing when they named her. There was nothing friendly about her look.

  “You were told not to bother our employees.”

  “As I recall, Walters made a suggestion. I don’t always follow suggestions.”

  She gave me a hard stare and continued. “It’s Chief Walters, and people who don’t follow suggestions have been known to find trouble.”

  I was supposed to be scared. “I’ve found trouble before. Hasn’t been a problem.”

  She slowly said, “So far.”

  “Yup. I may be mistaken, but that sounds like a threat.”

  “Just an observation.”

  I stood and walked to the edge of her desk and looked down at her. “Here’s an observation for you. Kids are missing and you don’t seem to be concerned. And Benny Parker is dead. I can’t help but wonder why you’re not concerned. And I’m not going to stop wondering.”

  “We certainly are concerned, and we’ve cooperated with the police on both matters. Now I strongly suggest you mind your own business.” But despite the bravado she seemed a bit flustered.

  I put both hands on the desk and leaned forward. “Missing kids is my business.”

  “You’ve been warned, Mr. Manning. I’m just trying to do you a favor. If you continue to bother our employees we’ll call the police.”

  “Well, thanks for the favor. Maybe I can do you one someday.” I gave her a two finger salute and walked out with another person added to my list of admirers.

  Mooney was leaning against a post across from the office. I strolled over to him and tried again.

  “Nice weather for June, don’t you think?”

  He didn’t respond.

  I gave him my best tough guy stare and walked away with him following. When we got to the entrance, I walked past and kept going back toward the Bobs. About halfway there I turned around and headed for the exit. Mooney followed me all the way to my car and watched me pull away.

  Driving north on Western, I felt I was making progress. Shaking the tree had made people nervous… at least it had made Belva nervous enough to threaten me. And as I crossed Montrose, heading home, I remembered Mooney had said the “boss” wanted to see me. The only one in the office was Belva.

  If nothing else, I had some topics for conversation with Harvey in the morning.

  ***

  I threw a burger on the grill, made a salad, and sat on a deck chair with
the evening paper. The headline on the front page was “First McDonald’s Restaurant To Be Torn Down.” The article ran two columns and talked about the restaurant Ray Kroc had brought to Des Plaines, a suburb of Chicago, in 1955. Ironically, Ray Kroc had just died four months ago, in January. It was the first fast-food burger restaurant in Chicago and the ninth in the chain of restaurants named after the McDonald brothers in California. They planned to build another more modern restaurant across the street and a museum on the site of the old one.

  I had made my own history at that McDonald’s. A month after I got my driver’s license, I had a car full of friends who wanted a cheeseburger, so we headed out to Des Plaines. As I was about to pull into the parking lot, another car came out of the lot and cut me off. Aside from hitting it, my only option was to cut up short of the driveway over the planted area. After we all calmed down, we went in and were met by the manager who saw me cut through his flower bed but didn’t see the other car. He told me to get out and never come back. We left, but I did go back. I made a mental note to go and watch the demolition.

  I turned the burger and the page and started to read an article that caught my eye. A woman was found dead in the ladies’ room of the Greyhound bus station. And then I felt the punch in my stomach. She was identified as Gertrude Morgan. A narrow red mark around her throat made it appear she had been strangled. Another lady had found her at six-thirty this morning.

  I shut off the grill, added a piece of cheese, and called Stosh.

  “Hello, kid.”

  “Hey Stosh. I just read about Gertrude Morgan at the bus terminal.”

  “Yeah, never a dull moment. Why does that rate a call?”

  “Because two years ago Gertrude Morgan was the secretary to Mr. Block, the owner of Riverview.”

  “Come on over.” He hung up. Still no manners.

  ***

  Lt. Powolski was sitting on the porch lighting his pipe when I pulled into the drive. I sat in the rocker next to him. It was warm enough to enjoy the evening without a jacket. A light breeze out of the west held the sweet smell of lilacs.

  Stosh worked the pipe a bit and then said, “Tell me again.”

  “I was in Block’s office yesterday talking about his secretary.”

  “Of course you were. Can I take a wild guess about her looks?”

  “Her looks have nothing to do with it. We were talking about the fact that she doesn’t seem to be a fan of mine.”

  “A woman with taste. And?”

  “And I asked about his previous secretary. He said she had quit without reason or notice and left him holding the bag at a busy time. It was Gertrude Morgan. The day after I ask about her, she’s murdered.”

  He puffed slowly, letting smoke lazily move in my direction.

  “Do you have any more than what was in the paper?” I asked.

  “Still had her purse and wallet, but there were pale skin lines where a ring and watch or bracelet used to be.” More slow puffs. “Could very well have been a robbery gone bad. Not exactly the safest spot in town.”

  “How about if you add Benny to the picture?” I asked.

  “Then it looks a lot less like robbery… and a lot more like you should let us take care of this.”

  “Thanks for your concern, but I have some more people to talk to.”

  “Such as?”

  I told him about the lists of employees.

  “And why do you think that’s important?”

  “No idea. But it beats doing nothing, and the first person I talked to got me a chat with Belva, who reminded me I was supposed to mind my own business.”

  “You probably should.” He knew I wouldn’t.

  “Sure.” I stretched out and put my feet up on the railing. “I’m having breakfast again with Harvey in the morning. I’m worried about him. He’s been seen talking to me.”

  “Not afraid of Walters?”

  “Doesn’t appear to be.”

  “Maybe that’s because he knows he doesn’t have to worry about Walters because he’s Walters’ stooge.”

  “Could be, but I doubt it. I like him.”

  “Sure you do. Just keep it in mind. Speaking of Belva…”

  We went inside as the night started to chill.

  Stosh settled in his recliner and I sat down on the couch.

  “So?”

  “So Belva is clean. Not even a traffic ticket. With that name, who’d figure?”

  “That doesn’t fit my theory.”

  He looked at me with raised eyebrows but didn’t ask what my theory was.

  “But Belva’s kid isn’t.”

  “Kid?”

  “Eighteen years old, name is Albert. The usual couple of speeding tickets and an arrest for burglary and resisting arrest four years ago.”

  “Interesting. What happened?”

  “The case was thrown out. Evidence was somehow compromised.”

  I gave him a puzzled look. “Compromised how?”

  “Don’t know, but I could dig a little deeper if you want.”

  “Not at the moment, but I’ll let you know.”

  He had a playful look in his eyes. He knew something I didn’t and was enjoying it.

  I just stared at him for a good minute, which is a long time if you’re just staring. I finally gave in. “Okay, you’re dying to tell me. Don’t make me beg.”

  Folding his arms across his chest, he said, “Guess who the arresting officer was.”

  “Don’t have to—Walters.”

  “Yup.”

  “You thinking something wrong there?”

  “I just gather facts. Fact one… Walters books Belva’s kid. Fact two… the kid gets off with bad evidence. Fact three…”

  I finished for him. “Walters gets a job as police chief where Belva works.”

  “Yup. Starting to smell bad.”

  “Like Limburger cheese.”

  He rubbed his forehead. “The question is… did Walters do a favor for Belva cuz she could get him the job, or did Belva get him the job because he could help with her kid? Who did a favor for who?”

  “Whom.”

  I got a dirty look and continued. “Maybe there was something else she needed him for.”

  “Like what?”

  I shrugged. “No clue. I need to do some more detecting.”

  “Two people dead, Spencer.”

  “Understood.”

  “We still doing our normal Wednesday night, or is two in a row too much excitement for you?”

  “Sure. I’ll get a nap tomorrow.”

  He laughed, turned on the news, and we talked until almost eleven-thirty when his phone rang. That was never good. He rolled his eyes and shook his head. I let myself out.

  As I headed home, I wondered what Rosie was doing and how this was going to end. I had to get up early to meet Harvey, so I tried to stop thinking and looked forward to getting some sleep.

  Chapter 22

  I stopped at the office on the way to Molly’s. The list of addresses was on my desk—two copies. I was happy with Samantha’s work and felt worse and worse about her father. There was little chance that he was alive, but it was pretty strange that the police had found nothing.

  Harvey was waiting for me, sipping coffee in the same booth but without the hat. He looked happy to see me. Who wouldn’t be happy about free food?

  “So what’s new, P.I.?” he asked with a smile.

  “Nothing good.” I slid into the booth and turned my cup over. The waitress was right behind me with the pot. “Do you know Gertrude Morgan?”

  With scrunched lips and a slow shake of his head, he said, “No, the name isn’t familiar.”

  I sighed and took a sip.

  “Why?”

  “She was killed yesterday. Strangled at the bus station.”

  “Yeah, it’s a fun city. But why do I suspect she’s not just a statistic?”

  “Do you know Block’s secretary?”

  The waitress stopped and we ordered.

 
“I know he has one. Don’t think I could tell you her name. She shows up with him at events once in a while. Not bad on the eyes. She’s Gertrude?”

  “No. But do you remember the one before her?”

  He looked thoughtful again. “Probably saw her but I couldn’t give you a description—you’re going back a few years.”

  “And I assume you don’t know either’s name.”

  “The only reason I know Block’s name is because he signs my checks,” he said with a smile.

  Looking straight at him, I almost whispered. “Gertrude Morgan.”

  His eyes widened and he took a deep breath. “And you’re assuming it’s somehow connected to all this?”

  “There’s a plaque on my wall that says I don’t believe in coincidences.”

  He encircled his cup with both hands. “But they do happen.”

  “Yes, they do. But I err on the side that they don’t until I get proof otherwise, and the list of coincidences is growing.” I didn’t tell him about Belva’s kid. Most of me trusted him, but I was paying attention to the part that needed more time.

  “Have you noticed anything at the park?” I asked.

  “Nothing out of the ordinary. But there’s a meeting tonight after work.”

  “For what?”

  He shrugged and answered after finishing his eggs. “Nobody knows.”

  “How did you find out about it?”

  “Word just spread around that management wanted to talk to us lowly employees.”

  “Do you have to go?”

  “I wondered that, but asking the fellow who told me would have been useless. Normally I would ignore it but with what’s been going on I think it might be interesting.”

  “Might indeed. You willing to meet again tomorrow morning?” I finished my pancakes and sat back.

  “Sure. As long as you’re buyin’… I’m hungry.”

  I thought for a minute about how to word the next question.

  “Harvey, when we first met we were talking about Humpty Dumpty and I asked who was inside the egg. You said probably one of the midgets from the Freak Show. Do you remember that?”