by David Rich
I was halfway to the couple when I noticed I was alone. All my pals had stayed in the car. The hitter and the girl stopped their dance to stare at me. “What are you staring at?” he said.
“Leave her alone.”
He was bigger than me and thick, but his middle was soft. He had long hair pulled back in a ponytail, fat cheeks, and the light from the bar showed the pockmarks. The girl, Cora, was thin. She wore a blue halter top, tight jeans, and a red choker. Her face was the opposite of his, smooth skin and thin features. He turned his back on her to face me. She didn’t try to run away from him, which should have been a hint, but even if I’d understood the meaning of that, I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself. I came forward within inches of the guy.
“Mind your own fucking business,” he said.
I slugged him in the gut, then kneed him in the face when he doubled over. I let him stagger for a second and that was all it took for Cora to attack me. She was pounding on me with two fists like I was the locked door to the medicine cabinet.
“Leave him alone. Get the fuck outta here.” And more.
I backed up a few steps to get away from her. The guy had recovered. He pushed her aside and came at me. “Leave her alone, you asshole,” he said.
He tried to hit me, but I blocked it and slapped him hard across the face, which always hurts more than people think it will. Cora screamed, “No…” as if he had been shot. And she flew onto him, holding him back, protecting him. She hissed at me, “Just mind your own fucking business.” She pulled his hand off his cheek and kissed it where I had slapped him. I shrugged and went back to the car. It was empty. My pals were in the bar. When I asked why they didn’t help, two said they had slept with Cora in the past month and didn’t want the guy to know. I don’t know why any of us, including me, did what they did.
Signs announced diminishing distances to Las Vegas, and I chose to believe them so I didn’t feel like I was on a treadmill. I tried to focus on Dan’s clues, which meant conjuring him: relaxed on the boat, fit and tanned, and in the cell, beaten pale, eyes swollen to slits. If Dan suddenly suggested I get to know who I am, then I knew I better take a close look at who everybody was. Dan could always claim he gave his partners fair warning.
We arrived in Phoenix before dawn. I checked into a downtown motel for a few hours’ rest before the Office of Vital Records opened at nine. I showered and fell right to sleep, not worrying about how Shannon spent her time.
The Office of Vital Records reminded me of a high school, a four-story brick and stone building stretched out along the whole block, with a wide, well-tended lawn and a flagpole. One woman occupied the information desk just inside the glass doors. “You have to show some relation to the deceased or that you represent the estate to access the death records,” she said. I knew my mother’s name from my birth certificate: Gloria Marie Waters, formerly Henning, born 1962 in Tucson. After a little go-round with another clerk, we found my birth certificate and with that, along with my service ID, he felt it was safe to look up Gloria’s death information. “I’m sorry,” he said. “If she died, it didn’t happen in Arizona. There are databases that list obituaries from around the country, but they aren’t perfect. They charge.…You can use those computers.” He pointed across the room.
Dan had mentioned a couple of times that my mother was dead and I remember questioning him only once. “Cancer,” he said. There was no reason to think she was dead at all. Shannon had a credit card, which meant McColl would be in on the search. No combination of names and ages matched the Gloria Henning Waters I was looking for in the death records. The only living Gloria Henning was just twenty-six. I found four living women named Gloria Waters in Arizona. Three were too old; one was just the right age.
The town house was in a stylish white stucco building in south Scottsdale. I parked down the street and watched it for a minute. Shannon said, “You want me to wait here?”
“Suit yourself.”
“I just thought…”
“What?”
“It’s your mother, maybe anyway and…”
“You don’t want to intrude. That’s fine. Thanks.” A phony act, but I couldn’t see why I cared. I left her in the car. Gloria Waters had an end unit, Number 8. A sprinkler missed the small bushes spaced along the edge of the building. An old man walked his poodle, leash in one hand, plastic bag in another. The poodle pissed on a bush that wasn’t getting watered. The old man wanted me to smile at the cuteness of it, so I did.
The front door to Number 8 was ajar. I pushed it open and called out, “Hello?” No answer. Shards of mirror littered the marble entrance floor. A small table was knocked over. I stepped inside.
Even with walls punctured, furniture overturned, pillows gouged, drawers and cupboards emptied onto the floor, you could tell this place had been nicely put together. I didn’t want to step on the debris because it all looked like such good stuff. Every vase was smashed, every picture slashed. In the kitchen, a bag of Peet’s Coffee had been emptied onto the floor. Next to it lay the vacuum cleaner with the bag slashed open. They weren’t looking for twenty-five million dollars. They must have gotten the idea of clues into their heads, and unsure what that meant, they binged on the notion of thoroughness and the luxury of their power. They were like morons at an all-you-can-eat buffet, piling their plates because no one could stop them.
She was taped to a chair in the master bedroom upstairs. A slightly plump woman with dyed red hair cut short, she was wearing a skirt and a bra; she must have been getting ready for work when they came in. Her heavy makeup was smeared. Her eyes burned with fear at seeing me. She struggled against the tape to scream.
“Gloria Waters?”
She nodded.
“I’m not with whoever this was. I’m going to come over there and free you. Is that okay? I’m not going to hurt you.”
She nodded again. I moved behind her and pulled my knife and slit the tape binding her to the chair. I pulled it away from her arms. That must have hurt a bit, but she just sat there. “I’m going to pull the tape off your mouth, okay?” She nodded. I looked right into her eyes, which had calmed down. I yanked the tape. She started to sob open-mouthed with aching gasps. On the back of the tape, the smudged lipstick matched her hair color. I found a short jacket on the floor that might have belonged with her skirt and helped her put it on. She was able to say “Thank you” in a weak voice.
I found a glass that wasn’t broken and brought her water. She had picked up the remains of her phone. “What did they want? What did they want? I don’t know what they wanted.”
“I don’t have my phone, but I’ll contact the police for you.”
“Who are you?”
I probably stared at her too long. Maybe I was trying to summon some feeling, some connection. It would have been fake. I felt sorry for her. That was all. Maybe the rest would come later, though it was hard to imagine this woman with Dan. Her eyes darted around to confirm that escape was impossible.
“My name is Rollie Waters.”
Her expression softened, her shoulders slumped, and I admit that for one quick moment I was confused by a feeling I was unfamiliar with. She rose, her jaw jutting out, and her eyes lost their fear. It was rage.
“Get out of here! Get out of here!”
Not what I was hoping for. “Aren’t you Gloria Waters? I’m—”
“My son died twenty-three years ago with my husband. How dare you? How dare you come in here? Get out.”
So I was the guy who helped make this the second worst day of her life. And I knew who I wasn’t.
Shannon wasn’t in the car. I found her about five minutes later at a bus stop on McClintock Drive The bus arrived just after I did. I managed to grab Shannon before she could push her way on board. A mother ushered her two young kids up the steps and past the driver. The driver looked at me, but I shook my head and said, “Don’t.” He closed the door and drove off.
I backed Shannon against the jeep. “Call them. Call
them right now.”
“I will.”
“Right now.”
“I told you. If they find out you know I’m with them…”
“That’s over. Call.”
She pulled her phone from her purse, called McColl, and handed it to me. McColl answered. “You’re tracking me. I don’t care. You’ve sent me a companion. I don’t care. I’m going to find the money and then we can deal with each other. But don’t ever pull another stunt like you did on that woman today. Never.”
“Or what?”
Thank you for asking. “I’ll quit looking. Just walk away. And you can torture me until your pants are so wet they fall down. As we both know, it won’t do any good because I don’t know where the money is.”
Silence. I handed the phone back to Shannon. “You ran because you knew.”
“I ran because I guessed. When I was sitting there, I just had a bad feeling.”
I should have ditched her at that moment. They would not trust her anymore, but if she kept feeding them information, it would create doubt. I thought I could turn her to my side. I should have ditched her.
14.
Why are you sitting at the edge of the booth?”
“There’s a spring broken in the middle and it’s really uncomfortable.”
“It’s near the window on this side. We could switch.”
“They’re all the same.”
I was only six years old when Dan first took me to Chui’s Diner. Since that time, they had not made one improvement, bought one new dish or utensil, or repaired one fixture. Most of the customers were the same, too. Chui was a big man in his sixties. His belly has always hung over his belt, and he always wore a bolo tie that sometimes swung into your face when he leaned over to inspect your plate and ask how you liked your meal. In a pinch, Dan would leave me there for the day while he attended to business, which meant I attended to business also, standing on a chair at the sink so I could wash dishes and silverware. Those day sessions eventually developed into sessions lasting days. Chui and his wife, Rosa, lived behind the diner. I would bathe there and watch TV with them in the evening, then sleep in a booth. Along the way, I learned every job in the restaurant, including cook. I don’t know if what I cooked was any good, but I could turn it out fast and accurate. Of course, I ate the mistakes before Chui noticed, or before I saw him notice. I’ve done about a million crummy things so far in my life, but the one I regret, or at least the one I think about most, is stealing a packet of frozen chicken breasts and selling them out the back door. Chui caught me and I had not been back for more than ten years.
Shannon was looking at the menu and I was putting milk in my coffee when I was slapped on the back of the head. Chui said, “Why the hell you sitting at the edge of the booth?”
“Quick getaway. Chui, this is Shannon.”
“Hi.”
“Hi. Dan was in just a few weeks ago, said you were doing great, own a ranch in Wyoming, something like that. I figured that meant you were never in Wyoming. You looking for him?” The last part he said hopefully. Chui always wanted Dan and me to act like his version of a normal father and son.
“Dan died.” I had to think about it for a moment. “Couple of days ago.”
Chui turned and walked away. I signaled the waitress. I didn’t know her. She took her time and when she arrived, she was careful to make sure to let us know that despite the warm reception from Chui, we were going to receive the same gentle treatment she gave everyone. “Whaddya want today?”
I told Shannon, “You’re safe with the omelets.” She ordered an omelet, and so did I. As soon as the waitress walked away, Chui returned with Rosa. She was crying. I got up and hugged her.
“I’ll miss him so much, so much. He was my favorite,” Rosa said. “And I miss you so much.”
“You were his favorite. He talked about you just before he died.”
That turned up the tear faucet a few notches. She hugged me again and kissed me and ran away. “Excuse me a second,” I said to Shannon and I put my arm around Chui and we walked to the end of the counter where we could speak without being overheard.
“It wasn’t good.” Chui nodded. He understood. “Did you ever know Dan under another name?”
“I never even knew his last name until he gave me a check one time.” We both chuckled, knowing what that meant. “What’s going on? If you need help, you know…” Chui knew a lot of people in Phoenix, a lot of people with guns.
“He owed some people some money. I’m trying to help out.”
“You’re a good boy.”
“Let me start here. How much was his tab?”
“Forget his tab. I’ll start a new one for you.”
“Chu—”
“If you say you’re sorry again, I’ll stab you.”
“I was gonna say there’s a blue Ford parked just down the street. Could you send someone out there to see if anyone is inside and get a description?”
Shannon was halfway through her omelet when I sat down. We ate in silence for a while. I realized I could ditch the jeep here and have Chui’s car if I wanted it, but they would probably destroy the place in retribution. Most people would probably count that a blessing, but not Chui. Ditching Shannon was another matter. Her original version was that McColl would not want her anymore if I knew she was working for him. But I was guessing there would be a revised version. Most people like to hang on to a job.
She finished up and said, “You don’t ask a lot of questions.”
“Where would you like me to drop you?”
“I didn’t know about your father.” Maybe she didn’t, but she sure knew how to make it sound like a lie. “McColl, he doesn’t care who dies as long as he gets what he wants, so…you should know that.”
“You mean I should be impressed.”
“He was Third Army. That’s where I met him. I’m a medic. I was. He had started as a lieutenant in Desert Storm. Logistics. And he made a name for himself. When the buildup began for the second Gulf War, McColl didn’t want to get stuck in Qatar or some backwater. He fought hard to get a forward assignment and he got it and he nailed it. Remember how fast we got to Baghdad? Getting the supplies there was a massive operation and McColl specialized in getting his soldiers to go the extra mile. Get it done.”
“Do you want more coffee?” I signaled the waitress and she brought over the coffeepot.
“How about dessert?” She had warmed up. I guessed Rosa’s tears did it.
“I’m good,” Shannon said. The waitress poured the coffee and left and Shannon started right back in, like she was determined to get something on the record, the way people do when they want to establish a lie. “McColl never cared how. Just get it done. He practically owned that airport. Of course, that meant he pissed off quite a few people along the way. Once the war felt won, his role wasn’t as important and people who were waiting to undercut him could get to work. He found out he was being transferred back home, so he retired.”
“Aren’t you leaving something out?”
“I don’t know how he got the money.”
“That wasn’t what I wanted to know.”
She understood what I wanted. “I finished my tour, worked as a nurse. In Las Vegas. It took me a while, but I finally fucked the wrong doctor. His wife was head of the nursing staff. I was fired. She accused me of stealing drugs, which I didn’t do. Hubby did. So I was out of work. Waitressing. I let my friends know I needed something and McColl came up with this.”
Before we left, I checked with Chui. “Two white guys, muscles, short hair, could be cops, could be military,” he said. I kissed him and left.
The blue Ford was gone. Shannon walked to the passenger side of the jeep, ready to hop in, but I stopped next to her. If she was going to stay on, we had to have an arrangement. “I think you better go off on your own. As you said, once I know who you are, McColl will be done with you. He’s not going to like you hanging around.”
“Take me with you. I can help you
. I know McColl. I know his people. I know how they operate.” She tried to control her panic with a slow cadence, but her voice sounded brittle and breathless.
“And in return?”
“I get a cut. It’s only fair.”
“How much is fair?”
“Twenty percent.” I laughed. She said, “I don’t care how much. Whatever you say. I know his people. I can spot them. I know what resources he has access to and what he doesn’t. You need me to get away with this.”
“I don’t mind having a partner. But we would have to start with some honesty. How much is he paying you?”
“One percent.”
I went around the jeep and got in. “I hope you’re a better medic than you are a liar.”
She jumped in. “Wait.” She waited and I waited while she figured out a number I would believe. “Ten thousand. If I stayed with you the whole way.”
“I’ll pay you fifty thousand. If I end up with the money,” I said.
“Okay. Deal.”
“And if I don’t end up with the money, you can still get your ten from McColl.”
“That’s nasty,” she said, but she was trying to sound flirtatious. “You’re nasty.” She clutched her purse as if grabbing hold of the future she thought she had connived. I still had a few hours to kill.
Shannon was in the shower. I sat next to the bed in padmasana, full lotus position, and brought up my vision. The clouds looked like rejected cotton polka dots, stuck to the blue, as permanent as stripes on a highway. The chimney, red brick on the right side of the house; the porch; the open windows; upstairs a window with no curtain, but I could not see anyone inside; the chirping of crickets; then a bang…how many times? I couldn’t tell if I had missed the first few. I realized it was Shannon, out of the shower and banging doors and drawers to let me know it.
She made a little noise while adjusting the air conditioning and I knew the only way I would get any quiet was by opening my eyes. The show she put on was a good one. The lovely soft bulge of her breasts shimmered just above the towel, which was all she wore. She was tall enough, her legs were long enough, that when she bent forward to search through her bag, I was treated to a peek at her butt. She turned and smiled at me. “You back in the world?”
