North of Nowhere: An Alex McKnight Novel (An Alex Mcknight Mystery)

by Steve Hamilton

  “And Jackie and Gill, they deserved to be arrested. And this old friend of your son’s, he deserved to get killed.”

  “I told you, that wasn’t supposed to happen. Hell, this whole thing went wrong, from beginning to end. I told you, Sean even gave up his whole share of the money, trying to make this Blondie guy happy. He got nothing out of this, Alex. He got completely screwed here.”

  “I can’t listen to any more of this,” I said, standing up. “I’ve gotta get out of here before I throw your stupid ass right in the river.”

  “Alex, you gotta help me.”

  “I was helping you,” I said. “You let me run around like a maniac, trying to prove you were innocent.”

  “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t know what to do. But now I really need you. This guy is gonna be back, Alex. He thinks we’re all in on this. You included. You heard what he said.”

  “You go to the police, Bennett. And then I’ll help you.”

  “You know I can’t do that.”

  “Then you’re on your own,” I said. “You made your deal with the devil. You can live with it now.”

  “I have to kill him, Alex. It’s the only way. When this Blondie comes back, I have to kill him.”

  I stood there looking at him in the dim light. A cool evening wind drifted in off the river.

  “Just when I think you can’t get any dumber, Bennett…”

  “Alex, please. I’m begging you.”

  “Good night,” I said. And then I left.

  Chapter Eighteen

  I was already mad when I left Bennett sitting there by the river. The more I thought about it, the madder I got. By the time I got back to Paradise, I was ready to take someone’s head off. I should have known better than to stop in at the Glasgow. I should have just gone home.

  That’s not what I did.

  “You knew where that cup came from, didn’t you,” I said. I had come right into the place and sat down at the bar.

  “Good evening to you, too,” he said. He was having a little late dinner, standing next to the register. “What the hell happened to your face?”

  “You weren’t straight with me,” I said. “You let me run all over the place trying to find out who did this to you.”

  “Who beat you up, Alex? Did Bennett do this to you?”

  “You knew all along. You could have stopped me.”

  “I seem to recall trying to do just that,” he said. “It was Bennett, wasn’t it…I know he looks kind of old now, but I’ve seen him finish some fights in his day, believe me.”

  “Just knock it off, Jackie. Why didn’t you tell me Bennett did this?”

  “Because I knew you’d go off the deep end, Alex. Just like always.”

  “And how come I’ve got to find out your whole family history from him, anyway? I thought we were friends.”

  “All you gotta do is ask me, Alex. When’s the last time you actually asked me a question about myself?”

  “Fifteen years, you never thought to mention that your father went down right out there in the lake?”

  He put his sandwich down on the plate, then took the plate back into the kitchen. When he came back out, he took a cold Canadian out of the cooler and put it in front of me. “You’ve been living in your own little world for a long time,” he said. “You’ll go weeks at a time, never even stepping foot in this place. Then suddenly you’ll drop in again and spend the whole day here. If you ever stopped for five minutes and said, ‘Hey, what did your father do for a living?’ Or even, ‘When did your father die?’ Anything like that, I would have told you the whole story. But no. If you say two words to me, it’s to either ask me to make you dinner, or get you a beer, or to tell me about your latest problem—which is almost always just a matter of you losing control of yourself again and getting your ass kicked. And now that I’ve got my own problem to worry about, the last person in the world I want helping me is you. Because all you’ll do is go out and stir up more trouble. From the looks of your face, you already have.”

  I wasn’t sure what to say to that. It hurt me more than anything Vargas had hit me with that day.

  “What did Bennett tell you?” Jackie said. “Did he tell you why he did this?”

  “He said his son needed the money.”

  “His son Sean.”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s what I figured. I knew Sean was in some kind of a jam.”

  “Do you have any idea what they’ve done to you, Jackie? They pulled you right into the middle of this.”

  “You know what, Alex? I think Bennett’s the biggest damned fool in the world. You know what else? I love him for it. He did the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard of, but he did it for the right reason. He was trying to save Sean. And that old tin cup he made them give me. Goddamn it all, who else would do something that crazy?”

  “No, it wasn’t crazy at all,” I said. “Think about it. Giving you that cup was just a way to cover himself. He knew you’d fall for it, Jackie. You’ve got that cup so now you’re a part of it. You might even think he was doing it for you, just as much as he was doing it for his son. Good old Bennett. What a guy.”

  “You don’t get it,” he said.

  “No, you don’t get it. And that makes you as big a fool as he is.”

  He took the bottle off the bar. “I think you should leave now,” he said.

  “I think you’re right.”

  I left.

  When I got home, I couldn’t sleep, so I sat up reading with a bag of ice pressed against my mouth. I tried not to think about anything except the words on the page. It didn’t work.

  I gave up and went outside for awhile, listening to the crickets and to the distant sound of the lake until the mosquitoes found me.

  The phone was ringing when I got back inside. I picked it up and heard a woman’s voice. “Alex, this is Cynthia Vargas.”

  “Mrs. Vargas? Is everything all right?”

  “Oh, just dandy. My husband has been limping around here all night, calling you every name in the book. I think he wants to kill you, Alex. I mean really kill you.”

  “Tell him he’ll have to come out to Paradise. I don’t imagine I’ll have any reason to visit your house again.”

  “That’s a shame. Life will be pretty dull around here.”

  “I’m sure you’ll find some way to keep it interesting.”

  “I’m just looking out for you, Alex. You don’t have to be a wise-ass.”

  “I’m not trying to be,” I said. “I mean, look, I’ve had a tough day here…”

  “I’ll let you go,” she said. “Just thought I’d warn you. If you see him coming, be ready.”

  “I will. I appreciate it.”

  She said good night to me. If I had wanted to, I could have read some things into her phone call. Or into the sound of her voice even. On this night, I didn’t even want to try. Instead I tried to sleep again, lying there looking up at the ceiling. You live in your head too much, Jackie said. He was right.

  When I finally did sleep, it came on hard and didn’t let go of me until late the next morning. The sound of the wind woke me up. Through the window I could see a sky the color of slate, and the pine trees bending and returning and then bending some more. It wasn’t raining yet, but when it came it would be like something out of the Bible. God help anyone who was out on the lake.

  I got up and stood in front of the mirror. My face was as ugly as the weather, with bruises all along the left side of my jaw and around both eyes. Any color of the rainbow—you name it, I was wearing it.

  I stood under a hot shower for a good thirty minutes, waiting for my neck and my shoulders to loosen up. I had some coffee and some breakfast, and then spent the rest of the day doing nothing. I carried an ice bag around with me, holding it against whatever part of my head or body happened to be hurting.

  I had lunch by myself. I read a little bit. I had a beer. I got more ice out of the freezer. Outside the storm passed without raining a drop. Just like t
hat, it was gone. The sun came out. All of a sudden it was a beautiful day. I had no desire to go out and see it.

  I read some more. I had dinner by myself, a cheap frozen dinner warmed up in the microwave. I had another beer. The sun went down.

  Nobody bothered me. I didn’t have to deal with Bennett O’Dell and the crazy mess he had brought upon himself. I didn’t have to deal with Winston Vargas and his yapping little dog. Or some mobbed-up Canadian thug who actually went around letting people call him Blondie.

  Or Jackie. I didn’t have to deal with Jackie telling me to stay out of his business.

  I looked at my face in the mirror again. It wasn’t looking any better. “You’re a real sight,” I said. “It’s a good thing you stayed inside all day.”

  Then it hit me. This is what Jackie saw last night, when he looked at me. He saw this face. He wanted me to stay out of it. From the beginning, he was pushing me away. Last night, that was him giving me both barrels, just to make sure.

  Maybe there was a good reason. Look at me. He was trying to protect me, to keep me out of this because he knew I’d find some way to get my ass kicked. As usual. I didn’t see it, because I was too busy feeling mad about it.

  I stepped outside just in time to see a couple of minivans rolling by. It was the men from the last cabin, all dentists and orthodontists from downstate. When the lead driver saw me, he stopped and rolled down his window. “What happened to you?” he said.

  “A little misunderstanding,” I said.

  “Sorry we’re leaving so late,” he said. “It was such a nice day, we figured we’d stay up here, then drive down overnight. Your helper said it was okay.”

  “My helper?”

  “Yeah, we left the money with him. I hope that was okay.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “Who are you talking about?”

  “The big blond guy. He said he worked for you.”

  “When was this?”

  “About two hours ago. Did we mess up here, Alex? He seemed legit.”

  “No, no, you’re okay,” I said. “You guys go ahead. I’m gonna go check on my helper.”

  He didn’t seem convinced, but the minivans took off anyway. I went back into my cabin, rummaged through the bottom of my closet until I found the shoe box. I took the service revolver out and put bullets in it. Then I went back out and walked down the road, as quietly as I could. There was just enough light left to see where I was going.

  The last cabin was a half mile down. As I got closer, I kept to the side of the road, the pine trees brushing against me. When I turned the last corner, I stood there for a moment and watched the cabin. Everything was quiet. The last light of the day was all but gone.

  You’re a fool, I told myself. Thinking that you could stay inside all day, all by yourself, that it would all go away. It was right here, right inside this cabin.

  I crept up to the door, step by step on a soft carpet of pine needles. The door was ajar. I pushed it open, ready to shoot anything that moved.

  One small lamp was lit, on the big table in the center of the room. I flipped on the other lights as I moved through the cabin. It was empty, but I could smell the smoke from his cigar.

  There on the center table, in the ashtray, a cigar butt. It was still warm to the touch. Underneath it were some pieces of torn paper. I picked up one piece, saw the “100.” They were hundred dollar bills, maybe five or six of them. The men must have paid him in cash. This is what he did to the money.

  The rest of the place looked untouched, but this alone was enough to get my blood boiling, just the fact that he was here. This was the last cabin my father had built before he died. These wooden beams he cut, these stones he put together with his bare hands to make this fireplace. This was his masterpiece. More than anything else in the world, this cabin was what I had to remember my father.

  Like that pewter mug? What did Jackie have to remember his father? The lake itself, and what else? Hell, I didn’t know what to think anymore.

  I threw the cigar out, left the torn money sitting there in the ashtray, locked the place up tight and went back to my cabin. It was dark by the time I got there. The stars were out. I fired up the truck and drove down to the Glasgow. When I walked in, I thought I could smell the cigar smoke again. Maybe I was imagining it.

  Or maybe not.

  “Jonathan,” I said, “was somebody smoking one of those little cigars?”

  “Yeah, I hate those things,” he said. “They smell like a candy apple burning or something.”

  “What did he look like?”

  “Let’s see…Real fair-skinned guy, light colored hair. Almost white.”

  “When was he here?”

  “Ah, I don’t know. He left a couple of hours ago, I guess. You want to see what he left me for a tip?” Jonathan swept up the small pile next to the register. “Looks like a hundred dollar bill all torn up. Is that weird or what?”

  “Where’s Jackie?”

  “He’s not here.”

  “Where is he?”

  “He told me not to tell you.”

  “Jonathan,” I said. “He could be in big trouble. If something goes wrong, you gonna be able to live with that?”

  He didn’t say anything.

  “He’s with Bennett, isn’t he.”

  “Yes.”

  “Where did they go?”

  “He didn’t tell me, Alex. I swear.”

  “When did he leave?”

  “Around six o’clock, I’d say. Right after Bennett called him.”

  “What did Jackie say? Did he tell you why he was going to see him?”

  “He said he was gonna go help him with something. That’s all he said.”

  It was enough. I hit the road at top speed, hoping I wasn’t too late.

  Chapter Nineteen

  I had just left Paradise when I picked up the cell phone and dialed O’Dell’s. Margaret answered.

  “Margaret,” I said. “Is Bennett there? This is Alex.”

  “No!” she said. I could barely hear her over the din of a Saturday night crowd in the bar. “I’m all by myself!”

  “Do you know where they went?”

  “What?”

  “I said, do you know where they went?”

  I heard her yelling at somebody, then she came back on the line. “No, he’s been gone for two hours, Alex! He took Ham with him! I’ve got thirty people here!”

  “What about Jackie?” I said. “Or Gill? Do you know if they’re with him?”

  “He was talking on the phone before he left. I think it was Jackie, yeah. And then somebody else. It might have been Gill, I don’t know.”

  “You have no idea where they went?”

  She yelled at somebody to keep their pants on, and couldn’t they see she was on the phone. “I’ve got no idea, Alex. But if you find him, tell him to get his ass back here.”

  “When he was on the phone, did he write anything down? Like an address or directions?”

  “Uh…Let me see. Yeah, you know, I think he was writing something on this pad we keep next to the phone. But he must have taken that with him.”

  An idea came to me. “Margaret,” I said, “do you have a pencil there?”

  “Alex, can this wait? I’ve got people at the bar here.”

  “This will only take a second. It might be important.”

  “A pencil, a pencil. Yeah, I got one right here.”

  “Okay, take the pad of paper and just lightly run it across the paper. Like you’re shading it in. You know what I mean?”

  “I think so. You mean like they do on television, when they want to see what somebody wrote on the pad?”

  “Yeah, that’s it.”

  “I’ll try it,” she said. “You really think this will work?”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m getting something, Alex. It says…Let’s see…It’s the number eleven.”

  “Okay, good. What else?”

  “Hold on.” She yelled at somebody again, about ho
w yes, she was playing with a pencil instead of getting him his beer, and if he didn’t like it, he was free to go drink someplace else. “Sorry, Alex. Some people have no patience. Let’s see, the rest of this says…It says, ‘W’ and then this looks like…P-I-E something. I can’t read this.”

  “West Pier, maybe?”

  “Yeah, Eleven West Pier. I think that’s it! This really works!”

  “Leon would be proud,” I said.

  “What’s that?”

  “Never mind,” I said. “I’m gonna go find Bennett and send him home.”

  “I wish you would, Alex. I gotta tell you, I’m a little worried here. Bennett hasn’t said a word to me about what’s going on, but I just know this is more bad business.”

  I hung up the phone and put it on the passenger’s seat, right next to my gun.

  As I got closer to the Soo, I thought about the address Margaret had given me. I knew the West Pier was on the west side of town, not far from O’Dell’s, in fact. They were there right now, I thought, doing God knows what, with Blondie involved somehow. No doubt about that.

  I had taken the highways, figuring I’d get there faster if I really flew. I bailed off of I-75 just before the International Bridge, took Ashmun Street into town, across the power canal, right under the dark window of Leon’s office. I headed west on Portage Street, and then got off onto the dirt road that ran under the bridge. As I roared past the old drive-in restaurant, they must have wondered where the hell I was going so fast, but I wasn’t about to stop and explain.

  I slowed down to cross the railroad tracks. I rolled past some abandoned warehouses, and a quiet, empty old house. I didn’t see any numbers. How the hell was I going to find number eleven?

  There were a couple cars parked on the street. I couldn’t imagine who would be down here after dark. I looked for Bennett’s Explorer, then remembered it wouldn’t be here. It was still impounded by the police. I looked for Jackie’s Lincoln instead. I didn’t see it anywhere.

  I stopped just as the pavement was about to end. Beyond that was an old railroad spur, leading down a quarter mile to the pier itself. There was a time when boats would unload onto trains here, but that was all a distant memory. There was nothing now but a few brick buildings, rusted railroad tracks, tall weeds, and the damp smell of the St. Marys River. Whatever Bennett was up to, he picked a hell of a place to do it.