Shoeless Child

by J. A. Schneider

  He tried again. “Taz?” he called. It was silent in there. No loud sex, nothing.

  Finally, footsteps and a heavy smoker’s voice. “Scram. I’m paid up this month.”

  “Police,” Alex said.

  There was a long pause, though maybe not of surprise. Taz Curry was used to the police. “You got a warrant?”

  “You may be in danger.”

  It took thirty seconds of waiting with their fingers tensed on their triggers for the door to finally unchain. It opened, revealing a worried Teresa Curry who knew she had rough clientele.

  “What?” she said.

  She was short, her face round and heavy with eyes that sagged from a life of hard living. Hair bleached and curly-short like popcorn, a small nose, mottled skin. She wore a long purple sweater dress and beat-up slippers. The room behind her looked empty.

  Alex pushed their way in. They moved fast past her, separating with guns pointing as Kerri checked a grimy little kitchen, and Alex moved past the bed to a window overlooking the fire escape. He peered out and down; checked the lock.

  “Opened recently, paint’s scraped,” he told Kerri turning to him. “Taz? Anyone been through this window? Like, a minute ago?”

  She scowled. “No. I open it to air this place out. I hate the smell of dope.” She’d locked and re-chained her door.

  Kerri met Alex’s eyes. No sign of anyone else.

  “Has Frank Wheat been here?” Kerri asked bluntly.

  “No way,” the woman said vehemently, pointing to her two chains across her door. “I saw where you were looking for him, figured he’d done something bad, so no. He’s nothing special to me. I got enough trouble.”

  But she’d sounded too earnest, avoided their eyes and turned away to fiddle needlessly with the door chains. Her reaction made them suspicious.

  Kerri went to the window. Below, a grimy alley under four floors of rickety fire escape, with the iron ladder still down. She looked again at the narrow, rumpled bed. Wild, crazy sex Hurley heard from here? She pulled on gloves from her parka and tossed back the old quilt. Underneath, a man’s red-and-black wool flannel shirt, large size.

  She held it up by its collar. It would have reached short Taz’s knees. “Is this Frank’s?”

  The woman paled. “No, it’s mine. I mean, it used to be Frank’s but he gave it to me months ago.”

  “Months ago like, August?” Alex stepped closer to her. “When it’s hot and nobody wears heavy flannel shirts? Frank Wheat was here, wasn’t he? He was seen last night climbing the stairs with you.”

  Taz started hollering as he got out his phone, texted fast.

  “No! He hasn’t been here in weeks.” She glared at the floor. “Did that alky downstairs say so? He’s crazy! Yells at every john I get they’re gonna go to hell.”

  Kerri raised a brow. “Why would you assume it was him who reported seeing Frank? Because he saw you both on the stairs?”

  Taz’s eyes widened. “Hurley saw me with another guy last night, someone different.” Her glare turned accusing. “Why do you pick on poor Frank, anyway? He wouldn’t hurt anybody. He has heartache, that’s all.”

  “Aw sweet, you care about him,” Kerri countered. “First you thought he’d done something bad - now he wouldn’t hurt anybody? You also said he was nothing special to you.”

  “I…” The plump blond woman squirmed, then her eyes lit with real fury. “You assholes can’t solve your case so you pick on Frank? What if he was here – which he wasn’t - you got nothing on him.”

  Alex indicated the flannel shirt Kerri still held. “So that’s going to have no recent evidence of him? No hairs, fibers or undried semen? You wouldn’t dream of abetting a murder suspect, would you?”

  Taz’s eyes burned with hatred.

  “Any idea where Frank may have gone? He have any other favorite hiding places?”

  “Blow me!”

  Kerri suggested that Taz get her coat, informing her that they were going to hold her as a material witness. Would they have to arrest her, or would she agree to come quietly?

  A patrol car was waiting for them.

  Taz sat in back next to a uniformed female.

  Kerri and Alex followed them to the station.

  62

  “Does this take pictures too?”

  Charlie lifted the blanket that guarded his fort. He saw Mommy take a second to look up from her phone. She’d been online, searching for a safe new apartment they could call home.

  “What honey?” Her joy showed, seeing him with a brighter light in his eyes. Kerri’s gift had worked a miracle. He was speaking. Not a lot; four or five words at a time now, and his voice still held a sad tone. But his new phone was helping to pull him out of himself.

  She reached to him, looking a little sorry. “No sweetie, no pictures. Come up, I’ll explain.”

  Clutching his phone, Charlie left his warm pillow and mattress and climbed in next to her. He poked her cell phone with his. “Why?”

  Hugging him, Rachel explained. “The children’s phone is…basic. It’s just to call the four special people you want to talk to, any time, no matter what.” She’d already told him about its GPS, and how it worked. “Its job is to help parents know where their children are, or if they need anything.” Charlie looked a little disappointed. “Your job is to know how to work it. Have you memorized the buttons?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Want to show me?”

  “’Kay.”

  She had cut tiny squares of Band-Aid tape, written single letters on each, and stuck one next to each button. M was for Mommy; K for Kerri, A for Alex, and J for Jake. Charlie had learned the four tiny labels, then Rachel had removed them.

  Charlie’s finger went first to a red button. “You,” he said solemnly.

  “Super, you’re a champ. Where’s Doctor Benton…I mean, Jake?”

  His finger went to another red button. “Here,” he sighed, sounding a little bored. Then he pointed to the two blue buttons. Blue like policemen wear. “This one’s Kerri and that one’s Alex.”

  “Awesome. You’ve learned them all. Remember, each button works like an SOS if you want. You press it and don’t even have to talk. Anyone on the other end will hear what’s happening around you.”

  Charlie sighed again, a little boy dispirited because he had mastered something too easy. Now what? No horrible monster hurting Mommy who he wanted to hit back. Nothing but a clunky black thing in his hand and…he looked out to the hall…the usual activity out there. Nurses had been in and out. Mommy’s surgeon had come to check on her. A new policeman named Lennie was out there guarding. A lady in a yellow uniform had brought them dinner.

  He tucked tighter into Mommy and gazed longingly at her phone. It had slipped from the fingers of her sling arm and was on her blanketed lap. Still holding him, she’d lain her head back on her pillows, looking so tired.

  He picked up her phone. “Pictures,” he said plaintively.

  Her expression turned sad, and he knew why. She called them old pictures.

  Half an hour ago – before the lady brought dinner anyway – he’d asked to see Mommy’s phone photos and she’d gotten that worried look, said something about them being maybe upsetting. He understood. The park he’d probably never play in again. The dog walker named Nikki who hugged him, tousled his hair, and let him play with her dogs. And Mommy’s friend Lauren, she’d been so nice to him - no, don’t think of that, don’t go there…

  He missed Nikki and her happy, yippy dogs. And he’d mastered his little kid’s phone. Maybe now he could learn how to work Mommy’s? How hard could it be?

  One thing about getting better: he was remembering how to pester.

  “Games?” he asked. “Your phone has games. Josh plays with Clumsy Ninja.”

  “Josh Corley is seven.”

  But Mommy decided that an online game might be good for him. So as he watched her fingers, she made a quick adjustment to her phone, and downloaded.

  Huddled t
o her, he played with the game for a while. It was okay but he grew tired of it. The yellow-uniformed lady came for their trays, and sounded disappointed that he hadn’t finished his supper. “Why honey, you’ve barely made a dent in your chicken,” she said, touching his cheek. “We’ve gotta put some weight back on you.”

  When she left Charlie tried again about Mommy’s pictures. “Pleeease?”

  “Maybe…after a while,” she finally said, sighing. “But first, look at some apartments I’ve found?” She scrolled and swiped with both hands. “Look at this one, a one-bedroom in a nice building near Battery Park. Remember Battery Park? There are bike paths and a playground and baseball fields. Or, what about this place with two bedrooms? They’re small, but they’re in a good building near a good school…”

  Charlie squirmed impatiently. Mommy was droning, getting more tired, and finally she put her phone down saying the apartments were all starting to blur.

  He took a big long breath, reached, and seized her phone again. “I want to see Nikki’s dogs,” he burst out. “And that brown puppy I hugged in the park. I won’t be sad, promise.”

  Mommy stared at him, shaking her head like she couldn’t believe what just happened. Her eyes filled.

  “From Kerri’s gift to I can’t count how many words you just spoke,” she whispered in surprise, almost crying. She sat up and hugged him tight, saying, “Wow, oh wow.” Then took the phone back, looked at it, and seemed to make up her mind.

  “Okay, here’s where you click.” She tapped, opened and scrolled. “And you enlarge a photo like this” - her thumb and index finger swiped. She paused, looking at one picture, and gave a sad smile. “Look, here’s us at the beach last summer. Remember the big orange umbrella that blew away? That was funny. Sure, I guess the photos are okay.”

  She gave him the phone.

  Charlie blinked at the screen. Mommy turned on the TV, sank back on her pillows, and after a few minutes started to look sleepy again.

  Voices burbled, but Charlie ignored them. He scrolled, seeing familiar scenes, familiar faces…

  63

  A second monitor was rolled up next to the first, and they watched. Kerri stood, arms tightly folded, trying to follow both interviews.

  “I saw ’em!” Chester Hurley insisted to Buck and Jo in the monitor to the right. His voice came high and reedy over the intercom. “Right dere on the stairs and I closed my door fast. Wheat looked like he wanted ta kill me!”

  “Repeat what he told you, please.” Buck consulted Alex’s scribbled notes.

  “He said, ‘You wanna get plugged too?’” Hurley’s voice rose even higher and he squirmed, looked around nervously.

  “Did you see his gun?”

  “No but he had his hand in his pocket. Real menacing, like.”

  “Then what happened?” Jo asked, leaning back in her chair. Hurley’s booze breath was something, but so far he was consistent with what he’d told Kerri and Alex. The room reeked of Jack Daniels.

  “He went up to Taz’s and they had wild, crazy sex.” Hurley widened his eyes. “Noisier than the FDR!”

  Jo sighed and even sounded skeptical. “Frank Wheat had noisy sex even though he knew the police were looking for him?”

  The small man whined, “He was drunk and dat’s what I said. When those two have sex it sounds like he’s throwin’ her on the floor or somethin’. She’s no lightweight. You saw her, huh? You saw her comin’ in?”

  Taz Curry, meanwhile, had shut down on the monitor to the left. She’d made her statement and wasn’t deviating; leaned on her elbow and turned from Zienuc and Connor to glare at a poster; check her watch twice. On the table before the three lay the heavy flannel shirt, size large, in a plastic evidence bag.

  Connor touched the bag. “Now you say this isn’t Frank Wheat’s?” He’d asked the question before in a different way.

  Taz glared back at him. “No,” she hissed slowly. “I said it was Frank’s. He gave it to me a while back.”

  “Not last night?” Zienuc asked snidely. “As a token of appreciation for your wild crazy sex?”

  Taz sneered right back at him. “The alky downstairs is nuts. Frank was never there last night, that was a different guy. I haven’t seen Frank in like ten days. Does it make sense that a dude on the run is going to be noisy and let himself be seen?”

  “If he’s drunk and deteriorating, yes,” Zienuc snapped.

  Taz rolled her eyes and checked her watch again.

  And Kerri stepped back, looking frustrated. “That’s been bothering me too,” she muttered. “Frank Wheat disappears, then turns East Twelfth into the roaring Sexcapades? People on the lam stay quiet.”

  “He could be deteriorating,” Alex said tightly. He was back to watching Hurley complain about Wheat.

  “Meanest sonofabitch,” he whined, pounding the table. “Once said I looked like a dried up worm and shoved me back in my room.”

  “So,” Buck said, scribbling a note. “You kind of have it in for him.”

  “Nah, I just adore da guy. He’s hassled other people in the building. You can axe ‘em.”

  “You also questioned Detectives Brand and Blasco about a reward?”

  “Yeah, well I figured, hey, I’m a public-spirited citizen.” Hurley’s thumb jabbed his chest. “I helped. Only right you should owe me.”

  Dead end. Taz sticking to her story, Hurley brain-cooked and wanting a reward.

  Kerri let out a huge breath, fighting a mounting sense of dread. Tonight would make it four nights since Scott Mullin’s murder, three since Rachel and Lauren Huff were shot, then last night, Jed Stefan.

  And tomorrow Charlie and Rachel would be back out in the world. Serials don’t stop till you catch them.

  “Taz’s version sounds better.” Kerri turned away and threw up her hands. “So much for Frank Wheat getting sighted.”

  “Wait.” Alex caught her arm. He was watching the detectives try again to ask Taz if she knew where Wheat might be hiding. Did he have any other go-to places he liked?

  “No!” they heard stridently. “And no way did Frank murder anybody! You kidding me? I don’t believe it.”

  “She’s overreacted again,” Alex said quietly. The light overhead cast his tired eyes in shadow. “Sounds like when she fumbled with us. Couldn’t decide if Frank did something bad or Frank wouldn’t hurt a fly.” He raised a brow. “Think she might be covering for him?”

  Kerri mulled that as they left the monitors. People like Taz just look out for themselves. They might develop something approaching affection for someone, but that’s as far as it went.

  “No, she just wants to go home.” Kerri tapped her wrist as they entered the squad room. “Kept checking her watch - you see that? Probably has business waiting.”

  Alex looked surprised for a second. “You’re right. Well hell, let’s keep her longer. See if she gets antsier, remembers more about Frank.”

  They reached their desks and sank into their chairs. Others from the night shift looked over, and Ricky Betts asked, “Anything?”

  “Send Hurley home, keep Taz Curry,” Alex said. “She may be hiding something.”

  Kerri’s phone chirped, and she answered. Heard a funny sound for an instant, then nothing.

  “Hello? Hello?”

  A wee voice. “Kerri?”

  She sat straighter and brightened. “Heyy!” Alex looked over at her. “Everything okay, Charlie?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m happy you called. Everything okay with your mom?”

  “Yeah.”

  At Charlie’s end a low TV burbled. Otherwise, silence, bespeaking the shyness of a little boy using his SOS button for the first time. Probably just checking that his phone worked, seeking reassurance.

  “So what are you doing now?” Kerri asked.

  “Using two phones.” The little voice rose. “I figured out your phone, then I figured out my mom’s phone. I mean, she taught me to look at her pictures.”

  Kerri was bowled o
ver. Charlie had spewed. The mute, traumatized little boy of just days ago had broken through and was verbalizing excitement.

  “Charlie, I’m so happy to hear that. And I’m proud of you, you’ve learned so much!”

  Commotion at the other end, and Kerri heard Rachel’s voice. “What are you doing? What’s…Who?”

  Mumble, mumble, then her voice came on. “Kerri?”

  “Hi. I was just telling your smart boy how proud I am of him.”

  “I was…in the bathroom. Charlie, Kerri is busy, you shouldn’t-”

  “He was just doing a drill. Reassuring himself.”

  “Oh. I…”

  “He’s mastered your phone too?”

  “Just old photos I forgot I even had. He pleaded, and at first I said no, thinking they’d be upsetting, but it’s good. I feel re-connected with the world. We both do.”

  “Speaking of the outside world, I’m leaving soon to pick up those clothes for you. I’ll drop them off tonight.”

  “Kerri, there are no words…thank you, so much.”

  They spent a minute talking about sweaters, jeans, Rachel’s old jacket and Charlie’s new one. “He picked it. Loved the color red.”

  “I’ll find it. Have you decided where you’re going?”

  “The River Hotel for a week, in SoHo. They’re even used to police protection, provided your officers wear plain clothes.”

  “Fine. What’s Charlie doing now?”

  “Trying to grab the phone from me.”

  “Ha, lemme talk to him.”

  A clunk and then: “Hi Kerri.”

  “Hi back, honey. I’m so proud of you. All of us are.” Kerri looked around at others who’d drawn closer, smiling. “You’re a hero, big guy, y’know that?”

  Shy silence, then: “Thank you. I’m still looking for my favorite puppy picture.”

  “You’ll find it. G’night, Charlie. If you find that puppy, give him a telepathic hug for me?”

  “Okay. Night, Kerri.”

  64

  “You’re going where?”

  “Pack some clothes for Rachel. Can I borrow your duffel? It’s bigger.”