Hit List

by Darcia Helle

  “Absolutely,” Lucianna said.

  Ian managed a smile, although his eyes still held the shock of realizing that his mother may not be so crazy after all. He said, “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  Lucianna sat across from Corinne. Her hair was tamed tonight. More curl and less frizz. And her clothes matched. Either Ian had helped or Corinne was more coherent this evening.

  “You look great,” Lucianna said. “How are you doing?”

  Corinne beamed at the compliment. She immediately began chatting happily. Most of their talk was meaningless. The conversation was a bit like a dog chasing his tail, round and round with no point to the task and no end in sight.

  Ian returned with two cups of tea and a Sprite for himself. Corinne chastised him for forgetting the cookies. The whole cookie thing seemed important to her. Ian rolled his eyes but didn’t seem at all irritated as he went to get them.

  “Chocolate chip,” Corinne said when he returned. “You must have read my mind!”

  Corinne added a spoon of sugar to her tea. As she stirred, she began to sing, “Just a spoonful of sugar…”

  Lucianna sang the next line, “Helps the medicine go down.”

  “In the most delightful way!” Corinne finished happily. “That was one of my very favorite movies. Have you seen it?”

  “Of course,” Lucianna replied. “Mary Poppins is a classic.”

  Ian fidgeted in his seat, his gaze continually straying to the front window. Lucianna caught his attention, gave a slight shake of her head. His hands gripped the arms of the chair, fingers curled as if hanging on for his life. But he leaned back and focused his attention back to his mother.

  Corinne suddenly stopped rocking. Her expression grew somber. “I know everyone wants me to remember,” she said.

  “We want to help you,” Lucianna said. “And no one can do that if you keep it all locked inside.”

  “I remember lots of things,” Corinne said.

  “Like what?” Lucianna asked.

  Ian lean forward, his hands now locked together in his lap. His aftershave drifted in the air. Something sensual and enticing. Lucianna forced herself to concentrate on Corinne. She said, “Tell me some of the things you remember.”

  “I’m forty-eight years old,” Corinne said. “And I was born on May twenty-third.”

  Lucianna nodded. “Birthdays are important to remember.”

  “Ian is thirty. And he’s a carpenter.” Corinne began to rock slowly as she sipped her tea, her gaze fixed somewhere just beyond Lucianna. “He builds things. Sometimes whole rooms. Sometimes stuff inside the rooms. He built our back deck. Have you seen it?”

  “Not yet,” Lucianna replied. “Maybe you could show it to me later. Do you remember what you did for work?”

  Corinne set her tea down, rocked a bit faster. “I…” Her eyes searched the air for the answer. After a moment, she said, “Hair. Hair. Hair.”

  “That’s right,” Lucianna said. She sipped her tea, waiting, giving Corinne a moment to relax.

  Ian had moved to the edge of his seat. He fidgeted, apparently torn between urging his mother on and moving to her side to protect her from whatever secrets tormented her. Their eyes met briefly before he turned away. Lucianna was immediately struck by the depth of emotion. She wanted to reach out and touch his face, hug him. Instead she turned back to Corinne and said, “Do you remember Sam?”

  “Sam,” Corinne said softly. Then, “I am Sam. Sam I am.”

  “Green Eggs and Ham,” Lucianna said.

  Corinne nodded, reached for her tea but seemed to change her mind midway. She said, “But that’s not a song.”

  “No, it’s a children’s book.”

  “I used to read that story to Ian when he was young. Do you have children?”

  “No, just a spoiled cat,” Lucianna replied. She leaned forward, trying to hold Corinne’s eyes. “About Sam,” she said. “Do you remember him? Your friend Sam?”

  Corinne looked startled, as if the memory caught her by surprise. “Yes. Sam has a motorcycle.”

  “That’s right.”

  “He fixed my sink once.”

  “Very good,” Lucianna said. “What else do you remember about Sam?”

  Corinne cast a nervous glance at Ian. He nodded, said, “Go on.You’re doing great, ma.”

  “He brought pizza,” Corinne said. “We sat on the deck and looked at the stars.”

  “When was this?” Lucianna asked.

  Corinne pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes. She repeated Sam’s name over and over, the rocking motion keeping time. After a few moments, Ian knelt by her side and spoke softly. She didn’t respond. Didn’t even look at him. Finally, giving up, he stood and stepped away. “She’s not going to talk anymore tonight,” he said.

  “That’s okay,” Lucianna said. She rose and they moved toward the door. “She did well this time.”

  “What do you make of this thing with Sam?” Ian asked.

  “She didn’t seem frightened by the memories. That’s a good sign.”

  Ian’s gaze drifted to the window. “Yeah, I guess.”

  “I’ll have the information on that car tomorrow,” Lucianna said. “Then maybe we’ll have something to work with.”

  Ian sighed. “Thank you. For everything.” He hesitated, looked away. “You’re really good with my mother. I want you to know I appreciate that.”

  “Your mom is sweet.” Once again Lucianna resisted the urge to hug him. She steered the conversation back to her work. “I need to discuss a few things with you alone. I don’t want to take the chance that it’ll upset your mom.”

  “She has an appointment with her psychiatrist tomorrow,” Ian said. “At one o’clock. I’ll have an hour free after I drop her off, if that works for you.”

  “Perfect,” Lucianna replied. “Where is the doctor located?”

  “Washington Street. About fifteen minutes from your office, so I could be there about 1:15.”

  “I don’t want to make you late getting back to pick her up. So why don’t I meet you?” Lucianna felt herself flush. She was not normally quite so accommodating. However, these were unusual circumstances. She would do this for anyone in the same situation. Or at least that’s what she was telling herself.

  “Are you sure?” Ian asked. “No need for you to go out of your way.”

  “No, it’s fine. I know the area well. There’s a little diner on that same street called Taste Buds.”

  “Right. I’ve seen it.”

  “Why don’t we meet there? That will leave us plenty of time to talk.”

  “Great. I’ll see you there a little after one.”

  Lucianna grabbed her coat from the rack. She pulled it on, said good night, and quickly slipped out into the cold. She’d already stepped too far over that line of professionalism. She didn’t want to behave like a lovestruck teenager, lingering over long goodbyes.

  Chapter 18

  Slow, deep, even breaths. The rhythm was soothing. Lucianna sat cross-legged on the floor in the middle of her living room. Her eyes were closed, her hands resting on her knees. The soft sound of waves crashing played in surround sound. She focused on each breath, visualized its movement.

  Even Dylan had been lulled into a meditative state. He had curled up beside her, his head resting protectively on his catnip toy.

  The shrill of the phone jarred her from the floating sensation. Her eyes snapped open. Didn’t the world know that it was only 7:30 in the morning? Dylan glanced up bleary-eyed at her as if she’d been responsible for the intrusion.

  With a sigh, Lucianna uncurled her legs. She reached the phone midway through the third irritating ring and muttered a hello while she fumbled with the stereo remote.

  “Good morning sunshine,” Vinnie said.

  “Ah, I should have known,” Lucianna said. “Who else would call me this early?”

  “Do I hear seagulls?”

  Lucianna found the stop button on the remote and switc
hed off the CD. “I was just finishing up my yoga routine.”

  “What has that got to do with seagulls?”

  “Why are you calling so early?”

  “Do you chant when you meditate?”

  Lucianna flopped onto the couch. “Could we save the word dance for later, please?”

  “You are such a ray of sunshine in the morning.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “Perhaps you should start drinking coffee,” Vinnie suggested. “A caffeine buzz first thing in the morning might get you going.”

  “Or I could do a line of coke. Really light my fire.”

  “There’s a thought.”

  “Is there a reason for your early morning call?” Lucianna asked. “I mean, aside from harassment?”

  “I just pulled into your parking lot. Let me in.”

  The connection broke. Lucianna dropped the phone back onto its base. She looked at Dylan and shook her head. “I have a feeling it’s going to be one of those days.”

  Vinnie was already standing at the door when she pulled it open. “Took you long enough,” he said.

  He moved past her with a flurry of cold air. Lucianna pushed the door closed and followed him into the living room. “What’s going on?” she asked.

  “Hey Dylan,” Vinnie murmured. He crouched down on the floor and scratched the cat under the chin. “He’s getting fat.”

  “Yeah. He seems to have trouble following along with the yoga movements. We’re working on it.”

  Vinnie nodded, as if that was a completely logical explanation. Lucianna sat on the couch, tucking her legs beneath her. She said, “What’s so important that it couldn’t wait till we got to the office?”

  “I’m not going to the office until later today,” Vinnie said. “I have a few things to do first.”

  “Okay.” Lucianna watched him stroke the cat. She waited, knowing Vinnie would continue at his own pace. Trying to rush him would only serve to irritate them both.

  Vinnie made himself comfortable on the floor beside the cat. He stretched his legs out. He gave the cat another scratch under the chin. Then his expression turned serious. “I ran that license plate number that you gave me,” he said. “From last night. The car in front of the crazy lady’s house.”

  “I know which license plate you’re referring to,” Lucianna said.

  “Anything about this case that you’re not telling me?”

  “No. Why?”

  “The plate belongs to a cop.”

  Lucianna sat up straighter. She mulled that over for a moment, twisted the information around in her mind. “A regular beat cop?”

  “Detective Peter Graham,” Vinnie said. “Works vice.”

  “Odd. Do you know this guy?”

  “Not personally.”

  Lucianna waited for more information. Vinnie said nothing. His silence disturbed her. Normally he had no problem giving his opinion. She said, “Do you think something is going on at another house on that street? It could be that he wasn’t parked there watching Corinne.”

  Vinnie simply looked at her. His expression gave nothing away.

  “What is it you know?” Lucianna asked.

  “Rumor is that Graham and his partner are right on the tail of something big.”

  “What kind of something?”

  “Don’t know.”

  “And you think this involves Corinne McCormick?”

  “I don’t think anything,” Vinnie said. “Yet.”

  “This doesn’t make any sense. Why would vice be involved in this?” Lucianna stood, started pacing as she tried to work the information into something logical. “Unless Corinne was involved in something before she lost her memory. I was looking at this from the angle of her being a victim of something. You know, rape or something that her mind couldn’t handle. But she was seeing Sam Evans and he’s involved with a gang. Maybe she’s into it somehow.”

  “Or maybe it wasn’t her at all,” Vinnie said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Could’ve been her kid.”

  “Ian?” Lucianna felt her face flush. She turned away, paced toward the back sliding doors. “I don’t think so.”

  “Why not?”

  Lucianna chose to ignore the question, because she didn’t have an answer aside from very personal feelings that had no place in her professional life. She said, “Where are you going this morning?”

  “Having breakfast with some old friends. See what I can shake loose about this investigation Graham’s got going on.”

  “Okay. Let me know what you come up with.”

  Vinnie gave Dylan a last scratch under the chin, then rose and strode toward the front door. His hand was on the knob when he turned and casually said, “Don’t let yourself be blinded.”

  Lucianna didn’t have to ask what Vinnie meant by that. And she didn’t bother with a half-hearted protest about her relationship with Ian being strictly professional. She simply nodded and watched her uncle slip through the door.

  ***

  Skeets watched the black truck pull out of the driveway, followed by the red truck. Both fairly new. One a Chevy, the other a Ford. By now he knew the routine, knew where they were headed. He had no need to rush.

  The street had that hushed feel that he related to funeral homes. As if the slightest sound would shatter the air. Bright orange leaves fluttered to the ground. A few yellow ones still clung to the branches. He thought maybe leaves clung to that last shred of life the way humans did. Desperate for one last breath. Even the ones that claimed to want death fought like rabid dogs in the end.

  Maybe they caught a view of the “other side” during those last moments and didn’t like what they saw. No white light. No angels. Just a black void.

  Skeets frowned, shook his head. He turned his attention back to the house. A big old Victorian. Probably had five bedrooms. These people would fight harder for their lives. They had more to lose to that black void. People in his world, they had nothing to give up. In his world, life and death got tangled up till you sometimes couldn’t tell the difference.

  The sun broke through the clouds, piercing the windshield. He squinted at the sudden brightness. Maybe that was the white light people claimed to see. Nothing more than a sun spot. Like that would beam you up to heaven or something.

  He glanced in the rearview mirror, tried to tame down his hair. Then he straightened his uniform shirt and slid out of the stolen telephone company truck. He crossed the street, walked down the driveway.

  The walk leading to the front door was made of flat broken stones set in cement. Two bikes lay on the grass between the walk and the driveway. The house had cream-colored siding and one of those old-fashioned porches that ran the whole length of the front. Even had one of those swings up on the porch.

  Skeets stuffed his hands in his pockets. He climbed the porch steps. He heard voices, kids laughing. Must be nice to grow up in a house like this. How different would his life be now if he’d had all this?

  He shook off the envy, reached up and stabbed at the doorbell. A dog barked from inside. A deep sound, like he was big and angry. Skeets thought about that. He wasn’t overly fond of dogs.

  The woman who opened the door wasn’t what he’d been expecting. Wasn’t one of those overweight, nondescript housewives he always saw dragging their kids around the grocery store. This woman was tiny with perfect skin and shiny blonde hair. She wore faded overalls covered in paint stains. He felt a twitch and thought sex with this one would be a hell of an experience. Just a fleeting thought. He’d never actually had a woman anything like her.

  “Can I help you?” she asked.

  He tried on a smile, wasn’t sure if it came off as professional or not. “Good morning. I’m with the phone company and we’ve had a few complaints in this area about static on the lines. Any problems here?”

  A giggle came from another room and the dog began barking again. The woman turned as one young boy dashed across the room behind her. He was followed by
another boy who looked exactly the same. For a moment Skeets thought he had finally lost his mind. Then he realized they were twins.

  A big gold-colored dog bounded into the room. He stopped about five feet from the lady and sat, though he continued to bark. Skeets felt his knees wobble. He noticed that the lady was holding her hand out at the dog. Probably some sort of training signal. Whatever. At least the damn animal wasn’t hunting him down.

  She turned back to him, smiled, said, “Sorry about that. Our phones have been fine. No problems at all.”

  He nodded. He would have liked to get in, take a look around. But it wasn’t necessary. They had a dog, at least two kids. Lots to work with here. Just in case they needed leverage with that McCormick dude. And the lady wouldn’t be surprised to see him outside, looking like he was working on telephone lines. Wouldn’t think twice about opening the door for him again.

  “Thanks for your help,” he said. “Sorry to have bothered you.”

  “That’s okay,” she said. “Have a nice day.”

  Skeets smiled at that. A nice day. Like his world worked that way. He said, “You too.”

  Chapter 19

  His partner appeared across from his desk. An unlit Camel dangled from his lips. At least lighting it was prohibited within the building. Saved his lungs for awhile.

  Graham tossed a fax printout at him. Graham said nothing, just stared, apparently waiting for him to read whatever was on the paper.

  Sterling dropped the file he’d been looking over onto the pile with the others. All unread. Someday he’d catch up. Then he picked up the single sheet of paper, skimmed it, glanced up at Graham. “What’s this?” he asked.

  Graham continued to stare. The gray streaks in his hair matched his complexion today. Even his eyes appeared more gray than blue. Sort of like the guy was slowly fading into black and white.

  Finally Graham plucked the cigarette from his mouth. He said, “What’s it look like?”

  “Let’s not play these games today. It’s early. I’ve got a headache. And I’m hungry. Not a good combination.”