by Mike Faricy
He caught her reflection in the bathroom mirror as she took the T-shirts from his hand. She was shaking her head like she couldn’t believe what he’d just told her. Her hair was wet and hung down over her shoulders. A series of black and blue bruises ran up and down her side, more from falls than any beating he guessed.
Even just out of the shower and still looking like a mess there was a sense that she might have been attractive at one time in the distant past, but it would have been a very long time ago. He guessed she was somewhere in her fifties. Her figure had fallen prey to the lifestyle. It had been over four years since he had seen a woman naked, let alone been this close to one. It would be a while longer before he touched one and it certainly wasn’t going to be this woman. He pulled the door closed until it wedged against the door frame and wouldn’t close any further.
“I’ll go check on your clothes,” he said.
He had the dryer cranked on high and he put another buck-and-a-half worth of quarters in the slot, he pushed the coins in and hoped the dryer wouldn’t stop. He wanted her dressed as soon as possible.
He heard her rummaging in the kitchen area when he stepped back into the apartment. She was standing on her tip-toes peering into the small cabinet above the stove. The rest of the cabinet doors were half open. The T-shirt had risen over her rear and exposed a new set of black-and-blue bruises. Red blotches appeared on the back of her thighs.
“This place is empty and you don’t have shit to drink around here. I really need a drink.”
“My name’s Bobby. I guess we weren’t exactly introduced.”
She ignored the hand he extended and bent down in a very unladylike pose to look under the kitchen sink. “Where the hell do you keep it? I told you, I need a goddamn drink.”
“Hey look, Kate, like I said, I just moved in. Everything is still packed away, in the delivery van. I don’t have any alcohol here.”
She looked up at him from the empty cabinet. “Any blow? Crank? Come on, you gotta have something?”
“No, nothing, honest.”
She stood up and faced him. The T-shirt barely reached her hip bones leaving her exposed. She either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “I really need a drink, Mr. Bobby. I’ll make it worth your while, let you do anything you want. Anything. I just need a little drink is all.”
“I don’t have anything to drink here, Kate.”
“Well then go fucking get something,” she shrieked. “Jesus Christ. You’re making it sound like it’s such a big deal. Just go get me something. Now, damn it.”
“We just had some asshole shooting at us, Kate. I don’t know why, I think it might have something to do with you. But I honestly don’t know. I’ve been out of town for more than four years so I’m pretty sure it’s not me. Maybe now just isn’t the best time to go traipsing over to some liquor store.”
“Well he missed, didn’t he? So we should be celebrating. Now either go get me something to drink or get me my clothes so I can get the hell out of here.”
“Let’s just calm . . . ”
“I want my clothes,” she yelled. She suddenly began to shake and slowly slid down on the floor, sobbing. “Please, just get me a drink and I’ll do anything you want, anything. Please, please.”
If this wasn’t her rock bottom she had to be within sight of it. There was a liquor store about four blocks away. If he left now he could be there and back in twenty minutes.
“If I go get you something, a bottle, you’ll be here when I get back?”
She smeared the tears to either side of her blotchy face, sniffled and looked up at him. “I promise. I will, I’ll be here for you, really.”
“Okay, I’m going to walk. It’ll take me about twenty minutes. You’ll stay here, promise?”
She nodded from the floor, then leaned over and hugged his leg. “Thank you. I promise I’ll be here, just hurry.”
As he passed the dumpster in the parking lot he glanced up at his window. He could see her standing there watching him through the grimy glass. She gave him a half-hearted wave or was she just egging him on to move faster?
Chapter Eighteen
The two guys ahead of him at the liquor store were buying wine. The first guy dropped fifty-six bucks on two bottles of Chateauneuf du Pape. The second guy bought a bottle of Pinot Noir for nineteen bucks. Bobby had a plastic fifth of Cosmonaut Vodka that went for eight dollars and change.
The kid behind the register looked at him for a moment, but didn’t say anything.
“I know, it’s a joke,” Bobby said by way of explanation and handed him a ten.
The kid smiled and nodded like it suddenly all made sense.
“Have a nice night,” Bobby said, then picked up his paper bag and hurried out the door.
He spotted her a half block away. Oblivious to the fact his T-shirt wasn’t covering her as she stood in the window with her arms folded across her chest. Waiting. He looked up at the window once he’d passed the dumpster, ready to give her a friendly wave, but she was gone.
She met him in the stairwell on the second floor.
“Come on, Kate, you’re not even dressed.”
She grabbed the bag out of his hand, then marched back up the stairs. She dropped the paper bag near the top of the stairs and screwed the bottle cap off in the hall. Just before the door she tilted her head back and put the bottle to her lips.
Bobby picked up the paper bag and screw cap, squeezed past her, then took hold of her arm and guided her in so he could close his apartment door. He heard her gulp and swallow as he watched the bubbles rising in the upturned bottle.
“Ahhh-hhhh,” she finally gasped, coming up for air. She’d knocked close to a good two inches off the contents.
“You want a glass?”
“Forget it, I already checked, you ain’t got any,” she said, then took another long swig. Her faced seemed to grow a little crimson and she belched. She held the bottle tightly, leaned against the wall, then slid down to the worn carpet.
He folded the paper bag and placed it in the trash under the sink.
“Soon as it gets dark I’ll take you back home. I just don’t want to risk those guys seeing me, seeing us. You got any idea what that was about?”
She shrugged, took another sip, seemed to relax a little more and ignored his question altogether. “I ain’t got no reason to go home. Drop my ass at Moonies.”
“I can do that. Let me ask you again. Do you have any idea what that was about this afternoon? Those guys shooting at us.”
She shook her head and took another healthy sip, then closed her eyes. “Maybe you just pissed them off, you got that way about you, acting high and mighty like.”
“No, they came into that bar, Foxies. They were looking for you. One of them tried to go into the ladies room while you were in there. They left the same time we did, they just didn’t see us until we pulled away. I didn’t put it together until I was walking back here. It all seems to fit. I just don’t get why they were willing to do me in, just to get to you.”
She kept her eyes closed, took another very healthy swig and half snorted. “Me? Shit, no one wants anything to do with me.”
He couldn’t argue that point. “Why were they going to depose you this afternoon?”
“Do what?” She opened her eyes and attempted to focus on him. Her glassy stare had begun to return.
“Why were they going to take your deposition, talk to you? They were going to pay you for your time. The lawyers. Downtown.”
“Bankers and lawyers, bankers and lawyers. They’re just out to screw all of us one way or the other. Just grab your ankles Mr. Bobby, you’ll get yours soon enough,” she said, then took a couple more gulps and smiled.
“But what were they going to ask you about?”
“Well, I guess I don’t really know since you never got my ass down there. I ‘spose now I ain’t gonna get paid.”
“I’ll call them in the morning, get them to reschedule you.”
She sno
rted. “Shit. Don’t waste your time, I’ll probably be gone by then.” She laughed, put the bottle to her lips and started swallowing. When she put the bottle back down it was almost half empty.
“Maybe you should back off on some of that, Kate. Give it a rest for a few minutes.”
“Maybe you should just shut the hell up,” she said and raised the bottle to her lips again to emphasize her point.
“I’ll go see if your clothes are dry.”
Chapter Nineteen
Mercifully her clothes were dry and he tossed them on the carpet next to where she was sitting. Even though they were just out of the laundry they still looked dirty. Jeans, socks and a T-shirt. No underwear.
She’d already made it past the halfway point in the plastic bottle. As she looked up at him with glassy eyes she bounced her head off the wall with a thump, then put a half-hearted grin on her face.
“Hey, I got it, you want to do me?”
“What?”
She spread her legs apart on the carpet. “Come on, I’ll give ya a deal, just a couple of bucks.”
“No thanks.”
“Suit yourself, high and mighty. Probably couldn’t get it up anyway. Besides, I can get better than you anytime I want. You hear? Any damn time I want,” she said, then took another gulp.
“Come on, why don’t you get dressed and I’ll drive you over to Moonies.”
“Good idea,” she said, then sat there with a half smile on her face.
He pulled her jeans on her legs, then helped her to stand up. She leaned against the wall and giggled, never letting go of the vodka bottle. She seemed oblivious to his T-shirt so he just left it on her and pulled hers over on top. She slipped into one of her shoes unaided but couldn’t get the other one on so he helped her. He tied both of her shoes as she leaned against the wall, then walked her down to the car holding her arm and poured her into the back seat.
She curled up with the vodka bottle, closed her eyes and smiled.
He pulled around the corner at Moonies and parked. As he got out he looked cautiously around before he opened the back door to let her out. She’d been asleep or just passed out since she’d lain down in the back seat.
“Kate.” He shook her gently.
“Don’t touch me,” she snapped, then snuggled the bottle closer to her.
“We’re at Moonies, time to get out.”
The mention of Moonies seemed to awaken something. She slowly sat up and looked around although he was convinced she couldn’t see six inches past her nose.
“Come on.” He tugged on her arm expecting another outburst. But to his surprise she got out of the car, steadied herself by leaning against the vehicle and said, “Get your damn hands off me. I can make it just fine from here.” She staggered to the side for a step or two, then turned and looked at him. “Looking to party mister? Give you a deal, just ten bucks.”
“No thanks, I’m going home.”
“Your loss then,” she said and headed for Moonies front door.
That was all the encouragement Bobby needed. He quickly got back in his car and drove home.
Chapter Twenty
“I really wish you would have called. Your oversight inconvenienced a number of very busy people,” Marci said.
Bobby was almost standing at attention in front of the receptionist counter. It was barely eight-thirty the following morning.
“I suppose we’ll have to reschedule Ms Clarken,” she said oblivious to the fact that the woman would be unfit regardless of the time or the day.
“They wouldn’t have been able to depose her,” Bobby said not for the first time.
“That’s the sort of determination a qualified individual will have to make,” she snapped back, implying Bobby was anything but qualified.
“She couldn’t stand, she’d thrown up a number of times. It didn’t take a qualified individual to determine she was intoxicated and couldn’t be deposed.”
“The flu?” Marci asked still not catching on.
“Bottle flu, maybe. No Marci, she was drunk, so drunk she was throwing up.”
“Are you sure? How could that be? It was barely four in the afternoon.”
“I think she inhabits a little different world than you, or even me for that matter. My advice is to strike her from your list and . . . ”
“As I said before, that’s a decision for a qualified individual to make.”
“How qualified do you have to be to determine someone is so intoxicated that they can’t stand and they’ve thrown up on themselves.”
“Nevertheless.”
“Okay, next time I’ll bring her down here for a qualified individual to judge her condition.”
That seemed to please Marci.
“Here are the four individuals you’ll be delivering today. Please have them here on time. You’ve no idea the havoc caused when schedules aren’t adhered to.”
As he took the list he wondered if Marci was aware of the havoc caused when some idiot tried to ruin your day by shooting at you from a moving vehicle? He determined the wiser decision would be to just shut up.
“Any special needs here?” he asked, trying to be overly solicitous. “Walkers, oxygen tanks or maybe just an escort? Two of the folks yesterday seemed pretty elderly.”
Marci nodded. “And the third downright unpleasant.”
“Maxine.”
“Exactly.”
They were friends again.
“No, I don’t believe we’ll have any special needs today. Let’s just hope everyone arrives on time,” she said and stared at him over the top of her glasses.
“I’ll do my best.”
“Very well,” she said and dismissed him.
The day was uneventful. Everyone was ready and waiting at the appropriate time. No one smoked. No one had been drinking, at least that Bobby could tell. Everyone asked about the windshield and accepted his errant softball as an explanation. It was all wonderfully dull.
Chapter Twenty-One
He was driving back to his apartment dialing in the news on the radio and caught just the tale end of the news story.
‘Police have identified the victim as thirty-eight year old Katherine Clarken, a St. Paul resident. Anyone with any information is asked to contact authorities. In other news today the St. Paul City Council voted to oppose . . . ’
Since none of the buttons worked on the Geo’s radio he attempted to adjust the tuning by hand and couldn’t land on a station broadcasting news to save his soul. Every station was playing music the one time he didn’t want any.
He parked next to the dumpster, then climbed out of the Geo and looked around cautiously. There was no reason to believe he should be a target, but he wasn’t taking any chances. As far as that went there was no reason to believe Kate Clarken had been a target, either. Well, except for the fact that two guys had chased them and attempted to murder them. It seemed more likely she died from alcohol poisoning, or maybe in a drunken stupor she simply staggered into an oncoming car. Still, he walked the four blocks up to the retail corner and purchased a newspaper and some light bulbs. He noticed laundry hanging on a clothesline on the way home.
He sat on the carpet and read the paper. There’d been a shooting outside Moonies the previous evening, just after midnight. At the time the paper had gone to press the victim remained unidentified. The article listed the victim as a Caucasian female and he figured it was a sure bet at that location it had to have been Kate Clarken.
He thought it was a pretty safe assumption it wasn’t accidental or even a case of mistaken identity. Which left only one question in his mind, was he safe?
At a little after midnight he cut across the parking lot, past the dumpster and made his way up the street. After two blocks he took a right at the corner and then a left down the alley. About a half-dozen houses in, he spotted the clothes line. Mercifully the laundry was still hanging. Two minutes later he was walking home at a brisk clip. He had six towels and a set of sheets. Now he just needed a bed.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Bobby was driving a woman named Ardis Dempsey downtown for her deposition. Based on the fumes wafting from the backseat making his eyes water she must have cornered the market on cheap perfume. She apparently rolled her face in a tin of pancake makeup, then applied a slightly off-center layer of fire engine red lipstick just before he picked her up.
“… so Donny, that’s Carol’s third, is in the Navy. He’s on an aircraft carrier in the gulf. God, the worry. I say a rosary for that boy every night.”
“We never stop worrying,” Bobby said trying to give her a chance to take a breath.
“Isn’t it the truth. My oldest, James, fortunately he missed all that nonsense in Viet Nam. He was with the Marines in Korea, brought home a lovely girl. Now they’ve got two daughters, one just finishing med school, the other teaching. That little Kim, she’s the mother, she runs a very tight ship. Course with Jim she might just have to. You know, I can’t seem to remember if I locked that darn back door. Honest to God, there are some days I’m not sure I could remember my own name. Fortunately it’s on my driver’s license,” she said and laughed.
“Here we are Mrs. Dempsey. I can escort you in if you’d like or you can just walk through those doors, onto the elevators and press twelve. The doors will open right into the lobby of the law firm. Marci is the name of the receptionist.”
“I’m quite capable of making my own way, thank you.”
“That’s what I thought, I’ll just let you out and watch you to make sure. Then I’ll park this car and be waiting for you in the lobby when you’re finished. Most of the other depositions seem to be taking right around ninety minutes.”
“Drive carefully. I don’t know how you can even see out of that windshield,” she warned as she got out, then walked, cane in hand, into the lobby.
