A Deadly Affair

by Ed Lacy

  Why was I thinking of him now, in my time of terrible need? He was probably still the idealist, and his hobby still knocking out kids, planting the “strong seed for the future,” as he once had the nerve to tell me. Well, the hell with him … even if it relaxed me now to think about him. If he had stuck to an office job, perhaps I would not be up here, hunted by the police. That was a foolish thought which I had no time for, certainly not now.

  I stood up and walked toward Helen. I darn near cried because I swear it was tiny Henry who first recognized me. He started to crawl toward me, a smile on his chubby brown face. Sitting down beside Helen I whispered, “Don’t make a fuss.”

  “What … Lord … Jose! I just phoned the police and they … What happened to your eyes? They’re so red … bloodshot.” She was trying hard to hold back the tears as her hand stroked mine.

  I quickly told her all that had happened to me. When I asked if the police had been rough when they questioned her, she said, “No one has questioned me. I waited and waited for you this morning, and just now, I phoned from downstairs. I spoke to Detective London. He said he was busy and not to worry….”

  “London told you that a few minutes ago?”

  She nodded. “Yes, he did ask over the phone if you had any family here, and where I came from.”

  “He didn’t say anything about me punching him, breaking away?” This was as weird as Harry’s vanishing.

  “No! I asked if he had heard about Mrs. Simmons and he said he had. I left word with Eric as to where I’d be, in case you returned. You hit him? Oh Jose, that’s real trouble!”

  “I lost my head. They were torturing me with a lie that you were in the station house and Henry was alone. I should have known not even the police could make you leave the baby.”

  We were both silent for a moment, in a cloud of doom. Looking about to be certain we weren’t being watched, I went over and gave Henry a big hug and kiss as he tried to put his little fist in my ear. I told Helen, “You don’t know how glad I am to find you here….”

  “Don’t talk as if you don’t expect to see us again,” she said, and a certain hardness had returned to her voice, as when she would be arguing with me to leave New York City. It was good to hear, also gave me strength. “Jose, we must keep in mind nothing really bad has happened. You didn’t kill Harry and even punching a cop … isn’t murder.”

  “But not far from it,” I said, giving Henry a final pat and sitting on the bench with Helen again. One of the fisherman began to reel in his line. He suddenly jerked the rod and the fish on the line shot up in the air and back over the man’s shoulder, high into a tree not far from us. I almost laughed. “The fool, why doesn’t he stand on the rocks below the walk?”

  “Must be afraid of slipping. I have often seen him do the same thing. Now he will spend a lot of time trying to get the lousy eel down from the tree. But the fish is not our trouble. What should we do now, Jose?”

  “I know what we must do, but not how. I can only clear myself by finding Harry’s killer.”

  “All right, now stop talking like a TV hero. I think first we should contact a civil rights organization, or the Office of The Government of Puerto Rico—”

  “Why?” I cut in. “Will they find the murderer? That’s my job.”

  “Jose, let the police find the killer. What we must do is get the cops to understand that you didn’t mean—”

  “Okay, I’ll go directly to London this second and beg his pardon!”

  Helen’s long fingers stroked my hand. “Honey, don’t be angry. Of course you can’t go to the police, but somebody else should, at once. Somebody they will listen to, a lawyer who can tell them you broke away only because you were worried about me and the boy.”

  “Sure, I can see a lawyer doing it for me!”

  “He will do it for money, as for anybody else; we shall hire a lawyer.”

  “With what? Helen, don’t you understand I have only a few hours, a day at the most, before they catch me. I have to act now! Suppose I became a policeman, like I talked of last night, what would I do to catch a killer?”

  “Jose, I cannot repair a car by wishing the knowledge, and you are not trained as a cop. Listen, let me at least talk to a lawyer. I can tell him about the money I’m getting …”

  “No!” I told her, feeling sick. “You yourself said it is blood money, so it must be put to good use. For a house, okay, but to waste it on something which isn’t our fault, that is not right.”

  “What good will I be without you?” Helen asked.

  “Look, let me try something, for a few hours, first.”

  “Try what?”

  “We have this edge on the police; we are sure I had nothing to do with Harry’s death. The police have been wasting all their time on me. Therefore I should first find out what enemies Harry had. Also, I must see the sun-worshipper, Rastello. He’s in this or he would not have lived. So I will try to find him and also question May about Harry’s enemies in the numbers racket.”

  Helen nodded. “That sounds smart. I thought of going up to see May myself, if she would wish to see me. She has enough trouble, as I heard on the TV news this morning.”

  “What trouble?”

  “Some people busted the windows of her house during the night, and shoved threatening notes under her door. If she should sell to us …”

  “Was she hurt?”

  “Not according to the TV. Must be rough on her, coming on top of the shock of learning of Harry’s death.”

  I had a new idea. “Perhaps this mob had something to do with Harry’s death? I mean how he was killed is so fantastic … one second he’s on the handball court and the next he is terribly beaten and up on a warehouse roof. So, there must have been several men involved to carry him up to the roof. Also, I think I heard London get a phone call this morning about they now think Harry was first on the empty factory roof, which is even higher up, and dropped to the warehouse roof. I think if we can learn why Harry was killed, we will be able to find out how. Was there anything on the TV about me? Or in the papers?”

  Helen shook her head. “Nothing on TV. I haven’t seen the papers but if there was, our neighbors would have told me—with joy.”

  “This trouble May is in settles things: I must go to question her first, then Rastello. She should not face any mob alone.”

  “She’ll probably call the police on you. Remember, she was the one who didn’t want us to buy the place.”

  “True, but she would have given in if we had the money to buy, no matter whether she really wanted to or not. Also, she must be as anxious as I to find Harry’s murderers, and in her heart she must know I had no reason to kill him.”

  “Nobody knows what’s in her heart, but if the police are watching her house, guarding it, you’ll walk into a trap. Let me go up to see her.”

  I shook my head. “I cannot have you risk the baby to a mob, and as a hunted man it would not be safe to leave Henry with me. No, this is my work. I will solve this and you be careful—do not worry.”

  “But Jose—”

  “This is something I must do!” I snapped. I got control of my voice, added gently, “Helen, let us not argue; it is dangerous for me to even sit here so long. From the roof—and you must buy curtains at once—I saw two police follow you down to the Drive. They may return, for they sit in a car across from our room this second. Listen to me: I will go up and talk to May, if I can see her, and then find Rastello. At four o’clock I shall return here. You come to this bench, if you are not being followed, and wait. Do not look around for me—merely act as if you are out but to get more fresh air. I will be hiding and if I think you are being followed, I will not come to you.”

  “But if you decide you can’t show your face, how will I know if you are safe or not? Jose, that tree from which the old man is still trying to get the silly eel down—leave this handkerchief of mine tied to a low branch—before you wait for me. In that way, even if you don’t show, I will know you are still fr
ee.”

  “Good. If I cannot return, for any reason, I will phone Eric and tell him I am your cousin Mike. That will also be a signal I am okay but it is not safe to come to you.”

  Helen nodded and squeezed my hand. “I’ll bring food and a thin blanket in the stroller. In this hot weather you can sleep out here in safety. But one thing I want settled: if you have not solved things by this afternoon, I insist upon seeing a lawyer. By God, we only think of buying a house and see the mess we’re in!”

  I kissed her cheek, whispered, “It is best you leave now with the baby. I will walk out later.”

  She stood up, the lovely deep brown of her skin, the straight way she held herself, the long dark braid of her hair like a warrior’s plume. How I enjoyed to unloosen the hair, bury my face in it. I never wished her hair to be soft, but hard and strong like my Helen’s spirit. Would I ever be able to do that again? Up here a Latino never truly knows if he will be alive from one day to the next.

  With a delightful motion Helen bent down and put Henry in the stroller, although he cried out in protest for a moment. She started to walk away, then rushed back to me. “You can’t have any dough,” she said, opening her purse, taking out a couple of dollars.

  I shook my head. She would need every cent we had for food. Who could say when I would be working again?

  “Jose, it costs to ride the subway. You have to eat. I let you have your plan, now take this without fussing.”

  I took one of the dollars and kissed her fingers. She stroked my sunken red eyes, then turned quickly and walked away, calling softly, “Remember, I’ll be here at four this afternoon.”

  I sat there for another five minutes, giving her time enough to walk far away. The old fisherman kept jerking on the line stuck in the tree, cursing, and finally broke the line. He slapped his head in disgust. The eel, still wiggling high up in the tree like a snake, managed to pull the broken line loose and came tumbling to the ground. The other fisherman said loudly, “Got yourself a real fish yarn now, Charlie, using a tree instead of a fish net!”

  They both thought this a great joke. I left the Drive hearing their laughter. I didn’t see any police and carrying my “order” I walked down the Upper Drive to 90th Street, then across to Central Park West and took the 8th Avenue subway to the Bronx. I didn’t want to see May Simmons, I had a feeling of danger, but I had to find out what she knew of Harry’s enemies.

  • • •

  The subway was almost empty at that hour and it was after eleven when I reached her station. I had found a paper on the subway but there was nothing in it about Harry’s death, or about his house being stoned. Up this way a Spanish delivery boy wasn’t too common, but no one seemed to notice me. At her corner I stopped to tie my shoe, and study the block. Nobody was around, and the three cars parked on the street seemed empty. Evidently the police were not even guarding her house against the mob, which aroused my suspicions: the cops might be waiting inside the house. The Simmons rear yard backed up to the yard of a house on the next street, the back yards separated only by a crumbling white picket fence. I walked around to this other street, to the house in back of Harry’s. Although the owner of the house was probably one of the mob, I felt safe knocking at his back door … carrying an “order.” I had a good view of Harry’s home and except for an upstairs window being cracked, it looked okay.

  I knocked again on the door and was about to head for the fence when a very tall women in a nice white light dress opened the door. She was about six feet tall, thin as death eating a cracker, with her blue-tinted hair in a tight bun like a crown on top of her very pale powdered face. She would have looked very mean if it wasn’t for her mild eyes. I told her, “Groceries for Mrs. Simmons.”

  “This isn’t the Simmons’ house.” If the eyes were mild her voice was brittle as stone.

  “The man tell me house in the middle of the block,” I said innocently, playing the clown.

  “You have the wrong street. It’s that house over there.”

  “Perdone. Be okay if I go over the fence?”

  “What’s the matter with your eyes? Have you been drinking?”

  “Oh, no. I work all night at another job, then work during the day, too. I never sleep, I love to work.” I told myself to cut the sarcasm.

  “You’ll get sick doing that. Yes, you can go over the fence. Only be careful. Ready to fall apart as it is. Whole neighborhood is going to pot.”

  I kept my mouth shut to that, merely touched my paper hat and walked across her yard and stepped over the fence. I knew she was still standing in her kitchen doorway, watching me. Fortunately Harry’s rear door was on the side of the house and out of the thin one’s sight. There was also a window cracked on this side of the house. I put the “order” down, took off my hat, and listened carefully at the door. I didn’t hear a sound. If there were police inside, they were indeed quiet. Perhaps May wasn’t home? The mob might have frightened her away. For some reason, maybe my deep fear, I almost hoped so.

  I knocked and at once heard fast steps coming toward me. The door opened: May Simmons looked awful. Her blonde hair was stringy, her thin face drawn and full of red splotches. She was wearing a wrinkled blue suit and white blouse, no shoes—her painted skinny toenails looking obscene. May was so tired she was stooped over while her hands nervously fingered a rosary. I realized she probably had been up all night, same as me. She came awake upon seeing me, asked, “What are you doing here?” Her voice wasn’t nasty, only weary.

  Trying to be casual, I looked past her into the kitchen, part of the living room. No police. I told her, “I heard about the mob last night. How is it you haven’t any police protection?”

  “That. Some crazy kids got out of hand. I’m glad the cops let you go. I told them I didn’t think you could have done it.”

  “Can I come in?”

  “Of course. I’m so tired and mixed-up … Come in.”

  I walked into the kitchen and shut the door. I didn’t hear any other sounds in the house. I felt much better. “If I can help you against the mob … You see, I feel it is my fault.”

  “You shouldn’t. It really wasn’t.”

  “No, last night, after I left here, some young punks jumped me. I had to knock them down and they must have stoned the house to get even.”

  “Sit down … Jose,” she said pointing toward a kitchen chair. She sat on the other side of the table, working the rosary in her lap. “I’m so bushed half the time I’m floating. Listen, forget the mob. Wasn’t a mob but a couple of kids, probably given a few bucks by one of the local real estate outfits around here. They’d like to start panic selling—make a big fast buck buying up the houses in a cheap hurry. Some of the neighbors even came over this morning, to say they’d stand by me—and you. Told me the same thing was tried when the first Jewish family moved in, years ago. Now there are a dozen or so Jewish families in the area and nobody thinks anything of it. Punk kids don’t worry me. And a radio car passes here every 15 minutes or so. Joe, last night, why didn’t you tell me Harry was dead?”

  Her deep, veined eyes were staring right into me. I asked, “You think I killed him, too?”

  “I can’t think about anything, very clearly. But why did you lie to me last night when you knew?”

  “I didn’t know Harry was dead, then. He had … somehow … vanished and I came up to see if he was back. But I could not tell you he had disappeared. For all I knew he might have been on … some personal business.”

  “With a woman?” May asked, taking a pack of cigarettes from the kitchen table drawer, offering me one. When I shook my head she lit a cigarette and blew out a cloud of smoke which floated over the table like a tiny fog coming in from the sea. She and Louisa loved to blow smoke.

  “I did not say with a woman. I do not know anything of his personal business.”

  “You don’t have to kid me, Joe. That was Harry’s way of getting crocked. Worse things become, the more he was sleeping around, like an eager tomcat. He’d ha
ve been better off hitting the bottle, as I do. Only today the stuff let me down, as it always does when you need it the most. Don’t strain your sore eyes to look so puzzled, it’s very simple. The world can be on fire but if you’re well stoned all that matters is crossing the room to a chair. That becomes the great problem. If you can’t solve your other troubles, you may at least be a success in life by making the chair in safety. Harry’s ‘living dangerously’ was sneaking in and out of bedrooms. Perhaps, in fairness, I should take part of the blame—I wasn’t made for a troubled marriage. There were problems neither of us could manage …”

  “What kind of problems, Mrs. Simmons?” I cut in, thinking this could be the lead I wanted.

  “Money is all kinds of problems. The store was slowly killing Harry. It was his tiger by the tail … Tell me, what happened on the handball courts yesterday?”

  “What the police must have told you. Harry ran to the other court after a ball … and I never saw him again … alive.”

  She nodded, as if it was all very clear to her. “I told him not to play. Man his age and size has to think of his heart.”

  “Mrs. Simmons, there are things I must know. Did your husband have enemies? Who would want to kill him?”

  “As I told the police, he had no enemies. If more people wanted to kill Harry, he’d be alive today.”

  “That confuses me.”

  “You can’t understand it. You see Harry was a pusher, that was his way of life. Mine, too. When he was courting me I was a secretary to a dress manufacturer downtown, and there was a prize pusher—what I’m saying is, Harry had things down pat. By the time he was 31 he would have two or three butcher shops, a chain of them when he was 38, then retire and play the market before he was 50. A real pusher has enemies, Harry was never able to get off the dime, never could get past being small time. I think he killed himself.”

  “Suicide? But how … Did you see him?”

  She nodded, puffing faster on the cigarette, her face going so pale I was afraid she was sick.