Saboteur: A Novel

by J. Travis Phelps

  “Got a visitor here for Professor Frankenstein.”

  Downy’s heart leapt at the thought that Naomi had finally come and he burst up out of the bed. The officer appeared at his cell door.

  “Come on Professor Frankenstein, you got at least one admirer left on the outside. Me, I’m just glad I didn’t fuck my life up and go to college. You academic types got some evil shit in your blood.”

  He walked silently into the room, which looked just like the ones he had seen in the movies. It was surreal to be on the wrong side of the glass. The barrier in front of him had an ancient looking phone, which he picked up almost instinctually. He nearly didn’t recognize the man in front of him without his hat, though he could already smell the body odor just being near the glass.

  “Mr. Taro?”

  “Professor Downy, sir, my deepest sympathies for your present circumstances. I only wanted to come show my support for you at such an awful time.” The man leaned in toward the glass. “I, too, have been accused of butchery that was not of my doing. It is a horrid feeling to be impugned so.”

  Downy thought for a moment before he spoke. The man’s English was much better than he’d remembered.

  “I read your letter, Mr. Taro.”

  “The man who wrote it honors me with his words. He is as a brother to me in fact.”

  “Why are you here Mr. Taro? I mean, I know originally what you came for, but now?”

  “I have been on a mission of sorts I suppose, a mission of recovery.”

  “How can I help you?” Downy said looking perplexed.

  “That you’d even be considering such a thing at a time like this is a sure sign of your character and of course your innocence. As you may have read in the letter I am a man of some means. I wonder if you’d let me help you?”

  He sat back in his chair looking the man over for the first time. A distinct scar ran vertically across his neckline. His black, piercing eyes struck Downy even in his present state. He recognized the keen look of intelligence described in the letter.

  “I want you to know that I don’t believe a word of anything said against you. You will be out of here when you say the word.”

  “That’s incredibly generous.”

  “No, it is just. For a man such as myself perhaps no notion is more meaningful or more important.”

  “I read in your letter that you had suffered some misfortune yourself.”

  “Yes, more than any man ought to have to endure, but I have learned that perhaps I am special in that regard, that is to say, what I can endure. Is it your wife, the very beautiful woman in the gallery who weeps so?”

  “She’s still here?”

  “Yes, she refuses to leave. I think your captors have spun quite a story about you. You would only need to speak to her of course to make their silly narrative evaporate completely. I wonder, could I pass along some message to her on your behalf?”

  He closed his eyes trying to squelch the bitterness he felt welling up again. He tried to calm himself with images from their past, of their laughter, their beach in Tahiti all alone and so in love, so far from all this madness. And now he couldn’t even speak to her. He swallowed hard against his pride before speaking.

  “Yes, Mr. Taro you could. Tell her I love her and that she should go to her mother’s until this is settled, until I am free, and that I will see her and explain my mistakes then.”

  Taro nodded warmly. “She will hear these words and must already know that you are incapable of this crime. And Professor Downy, I insist that you call me Taro from now on.”

  “That’s it, time’s up” a man’s voice came as the sliding door behind him opened abruptly.

  “Until we speak again take heart. The truth is on our side, not theirs. They’re power is an illusion, don’t forget.”

  Taro locked eyes with him and put his hand to the glass in a gesture of solidarity. Then the guard unceremoniously scooped Downy up. They ambled their way down the hall. Back in his cell he thought of Taro’s words. It was true what the monsignor had said about him in his recommendation. Even his manner of speech had a classical touch, but the speech was strangely antiquated. No one used the word gallery anymore. Still, for the first time since this nightmare had all began he felt like someone was actually on his side. It was too dangerous to involve Naomi any further though, that much he felt sure of. In fact, he liked the idea of her at the police station where she was probably safest. Clellon had asked first about her. Why? What kind of danger was she in, were they all in? He looked at the chains across his legs and had to laugh for the first time: the very idea that a man had to be put in chains.

  Chapter III

  The Aero Club was already jumping when Sullivan walked in and on a barstool sat Tina. She was dressed up, clearly not working, and in a skirt, which fit much like the jeans he had first seen her in. She had on a pair of pink high heels, which she dangled mindlessly from her painted toes. Sullivan had to laugh at the look. Her shirt hung off the shoulder on one side. It was all 80’s, which of course she wasn’t old enough to remember, but she made it look damn good again.

  “Hey stranger,” she said smiling warmly as he walked in. “You look beat, man. Everything ok?”

  “Oh yeah, just another long day at the office locking up potheads and sexual deviants.”

  She laughed so hard her beer nearly came up. “You might be the funniest cop who ever lived you know that?”

  “Yeah, but it’s my huge penis that makes everybody swoon.”

  “Well,” she said, “now huge, that’s a stretch.”

  He really liked this girl. No matter what he threw out she gave it back. A woman who could hold her own like that attracted him on an almost primal level.

  “Let’s get out of here and get some real drinks.”

  “Yeah, where do you get ‘real’ drinks, detective?”

  “Woody’s up by the college. I heard even the coffee is great.”

  “Ok, but I ain’t drinking coffee. Your uncle’s brew almost cost me a trip to the emergency room.”

  “He’s not really my uncle.”

  “I know dumbass, still my stomach hurt for hours. It’s the last time I drink anything to be polite.”

  “Come on let me make it up to you.”

  “Ok, but unless you get that door fixed, I’m driving” she said pointing out to his wreck of a car.

  It was illegally parked in a handicapped zone. He kept forgetting about the missing door.

  “You should probably move it, you know.”

  “Nah, I’m the law. Come to think of it, handicapped people get all the breaks anyway.”

  “Oh, you’re going to hell for that one,” she said, “We’ll take my truck.”

  “Hold on. Let me go get my Elvis tape.”

  “I don’t have a cassette player, man.”

  “It’s an 8-Track, actually. Shit, I’m getting old aren’t I?”

  “No, you’re just sentimental. It’s ok.”

  Tina drove like she made love, the truck swerving all over the place. She cranked her car stereo, which blasted a song from the 90’s that he couldn’t recall the name of, but vaguely remembered.

  “I gotta be honest, college bars kinda bore me,” she said looking at him sideways as she drove.

  “Yeah, me too, but this one is kinda nice actually. I’m not the college type either. Don’t worry; you’ll be popular anywhere in that skirt.”

  “Thanks man. You’re not getting out of it this time though, I’m not going on another date that ends in a garage, ok? I got class and manners,” she said laughing “and if you want to get my panties off again you’re gonna pay for it.” Tina pointed to the glove box. “There’s more green in there,” she said, “if you want some.”

  “Oh, no thanks,” he said smiling.

  He had been right to come see her. He was in a better mood already.

  ***

  The man who leaned over the balcony blew smoke rings across the top of the bar as the pair walked in.
He paid them no mind. Woody’s was bustling with the first round of drinkers of the evening---the early crowd. The man pulled his hat down over his eyes moving quietly back to his seat on the balcony to enjoy his scotch, unnoticed. Nick Sullivan and Tina went straight to the bar where they ordered a highball and a coffee.

  “Do you have any of the Greek stuff?”

  “It’s all we serve. We start boiling it every morning at six.”

  “Great. Throw in a shot of George Dickel too, if you don’t mind. I’ll split the difference,” he said smiling.

  “Coming up.”

  “Wow this place is actually better than I thought” Tina said looking around. “It’s just, you know a bit quiet for my taste.”

  “Yeah, I know what you mean, but not everything in life needs to make a racquet.”

  “Ok, if you say so. I guess I’m not complicated is all.”

  “That’s a quality worth holding on to,” he said smiling.

  A table of what looked like fraternity boys suddenly erupted into raucous laughter. It broke the illusion that they were in a classy place.

  “Then there are those guys,” she said pointing, clearly annoyed.

  “Do you think they realize yet why they spend so much time with each other and not with the girls?” Sullivan looked momentarily perplexed.

  Tina put her fist to her mouth and rolled her tongue against the inside of her cheek in a lewd gesture.

  The boys rose to leave, but saw her as they were walking out, one of them leering, clearly drunk, slurred, “Damn, look at that those,” pointing to her ample chest.

  “Hey buddy,” she said loudly, “You like tits? These you will never touch,” she said laughing. “Not you or anybody else in your little choir boys’ club.” She now had the entire group’s attention.

  Sullivan groaned as he turned slowly from the bar. The last thing he needed was a brawl.

  “I wouldn’t let you fuck me with his tiny prick,” she said pointing to one of the frat boys’ brothers, who now looked down embarrassingly at his crotch. “Look at that,” she said laughing, “You could at least put a roll of quarters in there or something, give a girl some hope.”

  The brothers now roared in protest. The biggest one pointed at Sullivan, “You need to calm that bitch down bra,” he said.

  Sullivan, barely turning to look spoke emotionlessly, “Bitch, calm down.”

  Everyone laughed, except the drunkest one who was still swaying in angry protest, but out the door they roared.

  He shook his head. “They’re just young and stupid. Give ‘em a break.”

  “No,” she said, “they’re just fucking brave in their little packs. I’m sorry,” she said throwing her arms in the air in exasperation. “See, I told you this place was a bad idea.” She looked like she might cry. It was the first break in her rough exterior and he found he actually liked it.

  “Hey,” he said standing up suddenly, “let’s eat some dinner, ok? Let’s make this a real date,” he said putting his arms around her waist.

  “Oh, look at you changing the subject,” but she wasn’t expecting him to come on so sincerely and she could only mutter without protest. “Ok, sure.”

  “Could we get a table for dinner?” he said yelling at the bartender.

  “Yeah, sure man. Anywhere you want,” he said pointing to the empty tables.

  “See we can sit anywhere we want; this place isn’t so bad.”

  As they grabbed their drinks to walk away he could see a lone man standing on the balcony above. He was wearing one of those goddamn tourist hats and for a moment Sullivan’s chest fluttered. Then he could see the man was totally different looking: tall, more like 6’2, light skin, spectacles. Clearly he belonged in this place. He would never be able to ignore that style of hat ever again he realized.

  “I’m gonna just freshen up a bit, ok?” Tina said.

  “Of course,” he said rising from his chair as she left.

  Tina had never seen a man do such a thing, and her face involuntarily flushed, which thankfully was obscured by the darkness. She hated being embarrassed in front of men. He could tell how much she liked him anyway. He liked her too, so that was fine. He looked around the room again and finally to the phone booth where he knew the photographs of the professor and the dead girl had been taken.

  He waived for the waiter who appeared quickly.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Do you work nights here all week, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “Yeah I do--weekends mostly.”

  “I don’t want to hold you up, but can I ask if you know Professor Noah Downy? Someone told me he comes in here a lot.”

  “I do, sir.”

  He could tell by his response that he wasn’t going to get any information voluntarily.

  “I’m not looking to pile on, you know. I’m actually trying to help the guy out. I guess you heard he was arrested?”

  “I did, it’s a terrible shock. Can’t believe that guy could ever do what they said.”

  “Yeah?” I think he was in here just last week right, with his wife and another girl, real pretty girl? Did you wait on them by chance?”

  “I did sir. They all seemed very happy if you ask me, very happy.”

  “Did they get drunk?”

  “Yeah, but not too much. They walked out of here just fine. The professor always has about a two-drink limit, always the best stuff though, but he drank coffee most of the night as I recall. We try to keep an eye out for our customers.”

  “That’s good of you. Look, I just want to ask if you can remember anything about the girl, the one with black hair, real young, almost middle-eastern looking. Can you remember what she was wearing by chance? I know it’s a long shot.”

  “No, actually everybody noticed her,” the waiter said arching his eyebrows. “She had on one of those cut out at the shoulder sweaters. Black. Just some jeans I think, but she looked very chic. Very beautiful girl. We couldn’t believe it when we heard that she was dead.”

  “Yeah, it’s too bad. Hey, you sure about how drunk they were?” Sullivan said looking intently at him to emphasize the point. The waiter seemed to concentrate before speaking.

  “Professor Downy was the least drunk for sure, but the girls said goodbye as they left, and they didn’t seem too sloshed to me. Look, I’ve got to get to some other tables; I can talk more after my shift.”

  Sullivan caught himself, “I’m so sorry man thanks so much, you’ve been a big help, really.”

  Tina reappeared pulling out her chair and looking freshly made up with her hair now pulled to the side to match her outfit. She looked even younger and prettier.

  “So what do we eat here?” she said smiling. “They got burgers?” she said giddily.

  “Do they ever!” he said shaking his head and handing the menu to her. “Get anything you want, ok?”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yep, but I’m gonna have to leave for a bit, actually, kind of right now.”

  “What, what do you mean?”

  “Hey, what’s the best hotel in this town?”

  She tapped at the table looking clearly annoyed. “The Roosevelt, I guess.”

  He pulled his phone from his pocket and typed away. He handed the phone to her.

  “Tell them we want their honeymoon suite if it’s available and if not, something with a great view.”

  “What? Hey where the fu--”

  “I’ll be right back, I promise.”

  Tina held the phone in confusion before someone picked up.

  “Good evening, Roosevelt Hotel. How may I assist you?

  “Yeah, I guess we need a room. How much is a room?”

  “That depends on your needs, ma’am,” came a very polite voice.

  “O fuck it,” she said. “Do you have a honeymoon suite?”

  “Yes, we do, ma’am. And it’s the best view in town if you ask me, truly breathtaking.”

  “How much is that?”

  “That’s 3250.0
0 dollars for a single night stay, ma’am.”

  Sullivan reappeared taking his seat hurriedly picking up his jacket.

  “Yeah, it’s a three-thousand-dollar room,” she said frowning.

  “Great, get it,” he said. “Here’s my credit card. Go on and book it.”

  The waiter arrived again with pen in hand.

  “Can we get our food to go actually? Something’s come up.”

  “Uhm sure...but you haven’t ordered yet.”

  “Yeah, bring us a sampler platter, little bits of everything good, cheeseburgers,” he said pointing to Tina, “steak, fish, and French fries---everything.”

  “Yeah, ok. Drinks?”

  “Yeah two large vanilla milkshakes, throw bourbon in mine. You?”

  “Me too,” she said as she put down the phone. “Dude what is the deal? I knew you wouldn’t end up taking me on a date.”

  “It’s police business, it just came up and I realized something very important about a case. I might be wrong, but I have to check it out tonight.”

  “This all happened while I was in the fucking bathroom? Great. So whose gonna eat all this goddamned food.”

  “You are. That’s your job tonight, to eat as much of this food as possible, watch a dirty movie and wait for me,” he said.

  “At exactly 3 am I will return to the Roosevelt Hotel, where you will be sleeping in what I hope is one of the best beds in town, maybe worldwide if price is any indicator. Then your job is to show me anything neat I might have missed about you last time.” He put his hand on hers fluttering his eyelashes, but then she pulled away.

  “You seem full of shit to me, man; but what the hell, I got nothing better going on tonight. Hey, you don’t show up and I’ll run up a tab on your ass you’ll never forget.”

  “See you at 3 am.” he said. “This is going to be a fun night. Eat up. Save me my shake. Don’t drink it. Promise?”

  “Hey, how are you leaving? I drove you here.”

  “My ride’s here already actually,” and he left out the door without a word.