by E. C. Bell
“Because you look just terrible and should probably rest.”
“But—”
“But nothing.” I grinned, and hoped it looked convincing. “Does your head hurt?”
“Yes,” he admitted. “It really does.”
“So let me go. After all, it’s just a park, right? I’ll chat up whoever’s there and get back in time for us both to go to Honoria’s place. If I find out she’s been lying about knowing Eddie, we’ll dump her as a client, and then we can go out for a meal. A real meal, in a sit-down restaurant. What do you say?”
“I don’t think you should go there by yourself,” he said, but I noticed he’d stopped trying to remove the bandages. “It’s not safe—”
“I’ll be fine,” I said breezily, and walked to the door before he had a chance to say anything more. “You nap. I”ll be back before you know it.”
“I don’t need to nap,” James said. He sat on the edge of the cot, and then reclined until his head was on the old, flat pillow, and he sighed. “Other than the headache, I’m fine. Really.”
“Yeah, I can tell,” I said. “Now, tell me the address so I can go.”
Even as he told me the address, his eyes slid shut. “Want to use the car again?”
I said no, because I didn’t even have the money for parking.
“All right,” he whispered. “Be safe.”
“I will,” I said, and left.
I’d be fine. It’s just a park, after all. How bad could it be?
ONE OF THE greatest things about living in Edmonton in the summer is that the sun doesn’t set until ten o’clock in the evening. Since it was not quite eight o’clock, the sun was still well above the horizon, bathing the city in pink and gold. When I got to Needle Park, I was really glad. There was no way in the world I would have walked into that place without the sun. No way at all.
The park wasn’t actually a park, just a bit of green space crammed up against a couple of old buildings in downtown Edmonton. Even in the soft pink glow of the slowly setting sun, it looked decidedly sinister to me.
I glanced across the street, at the building where Honoria probably lived. Low-rent businesses on the main floor, and what looked like apartments on the second and third. If she lived there, and if Eddie had frequented this park, there was a chance they’d seen each other. Maybe even knew each other.
James might be on to something. I hoped not. But I had to find out.
I turned back to the park, with its scruffy grass and dusty trees and sad-looking park benches that had been placed there, so hopefully, some years before. They were covered in graffiti and had been desecrated by so many knives over the years that I could barely believe they were still holding together.
Could this actually be the right place?
I glanced at the street signs, hoping against hope that I had it wrong. But I didn’t. Corner of 104th and Jasper. Just like James had told me.
Now I needed a plan.
I know, I’d walked ten blocks and should have had plenty of time to come up with something, but mostly I had avoided eye contact with anyone on the streets and not really thought about what I was going to do once I found the park.
I spied two men sitting on a park bench and decided I’d start with them. I’d ask them if they knew Eddie. And if they did, if they ever saw him hanging around with Honoria of the beautiful smile.
Easy peasy.
As I stepped onto the grass, I looked past the two men and was genuinely surprised to see more people in the park. I hadn’t seen them before. They’d blended with the background so that all I’d seen was the scruffy grass and the dusty trees. And those pathetic park benches.
Most of the people—who actually looked more like ghosts than living humans, which gave me a real jolt—didn’t fit anywhere in the daytime downtown Edmonton I knew, and I wished the sun was even higher in the sky.
I headed toward the two men on the bench. The other people saw me, of course, and a ripple of unease went through them all.
I had a sudden attack of nerves and shuffled to a stop. I opened my purse, as though I was looking for something, and tried to regroup. What the hell was I doing?
I honestly had no clue, but closed my purse, slapped a smile on my face, walked up to the two guys on the bench, and tried to act like I knew what I was doing.
“Can I talk to you?” I asked.
Most of the people around the park bench melted away when I opened my mouth. The two men sitting on the bench glared at me, mightily.
“Are you a cop?” the bigger of them asked.
“No,” I replied. God forbid! “I just have a couple of questions about someone I think you might know.”
The two men continued to stare at me, without even blinking or anything. My heart quickened, and I reached into my purse again, digging out one of James’s business cards.
“I’m with the Jimmy Lavall Detective agency,” I said, and held it out. I was distantly pleased that my hand wasn’t shaking. It should have been, but it wasn’t.
The big guy leaned forward and grabbed it from my hand. I just wanted to run, but didn’t. Just stood, trying to look taller and more confident than I had mere moments before.
“I just have a couple of questions for you,” I said. “You answer, and I’ll leave. Promise.”
The bigger guy glanced back at the small thin man sprawled across one end of the bench. He tilted his head, just a tad, in a “what the heck” move. The bigger guy shrugged, handed him the card, and stepped aside.
“What do you want to know?” the thin man asked.
“Do you know Edward Hansen?” I asked.
“Who?”
“Brown Eddie,” I said. The thin man’s eyes crawled all over me, and I felt sick. A drug dealer was mentally undressing me. I grabbed my sweater and closed it. Then I crossed my arms over my chest, and the thin guy laughed.
“Do I make you nervous?” he asked.
“No,” I said. “Not at all.” I uncrossed my arms, but pulled my purse from my side and held it in front of me like a shield. “Did you know Eddie?”
“That’s the guy who got himself killed, over at the church. Right?” He grinned lazily, stretching like a cat. “I don’t know him.”
“But you know he was killed.”
The thin guy snorted laughter, and the bigger guy, who had been standing still as a mountain, echoed the scoffing tone. “Everybody knows that. It was even on the news.”
“So, if you don’t know him, maybe you know someone who does?” I asked. And I took a small step forward.
I could feel the big guy come to attention when I did that. Like a guard dog. I smiled, trying to look small and not dangerous at all, and was relieved when he relaxed. Just a titch, mind you, but I didn’t feel like he was going to beat me to death with my own arms or anything. Not at that moment, anyhow.
“I just want to talk to people who knew him. I’m trying to figure out what happened to him.”
“Now, aren’t we supposed to let the cops work out that shit?” the small man asked, and smiled. It was a teeny bit like watching a snake smile, and I slid back a step.
“Yeah,” I said. “I’m sure they will figure it out, eventually. But I have a friend who’s been implicated—”
The big guy looked massively confused, so I decided to be helpful.
“The police think my friend’s involved somehow.”
“I know what implicated means,” the big guy snarled. “I’m not stupid.”
“Sorry.”
“Relax, R,” the smaller guy said. “The puss was just trying to give you your word for the day.”
I bristled. “What did you call me?”
The little guy stood, glowering. “I called you a puss. You know, like—”
“I know what you meant,” I said, and glared at him. “I don’t appreciate being called names.”
“Oh,” the thin guy said, and took another step toward me. He was definitely menacing me, but at that moment, I didn’t care
. Because I hate someone calling me names. Even a drug dealer in the scariest park in Edmonton. “Is that right?”
“Yes,” I snapped. “That’s exactly right. Apologize.”
The small part of my brain that tries to keep me safe screamed, “Have you lost your mind? Run away!” but I wasn’t listening. That piece of crap was going to apologize to me.
The thin guy blinked.
“Are you serious?” He looked at the big guy. “Is she serious?”
“Seems to be.” The big guy flexed everything he had to flex, and my mouth dried in belated fear. “Want me to straighten her out?”
I pretended to ignore the big guy even though I was so certain he was going to grab me that I could almost feel his hands on my arm.
“I am absolutely serious,” I said. I hoped the thin guy couldn’t see the way my lips were sticking to my suddenly completely dry teeth. “You shouldn’t talk to me like that. You don’t even know me.”
The thin guy stared at me a moment more, and I stared back, just as hard. Then he laughed.
“I guess I owe the lady an apology,” he said. He laughed delightedly, as though he was watching a kitten stand up to a pit bull. “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”
“Thank you,” I said primly, and he laughed again, shaking his head.
“All right, what do you want to know?”
“Who knows Eddie?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know.” He turned to the big guy. “Who knows the dead guy, R?”
“No clue,” the big guy said. He hadn’t moved. Just stared at me like a huge scary statue.
“See?” the thin guy said. “We don’t know anything about that piece of shit.” His smile fell away, and I knew my time was absolutely up. “I think it’s time for you to go back to the suburbs, where you belong.”
“Thanks for your time,” I said, trying to keep the snottiness in my voice down to a dull roar. I was still afraid, but I was angrier at being dismissed by this piece of garbage. “I guess I’ll have to talk to someone else.” I pointed to a clot of humanity clinging to the brick wall of the building adjacent to the park. “Maybe them.”
The small guy didn’t move a muscle. “I don’t think so,” he said. “I think it would be better if you leave.”
“I’m just here to ask some questions,” I said. “What’s the problem?”
“The problem is I don’t need you upsetting my people,” the small guy said. “They might decide that this isn’t a safe place to be. And that would be bad. For everyone.”
My inner voice began chanting, “Run away, run away, run away” in a terrified monotone, but I continued to ignore it. I was getting really tired of being told what I could or could not do on this horrible little piece of real estate.
“I don’t care if it’s good for business,” I said. “I just want to ask them some questions. Last time I checked, we lived in a free country.”
The last of the thin guy’s smile disappeared, and all that was left was threat. “This isn’t any part of your country,” he said.
And then R, the big guy, walked up and gave me the hairy eyeball, just to set me straight. “Get out of here, little girl, and don’t come back.”
“Fine,” I replied. Honestly, I think that’s all I could have said, because staring into R’s eyes was like looking into a cold, dark version of hell. “I’ll go.”
I walked out of the park and back to the sidewalk, and then down the street, and finally out of sight of the two men. I collapsed against a wall and tried to keep from throwing up. Slowly, the feeling of abject fear eased, but the anger remained.
Stupid, stupid anger.
I’d risked my life—kind of—and had absolutely nothing to show for it. And that couldn’t stand. I had to find out if Eddie had ever been to this stupid park.
At the very least.
I went around the block and entered the other end of the alley that backed onto the park. I’d ask a couple more people about Eddie, and with any luck at all I’d have something to take back to James.
The alley was packed with people. I was really quite surprised. And none of them even gave me a second look. I was pretty surprised about that, too.
I walked up to the first group and asked them if anyone knew Brown Eddie. They all shook their heads, avoiding eye contact, so I walked on. Same thing happened with the second group, and with the third.
This wasn’t working, and I was getting seriously depressed. Maybe they’d seen me over at the other side of the park. Maybe they knew the thin guy had thrown me out. Told me to go home—
“Well, if it isn’t the little rubbernecker!” A woman’s voice called from the shadows. “Still rubbernecking?”
I stared, hard, but didn’t recognize the woman who had left the flowers and candle by the crucifixion tree until she stepped out into the dying sunlight.
“Hi!” I said. I was almost happy to see her. A familiar face, in that crowd of strangeness. “You’re Eddie’s friend, right?”
“Right,” the woman said. “What are you doing here?”
“Still trying to figure out what happened to Eddie.”
“Hmm.”
“Have you heard anything?” I asked. “Anything at all?”
The woman gave her tight faux leather skirt a tug, to settle it on her bony hips. “I’ve heard some things. But my time’s not free, you know.” She smiled. “You know?”
“Yes. Absolutely.” I reached for my purse, hoping that by some miracle, I’d find a bill in it, even though I was fairly certain I didn’t have a dime to my name. I dug, and dug, and felt my face grow hot.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t have any money.”
“Jesus, girl.” She stared, and when I finally had the courage to look her in the eye, all I saw was sympathy. Seriously. Sympathy from a prostitute. “You don’t have no money at all?”
“It’s been a tough month,” I whispered.
“Fine,” she said. “I’ll give you a minute free, but that’s all. And if Romeo comes up, you get the hell out of here.”
“Romeo?”
“My pimp, sweetie.”
“Oh.”
“So, what do you want to know?”
“Did Eddie ever come to this park?”
She laughed. “Of course he did. All the time.”
“And did those guys I talked to know him?” I jerked my head in the direction of the park bench, and she nodded.
“So why would they lie to me?”
“Because they don’t know you,” she scoffed. “Now hurry up. Your time’s almost up.”
I thought furiously. I was probably only going to be able to ask one more question before she told me to leave. Now, did I want to waste my time trying to explain to her who Honoria was, or did I want to ask the obvious question. Which was—
“Any idea who killed Eddie?”
She looked around, to see if anyone was listening to our conversation. “Some say it was Ambrose,” she whispered.
“Ambrose?”
“Ambrose Welch. Yeah.” She stared. “The guys you were talking to? Out by the benches?”
“Oh,” I whispered, and felt a thrill of fear course down my spine. “Was one of them Ambrose?”
“No!” she scoffed. “He doesn’t come to the park. Those were his lieutenants.”
Then she smiled, and I was shocked to see warmth. “Some say Ambrose finally got tired of Eddie. It could be the truth, because Eddie could be aggravating. But I don’t think so.”
“Oh?” I said. Seemed to be the only thing I could think to say, but it was enough.
“Yeah. I think it’s that cop. Angus the Asshole Stewart. That son of bitch hated Eddie with a passion.”
“You think a policeman killed Eddie?” I asked.
“Stewart’s no ‘policeman,’” she snapped. “He’s a drug cop. Through and through. Different breed, them. And he hated Eddie.”
“With a passion.”
“Yeah,” she said. “With a
fucking passion.”
She didn’t tell me to leave, so I thought I’d try asking her one more question.
“Do you know someone named Honoria Lowe?” I asked.
Her face twisted. “Who?”
“Honoria Lowe. She lives around here and says she knows Eddie. The cops think she might be involved in his death.”
Not quite the truth, but whatever.
“Never heard of her,” she said. “And I know everybody Eddie knows.” Her face spasmed. “Knew.” She looked around as though suddenly afraid someone else in the alley had heard her. “Your minute is up. I got work.”
She turned on her heel and started to walk away from me.
“Hey!” I called. “What’s your name?”
She stopped and lowered her head for a second, then shrugged.
“I’m Noreen,” she said. “And who are you?”
“Marie.” I thought about giving her a business card, but realized, belatedly, that maybe these weren’t the kind of people James wanted as potential clients. “Thanks for your help, Noreen.”
She waved briefly, then turned and walked to the street without looking at me again.
If I needed to talk to Noreen, I’d know where to find her. Besides, she hadn’t looked like she’d ever heard Honoria’s name before. If she truly was as close to Eddie as she said, then I guess we’d call that confirmation that Honoria wasn’t lying about knowing Eddie before his death.
I glanced down at my watch and gasped. I had to leave, immediately, if I wanted to go with James for his meeting with Honoria.
I turned, preparing to walk back down the alley and to the street without being seen by Ambrose’s lieutenants, so I could head back to the office and tell James all my news. That was the plan, anyhow.
Two cop cars, lights flashing, slewed off the street and onto the dusty grey grass of the park, spreading panic through the multitude in the alley and changing my plans, just a bit.
“Five O!” someone yelled, and everyone stampeded back into the alley, away from the cop cars. I ran too, just like all the rest of the frightened, panicky sheep, and I honestly thought I was going to make it until two more vehicles careened down the alley toward us, effectively blocking our escape.
“Dammit.” I straggled to a stop in the middle of the stampeding addicts. I was going to miss the meeting. I could just tell.
