Along Comes a Wolfe

by Angie Counios

  By the time I get upstairs, he’s already moved on from the first room. I peek in as I walk by and see it’s the master bedroom. Dark, heavy curtains keep out the light. It’s spotless, no clothes on the floor or the chair.

  Charlie sees me but goes on to the second room.

  “All done, are we?”

  I hate showing my weaknesses to him and try keeping it short. “No.”

  He stops outside the next room and nods. “Good. Whoever is behind all this laid a shit-kicking on us last time, and I’d hate for us to split up so he can finish the job.”

  I’m not sure if he’s saying that for my benefit or if it’s what he actually feels, but I choose to believe him. “Hey, what can I say? We’re partners.”

  He looks at me and smiles. “We are, aren’t we?”

  Using a sleeved hand, he opens the next door.

  It’s the bathroom, and it’s huge. A double sink runs along one wall and there’s large standalone tub close to the shower.

  Charlie stares at it. “Why is there all this stuff?”

  “If you don’t want a bath, then you can have a shower.”

  “Then just have a tub with a shower in it.” He really can’t understand why anyone would want it like this. “Rich people are stupid.” He closes the door and moves on to the last two rooms at the end of the hallway.

  “Do you even know where you’re going?”

  “No.”

  “Haven’t you been here before?” I’m betting he came over for some pot party, but the way he makes friends, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d never been here before either.

  “Once, but only in the basement.”

  I pause. “Is Robbie even a friend?”

  Charlie turns to me, his eyes sad. “Not really. But if we don’t take care of the rejects of this world, who will?”

  He opens the next door and we find a bedroom. It’s another soulless room, like the master, but this one is extremely sparse. There is a made bed and a small bookshelf filled with books arranged in order of height. The curtains are open exactly the same amount and the light shines on the closed closet door. A chair sits in the corner. The room is empty. It reminds me of when my oldest sister Jodi moved away for college and slowly took all the stuff out of her room over the years. Probably a guest room, I think.

  We shut the door and move on to the last room.

  Rrrwow! A grey streak zips out of the bedroom between our feet.

  “Another stupid cat?”

  “That scared the crap out of me.” I lean in to look at the room.

  Chaos.

  I don’t even question that this disaster is Robbie’s room. A Skrillex banner forms a makeshift curtain over the window. The bed is unmade, clothes everywhere. A stack of lps are ready to topple off his dresser. A vaporizer sits next to an autobiography of Henry Rollins and a copy of Rolling Stone with Howard Stern on the cover. There’s a book on hydroponics facedown and half-read on the dusty dresser. At least he attempts to be well-informed. The room has no focus, no order. It’s mayhem. It smells dusty, musty, skunky, and sweaty. I’m disgusted.

  I toe an empty pizza box with my foot. “Wow, your buddy’s a cliché.”

  Charlie holds up an lp of Deep Purple. “Well, at least he doesn’t have terrible taste in music.”

  I shake my head—we’ll never see eye to eye on this stuff.

  “It’s gross.”

  Charlie shrugs. “I’ve seen worse.”

  I hope he’s not referring to his own room.

  “This is not the room of a killer,” he says.

  I survey this upheaval of a bedroom and can’t even begin to fathom the twisted, methodical mind of our killer headquartered in here.

  “I agree,” I say. “Can we please go look at the car now?”

  Charlie nods. He closes the door to the room. Both cats sit at the end of the hallway, staring at us. I’m glad they can’t talk. This is the first time in my life I’ve entered a home without an invitation. Or with a lockpick, for that matter. My worldview is shifting.

  We leave all the doors in the hallway as we found them and go back downstairs.

  I’m at the garage door when Charlie takes a quick detour into the kitchen.

  “Just a minute.”

  I wonder what he’s up to when he returns with a can of iced tea.

  “Are you kidding?”

  He looks annoyed.

  “You’re not even thirsty.”

  “How do you know?”

  “You just had a coffee. It’s in my car.”

  “So? I want some iced tea.”

  “Sometimes I think you do things just because you can.”

  “He’d get me one if he were home!”

  “Yeah, well, he’s not.”

  I’m raising my voice as we go into the garage. Perhaps it’s nerves from snooping around someone else’s house, even if it feels like a soulless showhome, or the thought that Chrissy’s life may depend on us, but I feel frustrated.

  “You want me to get you one?”

  “No!” I shout.

  “You need to loosen—”

  Thunk.

  We look at each other, my heart pounding so loud I can hear it.

  Charlie moves toward the car. “Hello?”

  Thunk.

  “Holy shit.”

  “The trunk.”

  I catch my breath and fly into action, running to the driver’s side and popping the trunk. I scramble to Charlie, who stands there, speechless.

  Inside is Chrissy, bound with duct tape and gagged.

  But alive!

  chapter 99

  She’s terrified.

  Without missing a beat, Charlie has his pocketknife out and works at the tape that binds her hands behind her back.

  “It’s okay.” He sounds gentle.

  “Chrissy?” I ask.

  She nods.

  “I’m going to take the tape off your mouth. It’s going to hurt for only a minute, okay?” Her eyes go wide with fear and I wince before I yank.

  She whimpers.

  Charlie moves to the tape around her feet. “One more.” He pulls the tape away and helps her sit up. “There you go.”

  She’s distant, not focusing on us.

  Charlie bends down and places a hand on her shoulder. “You’re safe. We’re not going to let anyone hurt you.” He turns to me. “Call Gekas.”

  I nod.

  He looks back at Chrissy. “Are you okay?”

  She’s a long way from the selfie Mike took at the party. Her clothes and face are dirty, and she has a scratch on her cheek and a bruise on her forehead. “Get me out of here.”

  Charlie helps her out of the trunk and her bare feet are bloody. “Do you know where you are?”

  She begins to cry. “No idea.” She grabs her stomach and manages to utter, “Oh God, I feel sick…” before running to the corner and vomiting.

  “You’re okay. We’re calling the police.” I grab my phone and dial Gekas. Busy signal! Of all the times…

  Charlie comes over to me. “Tony—”

  “I was right.”

  “Yeah, whatever. Listen, we have to get her out of here and find Robbie.”

  I’m pissed and ready to express it when—

  Bzzz.

  “Gekas?” Charlie asks.

  I look. “No. Jessie.” I read the text:

  Asked around. Robbies at Brent Chans.

  Charlie shakes his head. “Brent lives down the street from the school. He’s a dropout and a dealer—all the kids go to his place to get stoned. God, Robbie, you’re such an idiot.”

  I gesture to Chrissy. “Maybe a bigger idiot than we thought.”

  “I doubt that.”

  I dial Gekas again.

  This
time, she answers.

  “Detective?”

  “What, Anthony?”

  “We found her. We found Chrissy.”

  I look over to see she’s propped herself against a sawhorse, pale and exhausted.

  Gekas sounds distracted. “Where are you?”

  I look over at Charlie, knowing he still has his doubts, but Chrissy needs help. “3212 Crawley Crescent.”

  Again, a long pause. “Thank you, Anthony. Can you stay with her until I get some officers over and the paramedics arrive?”

  “You’re not coming?”

  “I’m sorry, no.”

  “Detective—”

  “Make sure Charlie stays around to give his statement.”

  “Okay, but Detective—”

  “Thank him for me, will you? Okay, I have to go. Goodbye.” She hangs up.

  Charlie looks at me. “What?”

  “Something’s up.”

  chapter 100

  We help Chrissy out of the house as unobtrusively as possible and wait on the curb. A few cars come down the street, slowing down. We must be quite a sight for this neighbourhood—a black kid, a shaggy-haired troublemaker, and a girl who must look like—well, I don’t really want to know what they must think we’ve done to her.

  Charlie gives her the iced tea he’s stolen and wanders to the car to get his coffee and bag of doughnuts.

  I look over at Chrissy. I have to ask. “Can you tell me what happened?”

  She’s quiet for a bit. I think she wants to cry but there’s nothing left inside her. “I was working day shift at the movie theatre. It was quiet and boring and no one was coming because of all the crappy shows that are out. I was thinking about the party I went to the night before. I met a really nice guy and gave him my number and was hoping he’d call.”

  I smile a bit, knowing she means Mike.

  “Anyway, I had to go to the bathroom and went to the one in the back for employees. No one was around. It was quiet”—her voice cracks—“And then…” She breaks into big dry heaves.

  I put my arm on her shoulder and she grabs my hand.

  “You don’t know who took you, do you? Someone you might have recognized?”

  She shakes her head. “He had a mask on. Some creepy thing. I just… I can’t”

  I nod and squeeze her hand. We see Charlie on his way back and she wipes her eyes, running her fingers through her hair. I let her have her space and go to Charlie, who’s on his phone.

  “What’s up?”

  “Checking social media.”

  “See if there’s anything about where Gekas is going?”

  He nods. “Damn news moves too slow here.” He sits beside us and I watch as he switches through his apps.

  Chrissy is staring at us. She’s calmed down now that we’re out in the sun and the adrenaline’s crashed. She nods at Charlie. “You go to my school, don’t you?”

  “Uh-huh,” he mumbles without looking up from his phone.

  Seems he’s turned off all of his empathy again now that she’s safe.

  “And you were Sheri’s boyfriend, right?”

  The question is in the past tense, but I let it go.

  “Yes.”

  She takes a sip of the iced tea. “Are you two some kind of undercover cops?”

  I can’t help but laugh. I shake my head.

  “Then how’d you find me?”

  Charlie looks up and his smile changes his face. “Cuz that’s our job.” He goes back to his phone.

  Until he said it out loud, I never thought of it like that, but now I understand his vigilance.

  A police car and the paramedics arrive shortly afterward. We stick around to give our statements, but I can tell Charlie is annoyed. Just one more report to add to Gekas’s growing file. By the time we’re free to go, Charlie rushes me to the car.

  “What’s up?”

  “I found Gekas. I think the cops are raiding Brent Chan’s.”

  “The dealer?” I ask, clipping my seatbelt.

  Charlie nods. “Somehow Gekas is onto Robbie.”

  “He’s our only suspect.”

  “Yeah, but despite all this,” his gesture encompasses the cops, the ambulance and Chrissy, “he’s not the right one. He’s too dumb, too weak, too disorganized. It doesn’t make sense.”

  I tend to agree, but we have no other leads. I pull onto the street, trying not to peel out too quickly in front of the cops.

  “How did Gekas get to him?” Charlie pulls a doughnut out of the bag and bites into it. He runs the scenario in his head first, then out loud to me. “She has the photo you sent and sees the car. But there’s no licence plate visible, so there’s not a lot to go on. Unless the car got picked up after he lost it and it went in the system? But still, that’s slim. So they run the description and get a few hits—one of them Robbie.” He looks over at me. “When you gave her the address, you’re certain she was dealing with something big?”

  “She didn’t say it, but I assumed.”

  He glares at me. “For Robbie’s sake, I hope you’re wrong.”

  chapter 101

  By the time I get close to Guthrie High School, the police have the streets blocked off. We find a place to park and get out.

  A bunch of students stand by two cop cars angle-parked on the street. When we push to the front, an officer says, “Stay behind the line for your safety, please.”

  I can see Gekas farther down the street, talking to another officer, looking at a map spread out on the hood of the car beside them. None of the police have their guns drawn, so despite whatever’s going on, the tension isn’t too high yet.

  I look to Charlie to ask his opinion and realize he’s disappeared. Again.

  I push through all the milling students and catch sight of him moving toward a side street. I run to catch up.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’ve spent time at Chan’s.”

  “Is he dangerous?”

  “Only in his own mind. But if Gekas tries to negotiate with him, she’ll just make it worse.”

  “So, what do we do?”

  Charlie stops and looks at me. “You don’t need to do this, Shepherd.”

  I shrug. “No? But then who will?”

  He smiles. “You’re all right, you know, when you’re not being such a whiny baby.”

  I decide to take this as a compliment and follow him.

  We move along the street until we’re close to Chan’s. There’s a police car out front and another cruiser down the block. There’s also an ambulance on standby. Charlie moves stealthily alongside the house to the backyard gate, but I hesitate.

  The officer steps out of his car. “Excuse me? Where do you two think you’re going?”

  Charlie turns, acting innocent. “Oh, sorry, officer. I was just heading home.”

  The officer glares at him. “You have any id on you?”

  Charlie shakes his head. “I don’t like to take my wallet to school—I lost it once.”

  The officer looks at me. “What about you?”

  “Sorry, no.”

  He studies us. “Well, we have a situation and I can’t let you go back there. You’ll just have to wait down at the end of the block.”

  I expect Charlie to argue, but he surprises me. “Sure thing, officer.”

  He closes the gate and the two of us stroll back to the street. As we walk away, Charlie pulls out his phone and flips through his contacts.

  “The backyard is covered,” he says, “and although we’re not gonna get past all the cops, maybe we can diffuse things and bring everyone out to us.” He takes a photo of the patrol officer and sends it.

  He and I walk back to the intersection.

  “Who’d you send that to?”

  “Chan’s supplier.”<
br />
  “Should I even ask how you have his number?”

  “I’ve been doing some work for him on the side. He figured Chan’s been charging more than he’s been saying and then smoking the overages.”

  “Was he?”

  Charlie nods. “Remember the second day you came, Robbie was bringing me some proof.”

  “The pipe?”

  “What? No, dude, that was a test tube full of product Chan was selling.” He looks at me. “Man, you should seriously get your eyes checked.”

  I don’t believe him and I guess it shows.

  “I needed Robbie’s help to get me proof that Chan was cutting his supplier’s stuff down to a lower grade.”

  Bzzz—he looks down at his phone. “Yup, it’s amazing what you can do with a phone these days.”

  The doors to Chan’s house bust open and stoner kids pour out, scattering everywhere. It’s pandemonium and Gekas and her officers reach for their firearms but don’t unholster them. The general nature of the stoners is hazy disorientation, and their legs aren’t interested in keeping up with the rest of their bodies. I laugh as the police corral the herd into a tight crowd. I look over at Charlie, but he isn’t laughing.

  “I don’t see Robbie.”

  I scan the group. “Neither do I. You think he went out the back?”

  “He’s stupid but not that stupid.”

  The police are moving toward the house, guns drawn now. They go through the open door, and Charlie and I walk up to the police line. No one’s talking now, except for the hushed chatter of walkie-talkies as the officers proceed through Chan’s house.

  Then all at once the air is pierced by two gunshots. The students all duck or hit the ground and freeze. I don’t move either, but then I see Charlie’s face. He looks scared.

  The radios sound off—“Clear.” “Clear.” “Clear.”—then go silent.

  Suddenly, a radio crackles. “We need emts in here, now!”