by Nick James
A chain link fence surrounded the front yard and served to collect a fair amount of the shopping circulars and plastic bags blowing up and down the street. The pounded dirt area enclosed by the cyclone fence theoretically once supported a lawn. The front gate hung askew, wedged against the edge of the sidewalk and looking like it hadn’t been closed in years.
Bobby climbed the three wooden steps onto the porch that ran across the front of the house. The broken bits of turned porch railing seemed reminiscent of the toothless grin on a Halloween pumpkin. A worn, overstuffed couch sat beneath one of the picture windows and from a distance of ten feet he could smell the mold on the fabric and stuffing. Empty beer cans and an empty half-pint of vodka were scattered around the couch. There was a hole in the trim around the front door where the doorbell used to be with two cloth-covered copper wires hanging out. The front door was unlocked so he turned the knob and stepped inside.
Kate resided in unit 5, up three flights of stairs to what was originally an attic. Bobby had to stoop slightly due to the roof line ceiling when he knocked on her door.
He knocked a second time and waited. A quick examination suggested the door had been kicked in more than once. The trim around the door was broken and had been half-heartedly repositioned. There were a couple of large footprints on the door just next to the wobbly knob. Each footprint sported a different tread mark. Bobby unconsciously wiped his hands clean on the back of his trousers.
A low voice from behind the door growled, “What you want?”
“I’m here for Kate Clarken.”
“She ain’t here.”
“I was supposed to pick her up.”
“What did she do now?”
“She has an appointment that she’ll get paid for. She’s not in any trouble.”
What sounded like two locks unsnapped and the door opened partway until the chain on the inside stretched taut. A flushed face peeked out, though Bobby couldn’t determine if the individual was male or female. Hard to say how old, but if he had to guess he would have pegged the creature at maybe fifty.
The face was bleary-eyed with a red nose heading toward purple. The hair was short, unkempt and looked like it was trimmed by someone wearing a blindfold. Sporadic facial hair coated the upper lip and chins.
“She’ll get paid?” the voice growled still partially hiding behind the door. The individual was barefoot and wore faded jeans without a belt and a too-small grey t-shirt that partially covered a beer belly with stretch marks. The shirt was soiled with the remnants of various meals, although it was difficult to tell if they’d been on the way in or back out.
“Yes. I’m supposed to pick her up and then give her a ride back. Do you know where I can find her?”
“What are they gonna pay her for?”
“I don’t know, exactly, it’s for some legal stuff. Look, I need to get her downtown so she can be interviewed. If I can’t find her she won’t get paid. Simple as that.”
“She’s either drunk at Moonies, drunk at Foxies or drunk at Sexton’s, except Sexton’s is still closed on account of that trouble a while back.”
“So, Moonies or Foxies?”
“Maybe.”
“I’ll check there. If I can’t find her I’ll come back here, if she shows up please have her stay put.”
“Yeah, sure, that’ll work,” the creature gave a hoarse laugh, then apparently couldn’t be bothered anymore and closed the door.
Chapter Fourteen
Bobby knew of both places though he’d never been in either one. Moonies sat on a corner, it was probably a typical local neighborhood bar seventy years ago although he wasn’t sure what you’d call it now. Rough and shitty were two words that sprang to mind, parking was on the street.
The place was dark. It was a sunny mid-afternoon outside but you’d never know it from inside Moonies. It took Bobby a moment or two before his eyes adjusted and he could make his way to the bar. He appeared to be one of three guys in the place including the bartender. The two guys on the paying side of the bar sat a half dozen stools apart staring at empty shot glasses and half-finished beers. Neither one bothered to look as Bobby approached the bar.
The bartender walked down the length of the bar and gave him a look like Bobby was interrupting something important. He didn’t say anything and didn’t look too excited about new business.
“I’m looking for a woman, Kate Clarken. I was told she might be here.”
“You see her?” the bartender snorted.
Bobby held his gaze for a moment. He looked around the place. The four booths on the far wall were empty and no one sat at the tables. Unless she was passed out on the floor, she wasn’t here.
“Has she been in?”
“What’s she done now?” he asked.
“Nothing, I’m just giving her a lift downtown.”
The bartender shook his head like he didn’t believe him, then walked back down the length of the bar bringing an end to the conversation.
He headed three blocks west to Foxies. At least it had a parking lot, although he still parked on the street and went in the front door. It was a step up from Moonies, but not much of one. A little more crowded, maybe a half dozen guys none of whom were talking to one another, but then the business at Foxies was drinking and they were all attending to business as he approached the bar.
“What’ll it be?” The bartender barked. She was a heavy-set woman, maybe late sixties. A sort of swirled hairstyle left over from the Kennedy administration and pink frame glasses with little rhinestones in the upper ends where the frame came to a point. He could smell the cigarette smoke coming off her from across the bar.
“I’m looking for someone named Kate Clarken.”
“Kate? Thank God, would you mind getting her out of here? She’s been here for a couple of hours. I got the day shift crowd due in here shortly and I don’t need any problems, not tonight anyway.”
“Where is she?”
“Her usual booth, back there by the juke box,” she directed.
Two more customers had entered, but she didn’t pay any attention to them as they settled in on a couple of stools.
“You’ll take her out of here, right?” She sounded hopeful as she came around the bar and headed toward the juke box. Bobby followed her to a corner booth.
There in the darkest corner of the darkest booth sat Kate Clarken. Her eyes were half open, but she appeared comatose and looked to be drooling. There were three empty shot glasses on the table and a small glass with beer. The beer looked like it was warm and had gone flat.
“Kate, time to go,” the bartender said.
“Miss Clarken, I’m supposed to give you a ride downtown, for a deposition. They’re going to pay you.” Bobby added thinking that might instill some movement. It didn’t. He reached over to shake her shoulder.
“Careful,” the bartender cautioned.
“Kate, Miss Clarken?”
She slapped his hand away and attempted to focus on him. “Who the hell are you? I ain’t bothering anyone.”
“I know. I’m here to give you a ride, downtown.”
“You a cop?”
“No. You’re supposed to give a deposition, they’ll pay you, but I have to get you down there pretty soon, we’re already late.”
This seemed to register.
“And you’ll give me a ride?”
“Yeah, and a ride back home.”
“Give me a ride back here?”
“No,” the bartender said under her breath, then retreated to her new customers.
“Anywhere you want, but we have to leave now.”
“Let me pee first,” she said and began to slowly slide out of the booth. She got to her feet although she seemed a bit unsteady.
Bobby looked around for the restroom and saw the lighted sign that said ‘toilets’ just above a doorway.
“Come on Kate, let me give you a hand.” he said and helped to walk her back to the ladies room. What little conversation there was slo
wed, and some guy at the bar mumbled, “Jesus.” A number of people laughed.
“I’ll wait out here for you,” he said and pushed the door labeled LADIES open.
Kate sort of gave a half wave over her shoulder and staggered inside. He heard what sounded like a stall door creaking. A while after that the unmistakable sound of someone vomiting. Better here than in my car, he thought.
A few minutes later a guy walked past. He looked to be mid-twenties, dark curly hair. If Bobby had to guess he’d say a construction worker’s build, solid, thick and strong. He stepped around Bobby and was about to enter the ladies room.
“Wrong one,” Bobby said and pointed to the door labeled MEN.
He looked like he might argue the point. Some loud laughter drifted in from the barroom and he eventually nodded and said, “Yeah, thanks.”
Bobby waited, standing against the hallway wall for another five minutes. He was about to poke his head in and check when he heard what sounded like a stall door opening. A moment later he heard water running in a sink, then the towel dispenser being pulled. A minute or two after that the door finally opened and a pale-faced Kate Clarken shuffled out.
He took her by the arm and led her into the barroom headed for the front door. All conversation stopped. A couple of guys snickered.
“Thanks,” the swirl-haired bartender called.
“Lots a luck, don’t forget to wear protection,” some guy yelled and everyone laughed.
Chapter Fifteen
Once they were outside, Kate took two steps and threw up on the sidewalk. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand like it was an everyday occurrence, which maybe it was. Bobby directed her into the back seat and rolled down the window in case she got sick again. He walked around to the driver’s side and rolled down the back window just to play it safe. Kate was already stretched out on the back seat with her eyes closed.
He climbed behind the wheel, and then cautiously backed up to within an inch of the burgundy Escalade parked behind him. Two guys stepped out of Foxies and looked frantically up and down the street. He recognized one as the curly haired guy who almost walked into the ladies room. He waited for a couple of cars to shoot past before he pulled the Geo into traffic.
They were headed downtown. Bobby was aware his passenger was in no condition to give a deposition. In her current state he’d be lucky if he could get her into the building let alone past polite Marci at the front desk. As if to confirm his thoughts she suddenly bolted upright in the back seat and thrust her head out the window, gasping. She made all the right sounds, but nothing came up. After a long minute and some very surprised glances from other motorists she sat back and wiped her hand across her mouth.
“Where the hell are we going?” she asked and looked out either side of the Geo in an effort to try and get her bearings.
“You were scheduled to give a deposition this afternoon at Denton, Allan, Sawyer and Hinz, that’s a law office,” he said, then glanced at her in the rear view mirror. His answer didn’t seem to register with her.
“Do you remember? They had you scheduled for four this afternoon.” It was almost four-twenty at this point and obviously a stupid question.
“Whatever.”
A moment later she thrust her head back out the window and her hair blew across her face. She gathered up a fistful and yanked it behind her head just as she lurched forward, mouth open, eyes bulging. Not what you’d call attractive. Nothing came up. She lurched forward a few more times, then settled back in against the seat and closed her eyes.
“Can we stop and get something to eat? I’m starving and I need to calm my stomach.”
“I’m really sorry, Kate. You mind if I call you Kate? We’re going to be close to a half-hour late by the time we get down there. To tell you the truth I don’t think they’re going to allow you to give a deposition today. It’s fairly obvious you’ve been drinking. If you can hang on I’ll stop on the way back and you can get something. That sound okay?”
As he spoke he glanced in the side mirror, there were three cars passing him. There was a space he could pull into after the third car and hopefully speed up and cut a couple of minutes off their arrival time.
“Come on, come on, pass damn it,” he said, waiting for the third car, a black Prius. The woman seemed to hold a position just off his rear wheel, like she was keeping pace. He took his foot off the accelerator and waited for her to pass. Once she drifted past him she did the same thing with the car in front of him, keeping pace just off the rear wheel and blocking Bobby.
He honked a couple of times, then put his blinker on hoping she’d pick up on the fact he wanted to get in her lane. It seemed to make her grip the wheel even tighter and slow down. She remained focused straight ahead not looking left or right.
“Damn it,” he said, then saw his opportunity completely evaporate as a burgundy Escalade raced up behind the Prius eliminating any chance to change lanes.
He glanced over at the SUV just as the tinted window was lowered. There was something about it. It probably registered in a nanosecond although it seemed like it took a long time. Everything was suddenly in slow motion. He recognized the young face, the same curly haired guy he’d seen at Foxies. Then he recognized the burgundy Escalade from in front of Foxies. And then there was that large pistol suddenly pointing out the window.
Chapter Sixteen
Bobby couldn’t tell if the curly haired guy looked deadly serious or had he just gathered that from the fact a very large pistol was pointed at him. He jumped the curb and slammed on the brakes just as the guy with the gun leaned out the window. The windshield on the Geo’s passenger side suddenly sported two spider web patterns. Bobby swerved around a boulevard tree and onto the sidewalk, taking out a portion of a white picket fence in the process.
“Shit,” Kate screamed as she slammed into the back of the front seat, then dropped to the floor when he hit the brakes. He heard her gasp and maybe vomit down there in the back seat, but he had more pressing issues to deal with at the moment.
The Escalade fish-tailed back and forth, then hit the brakes and was immediately slammed in the rear by a white delivery van that pushed it into the oncoming traffic lane. There was another screech, then a loud bang and the Escalade spun around facing the opposite direction just two lanes over. The hood was buckled and steam rose from the engine. Tires screeched in all directions. Bobby continued down the sidewalk took a sharp right into an alley and floored it.
He heard Kate coughing down on the floor.
“Jesus Christ. You all right?” he asked, picking up speed as he rocketed down the narrow alley slamming into two ill-placed plastic trash bins along the way.
She coughed a couple of times before she screamed, “What the hell is wrong with you? Are you crazy? Let me get my ass out of here, you’re nuts.”
“Just stay back there, damn it and shut up,” he screamed back.
“Oh, Jesus, look at this I’m a mess. I’ve got puke all over me. You dumb shit. Just let me out, please.” She placed her hands on the back of his seat and pulled herself up. He looked at her in the rear view mirror and realized she was right, she was a mess.
“I don’t know who those guys were. They were at Foxies, did you know them?”
“What guys?”
“The ones shooting at us.”
“Huh.”
“The guys in the Escalade, they were shooting at us. Didn’t you see?”
“What the hell are you talking about? God, I could sure use a drink.”
“Look at my damn windshield. They tried to kill me.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Just,” he let the rest of it go. “Do you have a phone, a cell?” he asked.
“Why?”
“I was thinking of calling the police. You know since there was a maniac on the road shooting at people. I thought it might be…do you have a cell?”
“Quit yelling, for Christ sake. Oh, God, look at this, you made me puke a
ll over my cigarettes,” she said, then held up the dripping package of cigarettes to prove her point.
He felt his stomach begin to lurch, but swallowed it back down. He wasn’t going downtown and as he thought about it, maybe a little more than a week out of the halfway house wasn’t the best time to call the police about a shooting. He sure as hell wasn’t going back anywhere near Foxies.
“I’ll take you to my place. You can get cleaned up there.”
Chapter Seventeen
“Hey, you got a towel?” Kate called through the bathroom door.
Bobby had been dividing his time between standing guard at the bathroom door and running to the window to see if there was a burgundy Escalade parked out by the dumpster.
“I just moved in and they’re all still packed away. Hang on, just a minute,” he said, then ran and grabbed two t-shirts from one of his paper bags. He knocked on the bathroom door, then pushed it partially open and stuck his hand in with the t-shirts. “Here, I’m afraid you’ll have to use these. You can dry off with one and slip the other on until your clothes come out of the laundry downstairs.”
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.
