by Harry Hoge
Frank couldn't suppress his amazement. "His brother?"
"Yeah, Reuben is the middle of three brothers. They're all, or rather were before the shooting put Reuben in the chair, big muscular dudes. Reuben seems to be the only one with enough sense to tie his shoes. I understand that's why he squealed on the narcotics ring. Both his brothers were workin' for a local kingpin. He wanted to get them out of the business."
"So when Gus tried to blow him away, Rankin took responsibility for his brother's behavior and has old bro on a short leash?"
"Something like that."
"Do you know the other brother's name?"
Skip shook his head. "No, but I know that Rankin wanted to help him be respectable too. I doubt it would take a lot of digging to turn him up."
"You're a good cop, Skip. Always were."
"Lot of good that'll do me." He looked around at the facilities. "Might get me iced in here."
"What's your line for parole?"
"If I survive, and if I keep my good time points, I might be back on the street in about six years." He shrugged. "Who knows?"
"What then?"
"I don't know. I have plenty of time to make plans. I never did anything but police work, and that's out of the question. Maybe I can get set up with some sort of private security job."
Neither man said anything for a while. Finally, Skip placed both hands, palms down on the table top and pushed himself out of the chair. Frank stood and extended his hand. Skip slapped it rather than complete the common handshake.
"Thanks for gettin' me out of work today, College Boy."
"I'll come back again soon. We can talk some more."
"Whatever. Oh, by the way, stop putting money in my account."
"Who said I was?"
"Come on, Frank. Two hundred dollars a month since I went under didn't come from the tooth fairy. I got no other ties that would put that on the books."
"I figured you could use the dough. No insult intended."
"It looks like a pay off. Guilt money. I don't need that. Fact is I don't need charity period. I'll make it or not make it on my own."
"I don't have any guilt, Skip, but I still consider you to be a friend."
"Then don't do me any favors. All right?" Skip walked away, not looking back, across the library floor, up the steps, stopping momentarily to show the officer his pass, then pushing through the doors to the ramp and the courtyard outside. Frank watched Skip's back as long as he could, and then stared at the toes of his shoes, re-running the conversation with his ex-partner, trying to assess all that had been said and all the more that had been left unsaid.
Chapter 14
The drive back to Houston passed quickly while Frank embedded himself in replaying the tape of his meeting with Skip in his mind, and trying to put everything in perspective. At Conroe, he realized that the afternoon traffic rush was in full bloom, so he opted for a sit-down dinner to avoid risking a game of 'bumper cars' with the commuters. He endured the usual heavy traffic from the local Wal-Mart on Loop 336, and parked in front of one of his favorite steak houses, The Hofbrau, on Plantation.
He ordered a T-bone, baked potato, house salad and a beer, and then tried to contact both Pauley and Gerry on his cell phone while he waited. It was after hours for Pauley at the Galleria. He got her message service and hung up without saying a word. He tried her at home and got the same result. He left a message there, telling her not to expect him until late because he had some work to do.
Gerry was also not responding to calls. He left her a brief summary of his meeting with Skip, hesitated, and then told her he planned to go by the Ha Ha House before calling it a night. In a sense he'd lied. He'd had no intention of going to the Ha Ha House until he heard the words coming out of his mouth. He shut down the phone and took a sip of his beer. The sounds surrounding him grew loud as he thought about why he wanted to go by the comedy club tonight. The clink of utensils on china sounded like dinner bells. The buzz of conversation roared in his ears. A television across the room blared. He became aware that the waitress was clomping toward him with his meal. The spur of the moment plan to visit the Ha Ha House made sense. Like Skip indicated, if Rankin wasn't the doer, he best get past that and on the right trail.
Gerry eased the cruiser into the parking lot for the Galleria. She heaved a deep sigh and pulled down the windshield visor, studying herself in the mirror. She'd never thought of herself as attractive, but had come to accept the fact that other people did.
She had heard the comments often, had noticed men staring at her when she entered a restaurant or coffee shop. She thought her mouth too big, her ears too flat against her head, her hands beefy for a girl, and the creases under her eyes and around her smile made her look like she hadn't slept for a day or two. Tonight though, she looked as good as she could. Not bad.
She raised the visor and grabbed her purse, sliding out of the car and making certain it was locked. Another big gasp for breath. This was crazy. She had no good reason to visit Paulette in her work place. If she wasn't careful about what she said, it might end up doing more harm than good. Frank and his partner might split the blanket regardless of what she could accomplish, but she had found the best working relationship she ever had, and she wanted to make certain that Frank didn't end up losing his squeeze.
She braced herself and headed for the entrance to the mall. When she found "The Fashion Center," it was closed. Early, she thought, but felt a wave of relief at not having to walk in and make intimate talk with a stranger. Since she was here, she peered through the front windows, assessing the brands and styles of what Paulette offered her customers. She was admiring a long, white over-shirt featuring distinctive floral embroidery when she noticed a shadow move in a room at the rear of the store. Paulette or someone was in the office area. What to do?
She rapped on the window. She saw the back of a secretarial chair beyond the doorframe, and then an attractive brunette appeared. Gerry lip-read, "We're closed. Come back tomorrow." The figure disappeared behind the doorframe.
Gerry took the wallet showing her badge from her purse and rapped on the window again. When the face re-appeared, looking a tad more irritated, she held the badge to the window and mouthed, "I need to talk to you," using a broad smile and hand motion to indicate it was not serious business. The distant face looked startled as recognition set in. The chair moved into full view and the figure stood. Gerry's first impression from her view of Paulette was that she was a very attractive lady. Gerry could see why Frank was drawn to her.
While Paulette worked to unlock the security restraints and open the door, Gerry took in her dress. Casual, with China blue corduroy pull-on pants and matching 'Boyfriend' jacket showing side slits and notched cuffs over an ivory mock turtleneck sweater. Her shoes were masculine looking brogans of cordovan leather, and a braided belt of matching color held the slacks tight at her waist. Gerry decided that no matter how this meeting went, she would like to shop in Paulette's store. She loved the styles she'd seen so far.
The door swung out and Paulette held it with her right arm to let Gerry enter. "You've got to be Frank's new partner," she smiled.
"Yes, I am." Gerry waited a beat while Paulette relocked the door. "Geraldine Gardner, and I'm more nervous than when I had my first date in high school."
Pauley faced her with one hand in the pocket of her jacket. Her long hair fell slightly below her shoulder, resting casually on her right shoulder and cascading down her back on the left. Dark eyes showed a hint of a smile as she appraised Gerry with unabashed candor. Gerry couldn't decide if she was seeing Paulette's professional congeniality or whether she was being sized up as a competitor. She decided the stare was more a matter of curiosity, and she was confident that her appearance was well chosen: a suit of black with a prominent pinstripe of white, black shoes of hand burnished calfskin with topstitching and a white, splayed collar shirt accented by an onyx pendant necklace.
"I like your outfit," Paulette said. "Nordst
rom's?"
Gerry nodded. "I shop there often, but from what I see here, I may change my habits. I like your shop. You've got some neat clothes."
"Thanks. It keeps me on my toes trying to have the latest fashions available."
An awkward interim followed, each woman smiling at the other, and neither willing to break the moment. Paulette was first to give in. "Please excuse me, Geraldine. I'm being rude. There's coffee in the back and chairs where we can relax."
"I could use a cup of coffee," Gerry answered. "It'll give me something to occupy my hands."
Paulette still didn't show a friendly smile, but her features softened. "Come on then, we need to get acquainted." She walked toward the back room and Gerry followed.
"I took a chance coming here like this," Gerry volunteered as she walked, "and it's good of you to accept my intrusion on your time. I know you must be busy."
"I'm never too busy to meet Frank's new partner." She poured coffee from a Mr. Coffee machine into two mugs and handed one to Gerry. "The last several didn't work with him long enough for us to meet. Cream or sugar?"
"I prefer it black."
Paulette indicated a side chair, and seated herself in the chair in front of a small steel desk covered with invoices and a ledger book. Gerry noted the VTECH wireless phone, keyboard and flat-panel monitor, and a calculator on the desk under a small Tiffany glass lamp. A two drawer, steel filing cabinet sat between the desk and the door with an hp-printer/scanner/copier on top. On the other side of the desk was a shredder, wastebasket combination. An efficient workstation. Gerry decided to get to it.
"I love my job, Miss..."
"Paulette, please," Paulette interrupted.
"Okay, Paulette. My working relationship with Frank is the best I've had since I've been on the force, and I wanted to ensure you that it is totally professional, in case you were worried about anything else." She spit it out as fast as she could talk, afraid if she didn't, she would lose her nerve.
Paulette flashed a genuine smile for the first time. Her face lit up, telling Gerry why Frank liked this woman.
"That's getting directly to the point, Geraldine."
"Gerry or G.G., please."
"I like Gerry. I also like you for coming here and telling me what you just did." She took a sip of her coffee to punctuate her compliment and shift gears slightly. "I do wonder though, why you thought it was necessary. It's almost like an acknowledgement that I had something to worry about."
Gerry looked away, surprised by the comment. Had she made a big mistake and kindled a flame where no ember existed? She framed her answer with care.
"Frank is an attractive man. Any woman would be flattered by his attention, but nothing like that has happened. I know he's devoted to you, and although he never talks about your relationship, I've come to know him well enough to know something has happened since we started working together that has him despondent. It was, is, my intent to put this potential suspicion to rest. I felt like I needed to let you know I don't fish in someone else's pond."
Paulette smiled again. "Frank and I go way back. We met in college. I was in Nacogdoches at Stephen F. Austin when he was at Sam Houston State. We used to give each other hell over the football teams. We've had our ups and downs, but the low points have always been because of conflicts in our professional choices and not otherwise. I would never chide Frank about another woman. If he were to find someone he preferred rather than me, we would break it off in a friendly way, each happy for the other. But right now our jobs seem to be taking us in different directions. We may be growing apart. If so, it's not anybody's fault, it's simply life."
There was silence while both women sipped coffee and stared at their cups, each thinking about the impact of what Paulette had said.
"This recent case," Paulette remarked without looking up, "must be a tough one. Frank won't talk about it, but it's consuming him." She looked at Gerry. "Can you help me understand?"
"I can't."
Paulette snapped her head up.
"Can't or won't?"
"It isn't ethical to talk about a case, particularly one in progress."
"Ah, therein lies the rub. I never know what Frank is doing, how much danger he's in, or what causes his bad dreams. I can't share the most important aspect of his life, and that damages a relationship quicker than anything else."
"Do you share everything about your work with him?"
Paulette lowered her head again, reacting to Gerry's sharp retort.
"Touché... I try, but he isn't all that interested." "Sounds like critical mass is building." "Yeah it does, doesn't it? Actually you've helped me formulate what I've been sweeping under the rug. Hearing myself talk is revealing."
Silence again, and study of near empty mugs. Paulette glanced at her wristwatch.
"Hey," Gerry grinned. "You're a busy person and I'm stealing your time." She started to rise. Paulette pulled a face and waved her off.
"No, it's not that. I have an appointment in an hour and it's not too far away. I was thinking more than working when you knocked on the window. I'm generally open for business at this time, but my worker called in sick, so I closed to catch up on some invoices. Please, don't feel like you need to rush away."
More silence. Gerry grew uncomfortable. She liked Paulette and didn't want the meeting to end on a down note. She stood and beamed her best smile.
"Well, if we're not going to be enemies, can I try on that long white shirt you've got in the window? It's calling my name."
Paulette laughed. "You bet, Gerry, that's one of my favorites too."
The time it took Frank to eat his meal worked well as a delaying tactic. Traffic had thinned out by the time he got back on the highway, and he got back to downtown Houston by 6:30. The Ha Ha House was open for business. The marquee announced the headliner of the night—Buddy Bigley, a local performer who seemed to be on his way up. There was no one on stage yet, so Frank walked over to the bar.
Gretchen The Grinch smiled as he approached. Marsha was nowhere in sight. A young man with long, blown-dry blonde hair was serving a customer.
"Hey, Copper," The Grinch joked. "What can I do you for? Is this business or pleasure?"
"A little of both," Frank answered, returning the friendly smile. "Give me a beer."
"What's your choice?"
"I doubt you have Keystone?"
"Not tonight."
Frank decided that answer would be the same every night.
"Make it a Coors Light."
"You got it."
Before Gretchen could get the can opened and in front of Frank the lights dimmed and the emcee ran on stage into a spotlight. Frank noticed that the crowd didn't fill the pit, but it
was a nice size.
"Good evening, everyone, Welcome to the Ha Ha House. I'm Chuck Wood. I know you've come to be entertained so I won't bore you further. Let's give a big hand to Buddy Bigley."
Gretchen sat the beer on the bar and leaned on her forearms, gazing at the stage. Frank laid a twenty dollar bill on the bar. Gretchen pushed it back.
"You're a VIP around here. Reuben passed the word your money's no good until further notice. I guess he likes you."
Surprised, Frank picked up the twenty, put it in his pocket and slipped a five into Gretchen's hand. "I'm still allowed to tip, aren't I?"
Gretchen smiled and the five disappeared somewhere in her apparel.
The comedian walked slowly onto the stage. "Hi folks. Y'all havin' a good time? Great! This is a little strange to me. I normally work as a stand-up comic at a nudist camp. I don't tell jokes... I just stand up... Hey, did you have a good weekend? Man, mine sucked. I went down to Galveston to the nude beach... Well, come to find out, they don't have one... I went to court Tuesday... You ever been in jail? You sure can meet some interesting people there. Met this one guy named 'Bubba.' Of course, that was probably his pen name. He must have been about eight foot tall and meaner than a gorilla. I remember the first thing he said to me...
'Bend over, boy.' But enough of that... Come to think of it, that's what I told him."
Buddy paused and wiped his brow. "Oh, by the way... If you're coming to the shower, our pattern's registered at Foley's. My sister finally bailed me out." He paused. "Well, actually my half-sister. She's a hermaphrodite... I went down to the courthouse the other day. Tried to register as a sex offender... They told me fantasies don't count... My dad used to tell me a picture was worth a thousand words. About once a month, he'd say, 'Boy, a picture's worth a thousand words.' I finally figured out he'd subscribed to Playboy. Dad's a great guy. A little hard of hearing though. He went to the doctor. The doctor told him to get some Viagra. He came home with Niagara. He said it works fine... It's just a little cold when you first spray it on." Loud laughter came from the audience.
"Oh yeah, be sure to use the 'delicate' setting on your iron. Another thing my dad used to tell me, 'Boy, money can't buy happiness.' Evidently, he's never been to one of those massage parlors out on South Main." Bigley paused and gaped like a fish. "Sorry, folks, but I'm just not myself this evening." Another pause, head ducked. "We buried my favorite uncle today." He looked up. "It was weird. People would walk up and look at him and say, 'he looks so natural.'"
The audience chuckled quietly, sounding like a bad sound track.
"Now, here's a guy laying in a box," Bigley continued, "in a twenty year old suit he wouldn't even be able to wear if it wasn't split up the back. Make-up all over his face, and they thought he looked natural. If they wanted him to look natural, they should have just put a can of beer in his hand."
More laughter than Frank thought the line deserved.
Gretchen interpreted his reaction. "Bigley's a good comic. If you hang around for his late show, you'll hear something completely different."
Frank looked at her and raised an eyebrow.
"The boy is a serious student of the game. He keeps ring binders with every joke he ever delivered, the type of audience, and their reaction. He's like all good entertainers, adjusts his act on the spot. This early crowd isn't as sophisticated as some, so he'll go for cheap laughs."
