“I was in bed reading,” Gloria took a deep breath and shuddered, “when I heard the back door being kicked in.”
I involuntarily looked around and Holmes interjected, “I’ve already rigged something up.”
Dr. James had a vacant look in her eyes and I realized she was still in shock. I felt another jolt of anger toward Holmes for not getting her to a hospital.
Her voice was a monotone. “I couldn’t react. In some ways that first instant was the worst. All the years of dread coming true. It felt inevitable, but I couldn’t respond.” She frowned. “He was clumsy. By the time he ran into the chair I could move. I have a fraternity paddle and when he came into my room I hit him with it. I aimed for his groin but hit too high. That’s when he grabbed me and punched. I fought him as best I could; he wasn’t very big, but he was strong and out of control. I guess he didn’t expect to be hit.” She winced at the next set of memories. “After he calmed down some he told me I was lucky, that I should be glad he was on the clock or he’d rape me.”
She drifted away as she recalled the moments. Finally, in the same flat voice, “He said some other things too. He was very aware of the time. He seemed upset that I was home. He asked me where my office was. I told him 290 Commonwealth but he kept slapping me and saying ‘not 290, the one at home.’ I tried to tell him that I didn’t have an office at home. I thought he was looking for drugs. Eventually he grabbed me around my throat and demanded to see my files. I only had a few …”
“Duplicates of the stolen ones,” I guessed.
“Yes.”
“All this has something to do with one of your clients.” I expected her to resist the obvious but it was too obvious for her to resist.
“The files were all he wanted. He didn’t take the stereo or the TV.”
“What happened to your arm?”
She looked at me and tried to focus. “He tried to change his mind about sex. We wound up on the landing and he pushed or I fell down the steps. I guess I blacked out because the next thing I remember is calling Eban.”
I looked at her purple face and felt another wave of anger and helplessness. “Why wouldn’t you go to the police or the hospital?”
“The hospital would report it to the police. I don’t want them poking around my clients.”
“You know this has to do with one of them, don’t you? You have to make me a list of the names on the files that were stolen.”
I can’t.
I could feel the measure of impotent rage that was ready to run its course. “No more of that shit, Gloria. Someone is dead now. There is no more grandstanding on this one.”
“It has nothing to do with grandstanding. I haven’t glanced at those files in weeks. I need an hour in my office.” She closed her eyes and sank deeper into the bed. “I’m sorry. I know it’s important and I’m not trying to be difficult.”
“Goddammit …”
“I’m sorry but I’m telling the truth.” She kept her eyes closed.
She seemed so frail and wounded. “I’m not mad at you, I’m frustrated, that’s all. Can you describe what he looked like?”
“Small, wiry, but I couldn’t see his face. He was wearing a dark stocking over his head.”
“Did you see his hands?”
“No, he was wearing gloves.”
“So we don’t know if he was black or white?”
“We know. He was white. He had his penis out for a while.”
I drew a deep breath. “Were you raped?”
She opened her eyes. “No. I guess he got nervous when I fell down the stairs. Maybe necrophilia wasn’t exciting to him. Or whatever you call sex with an unconscious woman.”
Holmes interrupted. “How much more information do you need? She’s in pain and it might be helpful if she slept.”
I looked back at Gloria. She was starting to breathe in a regular pattern. I turned toward Eban. “I have to get something from my car. Keep her awake for a few more minutes.”
Before he could answer I walked out of the room and retraced my steps to the door. I thought about checking Holmes’ jerryrig but decided to let it go. I felt for the gun under my jacket. I wanted the opportunity to use it.
The sky was beginning to lighten with the first faint hints of daylight. It made it easy to spot the parking ticket from the porch. For an instant I thought of making Holmes pay, then shook my distemper off his back. He hadn’t created this situation; he was just caught in it. Like me. I pocketed the ticket; Eban wasn’t getting paid, I was. I reached into the back seat, pulled out the pile of records, and walked back into the house. I found the two of them talking quietly, Holmes sitting on the bed, their heads close together. I felt like I was intruding.
I dropped the pile of files down on the bed. “Are yours there?”
They shuffled through the records. Holmes pulled his from the stack but Gloria shook her head. “None of these are mine.”
I nodded and sat in the easy chair next to the bed.
Holmes looked at me. “You don’t seem surprised.”
“I’m not. They wanted her records, right? Well, they got them.”
Gloria looked like she was going to fall back to sleep.
“What time can she see her doctor?”
Holmes glanced at his watch. “We could call in a couple of hours.”
“Is it possible to meet him at a hospital?”
Dr. James’ eyes flickered open. She works out of Beth Israel,” Gloria said.
I stood up and looked directly at Holmes. “I want you to wake the doctor and set up an early meeting here. I don’t want the police informed if we can help it. See what you can do to convince the doctor.”
“Are you sure it’s wise not to inform the authorities? From what you’ve indicated Gloria might still be in danger.”
“I don’t think she is but I want to be cautious.” I could hear a feeble protest from the bed. It was feeble because she was gritting her teeth against unmasked pain. I lit a cigarette before I realized there was no ashtray. I stood and began to look around. Eban signaled for me to sit back down and walked over to a china cabinet to get one.
“Why don’t you think she’s in any more danger?” he asked.
“They wanted her records and they got them.”
“But you aren’t sure about all this?”
“I’m not sure of anything. But I’m not so far removed from my own beating to simply trust the police.” I didn’t want to get started on Clifford’s connection with Starring. I didn’t want to get started on Starring.
“What do you suggest?” Holmes’ tone made it clear that I’d better come up with a good one.
“We have to stash her somewhere safe.”
Holmes thought about what I’d said, then stuck out his jaw. “Gloria, you’ll stay with me.”
She opened her eyes and almost began to laugh. “What will you say to Yvonne? Will the three of us share a bed?”
“Yvonne will understand. She has to.”
I interrupted. “No, she doesn’t. Gloria can’t stay there.”
He stared at me. “Why not?”
It was perversely gratifying to hear the resentment in his voice. “Gloria’s attacker figured her to be away because of the message on the machine. That message has your number on it. Fact is, you should play it safe. Go with Yvonne on a trip out of state.”
He looked at me while the implications of what I said began to sink in. “You’re serious about this?”
I nodded. Then pointed to Gloria on the bed. “I’m deadly serious.”
Holmes began to stomp around the room. “I can’t go running off and leave her alone. Not now. Not after this.”
“You won’t do her any good if you’re hurt.”
Gloria suddenly pushed herself up on her good elbow. “I am tired of you talking as if I weren’t here.” She looked at Holmes. “It would be a cold day in hell before I’d stay with you and Yvonne.” She almost spat the name out.
Holmes barked at me, “Wh
at is your plan?”
“I’m going to contact a friend of mine. Gloria will stay with her. I want you to bring her back to my place after you’ve seen the doctor, and I’ll take it from there.”
“What makes your place safer than mine?”
He was a competitive fucker. “We can’t wait for a cold day in hell.”
Gloria spoke up. “Do you really think these precautions necessary?”
I looked at her swollen face. “Yes.”
Holmes kept licking his wounds. “I still don’t see …”
I didn’t want to continue the debate. “Yes you do. I don’t know if you are in any danger, but it’s not a bet I’d take. We don’t need stubborn heroes.”
“I don’t like running.”
“Keeping yourself intact is not the same as cowardice.”
Dr. James had her teeth clenched. “I’m too tired to fight anymore, Eban. We’ll do what he wants. Please call Carol for me. It’s time for some legal medication.”
Eban nodded. It wasn’t his night for victories. He left the room, then poked his head back through the door. “Where are you off to?”
I took a deep breath. “First I’m going to get some breakfast. Then, after I get Gloria safely placed, I’m going to New Jersey.”
Ashes to ashes. I decided to have breakfast at Charley’s. I wasn’t sure why I felt like I was going in a circle, but then, I wasn’t sure I was going anywhere at all. Except south. To New Jersey. I drove my car through streaks of gray light. Like the window in Starring’s apartment.
Either I got there before the morning rush, or Phil was living off past success. Other than a bread truck parked in the no-parking zone in front of the restaurant, there were no cars on the block. As I walked through the door Phil and his redheaded waitress looked up with curiosity from a corner table. For an instant they seemed bothered by the disruption, but I didn’t think it was personal. More likely they were comfortable with the deserted atmosphere. It was a shame; the place seemed more seasoned than dingy, but failure has a way of rushing things. The man in a slate-blue Wonder Bread uniform sat in the corner, his plate piled high with corned beef hash. It had been ages since I had hash. Of any kind. The deliveryman kept his head buried in his newspaper and didn’t bother to look up.
By the time I settled at the counter the waitress had her face two inches above her black and white enamel table. She seemed to be wrestling with her eyes. I couldn’t tell if the problem was makeup or contacts. Phil slowly left his seat and leaned his body in my direction.
I nodded my hello. “Can’t make up my mind yet. Trying to choose between ham and eggs and hash.”
He pushed himself away from the counter and wiped his hands on a towel hung nearby. He shook his head. “No choice.” He turned his back and cut two thick slices from an honestly cooked ham enthroned next to the stove. This pig wasn’t shook out of a can. “What kind of eggs?”
“Over medium.”
He turned around and looked at me. “This is why I don’t carry a cook.” He pointed with the spatula toward a door off the far end of the counter. “No way to tell a cook what someone means by ‘over medium.’ ”
Before I could explain the redhead interrupted. “You don’t keep a cook because there is nothing for a cook to do. Just like there is nothing for me to do.”
She was finished snorting the table and held a small square mirror an arm’s length from her face. Her very pretty face. It almost made up for the carping tone in her voice, but not quite. I’d heard enough of that between Gloria and Holmes. I hoped the lady would knock it off. I turned back toward the grill where both my eggs and ham were making some nice smells and sounds. “Hey, if it tastes as good as it looks, why would you let anyone else cook?”
He looked into the mirror that ran directly across from my seat and spoke to the waitress, “Don’t be an ass. If I started to cook quiche you’d have plenty to do. What the hell, I got no complaint. This joint had a good long run. Long enough to take me to my last stop.”
“Jesus, Phil, cut that out! I hate it when you talk like that.” Her voice sounded sincere. It surprised me. After a moment, though, she settled back into a more comfortable role. “How come I never saw any of this so-called run?”
I could see him lift an eyebrow. “You’re living off it, sweetheart.” She didn’t bother to answer and I kept staring at the grill. He added home fries and slipped two pieces of rye into the toaster. I was starving. He turned and reached behind the large institutional coffee urns and pulled out a small glass pot from an electric drip model. I didn’t know if I was a special customer or he just didn’t use the big one. He poured coffee into a thick china mug. I considered leaping across the counter but didn’t have to. He handed it to me and seemed pleased to see me drink it black. The coffee was tremendous.
I talked to him while he assembled my meal. “If you served this,” I lifted the mug, “you’d fill the place.”
“You wanna do a commercial?” Phil said as he placed the plate in front of me.
I grabbed my knife and fork and ignored the napkin. “I’ll tell you in a minute,” and dived into the food. Phil disappeared and I didn’t notice him again until he slipped another slice of ham onto my plate. I lifted my face and saw him staring at me. I nodded my thanks and put my head back down. I finished with another mug of coffee and a smoke. It had been a long time since I treated myself to a good meal. To any meal.
I flashed back to the pizza, then Amalfi’s. I stubbed out the first cigarette then lit another as the memories lopped a hunk off my wellbeing.
“You eat like you haven’t eaten for a while,” Phil said as he refilled the mug. “You in some kind of trouble?”
“Is it that apparent?”
“It’s pretty early in the morning for a private cop to be out unless something was going down.” He dragged his stool over to my section of the counter when he saw I wasn’t going to shoo him away. “ ’Course I don’t know if you’re still a private cop. For all I know you could be a social worker again, doing some early morning job.”
“Jesus, Phil, no one could answer anything with you slobbering in their face like that,” the redhead said. “Sorry, Mister, my Phil likes you and he don’t get to talk much with people he likes.”
Her tone seemed almost caring by the time she finished. Another lady full of surprises.
Phil said, “I tell her everything. A man’s got to talk to someone, you know.”
I did know; but it felt odd to hear it from Phil. Since I began this romp, shields were sliding off everything and everyone. I wanted to smoke my joint but I doubted Phil liked me that much. “Well,” I looked right at him, “I’m still a private cop. But at the rate I’m going I’ll need that social work job.”
He grinned sympathetically. “Having trouble, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“No surprise.” He leaned in over my plate. “Not if you’re working on the one with the cop.”
“That’s the one.”
“You’re looking at real heavy. I never told you, did I? Julius, I told Julius. He got you the message, right?”
“Yeah. He didn’t elaborate, though.”
He looked past my head to the table where the redhead sat. I saw her face in the mirror. She seemed interested, there was nothing else for her to do. The deliveryman had left while I had been buried in my food.
“You hear that, Red? Julius didn’t elaborate.” The three of us smiled conspiratorially. Phil continued, “ ’Course, there wasn’t much e-labor-ating anybody would do, including some real Blarney Stone kissers.” I could see Red begin to shift focus to her fingernails. I pulled my eyes off the mirror and paid attention to Phil. He had lowered his voice, “I’m telling you it was tighter than the Virgin Mary’s asshole. This squad ain’t supposed to exist, so the people on it don’t exist neither.”
“But they do?”
“They sure do.”
“Why can’t it be traced through Personnel?”
“They don�
��t pick them from the force. Most people think the squad’s recruited out of state. Out of state, believe it or not.” He shook his head as if it would be only a moment before the Fascists arrived. “Sometimes even the regulars recruit that way.”
“What do you mean?”
“When they put stripes on a black guy they hire him from somewhere else. Definitely don’t want him from too close to home. This Washington Clifford is an exception.”
“So people know him?”
“People used to know him. Dropped out of view a couple years ago. People were more relieved than curious.”
“Why?”
“Too independent for most people’s taste.”
I thought of Starring’s head. I didn’t think “independence” was the right term for what Clifford had going.
“Why do people think he’s attached to Devlin’s special squad?”
“Nothing hard. Occasionally shows up at scenes and shows tin. That sort of thing. Nothing for the bank, but good enough for me.”
“So there was no information?”
“Let’s put it this way. I been nosing around the cops and City Hall for forty years. Either the lid is clamped tighter than a rich man holds Ben Franklins, or people don’t know anything offside about those burglaries. So far, all that’s interesting is Clifford.” Phil made sure to grab my eye. “But he makes it very interesting.”
I had a hunch that Clifford was more interesting than even Phil knew. I lit another cigarette and offered him one. He took it but quickly tucked it in a pocket of his apron. He nodded toward the redhead and moved his hand back and forth. I got the message. I wasn’t to talk about smoking, and I didn’t want to talk about Clifford.
“What do you think of someone who breaks into a house to get something specific? Says he is on a clock? Then can’t make up his mind whether to rape the woman he’s surprised to find there?”
“Kills her?”
“No. Whacks her around.”
“I’d say he wasn’t very good at his job.”
“Neither fish nor foul. Sounds like a quick hire, doesn’t it?”
“He really say that about a clock?” He had a bemused expression on his face and was shaking his head.
The Complete Matt Jacob Series Page 22
