by Thomas Perry
“I can’t do that,” said Crane. “It’s too late. I’ve hired three guys to get arrested, add another offense to their records, and then wait around for a month or more for the Indian to get caught.”
Salamone shrugged cheerfully. “I didn’t say you couldn’t pay them what you offered. In fact, I’d like you to do that, to tie up the loose ends. You don’t want guys like that thinking you stiffed them. If you pay them, they’ll be happy that they didn’t have to do anything to earn it.”
“I really don’t know how to pull this off,” Crane said. “How can I have a secret conversation with them now that they’re in jail?”
“I’ll tell you what. And I don’t know why I’m doing this, except that I feel sorry for you. Get me the names and the lockups where they’ve been sent, and I’ll send somebody.” He paused. “Get them to me today, because I don’t want to lose you. The jails are just one of those areas that Mr. Malconi controls. If somebody gets killed in there, it better be something he set up, not you.”
“What can I do to make things right?” Crane’s throat was dry, and his voice came out in a raspy croak.
“Nothing. Not a goddamn thing. Once you give me those names and locations, I’ll get it called off. And I’ll take care of this problem with the Indian too.”
“I thought you didn’t want the Indian killed. And how can you even do it if even the police can’t find him?”
Salamone stood up, looked at his watch, and walked to the stairway, then stopped at the top. “It’s not your place to know any of that. Get me those names in the next hour. Then the thing in the jail will get called off, the Indian will go to wherever Indians go when they die, and you will owe me big.”
10
Jane drove the Chevrolet Malibu past the Legacy Village shopping mall in Lyndhurst in the eastern part of Cleveland, turned off the highway at the next street, and parked. She went into a drugstore and bought three prepaid cell phones and three cards worth three hundred minutes each. She paid in cash for them and walked away. The precautions she had used in the days when she had been taking people out of the world had all come back. She had fallen into old patterns again without effort. One day she had been searching for Jimmy, and the next she had been trying to make sure nobody else found him.
She kept the car she was using away from the security cameras installed outside stores by parking on the residential streets nearby and walking the rest of the way. Today she wore her hair loose so her face would be covered most of the time, and wore an oversize pair of sunglasses that would have disguised her by themselves. She stepped into the parking lot, attached herself to a gaggle of shoppers, and walked into the main entrance of the mall with them. Once she was inside she slipped into the first men’s clothing store where she wanted to shop.
Jane was being extremely careful for the moment. She had told Jimmy to stay within the hotel grounds. “It’s only temporary,” she said. “For now, we’ll keep you in the suite most of the time. You can go down to the pool and swim or work out in the fitness center on the second floor as long as you do it early in the morning before people get up. In a few days, when I know more about what’s going on, we may be able to loosen up a bit.”
Jimmy said, “It’s okay. I guess this will get me used to jail.”
“If we do everything right, maybe we can put that off for a long time.” She patted him on the shoulder. “I wish I could say you’d never have to go, but I think you will be charged, and you’ll have to be there until your trial.”
“I know,” he said. “I’m going to be considered a flight risk. That’s my fault.”
Jane said nothing. He had been sensible during the past few days at the hotel. He had gotten up at four each morning and gone down to the fitness center to exercise, and then out to the pool to swim. Then he’d come back and cooked himself some breakfast and read the newspaper that the hotel management left at their door overnight, and watched television or read the magazines she had brought him until evening, helped with dinner, and then gone to bed. Jane was glad that he was sane enough to do what he was told.
Jane had talked to Jimmy many times about the murder. Could he remember ever meeting a man named Walter Slawicky? Had there been a man with that name in the army, or at a construction job that he had forgotten until now? Could there have been someone else with that surname—a woman, or an elderly person? Had there been anyone with Nick Bauermeister the night of the fight? Had Jimmy ever owned a rifle like the one that had killed Bauermeister? She had tried every avenue she could think of to try to stimulate his memory, but gotten nowhere. Jimmy’s predicament seemed inexplicable. And the idea that anyone would get himself sent to jail to do Jimmy harm didn’t make sense either.
She walked into their hotel suite, opened the door, and found Jimmy working at the long counter that held their kitchen appliances. He looked up. “I’m making us some dinner. I figured we should have the fish you bought today while it’s still fresh.”
“I’ll look forward to it.”
He said, “In case you’re worried, I also washed all the silverware and plates the hotel provided. I set the dishwasher on the nuclear fusion setting. No offense to the hotel.”
“Nope,” she said. “I’ll never tell them.” She set her bag on the couch, went to the dishwasher, and opened it. She touched one of the dishes. “It’s certainly hot enough. Besides, we’re probably immune to microbes after all that time living in the woods and sleeping on dirt.”
“What’s in the bags?”
“This one has phones. I bought us some throwaway prepaid phones and three hundred minutes. You get one and I get one, and we’ll use them to talk to each other, if we need to.” She reached into the bag and pulled one out. “See? They’re small, light, and simple. You can call or text, but don’t sign on to the Web. I’m setting them to vibrate, so the ring won’t get us noticed, and programming them so we can call each other by hitting one button. For now, we’d better call only each other.”
“Right.” He picked one of them up and looked at it.
“Oh, yeah,” she said. “There’s already one exception to the no-calls rule. I’m calling Ellen Dickerson right now.”
“I’ll hold the fish while you do that, and then cook it after you get back.”
Jane dialed the number as she was walking into her bedroom. The familiar voice came on. “Sge-no.”
“Hi,” said Jane. “You must have been waiting by the phone.”
“No, it waits by me. I have a cell phone like everybody else. Are you both okay?”
“Yes,” said Jane. She felt slightly uncomfortable not telling her that Jimmy had been hit over the head a few days ago, but he seemed to have recovered.
“Are you eating?”
“Yes. Jimmy is in the kitchen right now with the makings of a fish dinner, which we’ll have as soon as I hang up. Thank you for asking. The thing that’s been bothering me most is what you said before—that men are getting themselves into the jail to harm Jimmy. That isn’t something that happens very often. Have you found out anything more?”
“We still don’t know very much. I told you about the two young men who heard the rumors while they were in the county jail. We don’t have anybody in there now. We seldom do. Normally that would be a good thing. It still would be if we didn’t have to worry about Jimmy.”
“It’s a good thing now, too,” said Jane. “We don’t want anybody getting killed trying to pry into jail gossip. If there really were men in there waiting to harm Jimmy, they’re still there. Judges tend to sentence people to jail for thirty, sixty, or ninety days. If they’re awaiting trial for something serious, it might be a bit longer, but long sentences get served in a prison.”
“That’s what I’ve heard,” said Ellen. “I’m not an expert.”
“I am, unfortunately.”
“I’m sorry about that, but what you know seems to be what’s keeping Jimmy safe, so it’s what we need right now. Is there any kind of help we can give you? Send you money or something?”
“No, thanks,” said Jane. “I brought some with me, and we’re trying to live modestly. The best thing we can do is keep this small, quiet, and simple. Anything you can find out about people searching for Jimmy, or meaning to harm him, is important.”
“Is there something we should watch for?”
“Anything. Any strangers who seem to be interested in Jimmy or his case. I know you’re already helping Jimmy’s mother, and that will help him through this.”
“I’ll call you as soon as we find out anything at all. What number can I use to reach you?”
“If you get the answer, here’s the number.” Jane read it off the display on her phone. “But it would be best if you had someone else call from their phone. Jimmy’s case seems to be attracting attention from so many unusual sources that I’m getting nervous. Some of the police agencies who are likely to be looking for him are capable of getting phone records, so the fewer calls between us the better. I’ll get in touch with one of the other clan mothers if I have a question, so you won’t have lots of calls from one city.”
“We’ll be waiting,” said Ellen Dickerson. “Your clan is proud of you, Janie, and so are the others. We all wish you and Jimmy all the strength and courage you need.”
“I’ll tell him.”
“Good-bye.”
Jane tossed the phone on the bed and sat still for a moment, then stood and went back into the living room and on to the counter and stood beside Jimmy. “No news, really,” she said. “The mothers wish us strength and courage.”
He set the fish in the hot pan and it began to sizzle. “We’ll have more of both after we eat this.”
When they had finished their dinner, Jane said, “Nia:wen.”
Jimmy also said, “Nia:wen.”
They both looked at each other for a moment. The word nia:wen meant “thanks.” In English it sounded so small and simple, but in Seneca it conveyed something big and fundamental—thanks to the person who obtained and cooked the food, to the plants and animals that gave up their lives to provide them with sustenance, and to the ordered universe beginning with the earth and water and moving outward into the air and sky and the things beyond the stars, and to the Creator.
Jane had cooked for her husband, Carey, for seven years already, and every evening after dinner, she had said it quietly to herself: “Nia:wen.” She was usually the only one who said it, alone in the kitchen, and although her husband was included among all the things she was giving thanks for, he seldom heard her say it. But she had just said it aloud in front of Jimmy, because it was the normal thing for two Seneca people to do.
They cleared the table and went to work loading the dishwasher and cleaning the kitchen area. Jimmy said, “I’ll bet you’re getting ready to leave for home.”
“You’d lose,” she said.
“Why? You’ve got me pretty well set up here—a comfortable long-term hotel, a car, new clothes, and everything. Nobody knows I’m here. I’ll pay you back for all that stuff as soon as I can, by the way. But I can drive you to the airport in about half an hour, and you could be in Buffalo an hour or two after that.”
“I’m not ready to leave,” she said. “You would have to show your face whenever you bought groceries, went to a restaurant, or answered the door. And things happen. If you made a driving mistake or somebody else did, you’d have to show your license and registration, and maybe fill out a police report.”
“I suppose you’re right,” he said. “Believe me, I’m delighted that you’re around. I just thought it was getting to be too much to ask. In fact, it was too much a while ago.”
“Until I figure out who’s after you, the best thing we can do is keep you out of sight. Be patient.”
“You sound as though you heard something bad from Ellen Dickerson that you don’t want to tell me.”
“No,” she said. “She’s heard nothing new. But we don’t need anything new. From the beginning, it’s seemed to me that there’s something odd that we aren’t understanding. We have one man who was willing to go to the police and lie about selling you the weapon in a homicide. Why would he be willing to take that risk? And now there are some who were getting themselves sent to jail to wait for you—who are they? The only plan they could have is to kill you. I think we need to be prepared to hold out for a while before we walk into the middle of that.”
“What does the delay do for us?”
“The same thing staying ahead of the dogs does for a rabbit. He gets to stay alive for another day.”
The next day Jane went out again, and returned just before noon with several more shopping bags. After she put away the food she’d bought, there were still several others.
“What’s that?” asked Jimmy.
“I’m going to teach you more about being hard to find. This is your next lesson. People looking for fugitives do it with photographs and descriptions and lists of habits. So change everything about yourself that you can change.” She took out a box with a picture of a beautiful woman flipping her shiny light brown hair.
“Hair dye?”
“Afraid so,” Jane said. “I picked a shade that’s not ridiculously light, but it’s lighter than your hair or mine. Our black hair is on one end of the spectrum, and platinum blond is on the other. If you’re trying to blend into the crowd, the place you want to be is the middle. This is something I’ve had lots of runners do, because it’s easy. The best way to use dye is to do it right away, so you don’t meet people while your hair is black and then switch to light brown. It makes them wonder about you, and wondering is the worst response you’re likely to get. They’ll think about you and talk about you.” She set the box aside. “Whether you do it or not is up to you. You have time to think about it, and if you want to, I can apply it for you. I’m pretty good.”
“Thank you,” he said. “I’m persuaded.”
“While we’re at it, I should warn you that anytime you use something like hair dye, make sure that there’s nothing left of the packaging, or the chemicals, or the receipt from the store. I’ve already bought the coloring this time and paid for it in cash, so you don’t have to worry about the security cameras in the store. But you don’t want to leave anything that will tip off the chasers about changes to your appearance.”
The next thing she brought out was a pair of glasses. “Try these on.”
“My eyes are two of the few things I have that are perfect.” He took the glasses.
“As you can see, the lenses are just clear plastic. I also got aviator sunglasses and photosensitive glasses that darken in sunlight, and some with a dark brown tint. Sunglasses are a good thing to wear whenever you’re outdoors.”
He put on the glasses, went to the bathroom mirror, and studied himself, turning his head from side to side. “It’s a different feeling.”
“It’s better than I’d hoped,” said Jane. “You look good, but what’s especially good is you don’t look like you.”
“I guess I can get used to them.” He took them off and set them on the coffee table.
“That’s the right idea,” Jane said. “Everything you can change should be changed. If you were fat, I’d try to get you to lose weight. If you were thin, I’d try to get you into body building. You’re muscular, so I’m weaning you away from T-shirts and into business casual clothes. If you were illiterate I’d try to get you to carry a book with you. These mechanical changes are easy and they’re quick. But they’re only the start.”
He studied her for a moment. “Are you sure you didn’t hear something bad from Ellen that you’re not telling me?”
“I didn’t.”
“Then
this is about the guy who’s framing me. He’s probably the one who did the shooting, and there’s a record of him buying the right kind of rifle, so he decided that saying he sold it to me would get him off.”
“All very good thinking, except that he didn’t do the shooting. He will have an absolutely ironclad alibi, which is why he could put himself forward like that. I think he’s doing a favor for whoever really did it, and so are the men who went to jail to kill you. Is any of this normal? No.”
“But you’re starting to sound as though I’m going to have to stay away from home for a really long time.”
“I’m not sure,” said Jane. “Maybe you won’t have to. I’m teaching you how to stay free for a short time, but the principles are the same, if you have to keep it up.”
Jane handed him the next bag. “Now that I’m sure about your sizes, I bought you more clothes. I’m aiming for the look I told you about before—upscale and professional. You have to be able to walk in a crowd on the street and never be one of the first men a cop looks at. Clothes can help accomplish that. From now on, you don’t wear sneakers unless you’re jogging. No knit caps unless you’re in the woods or it’s snowing. No sweatshirts unless they have the name of some university. You get the idea?”
“Sure.” He looked into the bag and pulled out some of the clothes. “Pretty nice. Maybe I should start dressing like this anyway.”
“That should be enough to think about for now,” she said. “If things ever got really awful and we had to give you a permanent new identity, there would be a lot more to learn. We can do a little more later. Right now, I’m tired. I think I’ll go take an afternoon nap.”
“Thanks, Jane,” he said. “I haven’t spent any time with you for at least twenty years, but you’ve turned out to be about the best friend I have.”
“I’m trying to be,” she said. She went across the room to avoid his stare, but still felt that he hadn’t looked away. She said, “See you later,” went into her bedroom, and closed the door.
