This Guy Kills Me

by Anlyn Hansell

  “Can I get you a cup of coffee?” Karen stated as she attempted to push back from the table. They were alone. No Joe. She had noticed the blanket was neatly folded on the couch cushion, the pillow on top.

  “No. I mean, I’ll get it,” Jane added quickly. “Where’s Joe?” she asked as she stepped into the room.

  “Out for a run. He didn’t want to wake you. He’s very sweet like that. Top right cupboard, right above the coffee pot,” she instructed as Jane opened the door and grabbed a mug.

  “So…how did it go last night? Did he kick Tony’s ass?” Karen asked as Jane attempted to pour coffee into the mug without splashing it everywhere. That statement was somewhat alarming coming from Karen for some reason.

  “He didn’t tell you?” Jane asked as she poured a bit of sugar and cream and stirred lightly before grabbing the cup to join her.

  “Nah, he pretty much blew off the question before he took off. So what happened?” she probed.

  Jane debated for a moment, wondering how much she should reveal.

  “We didn’t actually go to the reunion,” she stated honestly. “We did run into him at a bar though,” she added.

  “You did?”

  “Yeah,” she replied before taking a sip.

  “Well? What happened?” Karen asked obviously intrigued.

  “Let’s just say…I think he got his closure,” Jane stated with a smile, her eyes meeting Karen’s.

  “What does that mean?” Karen folded her arms on the table and leaned in.

  “I guess it means he got the last word in? He didn’t kick his ass, but…he didn’t really need to.”

  “That’s good. I’m not usually an ‘eye for an eye’ kind of person, but when I think of all the pain they caused that kid. He tried to hide it from us. He was so embarrassed. When…his brother went to High School, he saw it. We tried to intervene with the school but that made Joe so angry, he just sort of retreated into himself even more.” She was staring into her coffee cup. “I think maybe he didn’t want to disappoint his…he just…it was hard for him, let’s just leave it at that,” she stated softly before taking a sip of her coffee and setting it down again. “He’s really changed. I’m really glad he brought you to meet us. It gives me hope that he can have a good relationship. You’ll take care of him, huh?”

  “Oh, ahhh…it’s not really that type of relationship. We really are…coworkers, maybe friends but nothing more,” Jane replied hastily.

  “Look at this. I printed it off last night.” She fished something out of her housecoat pocket and set it on the table. It was a picture and she was sliding it over the surface toward Jane.

  “Take a look at that and tell me that is not a man in love. Look at the way he’s looking at you.”

  It was a picture of them from last night. He was helping her with her coat, she recognized. His face was in profile but he had the sweetest, most intent expression on his face. His lips were slightly curved up; his eyes were focused down on her face. Her own face was lifted to his and the evidence was right there in her own softened expression. Warmth crept up her neck and her cheeks were positively burning. She was falling for him. Impossible.

  “I had that once. I did. It was wonderful. We’ve had…so much tragedy in this family. Seeing that picture makes me think it might turn out…Ok for Joe. That’s all I want,” she stated softly, her eyes welling with tears.

  Jane’s own eyes were fixed on Karen’s before her vision began to tunnel. An image – a written note, a constricting pressure in her chest… an overwhelming feeling of disbelief, utter sadness. Tears were dropping and landing on the paper, instantly smearing the ink. The words were shaking in front of her eyes. The script was choppy, hard to decipher, especially since the hand holding the paper was in constant motion.

  “I don’t know what that is. What does it say?” Jane mumbled.

  “What does what say?” She could hear from a distance as she strained to make out the writing before her.

  “The note,” she mumbled absently. Something banged in the distance but her mind could only focus on one thing at that moment.

  “Excuse me? Jane, are you all right?” Karen’s voice again.

  She could feel her chair being pulled back, her body jolting, breaking the contact and causing her to blink rapidly.

  “Jane? Time to go…” she heard a male voice behind her. A hand was wedged beneath her upper arm and it was being tugged upward.

  “Oh Joe – can’t you stay? Just for another day?” Karen’s voice pleaded as Jane allowed her body to be assisted from the chair.

  “No, we really need to get back to work.” He was walking Jane toward the hallway, or rather half dragging her, it seemed. As soon as they reached the spare bedroom he gave her a slight push inside and closed the door behind him.

  “What did you say to her?” His face was intense, jaw set, fists clenched.

  “Not…really…much -”

  “She was crying. What the hell did you say to her, Jane?” he growled out.

  “Nothing – I mean, nothing bad. She was crying before I ever saw it.”

  “Saw what?”

  “The note.”

  “What note?”

  “I don’t know! One second she’s talking about how much she loved…somebody and the next thing I know I’m looking at a note and there were tears splashing on it.”

  “What did it say?”

  “I don’t know. I couldn’t make out anything. The hand that was holding it was shaking and the writing was just…well, it was awful. I couldn’t read it.”

  Something lit up his eyes and he held up one finger. “Wait. Stay there,” he stated before leaving the room abruptly only to return a moment later with his duffle bag. After closing the door behind him, he immediately threw the bag on the bed and began rummaging through a side pocket. A worn manila envelope appeared and he grabbed a paper from within and held it up to her.

  “Did the writing look like this?”

  “Yes! That’s it! But…that’s not the note I saw; the writing is definitely the same, though. Who wrote it?” she asked, trying to make out the words before her.

  “My dad.”

  *****

  “Whole wheat toast, egg white omelet with spinach and mushrooms,” Jane muttered with zero enthusiasm.

  “Very good!” she heard from across the table, her eyes refusing to leave the menu before her.

  “Will that be it?” she heard the waitress ask. She gave a half-hearted shrug as she folded the menu and handed it back to the waitress.

  “You’re finally getting it Jane, I’m almost proud of you,” Joe stated before her eyes snapped up to meet his.

  “Yeah, well…I’m only trying to butter you up so you’ll tell me what was on that paper.”

  His only reply was a leveled look in her direction.

  “Oh come on! Maybe I could help. You trusted me enough to take me to your Mom’s house and take Betty to Bingo. You told me about your dad. Just tell me what was on that paper, come on, Joe!” she was practically whining, her curiosity piqued to an all-time high.

  “All mistakes, which by the way, I don’t usually make, but things are a little whacked out right now.”

  “Whatever that mean. So, what was on the paper, Joe?” she whispered forcefully after looking around the restaurant and leaning in.

  He did his own scan of the general vicinity before fixing his gaze on her once again.

  “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this -”

  “You haven’t told me anything yet,” she whispered back quickly.

  He took a long breath and let it out slowly before he leaned in across the table ever so slightly.

  “That note is why I’m looking for Rick.”

  Yes! Finally…

  “Ohhhkaaay…” she prompted when he didn’t offer anything more for a couple of moments.

  “The paper you saw has notes from my Dad’s last case. I found it when I was going through his stuff a few months ago.�
�

  “Your Dad was investigating Rick?”

  “No. He was investigating Rick’s Dad. Rick was sixteen at the time. His Dad was in I-Max at the time, still is actually.”

  “What’s I-Max?”

  “Ionia Prison.”

  “Oh. So…if Rick’s Dad was already in prison, why was he investigating him?” she asked.

  “Because his drug ring was still operating.”

  “And your dad thought Rick was the one running it?”

  “It appears that way, at least from some of the stuff he wrote down.”

  “But…you said Rick was sixteen. How could a sixteen year-old kid run a drug ring? That seems hard to believe.”

  “He had to have help. I think from some of the things Dad wrote down, he was going in that direction too.”

  “Who?”

  “Hell if I know. I got lucky finding his notes. During the investigation they pretty much took everything as evidence, at least that’s what Mom said. They brought everything back after…you know…but this particular paper was stashed away in the lining of his briefcase,” he stated before sipping his orange juice.

  “What made you think to look in the lining of his briefcase?”

  “Our last phone conversation. I was getting ready to go on a mission so I didn’t have a whole lot of time to talk but he said something. He was really vague, but he said that he thought he was being followed and that he wasn’t sure what was going to happen. He said he did something that he would fix and I have no idea what he was talking about. He said just in case something happened I should look somewhere I would only know. I have no idea what that means. I’m still trying to figure that out. I looked through his belongings and didn’t find squat. Then I started taking things apart. I found the notes but that’s all they are – just notes. And they don’t tell me shit other than Rick’s name.”

  “So you left all his stuff in the garage? Aren’t you worried someone might…take it?”

  “I want them to,” he stated simply, his eyes piercing hers.

  “Ahh…Ok, why?”

  “Because there’s a camera hidden in the garage.”

  “Oh. Smart. Has anyone, you know – attempted to get in?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Hmmm. Ok. So let’s talk about a place only you would know, whatever that means,” she stated.

  “Like I said, I have no idea -”

  “Sure you do. Let me see.”

  “See what?”

  “Look at me. I mean, really look at me, open your mind; let me see.”

  “In the middle of a restaurant? I don’t think so.”

  “It’s not that busy, come on,” she urged, her body angled toward his. He was scanning the room, uncertainty washing over his features before he turned his attention back to her.

  “I’m not sure what you’re looking for, here.”

  “Is there a place only you would know?”

  “If there was a place only I would know, then how would my dad know? Do you see why that makes no sense?”

  “Maybe it was a place that you thought you only knew, but he knew too. Did you ever think of that?”

  “I think you’re talking in circles. Food’s here,” he commented as plates were placed in front of them.

  “Can I get you anything else?” the waitress asked as they continued to stare at each other.

  “No thanks,” he mumbled, his eyes still locked on Jane.

  She waited for a brief moment before taking her leave. Jane continued to watch him carefully.

  “I’m hungry, stop staring at me,” he ordered.

  “I can’t help it. I think I can help. For once in my life, I think this creepy curse of mine might actually be useful. Don’t pick up that fork. Look at me.”

  “Jane -” he started before she interrupted him.

  “Joe…think. Did you ever…I don’t know…hide anything? Did you ever do anything bad?”

  “Ahh…yeah? I mean what do I do for a living? I think that’s pretty bad,” he whispered.

  “No! No, I mean back then…back when your Dad was…around. Think…”

  “I stashed a joint in my locker at school once.”

  “Ok? What else?”

  “I took that picture of Joanne and Tony porking under the bleachers -”

  “Porking?” A small laugh erupted from her throat.

  “Yeah – you weren’t there. I swear that’s the best way to describe it. They were kinky freaks, even in High School,” he stated seriously.

  “So maybe there’s something in the locker or under the bleachers? Maybe we should start there,” she prompted.

  “I don’t know…maybe…Can I eat now?”

  “No. You’re hiding something.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Yes, you are. I just got this …feeling from you. You’re making me feel…twitchy.”

  “I am not making you feel twitchy. Just eat, stop staring at me, we’ll break into the High School tonight, let’s leave it at that,” he stated simply before biting into his plain wheat toast.

  “Let’s not. Uh, uh…it’s worse now. Look at me.”

  “No.”

  “Joe, if you don’t look at me, I’m going to scream. In front of everyone. I’m going to embarrass the hell out of you. I’ll do it.”

  “No you won’t.”

  She took a deep breath and opened her mouth before his hand shot up and clamped over it.

  “I’m looking. Ok, Ok,” he whispered urgently as his hand lowered.

  “Thank you,” She stated with a slightly smug smirk on her face.

  Immediately her vision began to tunnel and an image appeared. Wood. A slat of wood being removed and revealing…cigarettes? It was dark but there was just enough light to make out a small box.

  “You smoked?” she asked.

  “What?” She could hear somewhere in the distance. Hands were removing the box, or rather pushing it to the side revealing…what was that?

  “What is that?” she muttered, straining to see…something glossy…a magazine? Lots of them, actually. They were stacked on top of each other. A few comic books were in the pile. The hands were picking them up, tossing a few to the side before one came into view. Her eyes strained even further to make out…boobs? “JUGS” was clearly emblazoned on the top of the cover page in bright yellow.

  “You’re a boob man,” she stated in a soft voice. Another magazine came into view. “TIGHT ASS” was scripted on it with a graphic picture of ass cheeks. “And an ass man, apparently.”

  “Oh God…” She could hear somewhere beyond her.

  “Whoa,” she muttered as another magazine came into view. This one left nothing to the imagination.

  “TWAT? There’s a magazine for…that?” she mumbled with a grimace on her face.

  “Ok, show’s over. Geez…” Suddenly the view before her changed immediately back to his face. He was looking down, shaking his head slowly.

  “You’re a pervert,” she whispered with widened eyes.

  “I was teenage guy! What do you expect?” he whispered fiercely.

  “What did you do with those magazines, Joe?” she asked slyly.

  “What do I think I did? Oh, shut up,” he huffed out before his eyes snapped to hers.

  “Oh, God,” he practically gasped as his eyes widened and his cheeks started turning a darker shade of pink.

  “What?”

  “We need to go.”

  “Where?”

  “Holy crap,” was his only answer as he rifled through his wallet and pulled out a couple of twenties and slapped them on the table.

  “What about breakfast?” she asked as he pushed out of the small booth and started walking toward the front door of the restaurant. She grabbed both pieces of toast and ran after him.

  *****

  “Where are we going?”

  “I hope it’s still there. What if they razed it? If he knew…Oh, I am so embarrassed,” he was mumbling as he drove.

  �
�Where? What…where are we going?” she asked as she watched the scenery change from bad to worse. They passed Eight Mile and continued into Detroit.

  “Cops used to do this thing – you had to live in Detroit, right? So they would keep residences in Detroit and actually live in the suburbs – not everyone, but some. My Dad did it, so did Scott and some of the other guys in the precinct. Their mail would go to the house in Detroit but they didn’t actually live there. Kind of shady, right? But that’s what they did.”

  “Sooo…we’re going…?” she prompted.

  “We’re going to the old house; the one I grew up in. That…vision you had. That was the attic in our old house.”

  “Oh. What if someone lives there, do you think someone lives there?”

  “I don’t know. It’s in a pretty bad neighborhood, I guess we’ll find out,” he stated as he turned onto Seven Mile and continued West; past Gratiot, past Hoover, abandoned businesses becoming more and more prevalent along both sides of the road. He slowed and turned right onto Runyon, his fingers crossed on the steering wheel, she noticed.

  Her eyes scanned both sides of the road, some of the houses still intact, some boarded up, some burned out; small plots were interspersed between the houses. The grass and weeds overtook the areas before another house would spring up. He was slowing the car, his knuckles white on the steering wheel, she noticed.

  “It’s there.”

  “Where?” She followed the direction of his eyes to a small white bungalow surrounded on both sides by empty plots of land overgrown with weeds.

  “There,” he blew out a breath as she perused the property closely. The windows were boarded up, the front lawn completely overgrown with weeds and brush.

  “Are we…going in?” She scrunched her face in the general direction of the house.

  “Tonight. We’ll come back tonight,” he stated softly before increasing the speed of the car.

  She looked around the ‘neighborhood’ as she would loosely term it. It was scary in the daylight. Nighttime should be even more so.

  There were some vehicles parked in front of some of the more intact homes and it made sense to go back later. Scary, but probably necessary, she surmised as they turned onto a side street.