I paid my bill and walked out the door.
Chapter 22
The temperature had fallen since I’d been inside, and my windshield was etched with whirls of frost. I used the edge of one of my maxed-out credit cards to scrape it clean—it was about all it was good for these days. Then I got in the cab and took off. But I didn’t go home. My fight with George had made me restless, and I wanted something to do, so I drove over to TJ’s instead. I wanted to ask him if he knew Amy or Toon Town. It was a long shot, but TJ dealt what Amy used, and there was always a chance that they were hooked up in some way. And while I was at it, I wanted to see what, if anything, Manuel was up to. George’s comments had reawakened this afternoon’s concerns.
TJ had recently moved to a ground floor apartment on Dell Street which he shared with three other sixteen-year-olds, none of whom turned out to be there tonight. I’d been there once before. The apartment was furnished with ripped furniture, the windows were covered with tacked-up sheets, the walls needed to be painted—but it housed a large TV, a VCR, a state-of-the-art stereo system, and the biggest bong I’d ever seen. The door was always unlocked, so I pushed it open and walked in. The smell of marijuana hit me. I took a deep breath and thought about the days when I had nothing better to do than to lay around and get stoned.
TJ was lying on the sofa in front of the TV watching Cops, drinking a forty, and stroking Cuddles. The Burmese was curled in a ball on his chest.
I pointed to the snake. “He’s still doing well.”
TJ looked in my direction and smiled. “Yeah. I’m feeding him three mice a week. He’s growing real fast. How’s it going?”
“Not bad. Don’t feed him too much though. If you do, you’ll make him sick.”
TJ put Cuddles on one of the cushions and sat up. He had buzzed and bleached his hair and added a couple more earrings to his left ear since I’d seen him last. The hair cut emphasized the delicacy of his features. “I know. He threw up on me once already.”
I moved a load of clothes off an armchair and onto the table and sat down. “You’re definitely moving up in the world.”
He put his forty down on the floor, sat forward, and leaned his elbows on his knees. “I’m trying. Give people good value for their money, and they’ll always come back.”
“Very commendable.” The Young Republicans would have been proud of him.
“So what’s up? You wanna buy something? I got some good shit.”
I laughed. “No. I’m afraid those days are long gone. I’m looking for some information.”
“About what?” TJ tugged on the sleeve of his flannel shirt. It looked as if it had come from the Salvation Army.
“Amy Richmond. You know her?”
TJ nodded.
“You know where I can find her?”
He shook his head. “I haven’t seen her in awhile.”
“That’s too bad, because she’s out on the street. She’s involved in some bad stuff, and I’d like to bring her in before things get even worse.”
“She still with that geek boyfriend of hers? Toon Town?”
I nodded.
TJ rubbed the side of his nose. “He’s a deeply disturbed dude. He thinks he’s James Bond.”
“How do you mean?”
TJ sat back and reflectively fingered the thermal shirt he was wearing under his flannel. “Just what I said. He’s always screwing around with this electronic stuff. I don’t know what she sees in him. ’Ask me, she needs a few good whacks on the ass.”
“Why is that?”
“Well I come from a shithole. I ain’t got no choice. But Amy, she’s got a nice home, nice clothes. So her old man was a douche bag. So what?” TJ laughed. “Listen to me. I sound pretty good, don’t I?”
“Absolutely. Schools should hire you.”
“I’d do better than DARE.”
“Probably.” From what I heard about that program, he would. “So where you moving to?”
“Moving?” TJ gave me an incredulous look. “Why the hell should I move? I just got here.”
“Manuel said you were paying him twenty dollars to help him move.”
“I ain’t paying him shit.” TJ sat forward and started jabbing his finger in the air. “In fact he still owes me forty bucks. You talk to him, tell him I’ll beat his ass next time I see him iffen I don’t get it.”
“So you didn’t speak to him today?”
“I haven’t spoken to him in six weeks.”
The kid was dead. I got up and went home.
But Manuel wasn’t there.
The house lights were on. So was the TV. A couple of cans of soda and an opened, empty pizza box from Little Caesars sat on the coffee table. I wondered who had been here, as I gathered up the debris and slam-dunked it in the garbage can in the kitchen.
“You are out of here,” I said out loud.
This was it. Manuel was going. I hated to admit it, but George was right. I clomped upstairs and went to bed.
Surprisingly, I fell asleep instantly. For some reason, I I dreamt about Murphy and our dog Elise. They were riding on a bus in Amsterdam when it was rerouted to Oslo, only I was supposed to meet them in Lima and no one could tell me how to get to the new stop. I woke up with my heart pounding. I watched the sky out the window. It was gunmetal grey. Thin streaks of rain hit the windowpanes—definitely not the kind of weather that made you want to get up in the morning. I dragged myself out of bed anyway and walked into Manuel’s bedroom. It was empty. He hadn’t come back yet. My anger from last night came back full force. But there was nothing I could do about it now, so I went back in my bedroom, turned off my alarm, and got ready for work.
Before I left, I taped a note to the hall mirror telling Manuel to phone me the instant he got in. Then I called for Zsa Zsa and went outside. It had stopped raining. The clouds had thinned a little. A few remaining tattered leaves fluttered on the branches of the cherry tree in front of my house, the rest lay on the ground in a sodden carpet. I heard honking and looked up. A flock of geese was heading south. Most had left weeks ago. I wished I were going along.
I got in my car, stopped along the way for coffee and doughnuts, and drove to the store. Around ten o’clock, after I’d finished cleaning out the bird cages, I checked in with Toon Town’s mother again.
“He still hasn’t come home,” she told me. I could tell from the irritated tone in her voice she was getting tired of my calling. I heard kids screaming in the background. “I baby-sit a couple of times a week,” she explained, even though I hadn’t asked. “You should try the store.”
Obviously her son hadn’t told her he’d been fired.
“Wally is a good boy,” his mother continued. I wanted to point out Jack the Ripper’s mother had probably said the same thing, but I didn’t. “He’s a genius. He can fix anything.” I heard shrieks. “I have to go,” she said, and hung up.
As I started in on the teddy bear hamsters, I decided that a trip to Toon Town’s house might be in order. At eleven thirty, I tried my home. Manuel didn’t answer. Either he was asleep, or he hadn’t come home yet. That didn’t improve my mood. I tapped my fingers on the counter. I felt restless. I needed to do something. I could have washed the bird room floor but I decided to make some calls instead. The first was to Gerri Richmond. I was going to ask if her daughter had phoned, but she hung up on me before I could. I took care of the fish and called Brad. Elizabeth Walker came on the line and told me he was out for the day.
“That must make things nice for you,” I observed.
“Yeah. I like it. It’s quieter.”
“So, any more fights since the last time I was there?”
She stifled a giggle. “Charlie and Frank really are a pair, aren’t they?”
“They certainly are. Why do they hate each other so much?”
“I dunno. I guess they both want to be president.”
I watched Mr. Bones yawn and marveled yet again at the needle sharpness of his canines. “Who do you think would be
better?”
“A couple of years ago I would have said Charlie, but now I’d have to go with Frank.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because Charlie isn’t always all there, if you know what I mean.”
“I thought he worked all the time.”
“He does, but that’s not what I meant.”
“Are you talking drugs?”
There was a long pause. “You won’t tell anyone what I said will you?” She sounded panicked.
I assured her I wouldn’t.
“Good.” She let out her breath. “Because I really need this job. My mother always said I had a big mouth. I guess she was right.” And she got off the phone.
I tried Frank Richmond next. After six rings, an answering machine clicked on and offered to take a message. I hung up and tried Charlie Richmond. Maybe he’d heard from his sister. I doubted it, but it never hurt to ask. He picked up on the third ring. Which surprised me. Given the way my luck was running, I’d expected a machine.
“Have you found her?” he asked, the moment he heard my voice on the line.
So much for my question. I told him I hadn’t.
“Because my father’s funeral is the day after tomorrow. It would be nice if she attended.”
“I’ll tell her if I see her.” I took Mr. Bones out of his cage and put him down on the floor. He and Zsa Zsa began playing tag.
“I should have listened to Gerri and hired someone else,” Charlie continued. “A professional. He would have located her by now.”
“You’re still free to,” I observed.
“I might do that. I’m having trouble sleeping at night, thinking of her out there.”
“That’s an interesting comment.” Charlie sounded as if he were reading soap opera cue cards. I lit a cigarette.
“Why do you say that?” he demanded.
“Because Frank told me you and Amy never got along. He said you two disliked each other. Intensely. He hinted that you just wanted me to find her, so you could turn her over to the police.”
“Why would I want to do that?”
I told him the rest of what Frank had said.
“And you believe him?” Charlie’s voice vibrated with indignation.
“I’m not sure.”
“Frank has always hated me.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because he’s jealous.”
“Of you?”
“That’s right. No one in the family likes him. He’s always in trouble, always doing the wrong thing.”
“As opposed to you?”
“Hey, at least I’ve tried. That’s more than you can say for Frank. He’s never here and when he is, he’s fucking up. I’ve had to cover his ass, I don’t want to tell you how many times. While he’s been out screwing around, I’ve been working six, seven days a week, ten hours a day.”
Not exactly the picture Elizabeth Walker had painted for me, I thought, as I shifted the receiver from my left to my right ear.
“So I wouldn’t believe anything Frank says,” Charlie continued. “The man is a congenital liar. Ask anyone.”
“Maybe I will.”
“You do that.” Charlie hung up.
So much for the Richmond family.
As long as I was doing unpleasant, I decided to ring up my house again. No answer. I tried again at two and four with the same results. I tried Manuel’s house. He wasn’t there either. I even tried Rabbit’s, but Manuel had been telling the truth about that one. Rabbit was still in Watertown. If it had been someone else, I might have begun getting nervous, but I figured Manuel was holed up at someone’s house sleeping one off. Eventually he’d show up and I’d have it out with him. I was thinking about what I was going to say, when the first customers of the day walked in. I put Manuel out of my mind and got to work. When Tim came on at five thirty I got out the phone book, jotted down Toon Town’s mother’s address, and took off.
Mrs. Natalie Gleason lived on the north side in the shadow of St. Ann’s on a block composed of tired looking, asphalt-shingled, two– and three-family dwellings. They were the kind of places that had never seen better days. When I rang the bell, the woman that answered the door was so thin she appeared almost skeletal. Her eyes were a faded blue and her scalp shone pink under her thin, dun colored hair. She had no features in common with her son at all.
“Mrs. Gleason, I’m here about Wallace,” I began.
She frowned and put her hands on her hips. “You’re the one that’s been calling, aren’t you? I recognize the voice.”
I nodded.
“I already told you, he ain’t here.”
“Since I was driving by, I thought I’d just stop and check.”
“Well, you could have saved yourself the trouble.”
“I wonder if I can come in and talk?”
She studied me for a minute. “You ain’t a cop, right?”
“Right.” I would have lied, but I was pretty sure she’d ask for my ID.
“Then I don’t have to talk to you. And don’t call no more, neither. My son says all you’re looking to do is cause trouble.” She slammed the door shut.
Well at least I’d been right about one thing. She had spoken to him. As I walked back to my car, I kept an eye out for Toon Town’s lime-green Geo Tracker, but I didn’t see it. I looked at my watch. It was now a quarter to six. Maybe Toon Town was the home cooked dinner type, though given his mother, I couldn’t imagine what the meal would be. I decided to invest a little time and find out. I spent the next hour and fifteen minutes slumped down in the seat of my cab, observing Ms. Gleason’s chateau, smoking Camels, and trying to figure out what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. But I didn’t come up with any answers.
Around seven, I got bored and drove over to the house where I’d last seen Toon Town and Amy. Unfortunately there was an addition since the last time I’d been here. A “For Sale” sign was planted on the front lawn. I would have preferred a plastic pink flamingo. I told myself it didn’t mean anything. Whoever lived here was probably still around—sometimes it took a year or more for a house to sell—but the part of me that always looks at the glass and sees it half empty didn’t believe that. I got out and rang the bell even though the house was dark and the driveway was empty. Naturally no one answered. I opened the mailbox lid. Still no mail. Now, I could have gone home and called the realtor and seen what I could find out from him or her. But that would have meant I would have had to wait until tomorrow, and I wasn’t in the mood to do that.
I turned and studied the area. The houses on either side of the one I was standing in front of appeared to be empty—not atypical in a day and age when everyone works. I glanced across the street. The people in those two houses were home, but it occurred to me it didn’t really matter if they were watching me or not. The “For Sale” sign gave me a perfect excuse to be prowling around. I headed down the driveway, stopping here and there to look at foundation plantings, until I reached the utility door. It was hedged on either side by several transparent garbage bags full of beer bottles and cans. Whoever lived here was a big supporter of the brewing industry.
I pushed the bags aside and inspected the lock on the door. It was a deadbolt. No way could I pick that. I went around to the back. Someone had conveniently put a deck, which now took up most of the backyard, on the rear of the house. I walked up the three steps and studied the lock on the door that led, I was willing to wager, into the kitchen. Another deadbolt. Something cold hit my nose.
I glanced up. A few snowflakes were swirling out of the sky. Maybe it was a sign from God to go home. I ignored it and took the measure of the window. From what I could see, it didn’t have a latch. I took off the storm and carefully leaned it against the wall. Then I pushed up on the window. It didn’t budge. I pushed harder. It gave a little. I pulled up as hard as I could. It moved about a foot—just enough space for me to wiggle through. A moment later, I was standing inside, hoping that no one had seen me and was even now dialing the polic
e. At this point, my story about wanting to buy the house was not going to work.
I looked around. The white kitchen counters poked out of the dark like bones. I opened the refrigerator. It housed three six packs of Miller and a can of Comet. The cabinets held a box of plastic spoons, knives, and forks, a stack of paper plates, four mugs, a couple of pots, a box of cereal, and salt. Unfortunately, it looked as if my hunch had been right. Whoever was living here was in the process of moving out. I continued on into the next room. It was a combination dining/alcove/living room. The room was bare. It smelled of rug shampoo. I touched the carpet with the tips of my fingers. It was slightly damp. Someone had washed it recently.
Three packing cartons sat in the middle of the floor. I crossed over and looked in them. Two were empty and one contained an iron, a clock, a roll of toilet paper, and a bunch of coat hangers. I was putting everything back when I heard a car. I froze as the light from its headlights seeped through the blinds, tracing their shapes on the walls. Then a few seconds later, the car was gone and the wall was dark.
I straightened up and headed upstairs. The steps were covered with the same kind of carpet—probably something beige, it was impossible to tell in the dark—the downstairs was. I went up the stairs slowly, my footsteps cushioned by the pile. When I got to the landing, I stood still for a moment and waited for my eyes to become accustomed to the dark. There were four doors. I chose the closest one and stepped in. The first thing I noticed was the floor was hard. Then I saw glints of white. I was in the bathroom. I took a chance and switched on the light. The vanity lights over the mirror were so bright I blinked. An amoeba-like blob of red swam in front of my eyes. A second later it was gone and I looked around.
The bathroom was all white. The two blue towels hanging over the rack matched the shower curtain. A bottle of Head and Shoulders sat over on the far corner of the tub. I opened the door to the medicine cabinet. It contained a couple of toothbrushes, dental floss, a can of shaving cream, a razor, a stick of deoderant, a bottle of aspirin, a comb, a brush, and a bar of soap. Nothing that couldn’t be bought in Fay’s. Nothing that was in any way unusual. The only thing I now knew was that two people were staying here. I closed the door and went into the first bedroom. It was empty. So was the closet.
The Scent of Murder Page 16
