by Rudy Yuly
Joe was desperate to make the ride as ordinary as possible. He turned on the radio to AM 1010, Seattle’s 24-hour sports station. A local talk show was on, and within two minutes one of the hometown “experts” made a comment about Edgar Martinez that was so damn dumb, Joe snapped off the radio in disgust. He pulled out his recorder and starting mumbling into it. He’d only spoken for a moment when the thing clicked off by itself. The tape had run out.
The sound was almost inaudible, but Eddie had heard it. He held out his hand automatically, and Joe gave him the recorder just as automatically. Eddie smoothly took out the spent tape and set it carefully on the middle of the dash, then he leaned forward and opened the glove compartment. Despite the mess Joe had just made, Eddie easily found one of the tiny blank tapes, slid it efficiently into the recorder, and held the thing to his mouth.
“Testing, one, two, three,” he said. Without looking, he rewound the tape and hit play. “Testing, one, two, three,” it parroted, thin but clear. Eddie snapped the thing off and handed it back to Joe. Then he looked out the window again.
“Thanks Eddie.” The familiar but somewhat infrequent routine made Joe feel a bit better, closer to Eddie. “Yesterday,” he began, searching for the right words, “well, it’s no big deal, all right? You’re not going to do that again, right?”
He waited for Eddie’s answer. It didn’t come.
“We’re back on track, all right?”
Eddie kept looking out the window.
Chapter 31
There was a motive for the six murders at the Red Lotus card room, but it wasn’t the kind that the police or anyone else would ever be able to figure out. It was too pure.
None of the stories in the Seattle Times or P.I. had it close to right. They assumed the killings had something to do with drugs or gambling. Why else would somebody line up six people on their knees and shoot them in the back of the head, one after the other?
The reason was too simple and unadulterated for anyone to figure out. Which was why the killer would—like always—get away with it clean. The victims had been on the list for a long time. Or, if not the specific victims who died, at least those who patronized the high-stakes, illicit club. But the target was very low priority. No, the killings at the Red Lotus were done for one reason: To help erase the nagging memory of a murder of a little girl that somehow would just not sit right.
The killer put down the newspaper and sipped a grandé soy latté appreciatively. The soy milk was supposed to be healthier, and the taste had grown familiar. Starbucks was crowded today and they were playing the music too loud again.
The killer looked out the window onto the busy street and allowed a smile. So many people. Some good. Some bad. But none of them knew they were being watched and judged, judged fit to live or die.
The Red Lotus job had been riskier than usual, but it had gone off like clockwork. The victims had thought they were being robbed, not murdered. It was over almost before it began. Like sheep, on their knees, faces down, pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop. Then back down the line with second shots to finish it off. Totally untraceable, silenced gun. Impeccable disguise.
It was satisfying. But was it enough? The familiar playback was happening, where the killings could play and replay like a movie, but there wasn’t much drama, much nuance to keep the other thing at bay.
“Hi there.” It was a pretty Latino barista holding out a tray with miniature cups on it. “Would you like to try a sample of our new mocha mint strawberry Frappuccino?
The killer looked up at her and smiled. “No thanks. Too sweet for me.”
An image of Lucy Silver’s expressionless face popped up and it was hard to keep from wincing visibly.
The barista offered a strange look. “They’re not that sweet,” she said.
“I’m diabetic,” the killer lied, rubbing a suddenly pounding forehead.
“Oh. Sorry,” she said. Then she walked to the next table.
The owner of the Red Lotus—a tight-lipped Hong Kong native with a vaguely British accent—led Joe and Eddie through his empty restaurant toward the back room when they arrived. The killings had been a terrible blow. Gambling never happened until late at night, after the restaurant was closed. It was illegal, of course. So there was that. And the feng shui was clearly very bad. It could very well be the end of the business. But he had to at least give it a go. Which meant cleaning the place up before anything else.
Joe pushed a cart loaded with the big-job cleaning gear, including the bulky, biohazard-approved wet-dry vacuum. Eddie followed silently.
“I’ve heard some…interesting things about your business,” the owner said. “Your brother…he’s fully capable?” He pulled aside the crime-scene tape at the card room door.
Joe bit his tongue. He could think of about twenty smart-ass comebacks, although what he most wanted to say was a simple, “Fuck you.”
“Yeah, pal,” he said instead. “He’s figured it out.”
“Just asking,” the owner shot back, defensively. This janitor did not want to get into it with him. He turned the key and opened the door slightly. “Nasty in there.” He waited expectantly.
“Did Detective Louis tell you my brother has to be left alone? Nobody’s to go anywhere near the room when he’s cleaning. No exceptions.”
“Seems rather spooky.”
“If you don’t like it, find somebody else to clean up your mess.”
“Not big on customer relations, are you?” the owner commented.
“We don’t get much repeat business.” Joe said. “We’ll be out by six.”
The owner considered his position and decided there wasn’t much point in making a point. “Just get the damn thing done,” he said curtly, shaking his head as he walked away.
Joe pushed open the door and forced himself inside. The room was dark. Long, sheer red curtains covered a wall of windows. As his eyes adjusted, he could make out the chalk outlines of six bodies, huge bloodstains overflowing the heads. One narrow beam of sun illuminated what appeared to be a small lump of dried gore.
Better fucking not be brains. Homicide and the coroner were supposed to make sure there was nothing but blood left by the time the cleaners showed up. No identifiable remains. If they screwed up, Joe was supposed to notify them, meaning cleanup would have to wait for at least another day. There was no way in hell they were going to wait another day. Eddie can handle it. So what if it’s brains? Tough shit.
All of a sudden, Joe felt as if he was going to puke. “Oh, lord,” he said out loud, rubbing his aching head.
What the fuck was he thinking? People died here. But part of him couldn’t help it. No matter how many times he did this, he couldn’t escape feeling a strange, occasional, disgusted anger toward the victims. He wearily pushed the cart through the door, and started to unload and prepare the supplies.
Is it remains? Again, Joe decided to ignore it. Let other people worry about their jobs. His was hard enough as it was. Besides, it was too important to get Eddie right back into a routine after yesterday. Joe found outlets and plugged in the machines with long orange cords. Eddie stood quietly just inside the threshold.
Joe felt a vague relief as he launched into his catechism. He’d be able to leave soon.
“It’s almost eight,” he said. “Don’t forget to eat at noon, okay? I’ll be back right at five.”
All of a sudden a serious, unexpected wave of dread washed over him. It was entirely different from his normal discomfort at a crime scene. He was afraid for himself and afraid for Eddie. He broke the rhythm. “If you don’t want…to do this—” he began.
“Bye-bye, stains,” Eddie interrupted.
Yeah, right. Apparently Eddie was good to go. Couldn’t really tell, though, he was so far away. Joe couldn’t seem to connect with Eddie at all. Still, he couldn’t choke back his uneasy feeling. Things were off. Sunday at the ball game had been weird, and yesterday had been even weirder. He had no idea where Eddie had gone—or why. “Nobody’s fo
rcing you, Eddie, okay? I just…need to know.”
“Go away, Joe. Leave me alone.”
Joe was stunned. Leave me alone. Just what he’d said to LaVonne. Joe looked at his brother, wide-eyed, but Eddie turned his back and faced the room. For a moment, Eddie had sounded so…normal.
Joe wanted to say more. But what? He was in Eddie’s territory now, and the time had come when he was no longer welcome. He backed out, closed the door, and hung his No Entrance sign on it. He considered the knob, and then slowly reached for it.
“Go away, Joe,” Eddie said loudly from inside.
Definitely not normal. Joe lit a cigarette with shaky fingers and walked quickly away.
Once Joe was gone, Eddie carefully stripped and folded his clothes. He closed his eyes and concentrated. Even though it was taking longer than normal, and Joe had once again managed to add a thin frosting of difficulty to a situation that was already extremely difficult to deal with, Eddie was moving steadily into the zone he craved so deeply and knew so well.
Even so, the nagging anxiety at the back of his brain wasn’t stopping. Lucy Silver’s plaintive, incoherent voice was making a constant background hum in his head and the hot thumping in his heart that made him think of his mom wouldn’t let up. He was used to that hitting him for a moment just before he went in to work—but it had never really let up since he’d left Jolie’s house. And he still had to worry about Jolie possibly telling Joe what he’d done. It was going to be a tough day.
Eddie gazed down at his bare leg. It was still pink and raw-looking where Jolie had touched him. He forced himself to go still, to open up and give all his concentration to what was in front of him. Mercifully, before long the room started to change. First it faded slowly to a negative image of itself. Gradually, everything got softer and less solid. Objects began to waver like smoke. The smears of blood, as Eddie penetrated them with his new senses, revealed vaguely suggestive patterns and pictures. They seemed to sway and move almost imperceptibly, like gentle waves against an indistinct shore.
At last, the Shiny Gold music started to play. Eddie’s breath became slower and more even. He bonked himself gently on the head with the new plastic spray bottle of Shiny Gold.
“Bye-bye, stains,” he said, hopefully.
Eddie reached out with his mind, and pale blue wisps revealed themselves, painfully pinned under a hungry weight of angry, pulsing, freezing red on the floor. A precious part of each victim, all six of them, was still trapped here, right where they had fallen. Eddie felt a dank chill, sharp and penetrating, radiating out from the center of the room. Despite the evil here, he relaxed a bit, freed from his anxiety as his entire being became engrossed by the challenge in front of him. This was something he knew. The blood began to glow. It gave off a powerful, musky smell.
There was a tiny blotch at his feet, and Eddie knelt to it. He felt his power and confidence rising. Inside his head, the grinding chatter quieted and moved into the background, giving him blessed relief and adding to his strength.
As his mind reached out to the stain on the floor, he could hear the victim begging for mercy, and his mind answered with a mantra: Shiny Gold, it said, over and over. That’s what I call clean.
Then it hit him. There was something familiar here. And it wasn’t good.
Chapter 32
Jolie reached over without opening her eyes and shut off her alarm clock one minute before it went off. She yawned, stretched, and stared languidly at the ceiling for a few minutes before she got out of bed. She showered and dressed with an oddly light feeling. Despite her anxiety about the day ahead, she kept looking around her clean house, smiling and touching things like a child in a toy store. Everything looked new somehow, and her home felt good to be in. She would never have expected such a change from a simple cleaning. Eddie definitely knew his stuff.
If it weren’t for Mark, she thought, she would have been in an excellent mood. Maybe she’d gone too far in disinviting him from her party. Of course people wondered where he was, and she’d simply shrugged her shoulders. No doubt there would be office gossip when it was found out why he hadn’t come. And then she’d have to deal with him some more. What a fucking mess.
Jolie was thinking about Joe, too. Should she let him know what Eddie had done? Probably, but she couldn’t stop thinking of Eddie’s poignant plea that she shouldn’t tell. Clearly, his intention had been to do something nice without Joe’s help or permission. Despite the fact that he hadn’t quite pulled it off, she didn’t want him to end up feeling even worse. It was important to encourage his independence. The more he was capable of, the better it would be for both him and Joe.
Jolie did a lot of second-guessing on her drive to work. She couldn’t help but partly blame herself for the blowup with Mark. Up until yesterday, she’d actually considered dating him. Now she was going to have to deal with an awkward situation at work. Not to mention navigating the whole thing with the state.
When she got into the office, Jolie was relieved to see that no one else was around. She wanted to put her things away and get out onto the grounds as soon as possible. But before she had a chance to get out the door, Mark walked up behind her.
“Can I see you in my office, please?” he said. Then he was gone.
Jolie took a deep breath. She would compose herself and take her time, even though she wanted to get this over with as soon as possible.
But she still had to deal with the situation with the State. If Mark really wanted to make a point of it, her Saturdays with Eddie at the zoo would be in serious jeopardy. If there was any way to keep things from deteriorating further, any dignified way to defuse the situation, she needed to find it. Quickly.
After five minutes, she walked—calmly—into Mark’s cluttered office. He was sitting behind his desk, rubbing his temple and looking serious.
“Hey, Mark.” she said, as casually as possible.
Mark sipped his latté thoughtfully before speaking. “I’m moving up your evaluation.”
Jolie’s heart stopped. “What?”
Mark’s face changed completely. He tilted his head and smiled sheepishly. “Just kidding, Jolie. Jeez, lighten up. I just wanted to say I’m sorry about last night.”
“What?” Mark seemed to have a way of making Jolie’s head ache faster than anyone she’d ever met.
“I think I was out of line. But you have to believe me—I mean, if he did break into your house—”
“Look, Mark, what happens in my house—”
“I know. I know. It’s none of my business. What I saw scared me, but I overreacted. Jolie—if you knew why, you might be more sympathetic. And…I mean…did you really have to disinvite me to your party? Because that was a little humiliating.”
“Yeah. You know, I’m actually sorry for that one, myself.”
“Because everyone knew I was going to pay. It makes me look pretty stupid.”
“Phew. Yeah.”
“Would you care if I just told people I was not feeling well? Tell everyone I’ll take the crew out next week or something to make up for it?”
“No. Of course not. I actually think that would be better.”
“Okay. So there’s that.”
“So what are you saying about Eddie?”
“I guess I’ll just keep my mouth shut for now. You know how I feel.
I’ve pretty much driven it into the ground. But if anything happens to one of my employees—well, I just couldn’t take it.”
“I understand. And I take full responsibility.”
“Okay, then.”
“Okay. So…” Jolie hesitated. “Is there anything else?”
“Well. Yeah, maybe.”
“What?”
Mark scractched his cheek. “I might be crazy, but I really did want to celebrate your birthday. Can I buy you a drink tonight?”
It was another curveball. Jolie felt a little woozy.
Mark took her silence as encouragement. “I’m asking you to give me another chance. We
have to work together. I think we should at least be friends.”
“You know what? I appreciate that, Mark. I really do. But I think tonight’s not such a good idea. I’ll give it some thought. But I think, at the very least, we’d better wait awhile.”
Mark looked stricken.
“I really need to get to work, Mark,” Jolie said. Her head was buzzing uncomfortably. Mark didn’t say anything more, so she walked out of his office, holding her breath until she was clear outside and the warm, clean sunlight hit her the face.
Chapter 33
After Joe left the Red Lotus, he felt completely lost. He couldn’t hang around outside the door all day waiting for Eddie to finish, although if he had, it wouldn’t have been the first time.
Instead, Joe climbed into the van and started to drive, smoke, and think. He was confused, pissed off—and scared. Between Eddie and LaVonne, things were changing way too fast, and he was struggling to absorb it all.
He didn’t like wasting time. It made him feel guilty, and feeling guilty made him physically ill. I should go get the oil changed, or at least go through the car wash. I should pay some bills. I should try to line up some more work. I should go home and mow the lawn. The thoughts hammered him relentlessly. But Joe was paralyzed. All he could do was smoke and drive.
It had taken a long time and many, many headaches to create a bearable routine with Eddie, the business, and their life. All of a sudden it felt as though it could fall apart. Not that their life was so great. But now there was all this complicated stuff with LaVonne to deal with. Joe had been given a miraculous shot at fulfilling his deepest fantasy, and he’d already blown it to hell. And God only knew what kind of major trouble Eddie would get into if he was allowed to start going off on his own.
