by Dale Mayer
And she grinned to herself, thinking what a steal that was. What a great shop. She was really getting into this. She took the glass bowl and placed it with the cups. “You didn’t answer the question.”
He looked at the items on the counter and said, “A big spender, aren’t you?”
“I inherited a houseful of stuff,” she said apologetically.
Understanding came into his gaze, and he nodded. “Forgot about that. Nan always was a bit of a collector, wasn’t she?” Then he rang up the sales and said, “You could continue to look around.”
“I could,” she said, “but you know what? I’m not getting any answers yet.”
She tried to put steel into her voice. If he wanted her to buy something, he also needed to answer her questions. Not that she wouldn’t have bought things but still. He stared at her glumly and said, “Manny was always welcome in my house. When Manny was Meredith, she was also welcome in my house too. I thought for a while she and my son would get married. Maybe it’s a good thing they didn’t. But, then again, maybe she wouldn’t have gone on to become Manny.”
“I’m sure it was a very troubling time for him,” Doreen said gently. “I certainly don’t judge him for that.”
He nodded, obviously happy with her response. “Manny was a good person. But, once Manny and Peter were hooked on drugs, you could just see complete personality changes. They would go from stupors on the couch to being raving angry and crying out with the need for the next fix.”
He sighed. “And then they’d jump up and head out, looking to get their drugs. I know perfectly well how they got their money for that. I tried so hard to get Peter clean. I did send him to rehab, but I just didn’t have any money to keep doing that. Because, as soon as he got out of rehab, he headed back into trouble again.”
Doreen nodded. “Understood, and I get that. I mean, thankfully it’s not something I’ve ever had to face personally. But I get that the struggle itself is something most can’t fight. Do you know what happened to Manny?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t hear nothing until about a week later. I hadn’t seen Manny in months at that point.”
“So, you didn’t know anything about his life? Who he had for friends or if he got engaged or anything like that?”
At her comment about getting engaged, he laughed. “Absolutely not,” he said. “That wasn’t something she ever planned on doing.”
“Maybe not planned on,” Doreen said, “but having been married once, maybe he wanted the security of a second marriage.”
“What security?” He looked at her in astonishment. “She ended up divorced. How does marriage ever offer security? These days, divorce happens most of the time, and that just ends up causing nothing but financial ruin for anybody involved.”
“Is that what happened to her?”
He nodded. “Her husband ended up with almost everything. And the kid half time. She ended up with nothing, moved into a small apartment, and I think it was all over the gender-identity issue. If that’s the politically correct term.”
“I’m not sure,” Doreen said, “but that works for me. And it would have been tough if he hadn’t gotten anything out of the marriage. Did he have a job?”
“Manny worked as a receptionist back then,” Jeremiah said. “For one of the doctor’s offices. I think a cosmetic surgeon. Manny used to talk about how much money the doctors all made and how envious she was that they could take somebody who was pretty ugly and turn them into somebody pretty gorgeous.” He shook his head. “But the amount of money those surgeries cost just blew her away.”
“I’m sure,” Doreen said. “So, he used to work as a receptionist, then got divorced. Did he keep his job after that?”
Jeremiah nodded. “For a little while. But then she started hitting the gay bars and started hitting … You know? Different groups of people who weren’t very good for her. And that led her to a downward spiral.” He shook his head. “She was close to Peter and a couple women she worked with. They were pretty intense, the four of them.” He shrugged. “They were all in the same industry.”
“Is your son still in it?”
He shook his head. “Not really. It’s not like he gets much business in that line anymore. I bring him a meal every couple of days.” Tiredness and fatigue were on his face now. “It really sucks.”
“I’m sorry,” Doreen said. “It’s got to be hard when you can’t help those you love. It’s such a sad scenario. Where would I find him to talk to him?”
He hesitated. “It might set him off,” he warned.
Goliath took that moment to stretch toward the counter with his paws clicking the top piece. Jeremiah leaned over and stared at him in astonishment.
“In what way?” Doreen asked hurriedly.
Dragging his gaze back to her, he answered, “He gets very sad about her death.”
“Does he know for sure he’s dead?”
“I don’t think there’s any way to know for sure. If Peter knew something, he’d tell the cops.”
“Right,” she said. “That’s good to know.”
“It is,” he said. “He’s never deliberately broken the law until it came to the drugs. And the drugs are just that. There’s not a whole lot we can do about it.”
She nodded and smiled. “So then, the question really is, do you mind if I go talk to him? Is there any reason not to talk to him and to see what he might know that he hasn’t shared with the police because he might not have considered it important?”
“That’s possible. He does hold a certain amount of distrust for the police. Everybody in the business does.”
“Of course,” she said. “They’re getting busted on every street corner.”
Jeremiah laughed at that. “True enough.” Then he thought about it for a long moment before speaking. “He’s usually sleeping it off at the Pandosy corner, somewhere close to the old hotel there. When I go down, I try to hook him up with a bed for a few nights at the shelter. Get him showered and cleaned up, then have him eat some food.”
“I guess there isn’t enough housing for the vulnerable people in our society, is there?”
“There are shelters. But they tend to fill up fast. Peter’s been pretty good about going to one shelter, and they often give him a night’s sleep or a bed and a shower for helping out around the place. He sweeps the place out, taking out the garbage, things like that.”
Doreen brightened at that. “Good,” she said. “Maybe they let him eat some leftovers too.”
He laughed. “They can only help so much with the homeless because, once the word gets out, they have everybody wanting the same thing.” Then he said in all seriousness, “There is a soup kitchen, so I know he gets a meal a day. But sometimes he gets there too late, when the soups all gone. There’s only so much I can do.”
“Of course,” she said. “Thank you.” She looked at the cups and said, “Do you have anything to carry these in?”
He picked up the four mugs, wrapped them in old newsprint, and gently put them inside the glass bowl. Then he lifted the bowl and handed it to her and said, “There. Now you have something to carry them in.”
Chapter 17
Sunday Late Afternoon …
Doreen laughed. “Sure. Why not? That works.”
With Mugs at her side, Goliath now walking in front of them, and Thaddeus still on her shoulder, she returned to her car. She really did want to take another look around the secondhand shop, but Jeremiah had followed her and locked up behind her. Setting her precious possessions into the back of the car, she loaded Mugs up in the front and said, “What do you think? Should we take a trip downtown and see if Peter happens to be there?”
Mugs woofed at her. Thaddeus cackled, and Goliath stared at her, bored.
She nodded. “Right, we should.”
The location wasn’t too far away. Likely a ten-minute drive. Not as far as Glenmore. Finally she was getting to know the Kelowna area. As soon as she found the right set of corners, she pulled i
nto an adjacent street, parked, hopped out, and checked to see if she needed to pay, but being a weekend, it was free. Delighted, she turned to her animals and said, “Let’s go for a walk.”
But rather than hitting the front street, she hit the alleyways. She came across a group of three men huddled together, snoozing on the sidewalk. She studied their faces carefully, but she didn’t see any resemblance to Jeremiah. She kept on until she accidentally tripped across the shelter. Studying it, she walked around to the side, and there was a single man, sitting on a bench with a cup of coffee. He looked like a possible candidate. She walked up to him and asked, “Are you Peter?”
He raised his eyebrows in surprise but appeared friendly enough.
“I was just speaking to your father,” she said, taking a seat on the bench beside him.
This time he seemed more shocked than anything. Yet he still appeared approachable.
“I’m Doreen,” she said, as she reached out a hand to shake his. And then she knew she’d surprised him yet again when he shuffled his coffee to his other hand and shook hers. It was a rusty move, as if not many people wanted to do that with him anymore. His hand was dirty and dry, but she made herself shake it as if it were the best gentleman’s hand in a boardroom. Then she smiled at him and said, “I don’t know if you’ve heard anything about all the cold cases that have been closing in this town.”
He nodded his head slowly. “It’s about time somebody looked into them.” His voice was raspy, as if he had inhaled too many cigarettes in a short time.
“Indeed,” she said. “Well, I’m one of the people who has been involved.”
He looked down at Mugs and looked back at her, then said with a gasp, “You’re the crazy lady with the animals.”
She winced at that. She lifted her hair back to show him Thaddeus, who was tucked up against her neck.
The man’s eyes grew rounder. And then he reached up a hand halfway but dropped it.
“Does he stay like that?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said, “most of the time. He’s happy to walk around on my shoulder too.”
Thaddeus lifted his head, squawked at the man, and said, “Thaddeus is here. Thaddeus is here.”
Peter chuckled. “Wow, he talks.”
“He does talk,” she said, realizing how much of an icebreaker the animals were in this situation. “His name is Thaddeus, and this is Mugs.” And then she pointed to the cat wandering around a fire hydrant not too far away. Mugs wanted to go too, but she had him on a leash. “And that’s Goliath.”
Peter looked at the three and then smiled. “You’re the bone lady,” he said with satisfaction. “The one who’s been helping out with all these cold cases.”
She nodded. “Yes, that’s exactly who I am.”
He looked at the animals curiously and asked, “What do you want with me?”
“Manny,” she said gently. “I thought maybe somebody should look into Manny’s disappearance.”
Instead of the reaction she expected to get, his eyes filled with tears. “I’d be so grateful,” he whispered, “if you could.”
“I can look, but I can’t guarantee I’ll find any answers,” she warned him.
“Of course not,” he said, “but anything is something.”
“What can you tell me about his last few days before he went missing?” Doreen asked as she put her phone on Record, so she’d have it for later.
“It was business as usual,” Peter said. “I’ve racked my brain, trying to find any clue that would make a difference, but I just never do.”
“So tell me, what did you tell the police?”
He shrugged. “For a couple days, we were just sitting around, doing our usual drugs and tricks and more drugs and more tricks.” His voice was neutral and without inflection, as if he’d said it many times before. “And then he took a john, and I never saw him again.”
“And who was the john?”
“No clue,” Peter said. “I’ve never seen him around here. At least, I don’t think so.”
“So, was that common?”
He nodded. “Yeah. Sometimes they travel here for the tricks. Sometimes their friends would direct them to other locations. Or, if they’re not used to hiring prostitutes, they don’t want to be seen returning to the same location too often. Kelowna is a big tourist town, so you know? Anybody who’s used to hiring prostitutes doesn’t think anything of hiring one in a new location.”
“What about the vehicle? Can you tell me about that?”
He looked at her. His gaze was a little fuzzy as he said, “It was a truck. A black truck.”
“Double cab, full-size bed, did it have lots of flashy shiny chrome on it?”
“I don’t remember,” he said, perplexed. “The cops didn’t ask me about the truck at all.”
“I’m sure they asked you what vehicle it was.”
“Depending on when they asked,” he said, “I may or may not have told them the truth. Because I was often under the influence of drugs myself.”
“Think back now,” Doreen urged. “And sometimes the best way to do that is to sit back quietly and think about your friend and the last time you saw him. Did he wave at you when he got into this new john’s truck? Did he give you a thumbs-up sign? Did he smile and tell you that he’d be back in ten and roll his eyes because this guy looked like he would be a penny-pincher?”
Peter laughed at that. “It’s almost like you know him because he’d do things like that all the time.” He thought more about it and smiled. Then he said, “He gave me the thumbs-up sign and a little finger wave, so I’d know he was pretty excited about it.”
“And that would mean what? That he would be good-looking, fit, or maybe there was money in his hand?”
“All of those things,” he said. “Money was important because it was our next fix.”
“Did he do tricks for you to get drugs too?” she asked gently.
He nodded. “Sometimes. It’s been six months since I had my last hit. It’s hard, but I’m slowly weaning my way off them.”
She looked at him in delight. “That’s wonderful news. You should tell your father. He’d be so proud.”
“I don’t want to tell him,” Peter said. “Not yet. Not until I make it a whole year. It seems like ten days forward and one day back, and I know how easy it is to slide. And I don’t want to slide this time, so I don’t want to tell him that I’m clean and then have a relapse and have him be disappointed all over again.”
“I understand that,” Doreen said. “Okay, so back to Manny. He hopped into this black truck. Did it have, you know, interesting wheels? Did it have chrome? Was Manny short? Did he have trouble getting up into the rig?”
“It had those checkered-pattern step-up sides,” he said, “and a bed liner with the same thing.”
“Interesting,” Doreen said. “That’s a good detail. And he used it to get in because he was how tall?”
“About five-seven,” he said, “a little bit taller than average for a woman but not much.”
“Great, and was she … he …” Doreen stopped at that point, not sure how to phrase it.
Peter looked at her curiously.
“I don’t want to be indelicate,” she said. “I’m not sure how to phrase this, but was he doing tricks as a man or as a woman?”
Peter nodded with understanding. “That was the thing about Manny. He would do both. It would depend on what the guy wanted. It was all about the money. Some days, if it wasn’t going well, he’d dress up real pretty in the hopes of turning the day around.”
Doreen wasn’t exactly sure how that would work. She gave a head shake. “And, on that day, he was dressed as a guy?”
“Yes,” Peter said, “and he hopped up, and they took off. I was sitting right here, and the truck headed on down that way.” He pointed down the road on Richter Street.
“How long would he normally be for a job like that?”
“Sometimes they just pulled around the corner to the parkin
g lot, and he’d hop out of there when they were done and would be back in twenty minutes,” he said. “The fact that he drove away meant they’d be a couple hours.”
“And you were just sitting here, waiting for him to come back?”
“I was just over there, not on this bench. Sitting on the side of the road,” he said, as he pointed to the curbside, where a big garden was.
“Right. So you were sitting there, having a smoke and waiting?”
He nodded.
“Anybody else come by?”
He shrugged. “That was a long time ago. Nothing was wrong in my mind, until I didn’t see Manny. I fell asleep somewhere around here. The city park is just across from here, and I often go there to snooze.”
“And when would you have expected to see him? During the night or in the morning?”
“Either or both,” Peter said. “It would be a case of need. You know? I’d have seen him in the nighttime, if he came and woke me up or if I happened to be awake. Or at least in the morning.”
“Where would he sleep?”
“In a bed with the john, if he could. Otherwise, sometimes he’d sleep on this bench or across the road in the park with me.”
“So neither of you had rooms anywhere?”
“No, all our money went to drugs. As I look back, all I see is wasted lives.”
“But remember. You’re doing something about it now,” Doreen said. “For six months. And that is something you should reward yourself for every day. You have successfully completed six months.”
“Right,” he said with a smile. “Now, if I can make it past all that mentally, it would be perfect.”
Doreen nodded and smiled. “I get it. Is there anything else you can tell me? Did Manny have any enemies? Did anybody make any threats against him? Do you think any other women around at that time might have wanted that john for their own?”
“Those are good questions,” Peter said in admiration. “I don’t think the cops asked me anything like that either.”
“Well, let’s ask them now, and see what we can come up with.”
Chapter 18
