Michael, Antoinette, and Me

 

Part 24

 

The trail Bill Locke navigated through The Pines was easier to follow than my first time. I rolled my eyes, imagining the authorities requiring heavy equipment to do what I did with a folding shovel.

“A grave of a grave,” I lamented. “They could have filled it in, picked up their trash. I didn’t think to bring a shovel.”

“You reburied her after digging her up?” Shawn asked, staring in the hole.

“I didn’t want critters eating her.”

“Like the people in church, huh?”

“Why’s he got to be such a dick?” Pamala asked from my right.

“Asshole,” Shawn added. “I took it to him pretty good over your funeral. I should have given him another helping.”

“Father Sweet.” I released a long sigh. “One hot, summer morning three lifetimes ago, I sat crying on the front porch.”

“You?” Shawn asked. “Crying?”

“Oh, I have many faces. A beautiful soul came alone, told me to put on my pretty dress, go with her.”

“You’re lucky she wasn’t the Snow Queen,” Pamala said.

“I may have been wishing she was. She took me to church with her. Each Sunday after. No matter how terrible my parents got, I always had Sunday. Then, soon before one Christmas, she died.

“Father Sweet looked down on that tiny child, me, and told me I was no longer welcome having discovered Mrs. Martin wasn’t my grandmother.”

“Not welcome here,” Shawn spit. “He seems fond of saying that to girls.”

“Disruptive,” Pamala choked out, pulling back tears.

“Back pew. I didn’t think anyone even knew we were there.”

“I’ve now been kicked out of two funerals, both of which you paid for.”

“That’s just the way the universe works sometimes.”

“What am I missing?” Pamala asked. “Why is it they found our presence so disruptive?”

“It’s not us, it’s me. They didn’t want me there.”

“But why?”

“Jody had grown into a typical teenager. Rebellious. She’d often call me when she needed to vent. They blame me for what happened.”

“That’s so much bullshit,” I said. “Jody was finding her way, searching for her voice. Instead of embracing her, they tried to shut her up. Instead of blaming themselves for what happened, them being assholes and all, they projected that blame onto you. It’s called scapegoating.”

I waved at the air as if chasing gnats. “You’re both wrong, though. What happened to Jody is just the way the universe works sometimes. She was in the absolute wrong place at the absolute wrong time. In that moment, everyone was looking the wrong way. Which tells me Mary Locke is balls deep in the shenanigans, too.”

“You did promise to tell me what really happened.”

“I also promised you’d hate me. You’re my ride out of here.”

“I told you: I could never hate you.”

“The messenger always gets shot.”

“I have to –” Pamala started.

“There’s a roll in the glovebox.”

She shivered, looking in all directions. “Well, at least I don’t have to drip-dry.”

“I guess camping’s out.”

“I’ve already been rehearsing my declining speech.”

Once Pamala was well out of earshot, I leaned toward Shawn and whispered anyway. “There’s to be no talk of murder in front of Pamala.”

“Eh –”

“Three people can keep a secret providing two of them are dead.”

“When we get all the drama out of the way, that’s the reason Jody’s dead, huh? Secrets.”

“The kind of friend who would help me bury a body. You, Shawn, are that kind of friend. Pamala is not. I’m not the kind of friend who would ask her to go against that strongly held belief. Every person has a limit, a line they can’t or shouldn’t cross.”

“I couldn’t pull a random stranger off the street and kill him. I could, I believe, murder any of the men who raped you. Maybe Raymond. He could be my virgin.”

“Killing a man is not as easy as you might imagine. Thought and action are two very different things.”

“I’m anxious to put it to the test. Sometimes I do wish I were more like Pamala. I know I’m not. Something happened to me on the floor, Raymond pounding away, the boys yelling, cheering. Something broke and I mean more than my hymen.”

“That something is beyond the words we have.”

“It is. The answer is yes, Toby.”

“I didn’t ask a question.”

“I’ll not only help you bury a body, no questions asked. I’ll happily chip in to buy him lunch – if needed.”

Pamala came next to me. “I so want to wash my hands. You did this for days?”

“I’m thinking about stripping to my underwear, clawing dirt into the hole, returning this spot as closed to untouched as possible.”

Shawn reached back to unzip her dress.

“Not now. I’ll come back. I need a couple of days out here, camping, anyway. Now, I have a good excuse.”

“I wish I could get a couple of days –”

“Oh, Pamala, you don’t need to make excuses. I don’t want you to do anything you don’t wish to do. All you need say is no, but I can read a room. I’d never ask you to do anything you’d not want to do. Unless that something was really fucking important.”

“I’m gaining a new and greater appreciation of my family every day. I’ve been thinking about the cucumber.”

“I feel you may spend much too much time thinking about the cucumber than is healthy.”

Shawn chuckled.

“I mean, well, I get you don’t want anything inside you. I only ask that you –”

“Maybe we can talk about this another time.”

Shawn symbolically looked at her wrist. “We have no place we have to be for hours yet.”

I let out another long sigh, taking a moment to stare down on Jody’s previous grave with unfocused eyes. “I teased myself the other night. My own finger earned me a panic response.”

“Well, dry –”

“Pamala.”

“Own finger, what?” Shawn asked. “Oh.”

“Shawn and you enjoy the fuck out of the flapper dance.”

“Charleston,” Shawn said.

“I really don’t.”

“I get that, Toby. Dance to me is about public spectacle – performing for an audience. Your dance is private. We’re not talking about dance, though.”

“It was an example.”

“Pamala.”

“Shawn?”

“You stick a cucumber up your butt?”

“I have known me to do that.”

“I have a, ah, thing for that.”

“I’ve seen ads for such things,” I said.

“Does it look like a penis? That would be creepy. I don’t much care for them when they’re attached to someone. Floating around disembodied? Forget it.”

“It does not. Look like a penis. Well, in that anything looks like a dick, to most people it might.”

“Designed for function rather than aesthetics,” I suggested.

“Huh?”

Pamala smirked. “Made to go up the butt rather than look like a penis.”

“I’d be glad to show you.”

“Buy me dinner, you may demonstrate how it works.”

“Really?”

“No. You don’t have to buy me dinner.”

I laughed. Standing with Shawn and Pamala looking into the Jody Demarko’s grave of a grave, I laughed fully and completely, unencumbered by matters of the flesh. “Life is absurd. Shawn, your family knows you’re gay. Since you’ve not come out, they’re all passive aggressive about it.”

“Huh?”

“That’s why we got kicked out of church this morning. We were stinking up the funeral with our maxed-out gayety. Did Cassandra tell you Sweet kicked her and her free dance program for poor children out of Trinity because the tight-ass church ladies suspected she was gay?”

“No, she didn’t.”

“I’d bet your family didn’t understand why you didn’t enjoy sex with Raymond being all gaga over him, dating like forever and why you only ever had one boyfriend. The only reason: You must be gay.”

“Fuck, Toby, fuck.”

“One of the most difficult things you’re ever going to have to digest is that a parent’s love for a child is not inherent. Not instinct. Not manifest. A parent does not have to love their child. I have receipts.”

“Fuck, Toby. Here I am trying to love people who don’t love me, who I don’t love.”

“Society has norms,” Pamala said. “Even if we intellectually reject the norm, we can’t stand in the water and not get wet.”

“Huh?”

“The norm we’re talking about here is a parent/child relationship.”

“What we think is normal. What I expect.”

“They weren’t on Jody’s side.” I indicated the grave. “Now she’s dead.”

“I expect my family to be just like Pamala’s family.”

“I have to agree: Pamala’s family is the ideal family.”

“Plato would definitely hold us up.”

Shawn put a finger to her cheek, smearing a tear. “Why am I still believing what is obviously not true?”

 

I suggested to Pamala she take a nature walk, that I was going to say some things she may not wish to hear. “Your soul can only take so much pounding.”

“You cannot protect me. I may not have suffered the abuse like you and Shawn have. I watched Maria die, now a pale reflection of herself. I’m told time will heal.”

“What happened to Maria?” Shawn asked.

“You know that answer,” I said.

 

I swept big how I landed in Bill Locke’s house. “I absolutely hate conjecture. When I do conjecture, it’s some good conjecturing. Though I willingly walked into the trap, Locke trapped me all the same. I even think he saw me, concocted the roller coaster wheel thing to sucker me in. I’m not naive. He’s that fucking good.

“Every story he told was created just for me. I feel if I didn’t accept the work at the house that morning, it would have been chloroform and duct tape. I’ll bet it was Mary who thought to set me up as the scapegoat. She’d warned me about Bill’s shenanigans. I’m sure in the beginning, I was to be nothing more than Bill’s shenanigan.

“Bill’s got his kink. He wants to hold captive a child who reminds him of himself when he was fifteen years old, playing the part in a rape game with other boys. He imagines he’s the girl and rapes himself. It’s not about the sex. For Bill, it’s about getting himself pregnant.”

“Slipping a cucumber up my butt isn’t looking so weird, now.”

“Did Bill –”

“No, Shawn. This may be conjecture, but it’s dead-on accurate conjecture. Bill and Mary Locke were involved in Jody’s kidnapping. None of her friends recall her leaving Playland. Michael Borrows held her in a location I’m currently looking for, raped her, tortured her, and killed her. I don’t know whether her death was intentional to cover up his crime or accidental. I really don’t care which.”

Shawn spit, “Michael Borrows. What's his fucking kink?”

“I don’t know. I’ll be sure to ask.”

“You know him.”

“You met him. Guy in the pink chiffon dress. Falling down drunk.”

Shawn growled.

“I made sure Pam fed him free drinks, then I interviewed him, confirming it was Jody we buried.”

Shawn nodded. “Thank you. Lunch?”

“Yes. Definitely.”

“I saw a diner on the way in,” Pamala said.

“That, too, Pamala. That, too.”

 

Pamala had immediately noticed my new bicycle.

“I wanted a bright red to match your car.”

“Really?”

“Well, the gear chain link was slipping. Since I’ve been such a good girl, I felt I deserved a new bike.”

Sitting at the table, sipping coffee, I twisted my face, not pleased I could lie with the same ease I dropped Paul like a bad habit. I did wish to point out to Pamala that Michelle did not notice my new bike as I had not noticed Michelle’s haircut.

I got the phone before the second ring.

“Is the coast clear?”

I rolled my eyes. “Wrong number. I think you want the Coast Guard.”

“Toby. Are you alone?”

“Pull you hat down, collar up. I have a nosey neighbor across the hall.”

Opening the door six inches, I returned to my coffee.

Inspector Joe Bradley entered moments later. “Blanc,” he greeted, stopped three paces in the door. “You look –”

“Nice, Bradley?”

“I was going to say different. I bet you could pass me on the street, I wouldn’t recognize you.”

I answered with a shrug. “I could say it’s a costume, not unlike your dark suit, thin black tie, white shirt, black shoes, corny black Gentleman's Gazette – the exact same headwear choice of my father, by the way.”

“Are you finished?”

I stood. “This is an original.” I twisted left then right, flirting the hem of my white silk dress across my thighs. “I could say I designed it. In reality, I just made suggestions.”

“You look like a gun moll.”

“You haven’t seen me with the hat and sunglasses yet. Since I don’t hang on any man’s arm, I prefer Femme fatale. That’s French.”

“I know what that is.”

“Coffee?”

“Eh, no.” He presented a file folder. “I wanted to make you aware of something.”

“Aware away.”

“Your father, that is to say her father is on the edge of disaster.” He dramatically slapped the folder on the table.

I shrugged. “I stayed the execution. Well, a couple of months while I work shit out.”

“That was you?”

“Why Inspector Bradley. I can’t imagine why you give such a fuck.”

“Your background, eh, her background.”

“You can stop doing that.”

“I was quietly putting the picture together. You know, to get a sense of you.”

“You wanted to do an assessment. Determine if I’m one of the good guys before digging up Jennifer Longe.”

“That’s pretty close.”

“Thank you, for that. Jennifer.”

“Maybe it wasn’t the right way to do it. It certainly was the right thing to do.”

“Bringing her home.”

“Yes. I assume Paul Atkinson murdered her.”

I blinked slowly.

“You’re sure?”

“I am. I can give you chapter and verse, if you wish.”

“Since he’s dead, it doesn’t matter. I didn’t want to say anything the other night.”

“With your two coconspirators hanging around and all.”

He nodded. “Even keeping the circle small, there’s always a risk. I did wish to compliment you on how you handled the Paul Atkinson matter.”

I held his eyes emotionlessly.

“I was on the scene. I immediately knew who it was. When a positive identification didn’t come back, seeing as how he was a hobo living in a tent, the fire determined accidental –”

“The official phrase you people use is not worth pursuing.”

“Yes, but we don’t say that aloud.”

“The way he lived, hobo on hobo crime, a squabble over a can of beans escalated. He had a gun.”

“With two bodies on it.”

“Three. You’re the hotshot investigator, huh?”

“I didn’t look hard at him.”

“With him being dead and all.”

“Who’s the third? So, I can contact the locals.”

“So they can move the file into the We don’t give a fuck drawer.”

“I like that better than not worth pursuing.”

I’ll copy you the file I have.”

“Just the name. I don’t want anyone knowing my source by accident.”

I nodded. “I was telling your sidekick nothing’s as confidential as she thinks it is when she tried to get me to sign up as a confidential informant.”

“Sidekick.” He rolled his eyes. “You’re wise beyond your years.”

“I have receipts, maybe wise beyond any years.”

“Do try not to get Mathers killed. She’s smart, the best partner I’ve ever had.”

“I told you before. I like her. Her disadvantage is her biggest asset, that’s she’s a woman. Everyone’s going to underestimate her. She’s often invisible in the room.”

“I’ve seen that.”

“Her father’s bank troubles. Jacob Bancroft, Gus Avery, Alexander Forde. Not worth pursuing?”

“Eh, I never heard of Forde.”

“His name came up in another matter. He gets off bilking cripples out of their life savings. A bottom feeder.”

“I’ll look into him.”

“Don’t bother. My lawyer already advised me. If I get anything I think will be worth pursuing, I’ll let you know.”

“Forde with an e?”

“Yes. Paul’s follow-up story will run in the paper. With his current photo.”

“How? Why?”

“Everything’s connected. I’m laying groundwork. The Herald is a newspaper of report. Joe. I suggest you just sit back and enjoy the show. My not worth pursuing bar is much higher than yours.”

“Eh, I already told you. Let me know. You should have given me a heads up about Atkinson. It’s just dumb luck I caught the call.”

“The only reason you knew is because you already knew. He was a hobo living by the railroad tracks. No one would have given it a second glance.

“I was going to call a cab. Drop me at the mall?”

 

I wandered aimlessly among the people, most people trapped in their own worlds, most men at least giving we a glance, men with other men or alone giving me a longer look. Two sang out wolf whistles, one a hubba, hubba with his hand cutting the air.

My reflection, the reason I so like the mall, distracted and obsessed me. White large brim hat with a pink hatband, sunglasses, elfin makeup pulled back a bit, three-inch white sandals, white satin dress with a low cross over front, silk stockings and underwear. I looked nothing like Antoinette, which no longer mattered to me.

“Hi. I didn’t catch your name.”

I hadn’t noticed her come up beside me, me lost in my own eyes.

“Hi, Allison,” I greeted her reflection.

“Oh, you remember.”

“A blessing a curse, my memory.”

“I’ve had conversations with Pamala. I didn’t mention you.”

“You could have.”

“Really?”

“One thing could have led to another. You could have mentioned that, too.”

“I’m not really –” She watched me in the glass.

I shrugged. You are. “You need to listen to the voices inside your head, not all the voices coming at you from outside.”

“Can we go somewhere? Talk?”

“Yes. Not today. Not now.”

“When?”

“Talk to Pamala sometime. Tell her you talked to me. I’m Toby. I said we all should get together sometime.”

“We all?”

I smirked. “We have a club.”

“Really?”

“No, not really. Talk to Pamala. She’s a lot more approachable than I am.”

“I have to grab dinner, get back to work.”

“Harvest?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll walk you.”

 

I entered the office without announcement, dropped to a chair against the wall twelve feet from the desk, flipped my right leg over my left and said, “Hello, Mr. Edwards.”

Bob Edwards sat back in his chair, looked toward the door and then back to me, furrowing his brow. “Can I help you?”

Keeping his eyes, I removed my hat and sunglasses.

“Eh, Toby? Toby.”

“I thought you’d be glad to see me.”

“I am, I am. Pamala’s off today –”

“I know. That’s why I’m here. I wanted to talk to you privately. One of my secret, clandestine meeting.”

“Secret and clandestine mean the same thing.”

“I’m telling you twice.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Sounds serious.”

“It’s not. More like dispelling misconceptions, clearing the air. Maybe some bud nipping. Always with the bud nipping.”

He leaned forward, elbows on the desk, chin resting on his hands. “Dispel away.”

“First off, let me say I’m highly disappointed Tayor violated the understood confidentiality agreement.”

“Come on, Toby. You must agree these are special circumstances.”

“Bob.” I pursed my lips. “Bob. If everything isn’t confidential, nothing is. Special circumstances is just a fancy-schmancy way of saying there’s no confidentiality agreement.”

Shoulders back, I tilted my head, looking down my nose. “That point is not up for debate, Bob. I’m merely stating my disappointment.”

He opened his mouth, the words stuck, then, “Understood. I see your point, which doesn’t mean I agree with it.”

“Then you’ll understand why I may not be as open and honest as I could be.”

“Eh.”

“Just say you understand, Bob.”

“I understand, not that I agree –”

“Good enough. I’m slushing through a quagmire. Tayor saw the books. What Tayor didn’t see was how the books got that way. I feel if she knew the whole story, she’d not only cheer me on, but maybe jump in the quagmire with me.”

“Easy, then. Tell her the whole story.”

“I would seriously consider that, if I could be sure everything I said would be confidential. See where this is going?”

He nodded reluctantly.

“I repeat: I’m slushing around in a quagmire. I’m going to get muddy, maybe even bloodied. I assure you: not one drop of mud is going to get on Pamala. She’s completely isolated.”

“You can’t know –”

“I fucking know it, Bob. Know this. I’m going up against so seriously immoral assholes. I’m right. They’re wrong.”

“What about the authorities? You do tend to think you have to do everything yourself.”

“I met with the top lead investigator for the county earlier today. “Not worth pursuing was the way he put it. I suspect the people involved, like Bill Locke’s crowd, are protected with some boys will be boys bullshit going on.”

“I trust you. I really do. Taylor, she worries.”

“Bob. I would never put Pamala in a position to choose between me and her family.”

“Well –”

“I trust you to do the same.”

“Horrible and terrifying.”

“You knew that going in.”

“You, Toby, are the best thing that’s ever happened to Maria. Nothing’s been able to reach her until you took her into the forest.”

I nodded. “I sense a but coming.”

“Not from me.”

“Tayor is the more rational of the two of you.”

“We’re good. You and me will always be good.”

“That was my next question. I’m getting too predictable.”

“Maybe someday you can tell me the whole story.”

“Doubtful. I don’t trust anyone with information that can hurt me. Maybe someday. That day is not today.”

“Misconceptions dispelled.”

“Buds nipped.”

“Michelle is lovely.”

“How’s her work? Does she play well with others?”

“Quick learner, hard worker. It’s early yet. I may ask her to step up and take Pamala’s spot when Pam leaves in the fall.”

“New broom and all. It’s early yet.”

 

“If you would get Mr. Bailey for me, I’d appreciate it.”

“Wow, that’s a beautiful dress!” Tammy Flannagan answered through her annoying permanent smile from behind the glass counter.

“Mr. Bailey.”

“I have just the wristwatch, gold –”

“Mr. Bailey.”

“He’s kind of busy right now. Said not to disturb him. Do you wish to leave a message?”

“Let him know the fries with gravy woman would like a word. He’ll see me now.”

“Fries with gravy,” she said, doubt hanging on her words. She retreated.

Moments later, John Bailey hurried around the counter, taking my free hand. “Wonderful to see you again!”

I took my hand back, holding his eyes through my sunglasses. “Mr. Bailey. You may not ask me what I do.”

“Eh, OK.”

“You may not ask: Who are you?”

He nodded.

“You may not ask how I came upon this information.”

His eyes dropped to a file folder in my left hand. “OK.”

“Dinner? I’ll buy.”

“Dinner, Harvest, I’ll buy.”

 

“I’m an investigator.”

“Of what? Who do you work for?”

“That’s all I can say.” I open the folder next to my bowl of fries with gravy. “Incidental in my work, I came across. Ah, here it is.” I relayed a copy of a police report. “Their ham is very good.”

“Agreed.” He narrowed his eyes, reading. “Wexler. I remember him.”

“He was one of those people the authorities pegged as born bad.”

“Oh, I remember him well. Loudmouthed bully. Picked on everyone. Wait.” He gave me the traffic stop hand. “How come I never heard of this?”

“This report wasn’t in his file or the incident file.”

“Where was it, then?”

“I cannot say. Kenneth Wexler went onto get a series of arrests, most for violence, died in prison. I know that only because I wanted to verify this report.”

“You doubt this report?”

“No. I still like to verify.”

“Maybe I’ll just ask Hugo.”

“That’s up to you. I would not recommend. Mr. Flannagan, in concert with his daughter, had Pamala’s previous girlfriend assaulted. Questions still swirl around her untimely death, the authorities determining the mystery not worth pursuing.”

Mr. Bailey swallowed hard on the implication. “You don’t think? Is this what you’re pursuing?”

“I avoid conjecture, John. Mr. Flannagan, when a teenager, paid Kenneth Wexler and others to physically assault you so he could rescue you, ingratiate himself to your wealthy family. That scheme worked out better than he could have imagined.”

“I’ve always known there was something terribly wrong about him. Always. My family was completely snowed.” He presented the report. “May I keep this?”

“No.”

His fingers danced out a rhythm on the table. “Tammy working for me is part and parcel of the conspiracy starting decades ago. I feel so stupid.”

“From what I gather, Mr. Flannagan and his daughter are good at what they do, masters of their craft.” I nodded to the report. “He, as a teenager, convinced a handful of people to ignore the truth, to look the other way.”

“Have you met –”

“I have not.”

“He has a gift, always had. He had my family mesmerized.”

“Not you.”

“I’ve always known there was something not right about him. This is for real?”

“Wexler died in prison. The two policemen who signed off are retired. Short of verifying with one of those sources, I would say yes, the report is real. If this were a matter before me, I’d seek out why the report got buried.”

“Pay offs?”

“That’s conjecture.”

Bailey stared over my shoulder. “I need to quietly find a replacement for Tammy.”

“I think, too, you’d be prudent to have a thorough audit done.”

He held my eyes.

I shrugged. “There’s a woman. I don’t know her well. I do know she’s great with customers, which is often the start and finish of employee requirements. Allison. Works at Splitzer’s.”

“Allison,” he repeated with a sharp nod.

“I suspect she doesn’t enjoy her job now.”

“Walk me back to the store.”

 

Once out on the mall, Bailey said, “It’s so easy to get fooled when everyone around you is fooled.”

“No one likes to be the lone voice calling into the darkness.”

“A story.”

“I do so love a story.”

“I have a client. He thought he’d surprise his wife for their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. I created a custom necklace.”

We enter his store.

“Tammy. Would you get the Reginald Abner piece from the vault, please.” He stopped, facing me. “Seems she had a surprise of her own. The gardener, one-third her age.”

I rolled my eyes. “Soulmates.”

Tammy placed the box on the glass counter, looking from Bailey to me and back.

“Turn, face the mirror. Hat and glasses.”

I squared to the mirror on the counter, dropping my hat and glasses.

Bailey replaced my heart necklace with the diamonds. “Abner prepaid. His wife is coming for all his assets. He told me to keep this so she wouldn’t get it.”

I couldn’t break from my reflection. “John. It’s beautiful.”

“Like your neck was made for it.”

“Will you take a check?”

Bailey’s reflection snickered at me. “Oh, sorry. The necklace is yours, if you wish. Box the heart, Tammy.”

Tammy narrowed her eyes at me. “Tobes?”

I kept Bailey’s eyes in the mirror. “My first reaction was I can’t accept this. Services rendered, though I feel you’re overpaying.”

“I think the exchange perfect. Abner’s instructions we’re exactly clear.”

“You have no idea how much I understand that.”

“Tobes?” Tammy asked again.

“Whatever do you go on about? What’s a Tobes?”

“You. Aren’t you Toby?” She careful articulated my entire original name.

I knitted my eyebrows. “I have been mistaken for many things over the years, but never once have I been mistaken for a dead girl.”

“You kind of look like her. This locket –”

“Who are you again?” I waved my free hand at the air. “That’s sarcasm, a rhetorical question meant to indicate you have not been invited into this conversation and what’s more, you’re not welcome.”

Right there, I got the well, I never face I so love.

“Now be a good girl, Tammy, fetch a box for my locket.”

“So hard to get good help these days.”

 

Playland had a brisk crowd of mostly teenagers, mostly boys. Given my age and that Mary Locke didn’t mention their drug dealing business told me Bill fucking me was the plan from the beginning. I watched from just outside in the mall. Jody was with five friends. She disappeared. No one noticed.

How?

A girl stood near the roller coaster, her friends playing pinball. Bill Locke could approach her. Dragging her twenty feet into the office would not be easy, would draw attention.

“Are you a movie star?” came from below.

I dropped to a knee, removing my sunglasses. “No, Lisa, I am not a movie star.”

“How do you know my name?”

“I’m a friend of your father’s. How’d you like to get some ice cream?”

She looked behind her, attempting to see her father down the bank of pinball machines.

“Oh, Bartholomew won’t mind.”

Standing, I took Lisa by the hand as we crossed the twenty yards to the lunch counter.

I then knew how Jody could disappear, no one noticing.

Keira would notice.

 

Lisa and I were deep in ice cream, vanilla with sprinkles, and a conversation about dinosaurs when Bartholomew Peters loomed over me like a dark storm cloud. “Who the –”

I turned, looking up. “Hi, Bat. Ice cream? My treat.”

“Toni? Toni.” He almost growled.

“It’s really good, Daddy!”

I nodded sharp and quick. “It is pretty good.”

“Eh, Lisa, let’s go. We have to meet your mother.”

“Tell Marge I said hello.”

Stepping off with his daughter, he turned back, taking my eyes. “Message received.”

“Good.”

 

“Red Rover!” barked from the telephone.

I pulled a muscle not asking for a cab to come on. “Is Rex working?” I asked.

“On a job!”

“I can wait.”

“Half hour!”

Thirty-five minutes later, a beige Country Squire rolled up to the Strawbridge bus stop, Rex bounding from the taxi, hurrying around the car. “Good evening. I’m Rex.” He opened the door as I approached.

“Toni.”

“Well, Toni, nice to meet you.”

“Nice meeting you.”

We spent twenty minutes talking of nothing. He hurried around, opening my door, not crowding me as I got out. “Do you like your job, Rex?”

“As much as any man could like his job, Miss Toni.”

I narrowed my eyes, keeping his.

“I spent my early life pushing around heavy equipment,” he answered. “I kind of fell into this when I couldn’t do that.”

I cocked an eyebrow.

“My back. Now, I lift suitcases once in a while, but most of what I do is sitting, once in a greater while talking to beautiful women. The pay, of course, could be better. I don’t know if –”

“You get forty percent of the meter.”

“Eh, thirty-five.”

“Rex?”

“Rex Townson.”

OK, Rex Townson. Royal Taxi and Limousine Service, about five blocks from here, up on Main.”

“I heard they were going under.”

“Not if I can help it and believe me, I can help it. See Jane any time tomorrow. I’ll call her first thing in the morning. I assume you have no problem wearing a tie.”

“Eh, ah, I own several. I even own a tux.”

“You’ll be pushing a hack around. Forty percent of meter. However, mostly you’ll be driving a limousine.”

I counted out singles, then added a twenty.

“Thank you!” He narrowed his eyes. “I know you.”

“No, you don’t. Forget that you think you might.”

“Right. She’s dead. Tragic. I didn’t believe half the stories.”

“Oftentimes I think the editors sensationalize the news just to sell papers.”

“Well, they’re not in business to not sell papers.”

“That’s true, Mr. Townson.”

 

Pamala and Shawn, catty corner at the table, close, holding hands not as lovers might, stopped their conversation in midsentence as I entered. Pamala had been crying, not recently.

“Eh, how’d it go?”

“Your Doctor Phil Kerney is an asshole,” Shawn answered.

I shrugged, hat and sunglasses to the table, dropping on a chair. “He’s not my Doctor Kerney. He is an asshole, but a useful asshole. Is Rachel OK?”

“He insisted on having Rachel alone. Shawn was having none of that.”

“Something in his leer, the talk of giving her something to claim her down. Rachel was claim enough. Pam could have used a shot.”

“I wasn’t expecting –” Pam started.

I narrowed my eyes. “Michael got on his soapbox, didn’t he?”

Pam nodded sharp and fast.

“More like babbling,” Shawn explained. “I suggested it was not the time or place. Then I had to slap him.”

“Twice,” Pam added.

Shawn shrugged.

“Is he OK?”

“Pouting in her room. Changed as soon as we got back.”

“Kerney get his blood?”

“First thing, then I put him in the car.” She displayed her arm and the bandage. “Mine, too.”

“I feel I would have been OK if not for –”

Shawn cut Pamala off. “You did fine. You did great. Rachel has a good friend in you.”

“Thanks.”

“I think Michael has this irrational opposition because Michelle cannot have a baby.”

“Toby.”

“Shawn?”

“Not the time. Not the place. Maybe even that conversation is best had with Michelle.”

“I wasn’t having a conversation.”

“Don’t make me come over there and slap you.”

“I understand.”

“You look great, by the way.”

“Peacocking for the tourists.”

“Huh?”

“Charlotte?” Pamala asked.

“Her latest original. I try it on, can’t take it off. I wanted to talk to your father.”

“Dad. You wanted to talk to Dad.”

“OK.”

“What about?”

“Unlike Mom, I’m not going to violate the understood confidentiality agreement. I will say I feel you should tell Mom and Dad you’re part-owner of the restaurant.”

“What restaurant?” Shawn asked.

“Mine. The one we’re building.”

“Yours? You mean Jessica’s?”

“It’s been implied enough, Shawn.”

“They’re not going to be happy,” Pamala said, watching me.

“Like you said. Mom’s concerned for your wellbeing. She’s been balls deep in the restaurant business plan, even made some suggestions.”

Pamala laughed, maybe too loud. “Could you please avoid using that expression where my mother is concerned?”

“Thy will, something or other.”

“Yeah, having such a big secret from them has bothered me. They’re going to be angrier at me not telling them than me taking ownership, I think.”

“Throw that back on me. Confidentiality agreement. I felt at that time we keep the circle as small as possible. Mom’s going to argue about exceptions.”

“If there’re exceptions, then nothing is confidential.”

“That’s exactly what I told Dad.”

Pamala released a long sigh. “Anyway. 1 Bread. I don’t know how I’m going to do it.”

“I’ve counted the hours in the day, too. I’ll do all the heavy lifting. I really just need your face for the camera.”

Pamala rolled her eyes. “With all the other stuff you have going on, we’re never going to get any lazy boy time.”

“1 Bread?” Shawn asked.

“Toby plans to feed all the hungry children of the world.”

“Well, I’m starting small, just the neighborhood.” I considered the ceiling. “Last Thanksgiving, I donated twenty complete turkey dinners to a church for hungry people.”

“To a church?”

“Well, Shawn, if I knew where the hungry children were, I would have put the dinners on the doorstep, rung the bell, and run away. I came to learn one of the church elders – one that I know of – took one of the dinners for her family. In my darkest musing, I see all my dinners appropriated by the church well-to-do.”

“1 Bread?”

“One Thanksgiving, that’s what I had put in front of me for dinner.”

“God, Toby, she could have given you two.”

“I’ve said that. Chase wants to work up a story.”

“You need to stay out of sight, so you need Pamala’s face.”

“I just want to feed some hungry children. I never suspected things would get this complicated. I’m meeting with a phone guy in the morning.”

“Phone guy?” Pamala asked.

“I signed a rental agreement for the store front next to the motor shop.”

“I love the idea, Toby. I’ll talk to Mr. Weber.”

“I’ve had two conversations with Weber. I get the impression he doesn’t like me.”

“You’ve not asked about Harvest? Mass producing meals is what we do.”

“Dad would fall all over himself. I’d feel like I’m taking advantage.”

“Nonsense.”

“My sense. Though, after my two conversations with Weber, Harvest is looking my best choice. Harvest’s food is better. Dad’s going to want to give me the dinners. I said before: Harvest isn’t in business to give food away.”

“I understand all that, Toby. I always understand you feel the need to do everything yourself.”

“Dad said the same thing on another matter.”

Pamala looked at Shawn, Shawn gave her a nod, turning to me. “We’ve been talking, have something to ask you.”

“Ask away.”

“We could get a motel room,” Pamala said, blushing.

“I can recommend a place, cheap, I hear their coffee is pretty good. The Dew Drop Inn.”

“There’s actually a place by that name?” Shawn asked.

“There is. You want to know if I’d be OK with you using my bedroom.”

“Yes,” Shawn said.

“Of course.” I held Pamala’s eyes. “If there’s something you really desire that I can’t give you and Shawn can, I’d be a grade A asshole to object.”

“Just when I feel I couldn’t possibly love you more. You could join –”

“That would be a no, Pam.”

 Hurrying from my chair, I got the wall phone before the second ring, greeting Serling.

“We need to go over some things for Saturday night,” he said.

“Won’t be Saturday. I got to thinking. We need to meet. See me in the morning.”

“The Nook?”

“Eh, store front next to the motor shop a few blocks east of the Nook.

“Shawn.”

“Toby?”

“Your rapist. His full name.”

“Raymond Montgomery Schmit.”

I repeated the name into the phone. “I’d like a full profile.”

“Done. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Hanging up, I dropped to my chair.

“What was that all about?” Shawn asked.

Looking down the hall, my hands up palms toward me, I wiggled my fingers, pulling Shawn and Pam in. “This is not to leave this table,” I whispered. “I’ve engaged a private detective to go balls deep into anyone I consider a threat.”

“Raymond isn’t a threat to –”

I shrugged dismissively.

 

Rain, barely rain, kissed my face as I walked the eleven blocks to my store front, red bandana under my hair pushed up to my forehead, blue jeans, brown work boots, tan long sleeve utility shirt, light red suede bag over my shoulder. I wanted to pack my small backpack, ride my new bicycle out to The Pines, spend the day with Jody, clean up the grave site.

“Tomorrow,” I promised myself knowing I had three lawns to take care of before I did anything else.

I wanted to break away, spend a week – or two – in The Pines. Alone, well, with a wraith or two.

I wanted to waste an entire rainy day with Pamala on our fake La-Z-Boy reading fairy tales.

Traffic moved in both directions, my vision unfocused lost in what I’d rather be doing other than hesitating entering my 1 Bread office to discover what labors awaited me. I didn’t wish to bring cleaning supplies knowing that I over prepare, lugging items I wouldn’t need. Deep breath, I thought almost aloud. “It’ll all get done.”

“Hey.” A pallid face, black hair cutting her cheeks cascading over her shoulders like Spanish moss, eyes all pupil, slim black eyebrows, pale full lips blocked my view.

“Eh, hi.” I narrowed my eyes. “Morgue women?”

Black sweater and black straight-legged pants tucked into black army boots like mine, she worked the cliché. “When people come downstairs like you did, I wallpaper.”

“Invisibility is a talent worth cultivating.”

“Don’t I know it.” She offered her right hand. “Jackeline Curran. Call me Jacks.”

I took the hand. “Antoinette Blanc. Call me Toni.”

She smirked, keeping my hand and my eyes. “OK.”

“OK?”

“I buried Antoinette Blanc. Beyond tragic, a child. I believe a great many magical and mystical manifestations. I do not believe you’ve risen from the dead, though you look remarkably like her – remarkably like Jody Demarko. The facial structure is undeniable.

“Not to worry – about me. If you want to be Antoinette Blanc, I’m certainly not going to tell anyone differently.”

I closed my eyes, nodding slow once.

“What is your interest in Jody Demarko? Mr. McNaughty wouldn’t give me anything. You looked at her like you were her mother.”

“It’s refreshing to learn some people know what confidentiality means. Jody was the cousin of my best friend.”

“The boy you were with?”

“How’d you know she was a boy?”

“Details of anatomy don’t lie – often.”

“I guess to an expert and no, not the boy I was with.”

“I wouldn’t have guessed. I wouldn’t have given it a second thought. That is until I watched you over Demarko’s body.”

“Watching from the shadows. Not too creepy.”

“Wallpapering. That moment I knew Miss Crispy was misidentified.”

“The FBI was sure.”

“The FBI and County were dead sure about Demarko, too, and they’re both dead wrong.” Curran looked up and down the street. “You’re probably not aware, but County doesn’t have lab assistants on payroll. None of the counties do. I work five counties and mortician in twelve homes.”

“Wow. Busy girl.”

“That’s what happens when you’re good at what you do.” She lowered her voice, leaning toward me. “In this county, our Mr. Sullivan likes to pass all the work off on the peons.”

“You’re the person who squirrelled away Demarko’s original autopsy report.”

“Fuck.”

My shrug should have stopped traffic. “I know what confidentiality means.”

She kept my eyes as if taking measure. “Which brings us conveniently back around to: What is your interest in Jody Demarko?”

I hit Curran with my I’m not fucking kidding face. “I want to discover every person involved in Demarko’s abduction, imprisonment, abuse, torture, rape, and murder. That includes every person who looked the other way. Then, I want to put each on a slab at County.”

She sucked hard on the air, her eyes glistening. “You’re not supposed to say things like that out loud.”

“I figure we’re wallpapering, two wraiths meeting out beyond where words can’t dance.”

“Someplace where words don’t matter. How’d you know about the report?”

“I think I best not say. I get the idea horrible, terrible things happen to people, children people of the female persuasion, in plain sight yet unseen. For whatever reason people have, people don’t see, can’t see, or choose not to see.”

“Horrible, terrible things can happen to people who point out those horrible, terrible things. I drew up paperwork to exhume Miss Crispy, sure it wasn’t who we thought we buried.”

“They wanted her to be dead. She’s dead. You’re lucky you’re not.”

“That was made very clear to me.” Again, she looked in all directions, holding her breath. “This report is hot. Too many people know I have it. I wanted to turn it over to County.”

“Where it would disappear like the police dispatch recording reporting where Jody was buried. Sure. I’ll take it.”

“No one would suspect you have it.”

“Being dead and all. Jacky.” I extended my hand.

“Toni. I live over the pet store.” She pointed west. “On my way to work.” She pointed east.

We held hands more than shook hands.

“Belair Apartments 48C.”

“Live alone?”

“I wish. If you mean to ask whether I’m involved, I am.”

“I could use a roommate. I’m not involved.”

“Working five counties and mortician in twelve homes, I could have guessed you didn’t have a boyfriend.”

“Well, I wouldn’t have a boyfriend, anyway.”

“I hear that.”

 

Jackeline Curran was a reminder how vulnerable I was, though not at first glance. “Miss Crispy.” I didn’t know whether I should be amused or offended. I chose amused, crooking a smirk watching Curran’s form melt up the sidewalk, dodging left to avoid Tom Thomas exiting his office four blocks east on her way to McNaughty’s.

Thomas was a comical man, short and wide, not smart. I did not take him seriously, though I warned myself I should. “Mr. Thomas,” I greeted, him moving close, large black umbrella coming over me.

“Don’t you have enough sense to come in out of the rain?”

“Rarely.”

He struggled with the umbrella and a file folder. I relieved him of the umbrella.

“Thanks. I have your copy of the rental agreement.”

I glanced the paper. “On, the price isn’t inflated too much.”

“The rent is well within the market –”

“I know, Tom.”

“I have these.”

I traded the umbrella for a handful of papers.

“I wanted to ask you, about the mowing business.”

“Ask away, Tom.”

“I own four properties, in town, two out of town.”

Flipping information sheets, I caught his eyes. “Oh, why?”

“Other than rare coins, real estate is the best investment going. I can’t find a dependable maintenance company.”

“I bet you’re the kind of person who cheaps down people you hire to do a job, squeeze every dime until Miss Liberty cries.”

“Well, the idea of investing in real estate isn’t to spend money on upkeep. I do spend way too much time mowing grass, raking leaves.”

“Give me the addresses. I’ll get by –”

He flipped a folded paper from his jacket breast pocket.

Securing the paper in my own breast pocket without looking, I scanned a house profile. “How’s your memory?”

“Good, I guess.”

“Knock off twenty percent of asking. Make an offer. Fifteen percent, twenty percent, and finally, twenty percent.”

“Huh? All four?”

“I hear real estate is a good investment. Stipulate in the offer I’ll be paying cash, which is a pretty good incentive.”

“You don’t want to at least look at them?”

I shrugged. “No.”

“OK, then. Will you look at the first property on my list today? I fear it’s been neglected.”

“No renter in place to complaint to the landlord.”

He stared at me.

“It’s a gift.” I nodded toward the building. “Is it OK I do some improvements?”

“On you, anything you wish.”

“I know, you don’t own rentals to spend money. I’m thinking a little paint.”

“You paint?”

“I’ve been known to plaster, clean shit from floors and walls, replace sash cords, build fences.”

“Oh, I just may have some work for you.”

I let out a deep sigh. “Dependable people.”

“I get the idea you’re that.”

“Next week. We’ll talk next week.” I patted my breast pocket. “I’ll get the township off your back today, depending on the rain, tomorrow the latest.”

“Eh, thanks.”

Tom Thomas, umbrella dancing, walked away on lighter feet than he approached, the air getting darker harboring the promise of rain. Sanctuary, the rain, a singing fire, called to me on what little wind played with my hair as I sunk the key into the lock, the tumblers objecting, the knob finally turning, the door opening in.

“Oh, fuck, bag of onions.” I stepped across the front room, past one door in the hall, the bathroom, the hall opening to the back room. I unlocked and opened the door.

Returning to the bathroom, I quickly diagnosed a broken chain in the toilet, which a couple-three, maybe four people didn’t care about. “People are so annoying,” I bemoaned, working the flapper manually, letting the tank fill, working the flapper again.

The water, pregnant with piss and shit, rose to the top of the bowl.

“I’ll go to the apartment. Get the cleaning stuff. You have a plunger?”

“Shawn. Good morning. Shouldn’t you be at work?”

“Well, it’s raining. I thought we could go to sanctuary.”

“Really?” I did want to lose some time in sanctuary. I didn’t wish company.

“Can we step outside?”

“Oh, yes. We can step outside.”

In the front room, I was met with, “Hello. I’m Gordon, the phone guy! I don’t help bury dead bodies.”

I liked him right away. Tan shirt and pants, close hair cut, russet like mine, soft eyes. “Sorry, I just now opened the door. If I’d known –”

“Toby? Not a problem. I walk into worse than this all the time.” He presented a black desk phone. “Has a hold button. You like?”

“I like. I’ll be putting a desk there.” I swept my arm. “Can I get an extension, wall phone, in the first room back? Whatever you have on the truck is fine.”

“Green OK? I can never unload the green.”

I chuckled. “Green is great.”

 

We stood close under the canopy of the motor store, the rain whispering on the canvas, holding hands after a long hug.

“I remember, after Jessica’s dinner, you being excited about cleaning up shit.”

“I am the little shit girl.”

“You’re weird.”

“That’s what the people who like me, like about me. Anyway, why are you not at work? Really.”

“Someone must have peed in Allen Weber’s Cheerios. Last night, you know, was emotional for me. I sucked it up, keeping it together for Rachel.”

“And, Michelle, and Pamala.”

She rolled her eyes. “Pamala is a lot more fragile than I’d have ever guessed.”

“She’s not walked in the fire. If I have my way, she never will.”

“I appreciate that more than anyone can ever know.”

“When Phone Guy gets finished, we can go to sanctuary.”

“I was kidding. Allen Weber took a swipe at you, which I ignored like I always do. Then, he took another, rambling incoherently about 1 Bread, how stupid you are. Then, he decided to voice his uneducated opinion about lesbians.”

“Did you hurt him, I mean, like physically?”

“I took it to him pretty good. The conversation ended with You can’t fire me. I quit.”

“You quit?”

“I did. Just like that. I’ve worked there since high school. Working with kids, dance, is my first love. Cassandra can’t pay much.”

“I’m sure we can get you in Harvest. You did say you know the manager at Woolworth.”

She looked at her feet. “Pamala and I were talking. There’s no way she can run 1 bread, even just her face on the place. She told you yes because she can never say no to you. Michelle said she felt really bad leaving you high and dry. I’ve been looking at my schedule, looking for time when I can at least drop a couple of hours here and there, help you mow a lawn or something.”

“You want to work for me?”

“Don’t sound so surprised. As a bonus, I figure you pay tons more than Weber. I’ve been considering asking you before my blow up with Weber.”

“Are you sure you have the stamina?”

“The what?”

“The work is hard, physically demanding. Put Michelle on her back.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “You’ve watched me dance.”

 I fished my notepad from my suede purse, opening to a blank page, writing the time and date. “Welcome to Archetype LLC. I’ll need your social security number.”

“Huh?”

“Another time. First order of business is for you to change your clothes, stop by Woolworth, get all the cleaning supplies you can imagine, two gallons of bleach, and stop somewhere, get a bag of yellow onions.”

She looked at her watch. “I have a class at one.”

“Not a problem.”

 

I dropped to the passenger seat of the 1968 beige Cougar as Serling rolled to a stop. “I expected you before the crack of noon.”

Rich Serling considered his watch. “Busy morning. I went to interview the good folks at Cambridge College, might enroll my son.” He nodded past me. “You left the door open.”

“Son? That didn’t blip in your profile.” I nodded behind me. “Trying to get the smell out.”

“I know the feeling.  If I had a son, he’d not be going to Cambridge.”

“Why?”

“It’s barely not a miliary academy.”

“From what I’ve seen, boys could use some discipline.”

“Raymond Montgomery Schmit.”

I rolled my eyes. “I didn’t mean you had to jump right on him.”

“Your interest?”

“I don’t much care for where he stuck his dick, or even how he did.”

“I couldn’t get much. I did get impressions. Over the past few months, I have unsubstantiated rumors of a rape club, something to do with initiation. Nothing specific I could nail down.”

I twisted a smirk. “Schmit’s no stranger to you.”

“I’ve been doing deep background on the family.”

“His father is our caper target? That I have to ask is why we’re not going in tomorrow.”

“Well no, kind of, maybe, and huh?”

“Mr. Serling. Anything I do, I over prepare.”

He nodded. “That’s why you knew my background before you walked through my door.”

“That’s also why I hired you. I know nothing about our caper. I need the entire profile. Not only that, I need to prepare Artemis. Like, sure, I’m in town from Ohio. Where am I staying?”

“Unlikely anyone will ask.”

“Everyone will ask, most to be polite. It’s one of those polite conversation things. Others will want to know if I’m legit. I don’t want someone buying me lunch because I missed an obvious detail.”

“I see your point. We could –”

“I have that worked out.”

“How so?”

“I’ll let you know. Schmit?”

“His father’s a close associate with our target.”

“While I’m thinking about it. You can substantiate those rape club rumors, but it’s not a rape club. My best friend is where he stuck his dick. I wrote down her witness account for my file.”

“Will she go on record?”

I shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. We shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.”

Serling pursed his lips.

“I’ll let you read her witness statement. You’ll gleefully join me.”

“Maybe consider official channels?”

“She has, only to be victimized again.”

“Hold off?”

“Until after our caper. Who’s the target? We have a close associate, Pappy Schmit –”

“Benjamin Schmit.”

“By close associate, we mean asshole buddies. They cover for each other.”

“They go back to college.”

“Cambridge.”

“You’re really good at this.”

“I don’t fuck around. Asshole buddy number two?”

“How’d you know?”

“They always come in a set of three.”

“Mark Hastings.”

“I briefly went to school with his son, Randy. I met his daughter last night. Nice woman.”

“The newspaper girl.”

“Struggling to be heard.”

“I imagine her father got her a vanity job on the paper.”

“She mentioned his influence got her in the door. She hit me as honest, sincere, drowning in gobs of integrity. I’m not easily fooled.”

“But you can be fooled.”

“Not easily. I kind of got the impression she likes me. I wonder whether that will change when I bloody her father and make her write about it.”

“Hastings is not our focus. We need dirt on Abner.”

“Reginald Abner?”

“Eh, yes.”

“I have his diamond necklace.”

“The diamond necklace?”

“The necklace is pretty.”

“Pretty fucking expensive. Just how did you come to be in procession of it?”

“It was a gift.”

“From Abner?”

“No. From who he gave it to. Abner said he didn’t want his wife to get it. Is she really fucking the pool boy?”

“The gardener, and no. He paid the gardener to say that. Mateo Cooke.”

“Are you sure?”

“Well, that’s what Olivia told me.”

“Do you believe her?”

“I believe the payout.”

“Abner, Schmit, and Hastings. Rich men. Like Bill Locke, they feel entitled to do anything they wish. I’m inclined to believe Abner’s an abusive husband. Dropping a ton of money on a gift for his wife?”

“Buying away his guilt?”

“That’d be my take. She’s turned on him. Doesn’t want to go to the police, could get her killed. She wants us to do her dirty work.”

“I thought you didn’t like conjecture.”

“I think both Olivia and Reginald can’t be trusted so sure, let’s trust the pay out.”

 

“Hi, Mrs. Sullivan.”

“Toby, you’re soaked.”

“It’s raining.”

“I have something to show you.” She laid five drawings on the counter.

“Andy did these?”

“Yes.”

“She must have been up all night.”

“She was.”

“I have a great appreciation for passion. They’re beautiful. I’ll get these over to my architect.”

“I did, fax them over. Mr. Goldman called, would like Andy to go over, meet with his artist.”

“It’s worth the trip just to look out Mr. Goodman’s window. If you don’t have the time –”

“This is so exciting for Andy. I’ll make the time.”

“Do we, then, I guess, have an agreement?”

“We do.”

“I really don’t like to presume. If it’s OK with you and if Andy is willing, she can stop down Maple Printing, see Joe, ask to see the artwork for the 1 Bread business card.”

“1 Bread?”

“Going to be in the storefront next to the motor shop. I have a huge front window. Again, if Andy wishes, I’d like her to paint a likeness of the business card on the window.”

Mrs. Sullivan asked with her face.

“I like to use local talent. I’ll pay more than she’d think to ask for.”

“What is 1 Bread?”

“I’m going to feed children who otherwise don’t get a good meal.”

She blinked repeatedly, looking down on me.

“Do you have the complete editions of the Herald Post twenty-five to thirty years ago?”

“On microfiche.”

I resisted the eye roll.

“I’ll set you up on station eight, in the back, where no one will disturb you.”

“It’s like you can read my mind.”

“What are you looking for?”

“Not sure. I’ll know it when I see it.”

 

My eyes hurt. The rain vanished, stars forcing their light past the glare generated by people, twenty stories printed out rolled in my hand. “Jane,” I greeted.

“Toby! What a strange day it’s been.”

“Good strange or bad strange?”

“Good strange!”

“I guess The Bat stopped by.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I kind of thought you had something to do with that.”

I shrugged.

“Mr. Falcon said we have a new car coming?”

“A limousine. Have to get the paper worked out. Should be next week. The men who fucked you so thoroughly have no idea how bad they’re going to get fucked – yet.”

“I look forward to the details.”

“The details will likely never see the light of day.”

“I’m good with that. Rex Townson.”

“Who?”

“I mention Ralph and Hank are stretched thin, in walks an experience taxi and limousine driver looking for work.”

“Jane, that just the way the universe works sometimes.”

She winked.

“Speaking of. Limousine, my apartment. Call me down. One hour. Center City. No return.”

“Aye.”

 

“Good evening. What can the Commadore do for you today?” Mr. Hudson, a man three times my age, greeted me from behind the counter.

“A room, Mr. Hudson. Something high, something facing east. I like the sunrise. Something quiet.”

His dark eyes carefully examined my face. “How many in your party?”

“Just me.”

“Ah. For?”

“A month. Maybe longer.”

“A month?”

“I’ll prepay.” I presented my Ohio driver license.

“OK, eh, Artemis –”

“Miss Grimes.”

“2204, Miss Grimes.”

“Perfect.”

 

“Do you like your job, Gary?” I asked the bellhop, a cliché of a boy in a glitzy uniform.

“I do ma’am.” He placed my three duffle bags in the center of the large room.

He gave me a key. I gave him a twenty.

His bright blue eyes bulged. “Thank you, ma’am!”

As the door clicked shut behind him, I dropped my blue with flowing flowers silk dress to the bed with my hat and sunglasses, kicking off my three-inch heeled black pumps.

In the spacious bathroom, I watched myself in the mirror strip naked. “Hello, Artemis Grimes” I watched my eyes thinking Antoinette should appear over my shoulder.

She didn’t.

I put my Artemis Grimes clothes in the closet and drawers, finally slipping into a long bath that started out hot, almost falling asleep. Wrapped in the Commadore’s white fluffy bathrobe, I stood on the balcony. I could see New Jersey. I wasn’t sure where my apartment was.

“Hello, Butch,” I said into the telephone.

“Hi, Toby. I wanted to get back to you. They laughed at a dime on a dollar. To a quarter, they said, Fuck no. That’s a quote. How bad do you want this cab company?”

“How’s Jessica?”

“Eh, oh, she’s fine.”

“It wasn’t a polite question.”

“She’s struggling. Don’t tell her I told you that.”

“Tell her she should take my offer.”

“Which is?”

“She knows.”

“Then she’ll know we talked.”

“I’m counting on that. Wednesday. Set up a meeting with the assholes. Hit them with the dime on the dollar again. You may add: Should have taken the quarter. Take cash along, close the deal.”

“Why are they going to take the dime?”

“You don’t need know. While you’re in town, see Tom Thomas. I have offers in on four properties. See how that’s going, tie up the Indians, too. I got the Historic Society to sign off on the deal.”

“Four properties?”

“I heard real estate is a good investment.”

“Scattershot lowballing?”

“It’s like you know me.”

“Managing rentals can me a nightmare.”

“I just brought on a righthand woman. She doesn’t know it yet. Thinks she’s going to just help me mow lawns.”

“Pamala?”

“You met her at the party.”

“It was a dinner.”

“Shawn.”

“Oh, I like Shawn. Matter of fact, I think she’s a perfect choice. That is, just judging from watching her work with you that one night. Anything else?”

“Yes, Butch. I want you to tell me confidentially if you feel Jessica is in real physical danger, if there’s a risk to her life.”

“I will do that. If anything comes to that.”

 

 Part 25