Michael, Antoinette, and Me

 

Part 30

 

“Two Sly Mcgees, please,” I said, Pamala working onto the bar stool in her white gown to her ankles, white floppy hat, three-inch heeled sandals, elfin makeup to perfection, me complimenting Pamala in my skirted tuxedo.

“Artemis. I’m driving.”

“I know.”

Mcgee snickered. “Coming right up.”

Pamala sat back, startled. “Eh, it’s me.”

I giggled, almost a laugh, glancing the mirror in the back of the bar. “Takes some getting used to.”

“Ladies,” Mcgee said, setting our drinks.

“They told me at the Commadore you have dancing.”

“Don’t they?”

“Not on Tuesday nights.”

“Makes sense.”

“Not to me.”

“In the back.” He nodded.

In the back was a double entranceway with a black curtain fifty paces off.

As we worked from the stools, Mcgree said, “Eh, Artemis, sorry about the other night. I had no idea who you are.”

“You’re only inappropriate to women, ah, not like me?”

He balked. “Bryant took it to me pretty good.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “Dixon gossips like an old woman.”

“That he does. Again, apologies.”

“In the future, you may wish to assume a woman is someone important before slurring the profession.”

“I will. Do just that.”

“Apology accepted, then.”

His eyes bulged at the tip.

 

As we walked, Pamala looped my arm. “I should be home, studying. Final finals Thursday and Friday.”

“If you don’t know the material by now –”

“It’s a tradition. We could have just gone back to the room.”

“I promised you a dance. In public. I’ve been treating you terribly.”

“Have not.”

“Well, you want to do things. I’ve been a stick in the mud.”

“I understand why you’re sticky in the mud. Besides, you never stop me from doing anything I want to do.”

We drew much attention from diners, many scowls like people had shit smeared on their upper lips.

“We’re going to get thrown out.”

I laughed maybe inappropriately, definitely too loud. “Not a chance.”

Cameron Hightower blocked my path. “Miss Grimes,” he greeted. “You’ve not gotten back to me.” He looked from me to Pamala and back.

“Mr. Hightower –”

“Call me Cameron.”

“Mr. Hightower. Business has had me, well busy. How about I call you in the morning.”

“I just wanted to ask you.” He looked at Pamala again. “I have a formal business dinner Thursday night. I certainly don’t mean as a date.”

“You want eye candy on your arm.”

“Someone who’s smart, articulate.”

“Someone who won’t embarrass you.”

“That, too.”

“My white cross over gown OK?”

“Perfect.”

“Send a car for me.”

“6 o’clock.”

“Mr. Hudson will call me down.”

“I’ll have you back to the Commadore by ten, eleven at that latest, unless we have other plans.”

“Mr. Hightower. Make no mistake. We will never have other plans.”

“I really appreciate this. I do need someone I can trust in the room. Mrs. French says that you.”

“Yes. That’s me.”

“Who are you?” Pamala asked as Hightower hurried off, the curtain pulled back for us.

“Bryant,” I greeted.

“Miss Grimes. Will you be coming downstairs?”

“Likely not.”

“Some people are anxious to see you again.”

I offered a laugh. “They’d like to see their money again.”

“A wonder to behold, Miss Grimes. Many people are still talking about it.”

“Bryant.”

“Oh, of course. Sorry to intrude.”

A man in a tuxedo rivaling mine stood from behind the built-in desk, offered a slight bow. The room was dim, relatively small, tan wooden dance floor in the center, cozy tables with candles along the walls.

Fortyish, dark brown hair in a crew cut, happy brown eyes, he smiled. “Looks like you have the place to yourself. Do you favor some of that rock and or roll?”

“Might you have Moonlight Serenade?” I asked.

“If you don’t mind a few scratches, I have an original version Glenn Miller recorded during the war.”

“Perfect.”

Pamala, her hands to my waist, my forearms on her shoulders, we swayed to the music watching each other, Pamala looking as much not like Pamala as I didn’t look like Toby.

“Hum?” I answered. “Didn’t hear you?”

“I know you wandered off.”

“Lost, in you.”

“I know the feeling. That guy –”

"Cameron Hightower.”

“Creepy. Old enough to be your creepy grandfather.”

“Do you want the short story?”

“Yes.”

“He’s in the chain of people who ordered the assault on Jane.”

“I don’t ever want to hear the long story. Mom and Dad went at it. Over you.”

“That’s been going on a while.”

“She actually said we should break up.”

“Did Dad stamp his foot? Get red-faced?”

“Exactly.”

“Play it again, please,” I called across the room.

“One more time,” he called back.

“I’ll bring the file over. Lay it out. After she gets done vomiting, I’ll ask her for suggestions on what to do.”

“It’s not just that.”

“Oh, the rest is just lumping on.”

“You fucked my sister.”

“She told you that?”

“Besides it being obvious, who else can she talk to?”

“I don’t know about your family. Even with a Little Match Girl blood oath, Maria can’t keep her mouth shut.”

“She compared it to watching you dance naked in the snow.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

“There was blubbering. A lot of blubbering.”

“I think I told you. We had a perfect moment.”

“I know all that, Toby, I still feel violated. Like if I were to walk into our apartment finding Michael prancing around in my clothes masturbating.”

“That’s the exact word I’ve been looking for. Michael nutting in my underwear.”

“Eww.”

“Well, the underwear is silk.”

“Like I’m wearing now.”

I rolled my eyes.

“So. Mom’s like we should kick you to the curb.”

“You said you’d leave, come live with me.”

“How’d you know?”

“Your father and I have had this conversation. I told him I’d never put you in that position, suggesting he do the same. Do I get a new roommate?”

“Eh, no. I’m only seventeen.”

“I’m fifteen.”

“I hadn’t planned to spend the night like this. I thought we’d be in that swimming pool of a bathtub by now. What’s downstairs?”

“You got two public dances from me.”

“Again?” he asked from across the room.

We broke, I approached. “Thank you.”

He accepted two twenties. “Thank you!”

I expected Bryant to pull the curtain back. He didn’t.

“Light dinner?” I suggested.

“I don’t like the way they’re looking at us.”

I shrugged, steering toward the bar, turning, my elbows on the wood, Pamala matching my pose on my right watching out across the patrons, heads glancing us, many with well I never faces.

“Hello, Miss Mathers,” I said to my left.

Flustered, half turning on her stool, Inspector April Mathers looked quickly in all directions, then narrowed her eyes at me.

“Artemis Grimes.” I offered a hand, which she accepted.

“You have me at a disadvantage.”

She worn a powder blue dress, almost a gown, floating across her thighs, overdone makeup indicating the habit rare.

“Must be the hat.” I put my Edwardian top hat on the bar. “Anything?”

Again, she glanced all directions. “I’m kind of undercover here, if –”

“Kind of. Which means your investigation is of a private nature, not sanctioned by the office.”

“I’d better go.” She grabbed her clutch.

“Relax, April. I already told you we’re on the same side, maybe me more so than you.”

She narrowed her eyes, whispering, “Toni?”

“Artemis Grimes.” I winked. “What brings you to the Redman’s Bar and Grill?”

“No.” She shook her head. “You can’t be. I mean –”

I waved a hand in the air.

“Miss Grimes?” McGee asked, hurrying up as if waiting for my signal.

“Pamala?”

“Sure.”

“Two Sly McGees, and?”

He laughed.

“Oh, I like a Manhattan, up.”

As he crafted the cocktails in front of us, I said, “Sly?”

“Miss Grimes?”

“Put this on Mrs. French’s tab.”

He hesitated. “Very well, Miss Grimes.”

Once again with the three of us alone at the bar, Mathers asked, “Christeen French?”

“Yes.”

“Toni, I –”

“Artemis Grimes. Artemis. Miss Grimes if you must.”

“OK. Artemis –”

“Why don’t you just tell me what you want here. I can help.”

She lowered her voice, not needing to. “It’s the Demarko murder.”

“So, you’ve decided her death wasn’t accidental.”

“The original autopsy like you said, is gone.”

“I didn’t say that but go on.” I glanced behind me. “You OK?”

Pamala nodded, maybe too excited.

Mathers pursed her lips. “I did get some off the record information, you know, asking the help. At least a direction. Background.”

“Mathers. What do you want here, being kind of undercover and all, at Redman’s Bar and Grill? You all dressed up like you’re looking for a date.”

She nodded, indicating the direction across the room. “I need to get downstairs. I was hoping to catch the eye of a regular –”

“You have no backup.”

“I do not.”

“You could get yourself killed.”

“You already told me that once.”

“Pamala.”

“Artemis.”

“How would you like to take a walk on the dark side?”

“I bet it’ll dirty my hair.”

“I promise it will.”

Lifting my Sly Mcgee, pushing off the bar, I said, “Against my better judgement –”

 

“Hello Larry.”

“Miss Grimes,” the man on the door at the back of the kitchen answered.

I narrowed my eyes.

“Of course, Miss Grimes.”

He opened the door.

Pamala giggled in the dim hallway.

“Toby –” Mathers started.

“Stay in character, Mathers. You could get us killed.”

“Sorry. It’s just –”

The elevator door opened. “Miss Grimes,” Bryant greeted. “You said –”

“Changed my mind. Pamala. My girlfriend. Miss Mathers. My associate.”

“We weren’t expecting guests.”

The elevator door closed.

“You may speak freely, Bryant.”

He drew a hard breath. “I think not, Miss Grimes.”

“As you wish.”

“Mrs. French would like a word. She’s not been able to catch you.”

The door opened on a busy room. Exiting, I asked, “What do you like,” to Pamala.

She glanced the tables, maybe too excited again. “Blackjack sounds fun!”

I rolled my eyes, placing a bundle of money in her hand. “Bryant, if you would chaperone my girlfriend, I’d appreciate it.”

“Eh, OK. Mrs. French –”

“I’ll see Mrs. French.”

I watched Pamala move off on Bryant’s arm. “Matters?”

“I’m dizzy.”

“I can only imagine.”

“Christeen French?”

“Yes.” We moved around the tables. I nodded back to people who pretended to know me.

“I’m dizzier. I’ve seen the file.”

“You haven’t seen my file on her.”

“We have a file, I mean there’s an alert and profile going around about you, I mean Grimes.”

“I’m not a secret. I was on the front page of the newspaper.”

“Really?”

“Below the fold. Now that I got you in the room, who you looking for.”

“I’m not sure this is the place to have that conversation.”

“Clandestine meetings are best held out in the open.”

She glanced the room, circling. “I expected to see Bill Locke here. He has an associate who’s allusive.”

“I guess Playland pointed you in the correct direction.”

“I’m amazed, maybe shocked by how many people are lying, even on official reports.”

“I believe you call that not worth pursuing.”

“There’s holes in his file I could drive my car through.”

“Like?”

“Missing arrest reports.”

“With nobody talking. Often, not much money is needed to make something not worth pursuing. You won’t find him in this crowd. He’s considered a joke, a minor player, a clown, and he doesn’t even know it.”

I thought Matters would stamp her foot.

“What did you find out,” Alexander Forde greeted, hurrying up on me.

“Hello, Mr. Forde.”

“Well?”

“I do not work for you.”

“I thought we had an understanding.”

I glanced Matters. “Men.”

“Uh?”

“Oh, Mr. Forde. Allow me to present my associate, Miss Mathers. Men. It’s like you didn’t even see Miss Mathers standing here.”

I thought he was going to stamp his foot.

“Miss Mathers, imagine.”

“Imagining, Miss Grimes.”

“As I understand it at this point, Mr. Forde pulled a shady deal, stealing the lifesaving from a crippled woman.”

“Grimes,” Forde threatened.

I packed all the dismissiveness possible into a casual shrug. “Mrs. French did ask me to look into it. Did you just growl, Mr. Forde?

“No! And it wasn’t like that.”

“A child comes along and pulls a shadier deal.”

“A child, Miss Grimes?”

“A child, Miss Mathers.”

“Grimes,” he threatened again. “Not here.”

“You started it here,” Mathers said.

I nodded. “You did.”

I held Forte’s eyes. “At this point, Mr. Forde, I am not inclined to take the contract.”

Mathers feigned a laugh. Though feigned, the feigning was pretty good, her hand coming to my forearm. “Just how old is this child?”

Forde’s face glowed red. “Don’t you dare mock me!”

“Oh, my dear Mr. Forde. The mockery is done. We’re just pointing it out. She’s fifteen, Miss Mathers.”

Mathers leaned toward Forde, wide eyes. “Fifteen! For half what Miss Grimes contracts for, I’ll take the child over my knee and give her a good spanking. That will straighten her out.”

Forde stormed off.

“That was fun, Miss Grimes. He really wanted you to kill a fifteen-year-old?”

“Ironically, me.”

Mathers leaned back, narrowing her eyes. “No. Really?”

“First try was fifty bucks and a used car.”

“I meant: fifteen?”

I offered another shrug. “Mrs. French.”

“Artemis. So good to see you.” She glanced Mathers. “Can I steal you for a moment?”

“Of course.” With a palm up, I offered, “My associate, Miss Mathers. Miss Mathers, allow me to present Christeen French.”

Mathers nodded once. “My pleasure.”

“Associate?”

“Miss Mathers handles the minor jobs, like killing children.”

French rolled her eyes in the direction Forde retreated. “I love when you make them mad. So artistic, such a flare.”

“Making them angry is why I was able to clean them out the other night. Angry, they get sloppy, want to get even.”

“What a dark, deep rabbit hole that is.”

 

The small office off the main room was Spartan, baron, a small plain desk in the middle of the room, which Mrs. French leaned her butt on.

“Reminds me of the box,” I said absently. “Oh, interrogation room. I’ve had the pleasure, never broken.”

Mrs. French nodded, watching me. “Artemis, firstly, if you would do me the respect of not bringing guests downstairs without prior notice. People get nervous.”

“Wasn’t a plan. Spur of the moment. Hadn’t given it any thought. Happenstance. I trust Pamala and Miss Mathers with my life, which I know isn’t the point.”

She waved at the air, giving Mathers a nod. “I’ll extend that to Pamala and Mathers on your recommendation. What of this distasteful business with Forde?”

“I see no reason to involve you in that.”

“Good. How’s your evaluation coming?”

“All I have is conjecture at this point.”

She waved a hand, palm up. “Feel free.”

“You’re bleeding. Wholesale robbery. Everyone has a hand in the till.”

She kept my eyes for five seconds. “How about we slam the till on their fingers?”

“No one knows my business. I’d like to keep it that way, bring in a forensics accountant. Do what we can to find your money, then freeze all your assets and accounts and their assets and accounts, too.”

“How do you freeze their assets?”

“Unexpected death, if need be, which is why my associate, Miss Mathers is in town.”

“Artemis, I –”

“Conjecture. The plan is for them to weaken you, then take over your business. I anticipate being approached. Hightower has me engaged to a business meeting Thursday night.”

“Hightower. I thought he was my friend.”

“Make no mistake, Mrs. French. The only person even close to being your friend is standing in the room right now.” I glanced behind me toward the door. “They don’t respect you. They don’t even like you.”

She watched the floor, an eternity passing. Her eyes caught mine. “I don’t understand. Why?”

“To put it bluntly, Mrs. French. You don’t have a dick. There is no one on your payroll you can trust.”

“I’ve had the feeling the past five years I’ve not been up to it.”

“Since your husband died.”

“Yes. I need a right hand. Someone I can trust. A confidante. You. Name your price.”

“I told you already, Mrs. French. I don’t work for anyone.”

“I’ll do it,” Mathers said, stepping forward. “Artemis will release me.”

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“I can work everything out.”

“Artemis?” Mrs. French asked.

“I like the idea,” I said, because sometimes that’s just the way the universe works.

 

Shawn’s hands came to my waist from behind, her lips to my neck. “You came in late last night, smelling like Pam.”

I pushed back from the stove. “We danced. In public.”

“In public!”

“Don’t mock me. I’d have to kill you. Pam did a hit and run.”

“Oh, I’d hit and run her any day.”

“I like to decompress.”

“So do I, but I’ll take the hit and run anyway.”

“Morning,” Michelle greeted, sitting at the table. “You two just can’t keep your hands off each other.”

Shawn nudged me from the stove. “I’ve got this.”

I sat. “Turns out Pamala sucks a blackjack.”

“How sucky?” Shawn asked, cracking eggs.

“Twelve hundred, and change.”

“Twelve hundred!”

“And change.”

“Where do you play cards for money?” Michelle asked.

“None of your business. Gambling is a terrible habit.”

“You play.”

“The way I play, it’s not gambling.”

Shawn showed me her watch.

“You’re no fun. Shouldn’t you be at work?”

“Jane’s back.”

“Really. The doctors said –”

“I know, I know. Have you met Jane?” She placed our eggs on the table. “Karen said she didn’t approve, but Jane was OK, and she’d be with her all day.”

“Karen’s working out? I thought Karen would be home, curled up in a corner, crying by now.”

“I think the kid is some kind of witch.”

“If you call empathy witchcraft. So, you’re free?”

Shawn said, going at her breakfast. “Noon meeting. You and me still have to finalize the ads.”

“Raining. Wednesday. I think today would be a great day to buy Ray lunch.”

Shawn looked across the living room, out the window as if counting the raindrops. “Yes. A good day.”

“Can I use the car tonight?” Michelle asked.

“May I and please,” I said.

“It’s OK,” Shawn told me. “Don’t give it back to me with an empty gas tank, beer bottles on the floor, and a used rubber on the backseat.”

“Eww.”

“I’ll treat your car like it’s my own.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“I’m taking Lenette to Michealangelo's. I called Jess. She plans something special!”

“Jessica. I need to call Jessica.”

Shawn rolled her eyes teasingly. “I heard what happened.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Ha! Now I know there’s something to hear.”

 

“Raymond Montgomery Schmit,” I read aloud, closed the file, setting the folder aside.

We watched Linda Schmit’s green Chevy station wagon disappear around the corner. Raymond emerged from his front door, crossing yards to the neighbor’s house.

“Not too subtle,” Shawn mused.

Twelve minutes leaked by.

“Barely a hit and run,” I said.

The back door lock was compromised easily, letting us in the kitchen, through the house, up the stairs to the shower. I knelt, nodding to Shawn. Shawn nodded back.

I pulled the shower curtain open, Shawn hit Raymond decisively on the side of the head with a fist-size river rock. He bounced off the wall, collapsing in the tub. I closed the drain, holding Raymond under as the tub filled. “Just to me sure.”

I closed the curtain, pulling the rod from the wall. “Most fatal accidents happen in the home, most of those in the bathtub.”

Shawn nodded on the stairs. “I heard that.” She showed her watch. “Dance?”

“Stop that with the watch.”

“Not likely.”

“We have to go over the ads. First, Philly.”

“October’s Surprise.”

“I love Jessica more than I have words.”

“That’s scary.”

“I think she’s doing that name thing just to mock me.”

“Honor you. October’s Surprise. That’s what Ray just got.”

 

At my direction, Richard Katz assembled the personnel involved with the church roof in what would become the main dining room, the men lining up like a military inspection.

“I don’t have the words to express how thankful I am to all of you. Amazing job.”

They all spoke at once.

Shawn showed her palm, approaching the first man. “Shawn Beedle, your name?”

“Eh, Dave, Miss Beedle.”

She took his right hand with hers, placing an envelope in his left. “Thank you for the great work, Dave.”

Shawn repeated the ritual until she reached the last person. “Theodore Avery,” she said.

“Miss Beedle,” he answered.

She shook his hand, offering the envelope. “Toby says we need to talk.”

The other men hurried away excitedly, throwing thank yous at Shawn. Katz came to one side, I the other.

“Best boss I’ve ever had,” Katz told Shawn, winking at me.

“I need a handyman, Ted. Mr. Katz and Toby seem to think that’s you.”

He swallowed hard. “They do?”

“They do,” I said.

“We have a company truck you can use, though we’re thinking about adding a van.”

“We are? Sure, good idea.”

“We have an account at Harold’s Hardware. Big jobs we’ll do the material takeoff together. You can buy any tools we don’t have, which will remain company tools.”

“How many hours. I like working a lot of hours.”

“Parttime for now. I’m sure Mr. Katz will –”

“I will.”

“The pay?”

“You’ll like the package.”

 

“Questions? Comments? Criticisms?”

“I thought about a fulltime handyman, now I wonder if I can keep him busy.”

“I was referring to killing Raymond, but OK.”

She laughed, coming to the toll booth on the bridge. “I’ve got nothing. I thought I’d not hit him hard enough, then thought I hit him too hard. I thought it’d be more, eh, exciting. What was exciting was watching those men open those envelopes. I think if I somehow got a thrill out of killing Ray, seeing him naked, helpless in the tub, I’d be like him. Don’t get me wrong, Toby. I’m ready for our next one. I just don’t want to be him.”

“I thought the same thing, Paul lying on the ground dead, watching me from death. I thought there’d be fireworks, bells, whistles. Something.”

“As you held him under, my only thought was wondering if I could drown your father in the toilet and wiping our wet footprints from the kitchen floor.”

“I wanted to check the refrigerator. They seem like the kind of family who’d have apple pie in the refrigerator.”

“Leftover spaghetti from last night.”

“We have time to grab a bite.”

“I wanted to eat their spaghetti, Toby.”

“Oh, like a fuck you, I killed Raymond.”

“Exactly like that.”

“Nice kitchen, large. I like that what? Island counter instead of a table.”

“Can’t lounge on bar stools like you can kitchen chairs and I certainly couldn’t bang you on that.”

“So many considerations. That’s why I need a number one.”

 

My father introduced himself, Shawn sitting behind the desk, me on a chair against the wall to his right, hood of my sweatshirt up.

“What’s a 1 Bread?”

“Maybe 1 Bread needs some advertising, too.”

“We have reasonable pricing –” He half opened a folder.

“Tony’s Lawn Service.” Shawn turned copy for him to see. “This size, section two, above the fold.”

“This is some great artwork. Not just beautiful, but a great artist, too.”

She held his eyes. “You can just fuck off with that womanizing bullshit.”

He reeled back. “I didn’t mean –”

I stood. “Sure, you did. That’s your schtick. Maybe it’s overaggressive Dale Carnegie, maybe it’s womanizing bullshit. Did you have beer for breakfast?”

“Eh, I was taking out the trash, spilled on me.”

Keeping his eyes, I said, “Shawn, if you’re not OK here, I can handle this.”

“I really just meant it as a compliment.”

Shawn stood, maybe growled a little, heading for our safe room.

I placed a finger on the copy. “Tony’s Lawn Service. This size, section two, above the fold. Resizing is OK as long as you keep the content.”

He nodded. “Handyman service? How about adding something like No job too small in italics?”

“Good idea. Let’s. Now, Royal Taxi and Limousine Service. This size. Run it Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. This size. Entertainment, first page, above the fold.”

“You can save money Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday.”

I rolled my eyes so hard, the room should have collapsed. “Why do they charge less? That’s right. Fewer readers those days.”

“Eh, I was just saying –”

“Don’t act like I’m stupid.”

“I wasn’t –” He read the ad copy. “You can down scale the art, what’s this anyway? A woman on crutches? Add in bold type Dependable Airport Service.”

“Below the artwork, in italics, Taxi Jane. She runs the service. I’m going to get Chase Hastings to profile Jane. It’s a hero’s tale. Maybe Olivia Abner. I do like Chase’s style better. Everybody boasts airport service. Taxi Jane is not everyone. This is the type of ad people will see, clip, tape it to the refrigerator door for when they ever do need a taxi.”

“Good points.”

“Chase is working on a profile of 1 Bread. When that runs, we’ll be picking up ads for that, too.”

“I’ll get proofs back to you, run these starting next week.”

“See Shawn. I just work here.”

“Anything else?”

“Sure. One more thing. Find yourself a group. You have a drinking problem. Most churches have them and they’re free.”

“One other thing for you. Mind your own business. I just lost my daughter –”

“A drunk only has one lover, and that lover certainly isn’t me. Tell yourself the stories you must, tell whatever lies you need to just to keep drinking. Then blame your wife, your girlfriend, the price of coffee, the rain, your daughter dying. Tell yourself, just one more beer for breakfast, she’ll rise from the grave, and I won’t fuck it up this time.”

“Toby,” Shawn whispered in my ear, her arm around my shoulder. “Take a breath.” She looked at my father. “She’s had a tough time, you know, with family. Given half a chance, she pontificates.”

“That was some pretty good pontificating, no?” I asked.

“Sometimes, we have to sedate her.”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “It was, good pontificating. Do you personally know of such a meeting.”

“I do. Tonight, 8 o’clock,” Shawn said, writing down the address of Petey’s church.

 

“He has an addiction problem. He needs help, not scorn.”

“A rebar across his head, three, four times, would cure that addiction.”

“That it would, Shawn, that it would.”

“Dance for me. Sanctuary?”

“I need The Pines. Fuck, Thursday night. Then, Saturday.”

She glanced the calendar. “I have the front loader. What’s tomorrow night?”

“Mobster dinner. Don’t write that down. However, I should be home, the apartment, by eleven.”

“If that’s an invitation, I will write that down.”

I let out a sigh. “I need Pamala in the easy chair. I’ll settle for you in my bed.”

“I don’t mind being the settled for. I’d not be surprised to see me in your bed tonight. I’d rather have Pamala in my bed, but I’ll settle for you. You need not detail what’s excluded.”

“Which is the reason you’re invited.”

“Lunch?”

The door opened. “I took a chance you might be here.”

I rolled my eyes. “Not that it’s not always great to see you, Miss Reeves.”

Placing her dripping umbrella by the door, she dropped down next to me. “Is it possible we get the room?”

“Shawn’s my number one. She needs to know everything I know in the event I get hit by a meteor rock.”

“Don’t even kid about that,” Shawn said.

“We have a big problem.”

“That would be me with the problem. I’ve already killed one person today, two is easy.”

“I don’t know how you know these things.”

“Archetype LLC is being drained?”

“How did you know?”

“Shit like this is going around. How bad?”

“It’s not like it’s illegal.”

“Expenses, inflated salaries.”

“Since you’re funding the LLC with illegal money –”

“We have no legal recourse.”

“The best thing to do is –”

“Strangle Archetype LLC down to the restaurant project with every expenditure approved by you, open a parallel LLC for all my other dealings.”

“Grimes LLC. Solely owned by Artemis Grimes.” She produced a single form. “Sign here.”

“All those other papers –”

“Aside from the restaurant ownership, the other forms assured they could pick your pocket.”

“Jessica?”

“She seems to be completely in the dark.”

“Falcon?”

“Inflating his salary.”

“By?”

“Too much to be an oversight.”

“I need a new law firm.”

“Not actually. My Great Uncle Robert Morrison. He’s the reason I got into law in the first place. He doesn’t practice much, well, hardly at all, his office in his house. He’s in and out. I went with the big firm for wider experience.”

“You’re lawyering under his name.”

“I’m shutting up, keeping quiet, wearing short skirts, maybe I’ll even show some cleavage, smiling, staying with Stenholm, Koel, and Viceroy until they catch on and fire me.”

“Everything with Charlotte OK?”

“Eh, yeah.”

“How are you at accounting?”

“As in?”

“Forensic. Who’s stealing what.”

“I did OK on the Royal Taxi and Limousine Service file. Archetype LLC was easy because of their arrogance.”

“Long story short. I need someone I can trust. It’s illegal.”

“I’ll do it,” Shawn said.

I narrowed my eyes.

“It only took me two hours to figure out people were stealing from Jane, another two hours to figure who, how and how much.”

“Art major.”

“I’m still an art major.”

“What are you talking about, Toby?”

“I have no short stories, Jennifer. By happenstance, a local mob boss mistook me for a mythological problem solver.”

“Mythological problem solver?”

“Assassin.”

“Just how did that come about?”

“I’m teamed up with a private investigator on a caper.”

“A caper?”

“Let’s forget that. Christeen French –”

“Wait.” She showed me her palm. “You’re auditing Christeen French?”

“I’m auditing for Mrs. French.”

Reeves stared at Shawn for an entire ten seconds. “Her holdings have to be massive. I’ll do it. I’m not an art major.”

“Then it’s settled. Friday evening. Eight o’clock. Meet here. All three of us.”

“Rendezvous,” Shawn suggested. “As soon as you said caper.”

“Yes,” Reeves said.

 

I’d told Shawn I was going to walk to my house on Newton. She suggested she drive, having planned interviewing families for 1 Bread.

“I won’t fuck you, I can’t do sanctuary right now, Pamala’s working, and I can’t get to The Pines, so a mile and half walk in the rain is what I have.”

The door to Expressions Dance Studio opened easily, letting me into the dim front room. Finding my way to the office, I leaned on the doorjamb. “Hello, Mrs. Larkin.

“Toby.”

“I need a favor.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Shawn loves to dance. Shawn loves working with the children. Don’t take that away from her because you and I have had differences.”

“I need someone dependable, responsible. Not someone who’s going to go running off with the likes of you.”

“Wow, that’s a lot to digest there. Do you know Taxi Jane?”

“I do, that poor woman.”

“She got mugged.”

“She got mugged?”

“Put in the hospital.”

“That’s terrible, but what does that have to do with –”

“Shawn took Jane’s place, to keep the taxi company open while Jane was in the hospital. That’s why she asked you to cover her classes.”

“I don’t understand –”

“I own the company now, ate the debt to keep Jane from living on the street.” I panned the room. “This building is up for sale. Mr. Thomas wants me to buy it. I could put you out of the street by the end of the month if I wanted to.”

Larkin sat back in her chair.

“Here’s what I want to do. You allow Shawn to continue teaching her classes, do that flapper dance when she can. I’ll pick up her salary.”

“I guess I could –”

“Two stipulations.”

“Which are?”

“You never tell Shawn of our deal. You double her salary.”

Larkin rolled her jaw like I’d shoved shit in her mouth. “Deal.”

I placed a contract on the desk. “Tell your girlfriend I’ll be getting to her dead aunt’s property next week, the worked as detailed here.”

“Life partner.”

“Pleasure doing business with you.”

 

“Fix it or drop it,” I said, watching the garage, the garage in the back yard against the fence. “Repair or build new?” I liked the idea of front loader, the garage sitting on a concrete pad justifying the equipment. I also liked the idea of building a new garage, working from blueprints I could get from John Goldman.

The cramped bathroom didn’t offer the space for my massive bathtub. Again, Mr. Goldman.

A truck jockeyed to back in the driveway, offloading a trash container.

“What’s your name?” I called over the truck engine, the driver climbing back in.

“Mike. What’s it to you.”

I passed up a twenty. “Thanks, Mike, what’s it to you.”

“Thanks, kid!” He laughed.

I laughed with him.

 

Twenty bags of trash or so later, I stopped on the porch, bag in each hand. A man in a dark suit, dark trench coat, brown wool Fedora approached on the walk. He removed his hat, looking up.

“You again?”

I dropped the bags, shrugging. “I could think you flowed me, which would be creepy.”

He put a foot to the second step, resting his hands. “This used to be my house.”

“Is that right?”

“Yep. I thought I made it, you know.”

“I do not.”

He stood straight, puffing his chest. “Me. I bought a house. Me. A boy from poverty. I owned a house.”

Again, I shrugged.

“Got stolen from me. Shinny shoed salesman. Do you work for him?”

“Not without a good helping of irony, I stole the house from him, Gus Avery. I didn’t even have to try. Came to me as collateral damage in another deal.”

“You don’t look old enough to even deal cards.”

I winked. “Underestimate me, I have you right where I want you.”

“I bet everyone underestimates you. What you said. About drinking. I often wonder.”

“Wonder no more. Both my parents were heavy drinkers. They killed me, murdered dead.”

“You’re a ghost?”

“No. They killed my spirit. My soul. My humanity. There’s gaps in my relationships I could push the moon through. Yes. They murdered me. I often wonder, too.”

Moments leaked by like sand from a clenched fist.

He deflated, hanging like purple wisteria on a holly tree.

“My daughter is dead, I mean, really dead. In the ground dead. I think about what I could have done.”

“I told you. A drunk loves only one thing. That’s not his daughter.”

“I’m not a –” He paused, looking up at me. “I am, aren’t I?”

“If you have to ask the question, you already know the answer.”

He nodded. “May I come in, look around. Maybe I’ll find something. Something I left behind.”

“Suit yourself.” I retrieved the two bags, pushing by, off to the trash container.

Three trips later, I found him in his bedroom, clutching a framed wedding photo, sobbing.

“Shawn gave you the address.”

He nodded.

“Father Petey lost something, too.”

“He can help me find it?”

“Maybe he can help you live with it.”

 

He found his car up the block. I told him he could have the photograph in the frame. He thanked me, I’m not sure for what. I remembered me as a child, sitting on the top step, terrified. Her path called, I followed, running until I dropped to my knees in sanctuary.

The one gift my parents gave me.

 

“Michael,” I greeted, entering the apartment.

“I was just leaving.”

“You look nice,” I said because I was supposed to. Michael, in his dark suit with the pink tie, a man standing in my apartment did not look nice.

“Thanks. I feel like a crossdresser.”

“Please be careful with Shawn’s car.”

“I’m not stupid.”

“Last time you went out with Lenette, you got yourself stupid drunk. Passed out on the floor, to complete the cliché, in a puddle of you own vomit.”

He looked to his shoes. “I told you. I’m not comfortable being Michael. That night, well, lots of things. Those shots with Mr. Decker relaxed me. I wasn’t sacred anymore.”

I bit my lip. “I scolded Shawn good for driving.”

“I know. Then, I’d never done any drinking. I know better now.”

“That doesn’t sound like a promise not to drink and drive.”

“It’s not.”

“I’m not your mother.”

“I know!”

“I was reminding myself, not telling you. Don’t rape Lenette and don’t get her pregnant.”

“Toby! What do you think I am!”

“A man.”

“You know I’m not, really.”

“Shawn tells a different story.”

“I have to go. We’re hanging at the house before dinner.”

 

“I really need The Pines,” I said to the rising bubbles. “You’ll have to do,” the water almost too hot for human emersion. I’d thought to spend the night at the Commadore, the tub large enough to swim in. Shawn was expected, something else that would do.

Besides, I didn’t much feel like playacting Artemis just to get up to my room.

“Playacting is the wrong word,” I said to my book, a ninety-nine-cent novel, a bit of science fiction trash with much too much violent sex passages not to be call pornography. I wondered about the author, a man playing out his fantasies between the soft covers of the book.

Artemis Grimes was product of my imagination, a fantasy I created. She did exist in objective reality, in the stories told by others. Chicken and the egg chased each other in my head. I considered one day the real mythological girl assassin would step up to Artemis Grimes, introducing herself.

I’d considered the girl assassin could be Vienna Rhodes then I meet Olivia Abner. Reginald was a sucker for Sirens. Vienna and Olivia were world class Sallys.

Heaviness like a yearning sat in my chest, Sally always glad to see me in the middle of night, a church entryway, cover from the punishing storm. “Sally is a nice person, good at her job. I shouldn’t be mad because she’s not what I want her to be.”

 I worked to my feet, the water cold. “Because she’s not the illusion I want her to be.”

Dried, naked, windows open allowing the penetration of late Spring's cool touch, I squirreled under the sheet, blanket, and comforter, wraiths whispering sounding like a car in the distance, a baby crying, the drone of a television, a phone ringing.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Shawn whispered in my ear.

“You didn’t. I’m still asleep.”

She snuggled around me. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” In that moment, all was right with the universe until the fifth call of the doorbell pulled me from sleep.

“What is it?” Shawn asked.

“I don’t know.” I dragged the comforter with me, wrapping up, flinging the door open wide.

Time frozen for the eternity of five entire seconds, a sun born on the other side of the galaxy, growing, finally collapsing in on itself creating a black hole while Bob Edwards and I started at each other.

“Is she dead?” I finally managed to ask, heading off a long preamble.

“God, no, Toby. Why would you think such a thing?”

Shawn’s wrist appeared from my left. “It’s just after midnight. You’re ringing my bell.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Shawn? What are –”

I snapped my fingers in front of his face. “Focus, Edwards.”

“There’s been an accident, well, it wasn’t so much an accident –”

“Don’t make me snap my fingers again.”

“Pamala was mugged leaving work.”

“Jump to the bottom line. Diagnosis and prognosis.”

“Huh, oh. She’s in the hospital. Room 305, but you can’t see her. Immediate family only.”

I was loading up She’s my fucking wife when Shawn stepped in front of me. “What do we know, Bob?”

“Assholes. Jumped her. Banged her around, sunk a knife in her chest. If not for Pete –”

“Bob?”

“What?”

“The knife to the chest?”

“Oh, the doctor said she was really lucky. Didn’t cut any major arteries, collapsed her lung, though.”

I turned away, leaning my back on Shawn, holding her hand.

“Toby, I –”

“Not the time, Bob.”

“It is the time, Toby. You’re not to see her. Ever. This is your fault, you know, flaunting your relationship so publicly. This was bound to happen.”

From behind Shawn, facing away, I said, “I warned you, Edwards, don’t make Pamala choose. You’d be a fucking asshole to put her in that position, and you’re not going to like her choice.”

“Why I ought to –”

“Edwards, you have nothing to ought to.”

“Taylor says she has enough to bring you down. Hard.”

“I told you this wasn’t the time. Shawn, slam the door shut.”

She did.

“Damn. Your car.” I worked quickly into sweatpants and hooded sweatshirt, boots unlaced. Going into Michelle’s room, I stuffed my wig in a paper bag, red suede bag over my shoulder, lifting my bicycle. “I’ll be back in twenty minutes, meet me at 1 Bread.”

 

I rummaged through the files, snapping the photo I wanted to a clipboard. “You’ve never seen where I used to live.”

“I have not.”

“I’ll give you directions.” On the way, I did my makeup and snugged the wig on my head.

 

My mother’s green Ford wasn’t in the parking lot. “Which is too bad. I may have liked to kill her right about now.”

“Kill who?”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to say that aloud.”

 

The back door lock surrendered easily, the stench filling my head. “People.” In my mother’s room, I gathered a dress and white pantihose from the hamper, white shoes from the closet, small white hat from the dresser. With my hand on the doorknob, I turned back, going to my brother’s room.

I was not aware he snored.

“Mark.”

“Uh, what?” He came up on his elbow, narrowing his eyes in the dark. “You’re dead.”

“Yes, I am.”

He fell back to the bed, hard, pulling the blanket over his head. “Go away!”

“Hit Donna Weber again, I come back and kill you.”

He sat up. “You’re a ghost! Ghosts can’t do anything here!”

I delivered a roundhouse to his jaw, almost knocking him off the bed. “Watch what you assume.”

 

I wrestled changing clothes in the truck.

“Did you kill him?”

“I could have. Left him sobbing, terrified.”

“Oh, I forgot. He thought you were his dead sister.”

“Around back. I saw employees entering through the ER when we picked up Jane.”

“You’re cute dressed like this. Maybe you can give me an exam later.”

“Sure. Maybe.” I dropped from the truck.

 

I checked the monitors, then her chart, which was pretty much as Edwards reported.

“Pamala,” I whispered.

Her eyelids fluttered.

“Pamala,” I repeated.

She smiled, her palm coming to my cheek. “I’m dying to meet you, Antoinette. October will be fine. I’ll visit her like you do, but way more often. I was hoping it’d be you come for me.”

I took her hand, kissing her palm. “You can’t get away from me that easily.”

“Toby. Now I’m embarrassed.”

“I couldn’t love you more than in this moment.”

“I love you back more than that. You had to sneak in. OK. I get it, not visiting hours. Dad came to see you.”

I held up the clipboard. “This the asshole.”

“That’s the asshole. How’d you do that?”

“He’s the guy who kicked my door in, smacked me in the face. Works for Tammy. I have a file on all the people I think may be trouble.”

“I was out of it. Dad was carrying on that I got a random mugging because I’m gay. I figured more likely payback for knocking Tammy on her ass.”

“Or getting Tammy fired.”

“I didn’t get Tammy fired.”

“I did.”

“How?”

“Long story. Information came up in another matter, which I passed onto Mr. Bailey.”

“Bailey gave you that necklace, payment for the information?”

“He did. Not payment. More like gratitude.”

“Mom and Dad.”

“Not now, Pamala.”

“They said they’re banning you from me.”

“Like that could ever happen. You need to do the graduation thing.”

“Ever since I saw Maria up on the stage, proud, beautiful. I’ve wanted to be there.”

“You will.”

“I’ll be missing my two finals.”

I watched the ceiling for a solid minute. “Trust the magic. I’ll have you on that stage in two weeks if I have to buy the school.”

“Toby, really.”

“Besides, Charlotte’s working on a dress that will have you falling to your knees weeping bitter tears.”

“I do that now when I think about how much I love you.”

“I may not see you for a while.”

“I know. Mom and Dad have to calm down.”

“If they ever do.”

“There was a moment, Toby. He had me by the throat, pushed back against the car, the knife high in the air. That moment stretches out forever in front of me. That’s what you were talking about, right?”

A tear formed in my right eye, escaping down my cheek. “It is, and I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about.”

“I have everything to be sorry about.”

“Life, toby. You cannot protect me from life.”

I held up the clipboard. “I had him hogtied on his knees in my living room. If I had killed him then, we’d not be here now.”

“You can’t know that then.”

“I know it now.”

“Toby –”

“If you ever want to know, just ask. Now, with that moment stretching out forever in front of you, you can better understand the choices I make.”

She nodded the best she could. “For now, I think I’ll let you carry that burden.”

“Gladly.”

 

Inspector Joe Bradley greeted me with, “I have no idea how you got my home phone number,” as the 1 Bread door clicked shut behind me.

“I have a file on you.” I offered up a note. “The people I know for a fact Paul Atkinson murdered.”

“Eh, thanks.”

“Do you want to see his file?”

“No.” He sat on the chair against the wall closest to the desk, his right leg over his left. “This can’t be why you woke me up in the middle of the night.”

“Five o’clock.”

“Some people like to sleep in.”

“Pamala Edwards.”

“High school kid. Your special friend.”

“She graduates in two weeks, so update your file.”

“OK.”

“We’re getting married.”

“I did say special.”

“She was attacked in the mall parking lot last night.”

He pursed his lips, his left arm extended over the back of the chairs. “These random acts. Robbery? I can pull the case from the locals, apply my resources. Do interviews, but –”

I tossed a file folder at him, which he caught.

“Not a random act. It was a hit. They were hired to murder her.”

“Who order it? Can you prove it?”

“Tell me how this snatch and hold you and Uncle Peirce pulled on me works.

“You’re thinking a confession. You know that’s not legal, won’t hold up –”

“Joe.”

“Eh, Toby?

“Tell me how it works. I know you said your uncle hooked you in with me. You were too comfortable in the room. You’ve done it before, not legal. I guess information farming.”

“OK. So, he gives up who hired him. Then what?”

“I know who hired them. If you must know, I got Pamala to do a picture identification to confirm.”

“Who?”

“Tammy Flannagan. Works for her father, Hugo Flannagan, bilking rich men out of their money.”

“Hugo is a preacher –”

“Want to see my file? Hugo is a parasite. His only true belief is that the world can be cured of homosexuality. He doesn’t much mind getting rich on the way.”

“I’m familiar with the federal file. They’ve been watching him.”

“Conjecture.”

“OK.”

“I’ve had way too many balls in the air as it is. The flimflam team of Flannagan and Flannagan run a scam where Tammy gets a rich man in a compromising position, likely with his pants down and dick hard, George Davis and Harry Hayes bust in, cameras working, bingo, a hefty donation to fund Hugo’s war on homosexuality.”

“And other things.” He waved a photo. “Nice house.”

“Flannagan and Flannagan are on my to-do list –”

“Too many balls in the air.” He stood. “I’ll get over, look at the file the feds have, talk to whoever’s on the case.”

“Sit.”

He sat.

“I want you and Uncle Peirce to pick up George Davis, put him the box, work him for a couple of hours or until he pisses his pants, whichever comes first. He’s going to fold like a card table. He’s got nothing but his size. Then, I’ll have a word with him.”

Bradley pursed his lips.

“Joe. He put a knife in the chest of a seventeen-year-old girl.”

He caught and held my eyes. “You can’t kill him in the room.”

“Understood. You don’t want to forfeit your security deposit.”

“You mop up?”

“Sure.”

He slid to the desk, looked at his watch, picked up the telephone receiver, working the rotary. “Two o’clock work for you?”

“That’ll be tight. I have a mob dinner at six.”

He rolled his eyes. “Buckle up, Peirce, we’re putting someone in the box. Pick you up at noon. Of course, you get paid.” He replaced the receiver, produced his notepad, scribbling. “Be here, Two o’clock. He’ll be ready to stick a fork in.”

I read the address back. “Two o’clock.”

“I’ll need $500.”

I opened my red suede bag, counting out bills. “A bargain at twice the price.”

“That’s expenses and Peirce.”

“Because taking money would be illegal.”

“Something like that.”

“You should convince Uncle Peirce to quit playing cards. He’s not good at it.”

“Don’t I know it. He’s a grown man.”

“He could get caught in the switches. Drop a building on you.”

“Then, Toby, I’d give you a call at five o’clock in the morning. Maybe he’d slip and fall in the shower after banging his neighbor’s wife.”

I blushed. “Most accidental deaths among healthy Americans happen in the home.”

“I heard that.” He dropped the file hard to the desk. “Those files. Really good work. You should give her a raise.”

“That you’re fishing for my intelligence person tells me you don’t know as much as you wish me to believe.”

“We’re only as good as the people around us.” He winked. “Jacks called me about the slip and fall. I told her –”

“Not worth pursuing.”

“Pulling the curtain rod down. It’s those little things.”

“He was one of the Cambridge rapists.”

“You know this for a fact?”

I chuckled. “At least now I know there’s a Cambridge rapist file out there somewhere.”

“What I know is, it’s a case that goes nowhere.”

“Rich, spoiled white people. Hightower calls your chief –”

“Director. We have a director.”

“Boy, that is annoying. Anyway, Hightower drops a dime, the strange case of the flaming taxi disappears. Matter of fact, I’m Hightower’s plus one at the mob dinner tonight.”

He narrowed his eyes. “My intel really sucks. That, and I just found out I lost the best partner I ever had. You don’t know anything about that, do you?”

“Maybe April Matters grew tired of being treated like she didn’t belong in the room.”

“I can understand that.”

The door opened, Shawn froze.

“It’s OK, Shawn. Give the glad hand to Inspector Joe Bradley. He’s going to put George in the box for us this afternoon.”

“Toby!”

“Shawn’s good. My right hand. You asked me whether I was sure Ray was a Cambridge rapist. Shawn is why I’m sure.”

Bradley took her hand. “Sorry that happened to you.”

“Thanks, Inspector.” She looked at me. “That’s a thing? Cambridge rapist?”

“I told you. I want to see their original charter.”

“You think there’s one?” Bradley asked.

“Maybe we can put one of the pledges in the box, fuck the security deposit, pull his fingernails out one by one until he tells us where the charter is or recites it. I bet there’s a song.” I deepened my voice in singsong, rocking my fists in front of my chest. “We are jolly rapists, raping virgins for fun.”

Shawn gave me the wide eyes. “God, Toby, this is going to be so fun!”

“We’d need to identify the pledges.”

“Cameron Hightower. He’s my date for dinner tonight.”

“Oh, fuck, Toby,” Bradley said. “The mob guy. I would like to see your files.”

“Not today.”

“Two o’clock sharp,” he said, disappearing out the door.

Shawn dropped behind the desk, opened the file drawer. “I have to meet with these people. I have six families signed up so far. Who’s George?”

“The man who sunk the knife in Pamala’s chest. Michael make it home?”

She rolled her eyes. “Late, fell asleep halfway through the story. The guts of his review of the evening is that he loves his dick inside a woman, too much work to get her off.”

“There’s a surprise, huh?”

“Did you get any sleep?”

“I’ll have plenty of time to rest when I’m dead. Give me a couple file cards. I’ll go see some people.”

“Not a chance. You have a talent for many times. This kind of thing, no.”

She showed me her arm.

“I need to drop down the hospital anyway. If you’re coming to George-in-the-box, you have to dress up.”

“Dress up?”

“Femme fatale.”

“Oh, Artemis Grimes posse dress up.”

“You in?”

“Oh, I’m so in.”

 

Sister Rebecca had me in a bear hug before I crossed half the lobby. “I’m so sorry.”

“I am grateful for the hospital, the people.”

“I can’t give you any details.”

We broke, keeping hands, tethering eyes.

“I know the details.”

“I’m not surprised.”

“Resting comfortably.”

“Yes.”

“Let’s settle Jane’s bill.”

“Mr. Falcon took care of that.”

“Peter Santiago.”

“He was discharged this morning.”

“I’ll cover his bill. He was kind to me once when he didn’t have to be.”

“I suppose you’ll be wanting Pamala’s bill, too?”

“You suppose correctly.”

She bit her lip. “They were very specific.”

“About barring me from seeing Pamala.”

“Yes. Mrs. Edwards gave me an odd rant about your sexuality. When she didn’t get the reaction she wanted, she said your relationship is against God.”

“People often get religion when it suits them.”

“Don’t they, though.”

I fished in my suede bag. “On account.”

She accepted the two bundles of bills. “On account.”

“Now the important thing.”

“Oh, I can’t sneak you upstairs.”

I shrugged. “I don’t wish to make them angrier than they already are.”

“People, Toby, always look for someone or something to blame.”

“Scapegoating. I’m familiar with the concept. Getting upstairs wasn’t what I wanted. Pamala has graduation in two weeks.”

“Barring unforeseen complications, that shouldn’t be a problem.”

“She’s missing two of her finals.”

“Oh, I see.”

“I was thinking of dropping down the school with a basket full of money.”

“Money is not always the answer.”

“Not always, but way too often.”

“I’ll call over. Talk to some people. I’m sure I can get a proctor to administer the examines in Pamala’s room. You do know Pamala Edwards is an outstanding student. The administration will go out of their way to do what they can for her.”

“Thank you. That’s a relief.”

“I’ll let you know if that doesn’t work out. Then, you can try the box full of money.”

“I think I said basket.”

 

I’d thought about taking a taxi, the train a distraction letting me off three blocks from the hospital. The return trip one stop was uneventful, Officer Martin climbing from the patrol car as I exited the station.

“Officer Martin,” I greeted.

“Ah, Toby, good morning.”

“Everything good?”

“Sure, everything’s good.” He narrowed his eyes.

I smirked. “What?”

“That property on Newton.”

“What about it?”

“Meyer thought it was awfully coincidental.”

“What was? I ask how to get rid of squatters and minutes later, squatters get run off a property?”

“Well, yes, exactly that. Fire in the street, all that.”

“He didn’t push too hard, did he?”

“No, he didn’t. He just asked my opinion.”

“On?”

“If I thought you could be involved.”

“Me owning the property and all.”

“You bought the property?”

I shrugged. “More like a gift, maybe payment.”

“Payment.”

“For destroying compromising photographs of a bank officer and his side squeeze.”

“Really?”

“No. I’m not stupid. I didn’t destroy the photos.”

“Toby –”

“William. As you know, Gus Avery hired a kid to kill me for fifty bucks and a used car.”

“I did not know that!”

“Well, you didn’t know the details.”

“Fifty bucks is kind of an insult.”

“And a used car.”

He rolled his eyes.

“Pay attention. The squatters were poor relations of Avery’s. I didn’t want to file a report on my attempt assassination because Avery and the Chief are asshole buddies.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Meyers covers for Avery.”

“Wait a minute. If Meyers covers for Avery, why’s Meyers not after you for the eviction. He blew it off as a prank.”

“I believe that’s called not worth pursuing.”

“Those were his exact words!”

“Bartholomew Peters.”

“Who?”

“He’s called The Bat.”

“Oh, we’ve had complaints, reports.”

“He runs a protection racket.”

“Exactly!”

“All those complaints and reports. Not worth pursuing.”

“Yes!”

“The Bat cleared out my Newton Avenue problem. Meyers may be kissy face with Gus Avery, but Bat pays Meyers.”

“Wow. I had no idea.”

“Learn to trust the magic, William. I’m the good guy. Meyers is not. I’d never hurt you, Meyers would swat you like a fly, brush you off the table.”

“I’m working on my law degree.”

“Good. The world needs honest lawyers.”

 

“Good morning, Mr. Thomas,” I greeted.

“Toby.”

“I was on my way by, thought I’d stop in.”

“Always good to see you.”

“Let’s have a gander at my file.”

I accepted the file, sitting, reviewing the five profiles. “I thought we had a bite on this one?”

“Eh, I meant to take that out.”

“Why?”

“That property is off the market.”

“How?”

“There’s been an offer, tentatively accepted.”

“Mr. Thomas. I told you you’re not good at this. Bottom line it for me.”

“Butch put the offer in. He said you didn’t need to know.”

I stood, slapping the file down on the desk. “Withdraw all my offers. Work up an invoice for your time. At this moment, I’m thinking of taking my business elsewhere.”

He spread his arms. “The house was listed. Nothing improper.”

“A fucking phone call, Thomas. I deserved a fucking phone call.” I took the property profile from the folder. “I’ll be keeping this.”

“Toby –”

“Invoice. With breakdown.”

 

I caught Shawn locking the door of 1 Bread.

“Stop the universe,” I requested.

We hugged for two minutes.

“It’s not Pamala, but I’ll make do.”

“I was just thinking the same,” Shawn said. “I have eleven people signed up.”

“We have to replace Harvest.”

“There’s a surprise. I’ll take Bob’s menu, see Weber at the Nook, stop by Homers.”

“One o’clock. Our apartment. Dressed and ready.”

“Twelve-thirty. You can do my makeup.”

“The stuff dreams are made of.”

 

I fell into my fake La-Z-Boy, closing my eyes. Across time and the mindscape, when I had George, not George, and Tammy duct taped in Bill Locke’s house I pretended was mine, I could not have killed the three.

“I could now.”

“You could have told Paul to.”

“Antoinette.” I didn’t open my eyes. By her voice, I knew she stood facing the front window, hands joined behind her back. “At the time, I did not know Paul would have.”

“He may have, as an offer at your shrine.”

“My shrine?”

“He saw you as divinity, which is why he didn’t rape you.”

“He didn’t rape me because he saw me as a woman. He only raped children.”

“He didn’t rape you because he knew if he did, he’d have to kill you so you wouldn’t be able to kill him.”

“You didn’t stop me.”

“From killing Paul? No, I didn’t.”

“Yet, Mark, Father Brown and Mrs. Flanigan.”

“Timing.”

Still with my eyes closed, I said, “You just shrugged, didn’t you.”

“I did.”

“I expected you in the bathroom.”

“I shrugged again. Timing.”

“Of?”

“With your brother, Father Brown, and Mrs. Flanigan, you weren’t ready to unlock, to release that part of you across the real world.”

“Can we touch, now?” I sat up, opening my eyes.

She glanced back at me, returning her attention to out the window.

“I want my hair back,” was my first thought.

“I want you to have your hair back, too. What did you have in mind, this touch? A hug?”

“I was angling for a kiss, actually.

“Are you expecting company?”

“Oh, you're flirting now. The door’s locked.”

She glanced again. “Thirtyish, our height, pretty behind those dark glasses, hair short like yours, my color.”

“April.”

“Another month, like you.”

“Another good soul to corrupt.”

Walking or floating, I couldn’t tell which, Antoinette came over me, bending, her hair curtaining my face.

She smells so much like me, I thought.

“Of course, I do.”

Somewhere across time and the mindscape, for moments without measure, in a nonexistent place, our lips met, not in lust, not in love, not in a hurry. Our lips met in familiarity like finally coming home.

Quiet tapping like a kitten across a wooden floor dragged me from the dream world and my chair, breathing heavily, flinging open the door.

Inspector April Matters wore form-fitting blue jeans, a long-sleeved white shirt with puffy sleeves, black army boots like mine, and black rimmed sunglasses.

“Who the fuck are you?” She greeted, pushing in.

“Sometimes I don’t even know.”

She looked around. “Who else is here?”

“Just me.”

“I saw someone at the window.”

“Maybe me.”

“Wasn’t you. Longer hair, lighter.”

Isn’t that a new wrinkle?

“I’m alone. Search if you wish.”

She did, briefly. “OK. Who the fuck are you?”

“Cliff Notes. Blah, blah. Chasing Jody DeMarko’s killer down a rabbit hole. Abridged, abridged. My researcher has a caper, needs someone to infiltrate the downstairs of Redman’s Bar and Grill. Blah, blah, and blah. We invent Artemis Grimes. Abridged, abridged. By a cascade of good luck and coincidence, I get invited not only downstair, but as a guest at Christeen French’s table, winning her over.”

“Holy fuck.” She swallowed hard.  

“Last night was purely an accident. I promised Pamala a public dance.”

“At Redman’s.”

“We started at the Commadore.”

Matters, weak-legged, worked to the table, sitting down, her face in her hands.

“I’ve found deep breathing helps.” I set a glass of water in front of her.

She sipped. “I don’t know where to start.”

I dropped cattycorner, taking her hand. “I’ll start. Do you believe we’re on the same side? We’re after the same thing?”

“Eh, tough question.”

“Last night, in Redman’s, I took you into my confidence. That’s rare for me. You wanted to get downstairs. I got you inside.”

“Are you inside?”

“Like I told Mrs. French. I don’t work for anyone. I may have taken the job if you weren’t standing there so eager to step up.”

“How’d you know?”

“Reasonable guess. You wanted to get downstairs.”

“You shoved me all the way in.”

“You seemed comfortable.”

“French asked me a lot about you.”

“Oh, boy.”

“I was vague. Associates, long time, trust you with my life, adding I can’t say that about anyone else. I got the hit off her she was looking to confirm what she already knew.”

“Are we then official collaborators?”

“Maybe coconspirators.”

“Make no mistake. Laws will be broken. You’re going to have to be good with that.”

“I’m not. Good with that.” She tightened her grip on my hand, taking my eyes. “I’m kept from the room. Files disappear. Witnesses change their stories. Witnesses disappear. Those two witnesses to Jody camping? Not a trace of them, their families, or anyone who knew them. It’s like they never existed.”

“I’m guessing they never did. We need to back up, reinterview the original group.”

“All those records are gone. The case is perplexing. I get stonewalled as every turn. Not worth pursuing.”

“Doesn’t matter. I have a file. We’re reconstructing.”

“Who do you work for, really?”

“I’m self-employed. A small lawncare business.”

“Antoinette Blanc. Toni.”

I shrugged.

“You’re dead.”

“I get that a lot.”

I stated my birth name slowly, twice.

“You’re dead.” She showed me her palm. “I know, you get that a lot.”

“I do.”

She closed her eyes. “That explains the Bill Locke connection. You worked for him? Stole mob money?”

“He sexually abused me over time, finally raping me. I escaped minutes before the feds kicked the door it. Locke laid it all on me. Guess where I met Locke?”

“Oh, Playland.”

I looked at the ceiling. “Redacted, blah, abridged. My older brother was assaulting me. Blah, blah. I had to get out of the apartment. My brother raped me, sharing with three friends. Bill needed a house sitter, so I stepped into his trap.”

Matters put her face in her palms again. “I’m drowning here. Too much information. I can’t breathe.”

“You quit your job.”

“I took an extended leave of absence. Wait. How’d you know? I’ve not told anyone. I don’t trust anyone in the office with anything. Like you told Christeen.”

“I may have told you that, too.” I stood, crossed the room, unlocked and opened the door six inches.

“We’re alone out here.”

“Shawn, Inspector April Mathers.”

Matters scrambled from the chair.

“Two in one day!” Shawn said. “You’re much prettier than the other one.”

“You don’t think Bradley’s pretty?”

“I do not.”

“Joe Bradley?”

“There’s a reason he’s consider the best investigator in the state. Joe’s one of the good guys, though. I still suggest we keep him out of our caper.”

“Just what I need. More information to process. Yes. I want to work in secret.”

“What’s the secret?” Shawn asked.

I nodded to Mathers. “Shawn’s my number one.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Shawn rolled her eyes. “Toby gets whacked on the head with a meteor rock, I’m ready to step in.”

“April’s going to be out inside woman.”

“I thought we were the inside women?”

I turned to April. “I have complete access. Mrs. French asked me to determine who’s stealing what.”

“I gathered that. One of the reasons I stopped by. What are your instructions for me?”

“Evidently, French is incapable of running her empire.”

“She said as much.”

“That’s what she’s hired you to do.”

“What?” Shawn asked.

“Long story.”

“Aren’t they all?”

“The trick, April, is making it appear Mrs. French is in charge. If someone has to be killed to make that point, let me know who.”

“Killed?”

“You’re up here with the adults, now, April. Remember, Forde wanted to contract me to kill Antoinette Blanc, a fifteen-year-old child.”

Matters swallowed hard.

“He did?” Shawn asked.

“He’s connected to Avery’s first attempt.”

“I know. I was there, all three of them.”

“First attempt?” Matters asked.

“Fifty bucks and a used car?”

“She’s worth at least five hundred.”

Mathers stepped into me, a half pace off, watching my eyes. “You’ve given me a great deal to think about.” She looked to her boots, back to my eyes. “I can see you’re doing great work. You have no boundaries, no guardrails. That can be a good thing, that can be a terrible thing.”

“I understand.”

“Maybe you don’t. Having stood helpless before what I consider great evil, I can be Machiavellian. I’ve found nonexistent evidence to ensure the right people saw the same truth I did.”

“The secret to not getting caught is to keep the circle tight.”

“You two are the only people I’ve ever told.”

“An offer of trust.”

“Yes.”

“Toby,” Shawn said, revealing her wrist.

“We have a meeting.”

“I need to get to work, too.”

“Dressed that this?”

“I don’t want anyone taking me for a floozy.”

“I could take offense.”

“Believe me, eh –”

“Toby.”

“Believe me, Toby, no one would ever take you for a floozy. I just can’t pull off your attitude.”

“Yet. You have to grow into it,” Shawn said.

 

“That’s the outfit you were wearing when you first darkened my door,” Joe Bradley greeted as we enter.

“Awe, you remember.”

“Shawn? Shawn. You look, eh, perfect. The makeup.”

“Blue is her color. How things going?”

“You were right. Pissed himself ten minutes in the room. Wouldn’t stop crying.”

Peirce Bradley emerged from the observation room. “I don’t know what –” He stopped short. “Oh, hi, Miss Grimes.”

“Joe.”

He handed off a yellow legal pad. “I’ve been looking for you. Only fair you give me a chance to get my money back.”

“What dreams are made of, Peirce.”

I pushed by, standing in front of the glass, Peirce shuffling behind me, followed by Joe.

“Excuse me,” Shawn said, squeezing as much indignity into the words as possible.

The men gave her room, Shawn coming beside me.

“Nothing we didn’t know,” I offered dismissively.

“He didn’t give Hugo up,” Joe said.

I shrugged. “He doesn’t have Hugo to give up.”

“Huh?”

“Hugo Flannagan works through his daughter,” Shawn said, watching George Davis through the glass. “Anything dirty, she does it.”

“Which is why the federales haven’t been able to hang anything on him.”

“There not called –”

I stopped Peirce with a glance.

With my palm up to Shawn, I added the folder to the yellow legal pad. “Peirce, if you’d be a dear and take the cuffs of Mr. Davis.”

“I’m not sure that such a good idea.”

“This is my room now. Take his cuffs off, go grab a cup of coffee. The adults are here, now.”

“Eh, Miss Grimes. Security deposit.”

“Joe, Joe, Joe. You may stay, if you want to see how the sausage is made. Peirce, cuffs and coffee.”

“I’ll get the cuffs,” Joe said.

“Peirce will get the cuffs.”

Peirce shook his head, grumbling under his breath. “It’s your dime.”

“It is most certainly my dime.”

“You don’t need to be so condescending,” Joe said to my back as his uncle disappeared through the door.

“I do, actually, Inspector Bradley.”

“Oh, sausage.”

“Make sure your uncle is out of the room. He’s a liability.”

Joe accompanied, “Understood,” with a sour frown.

We entered the interrogation room, Peirce fumbling with the cuffs, Shawn behind George, me inches in front of the small table looking down through my dark glasses.

Peirce liberated the cuffs, stepping back, watching, George rubbing his wrists in turn, glancing behind him, then up at me.

“Detective?” I said flatly, watching George.

“Oh, right, on my way.”

The few seconds Peirce swallowed from the universe to get out the door crept by, more slowly for George.

I brought my file up. “Did you ever hear of good cop, bad cop, Mr. Davis?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Those were the good cops.”

He swallowed hard.

I placed two 5 x 7 photos on the table. “Lisa and Ted Hayes. They’re cute, like their father.”

He swallowed harder.

“You and Harry Hayes attacked Pamala Edwards in the mall parking lot.”

I held up my index finger. “Ut,” dropping two more photos on the table. “Mary, she’s what? Eight now. George Junior, four.”

He stared at the photos.

I flipped pages on the yellow pad, glancing the window. “Are these figures right?”

Three raps answered.

“By the time you get out of prison, George Junior is going to be a grandfather. That is if you get out of prison. You put a knife into the chest of a seventeen-year-old child and killed her.”

I allowed George to digest the reality.

“Your fellow inmates are not kind to people who kill children.”

“Be a shame if Lisa and Ted, Mary and George Junior were to meet a similar fate.”

“Be a real shame,” Shawn echoed.

“Do what you want with me. Don’t hurt my kids.”

“Do you know what retribution is?”

“I’m not stupid. Like the Bible says: Eye for an eye!”

“You’re going to prison, likely for the rest of your life. Do you think that an appropriate eye for the life of Pamala Edwards?” I placed her 8 by 10 photo on the table. “If you were me standing here, what would you do?”

Watching Pamala’s photo, a tear welled up in his eye, etching down his cheek. “She’s beautiful.”

“Was beautiful. Now she’s dead because you put a knife in her chest for no better reason than Tammy Flannagan told you to.”

“$500.”

“$500?”

“Each.”

I flipped pages on the yellow pad. Sloppy, Peirce.

“Killing a child?” Shawn said. “I’d not go for anything less than fifty grand.”

“Unless, of course, retribution were involved.”

“Retribution changes everything.”

Following three taps, the door open, Joe saying, “District attorney’s on his way. Ten minutes.” The door clicked shut.

Removing my sunglasses, I placed my palms in the center of the table, freezing George. “Here’s my deal.”

“OK.”

“You and Mr. Hayes kill Hugo and Tammy Flannagan, retribution paid.”

“Eh –”

Three taps sung from the glass.

“Five minutes,” Shawn said.

“Eh, I, I mean we do that, all this goes away. No prison. My kids are safe. Like it never happened?”

I straightened. “Like it never happened. Clean slate.”

“You have a deal,” he sneered. “I’ve never liked neither one of them anyway.”

Shawn came around, opening the door.

“That tricky problem prosecution solved,” I told Bradley. “You can drop him off.”

“Toby, I –”

“I can do without critique or review.”

“I wanted to say I wish I joined my uncle for coffee, and I’m glad I didn’t.”

“You weren’t so bad yourself.”

“I may not be able to read a room as well as you, but I can read a room.”

He bit his lip. “Are you sure he’ll do it?”

“I’ll pick Mary Davis up from school Monday. We’ll go for ice cream.”

“I’ll do it,” Shawn said. “I’ll mark the calendar.”

 

Part 31