I fell asleep sitting on the sofa with the beer in my hand. It had happened before, but usually because I’d had too many beers in my hand in the preceding hours. Now, it was because I was exhausted.
I woke up to Springsteen singing “Born in the U.S.A.” I flipped open my cell phone and I’m sure the word I answered with was something like ’lo.
“Is this Water Connection Plumbing?”
“Huh?” I checked out my watch, and in the dark, with fog covering my eyes I think it said 4:30.
“This isn’t Water Connection Plumbing?”
“No, this is… yes. Yes it is.” They’d seen us. It came back fast. Someone had seen the truck and was checking up on us. Now what was I going to say? Got a problem? We’ll be there in a jiffy. We’ll have that toilet clog cleaned out in no time. And then I wondered if it was someone who knew me. Conroy? Feng? And would they recognize my voice and know that I wasn’t a plumber? I had that sinking feeling that I might be caught. I knew the feeling well. It had been coming about every two or three hours for the last three days.
Once again. “This is Water Connection Plumbing?”
“Yeah. It sure is.” I spoke a little deeper. Growling. Maybe they wouldn’t know it was me.
There was a long silence on the other end, and I closed my eyes. This plumbing thing had been a bad idea from the beginning. Finally, “Well, your truck is about four doors down from our apartment and we’ve got a leaking faucet that’s kept me up most of the night. Is there any chance that you could-”
I closed the phone, unlocked the front door, walked outside, and stripped the vinyl magnetic banners from both sides of the truck. Rolling them up, I threw them in the driver’s side, and stomped back into our condo.
James was snoring peacefully as I shoved open his door. The catch had never worked on the cheap hollow piece of pressed wood and it crashed against the wall. He kept on snoring.
“James.” I shouted out his name as his snoring drowned me out.
Walking to his bed, a metal frame, mattress, and cheap box springs, I shook him.
“Um.” He sputtered.
“Wake up.”
“Mmm?”
“Wake up.”
“What? Are the cops here?”
“No. Someone just called and asked about Water Connection Plumbing.”
“Mmmm?”
“Get up. We need to talk.”
James struggled with the top sheet, twisting it, and finally freeing himself. He staggered to his feet, standing there in his boxer shorts, looking like a taller version of Jim Jobs. “What’s all this about, Skip?”
“First of all, people thinking we’re plumbers. Not a good idea.”
He just did an elaborate nod, not fully awake.
“Second of all,” I was wide awake and ready to take some action, “we need to review that smoke detector camera card.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Oh yeah. There were some things said that don’t match the conversation we heard tonight between Carol Conroy and Sandy.”
“So am I being paid overtime?”
“You’re the one who started this spy stuff, so don’t give me any crap about overtime. Okay?”
James staggered to the doorway, walking out into the living area. “Okay. Let’s view the movie, amigo.”
I’d thought about it. Carol Conroy couldn’t involve us with any degree of evidence. She had nothing. There were no witnesses at the Red Derby, no one had taped my conversations with Sarah-at least I didn’t think they had-and the rapport that James and I had was very private. What kind of evidence did Mrs. Conroy have that would implicate us in any of this sordid mess?
“The movie, Skip.”
I unfolded the computer and turned it on, clicking on the icon for the small video disk.
Not available. Disk missing
I tried it again.
Not available. Disk missing.
“Hold on, James.” I pushed on the slot where the disk was, hoping it would pop out. There was nothing.
“What’s going on, pal?”
“You know that digital card from the smoke detector?”
“Sure. You got it back when Conroy told you to take the smoke detector and leave, right?”
“That’s the one.”
So what’s your problem?”
“Well, it only plays back when you have it in the computer.”
“So play it.”
“James, did you take it out?”
“Absolutely not.”
“For any reason at all?”
“Skip, I did not touch it.”
I’d picked up the detector about thirteen hours ago. The card was in it. I’d seen it myself. I rubbed my eyes, thinking.
“Kemo Sabe, if it was in the smoke detector, we might try looking there.”
Of course. Breathing a sigh of relief, I walked into the kitchen and flipped over the two plastic pieces of the detector. I hadn’t moved them since I walked in and found Carol Conroy in our restroom. I held the loaded side up and looked inside. The card was gone.