Detective Kelly stepped out of his car and walked along the shoulder of the road. Cars slowed down as they passed by. A uniformed policeman kept the traffic moving. Two other police cars had bracketed the bright red Ford pickup. Several policemen were milling about. When
another plainclothes policeman spotted the detective, he advanced toward him.
“Sounded like it was up your alley, Sam,” Detective Adams said.
Detective Adams was small for a police officer, but as everyone at the precinct reluctantly admitted, he dressed well.
Detective Kelly looked around. A few neighbors had come out to investigate the scene, and were standing on their lawns chatting. Some kids on bikes had been more daring but one of the uniforms was moving them back across the street. Sam looked at the pickup. It did not look damaged. The shoulder of the street ran up onto a lawn backed by a small batch of trees that then fell off into Echo Valley. There were no houses on this side of the street. Across the valley, Detective Kelly could see Joe Mackenzie’s house.
“Been here for three days,” Detective Adams said, shrugging his shoulders as if he were trying to adjust his suit. “No tickets. Can you imagine that? A no-parking zone and we haven’t ticketed it. How do those guys down in parking keep themselves busy? Don’t they have quotas? We should have known about this shit box days ago. Neighbors say that it’s been here for three days. Did I tell you that? It’s listed as belonging to a Helen Kraft. I sent Forman over to pick her up and meet us at the station.”
“They don’t,” Sam Kelly said.
Detective Adams looked puzzled.
“They don’t have quotas,” Sam explained.
Detective Adams nodded. “Ya, right.”
“Kraft? Should I know that name?” Detective Kelly asked.
“I don’t know,” Detective Adams responded. Then he added, “Does this look like a place someone would abandon a truck? That was the first thing that struck me as odd.” Detective Adams checked his notepad again. “Miss Kraft was contacted. She started bawling. She hadn’t reported the truck missing. Neighbors said the passenger door was open for two days until one of these kids closed it.”
“The door was open?” Detective Kelly asked.
Detective Adams nodded as he adjusted his tie. “Until one of the kids closed it. Probably after he looted everything inside and made a mess of any fingerprints.”
“Fingerprints?” Sam Kelly asked. “Why would we take fingerprints?”
“It don’t smell right, Sam.” Detective Adams loosened his tie. “Just to be on the safe side. In case there was a crime.”
“You think there was a crime?”
“It don’t…”
“…smell right,” Sam Kelly finished.
An hour later Detective Kelly was sitting across the table from the young Miss Kraft. A plain-looking woman, Sam guessed she was in her mid-twenties. A cup of coffee in a Styrofoam cup sat in front of her. She never touched it. Miss Kraft kept sniffling and softly weeping as she told her story.
“So I walked home,” she said. “I know that I should have phoned the police, but I was upset.”
Detective Kelly stared in silence at the woman for several minutes. He wanted her to relax. He looked over his notes.
“His name was Joe?”
She nodded. “Joe Begin. He’s a salesman. Printing supplies. Ink, paper, that sort of thing. He asked me out for a drink. I don’t normally accept invitations from men at work but Joe seemed nice. He was funny.”
“This is important, Miss Kraft. I want you to be honest. Did you go in-to the woods with Mr. Begin?”
Miss Kraft sniffled again, hesitated, then nodded.
“It was his idea. That does sound stupid. I’m sorry. I’m so embarrassed. I don’t normally go into woods with men. He said there was a beautiful view of the valley. I didn’t believe him but I went anyway. Joe could be very persuasive. We walked into the woods. It was dark. He walked in front of me. I held his hand as we walked and then his hand slipped out of mine. He slid down the hill into the valley. I caught the branch of a tree or I would have gone down as well.” The detective took a deep breath.
“Why didn’t you call the police?”
“He wasn’t hurt,” Miss Kraft replied. “He was laughing. I could hear him laughing from the bottom of the hill. He yelled up that he’d landed in a pile of leaves. He told me to wait, that he’d find another way up the hill.”
“But he never returned?” Sam asked.
“Should I have called the police?” Miss Kraft asked.
Sam smiled faintly. “I don’t know.”
Miss Kraft shook her head. “I waited for about an hour. Maybe it wasn’t that long. I was upset. I would have checked my watch but I didn’t have one on. Should I have been wearing my watch?”
“It would have been helpful.”
“He had the keys to the truck and here I was alone at one o’clock in the morning.”
“How did you know it was one o’clock?”
Miss Kraft looked puzzled.
“You didn’t have your watch,” the detective explained.
Miss Kraft smiled faintly.
“And so you walked home?” the detective asked.
Miss Kraft nodded, then blew her nose into a tissue. “I thought that he would eventually get back up the hill and drop the truck off at my work.
It was a long weekend. I’m not in any trouble, am I?”
“Did you leave the keys in the truck?”
Miss Kraft looked at the detective with a puzzled expression.
“How was he supposed to drop off the truck without the keys?” the detective prompted.
“I told you. Joe had the keys.”
The detective said nothing. He looked at his pad. They’d been drinking at the Zig Zag. That would be easy enough to confirm. She worked at Archer Greene’s Print Shop. The name sounded familiar.
“Am I in a lot of trouble, Detective?”
“You live alone, Miss Kraft?”
“With my mother. I can’t let her find out about this. She’s bedridden.
Turned her ankle last week at the Cloverdale Mall trying on shoes. Things always happen in threes. Why do things always turn out like this for me? Why can’t something good happen for a change?”
“What’s the third thing?” Sam asked.
“The third thing? It hasn’t happened yet. Do you believe in God, Officer?”
“Why do you ask, Miss?”
“If He does exist,” Miss Kraft replied, her jaw clenched in anger, “He has one sick sense of humor.”
“One more question,” the detective said.
“Yes?”
“Why did you leave the passenger door open?” Miss Kraft looked up at the detective with a puzzled expression on her face.
“I didn’t,” she replied.
The Storm
Wiggy and Frank shared a cigarette outside the camera shop. In the distance thunder could be heard. Small bursts of lightning could be seen to the south.
“Shit!” Wiggy cried. “That’s quite a storm headed this way. I don’t want to be caught out tonight. If Terry wants to meet us, he could at least show up. Let me have a puff.”
Frank passed his cigarette to Wiggy.
“Why can’t you buy your own smokes?” Frank asked. “I’m down to my last three. I need them to get to sleep.” Frank had made a ritual of one cigarette and a couple of aspirin to get to sleep each evening.
“Jesus.” Wiggy pointed to the horizon. “Looks like a war’s going on.
Artillery fire. Imagine being out on the lake on a night like this. I hate thunderstorms. When I was a kid lightning struck our house. Came in one end and traveled right through our place. Melted half our appliances. Scared the shit out of us. You could feel it running through the walls like it was alive. I thought the whole house was going to explode.
Do you get depressed?”
“You’re all over the map tonight, man. What has being depressed got to do with anything?” Frank asked.
“Something Johnny asked me. Do you get depressed?” Wiggy asked.
“Everybody does,” Frank responded.
“I thought so too,” Wiggy said, passing the cigarette back to Frank.
“Johnny told me that he never gets depressed. He said the feebleminded get depressed.”
The lights of the camera shop turned off. A minute later the store door opened and Adelle exited. She joined the two boys.
“Terry not here yet?” she asked.
“Do you know what’s going on?” Wiggy asked.
“He’s worried about Cathy.”
“Cathy?” Wiggy asked.
“He’s been trying to get hold of her all day,” Adelle explained. “They were supposed to meet at his place and she never showed up. He phoned her house but her mother said she wasn’t home. She’d gone out someplace with Johnny. That was around noon.”
“What are we supposed to do?” Wiggy cried impatiently. “I ain’t roaming around on a night like this looking for Cathy. We don’t even have a car. Besides, she’s probably at home by now.”
“I’ve got my parents’ car,” Adelle said. “And she’s not at home. I phoned. Her mother sounds pretty worried. Something doesn’t seem right. I don’t trust Johnny. She should have phoned someone by now.”
“What are you saying?” Frank asked.
“She was going to tell Johnny that it was all over,” Adelle explained.
“Who knows how he reacted?”
Wiggy laughed. “Johnny ain’t like that.”
Adelle turned on Wiggy. “How would you know?”
“He ain’t, that’s all,” Wiggy responded. “A guy knows things about another guy.”
“Isn’t getting smacked serious enough?” Adelle said, her voice angry and impatient. “He’s hit her before.”
The sky above the plaza lit up. A few moments later the calm was shattered with thunder.
“Whoa!” Wiggy trembled. “That was close.”
“You’re such a wimp,” Adelle cried. “I keep thinking that Cathy is out there in this storm with that creep.”
“Where are we going to look?” Frank asked.
“Down at the lake,” Adelle responded. “Cathy told me they liked to go down there sometime.”
“To the lake!” Wiggy cried. “That’s like sending troops to the front.
Just look at the sky down there. Nature doesn’t take prisoners. I’ll go down but I ain’t getting out of the car. Our house was struck by lightning once and-”
“We’ve all heard that story before,” Adelle interrupted impatiently.
“Wiggy’s got a point,” Frank added. “Besides, Cathy can take care of herself.”
“You too!” Adelle spat out, jabbing her finger into Frank’s chest. “It’s our friend out there and we’re all going.” She turned to Wiggy.
“Understand?”
“Okay.” Wiggy cowered. “But if you get fried, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Thunder rolled in the distance.
“Look,” Adelle said pointing to the other end of the plaza, “here comes Terry.”
Beaten
As Mary jiggled her keys in the lock of her building’s front door, Hank stepped up behind her. Mary jumped.
“Shit!” she cried. “You scared the life out of me.” Hank smiled. “Give me your keys. I’ll unlock it for you. I dropped in at the Zig Zag. Jack said you’d already left.” Mary handed her keys over to Hank. The effects of the gin made her feel uneasy on her feet. “Where the hell were you all night? I waited. You know how I hate waiting.”
Hank smiled. “That’s not much of a reception.” He took her in his arms and kissed her. “You’ve been drinking.” Mary pushed Hank away. “What the hell did you expect me to be doing? I’m a little drunk and really pissed off.” Hank reached out for her again. “Come to daddy.” Mary relented, falling into Hank’s arms. She let him kiss her again, his hands roaming down the back of her dress and squeezing her ass. She put her arms around his neck as he slowly lifted her dress, his hands moving between her legs.
“You missed me.” He grinned.
Mary moaned. “Let’s go upstairs where the neighbors aren’t watching.”
Hank opened the door and followed Mary up the stairs, slapping her bottom playfully. At the top of the stairs, Mary turned around.
“By rights, I should push you back down,” she giggled, her hand reaching into his trouser pocket. “Seems you missed me too.” Hank took her in his arms.
“Hurry!” Mary said, taking Hank’s hand and leading him through the darkness of the living room toward her bedroom. Someone moaned.
Mary cried out. She turned on the light. Terry lay on the couch, his face bloodied, holding his stomach.
“What…” Mary rushed over to the couch and examined her son.
“I’ll call an ambulance,” she cried.
“No,” Terry muttered. “I’m okay. Just got to get cleaned up.”
“But what happened to you?”
Terry looked up at his mother sitting on the couch next to him and then up at Hank standing behind her.
“Nothing,” Terry said.
“I’ll bet the other guy looks worse than you, eh,” Hank laughed. Mary turned and gave Hank an ugly look that knocked the smile off his face.
“Couple of guys tried to mug me,” Terry said.
His mother looked at the bruises on his face. Then she touched his side. Terry winced.
“I think you might have broken a rib,” Mary said. “I really think you should see a doctor.”
“Please, Mom, I’ll be all right.”
Mary looked at her son. “We should phone the police. But first, let’s get you cleaned up. Rest easy now. I’ll get a face cloth, some cold water, and bandages.”
Mary smiled at her son then quickly left for the bathroom. When she had departed Hank moved closer.
“Mugging, eh?” he said.
Terry nodded.
“Your mother can’t hear us from the washroom. What really happened, kid?”
Terry did not respond.
“Look, kid. I like your mother. I don’t want her to be facing a lot of pain because of you. If you’re into something over your head, maybe I can figure a way out of it.”
Terry looked up at Hank. His figure, silhouetted by the room’s lights, gave him a menacing appearance.
“I can take care of myself,” Terry said, wincing as he attempted to sit up on the couch.
“That’s right.” Hank smiled. “You can really take care of yourself.
Look, kid, I’ve been in a few scrapes myself and I know a little more about the world. Don’t be a fool. Whoever did this to you, I can do a lot more to them. And their friends.”
At that moment Mary returned with a basin of water, a face cloth, and some bandages.
“Look, Hank,” she whispered, pulling him to one side, “maybe you should leave. I can take it from here. I’d feel a whole lot better talking to the police if I was alone with Terry. They might start asking you questions about us and…”
Hank nodded. He looked at Terry.
“Remember what I said, kid,” he said, then let himself out of the apartment.
Mary sat down on the couch and started to clean Terry’s wounds.
“Now that Hank has gone, would you like to tell me what really happened, dear?”
“Are you going to marry that guy?” he asked.
Mary smiled. “Why do you ask that?”
“Because,” Terry said, “that guy gives me the creeps. What do you know about him?”
Dark Alleys
Joe Mackenzie stepped behind the bank and into the shadows. Turning off his flashlight, he leaned against the wall and began to urinate.
When he was finished he turned around and almost walked into the figure standing behind him.
“Jesus!” Joe cried.
“Gave you quite a fright, eh, Mr. Mackenzie?” Wiggy said, laughing.
“It’s the Indian blood in me. I can sneak up on just about anyone.”
“You know what happened to the Indians,” Joe responded, as he turned his flashlight on and checked the alley to make sure there weren’t any other surprises.
Wiggy thought about Joe’s remark for a minute then laughed.
“Oh ya,” he cried. “Good one, Mr. Mackenzie. Just relieving the old bladder, eh? I won’t turn you in.”
Joe Mackenzie ignored Wiggy’s remark and walked down the alley behind the plaza. As he walked he shone his flashlight into the dark crevices and loading docks of the stores. Wiggy walked beside him.
“You ever find anyone back here?” Wiggy asked.
“Besides you?” Joe asked.
Wiggy nodded.
“No,” Joe responded. “But they pay me to check out the back of the stores here so I do it.”
“You think people are going to break into the paint store or that new picture framing shop? What’s there to steal?” Joe ignored Wiggy’s question.
“What are you doing out at this hour?” he asked.
Wiggy shrugged his shoulders. “Nothing. Couldn’t get to sleep.
Thought I’d come and talk to you. Didn’t mean to scare you, Mr. Mackenzie. I wanted to thank you for not calling the cops the other night. I hope we didn’t wake you up. Just having a little fun with some girls back of your place. Nothing bad, Mr. Mackenzie. Just drinking a little gin and smoking a little weed. We gotta go someplace, right? I guess we were a little loud. I saw your light go on all of a sudden and we kind of panicked. I mean the girls panicked. But I told them you wouldn’t call the police.”
“I didn’t hear a thing,” Joe replied. “I didn’t turn on any light.” The two were silent for some time as Joe continued to flash his light at the back of the shops. When they reached the back of Apache Burger, which was not attached to the plaza but was situated near its southern end, Joe sat down on a tree stump. Wiggy asked if he could borrow a cigarette. Joe informed Wiggy that he didn’t smoke. Wiggy took a seat on a tree stump a few feet away.
“You like this job, Mr. Mackenzie?”
Joe shrugged and turned off his flashlight.
“I guess you get lots of time to think about things,” Wiggy suggested.
“I like to think about things. Not school stuff. Real stuff. The night makes you feel so small that you figure your questions can’t hurt anyone. Like if you think about those questions during the day, people think you’re queer or something. One night I was out on our back lawn staring up at the sky and imagining that with all those stars, there must be zillions of planets and with all those planets, there must be some guy just like me on his back staring up at the heavens looking right up at the sky at me.
It’s possible, right? There might even be more than one guy. There might two or three guys. Maybe a hundred guys. With all those stars there could be a million guys just stretched out there on their backs staring up at each other. All of them wondering if they were the only guy. And then I get this feeling, a really sick feeling in my stomach. Maybe I am the only guy.”
Joe sighed. Wiggy laughed.
“I think you need to get yourself a job,” Joe said as he rose to his feet.
Wiggy remained on his stump, looking up into the sky. When he turned his attention back to the plaza, Joe had turned the corner of the building and returned to the front of the plaza. Wiggy stood up and ran over to the dumpster behind the camera shop where Frank and Terry were waiting.
“I thought that you’d never get rid of him,” Frank said.
“Come on,” Terry said. “Give us a hand with him before he wakes up.”
“Ah, hell.” Wiggy laughed. “I’ll just knock him out again.”