Hard Eight (22 page)

“Now what?” Lula asked. “You have any ideas?”

I had binoculars trained on Bender’s front window. “I think someone’s in there, but I can’t see enough to identify anyone.”

“We could call to see who answers,” Lula said. “Except I ran out of money for a cell phone so I haven’t got one no more, and your phone burned up in your car.”

“I guess we could go knock on the door.”

“Yeah, I like that idea. Maybe he’ll shoot at us again. I was hoping someone would shoot at me today. That was the first thing I said when I got up: Boy, I hope I get shot at today.”

“He only shot at me that one time.”

“That makes me feel a lot better,” Lula said.

“Well, what’s your idea?”

“My idea is we go home. I’m telling you, God don’t want us to get this guy. He even sent a rabbit to bomb your car.”

“
God
didn’t send a rabbit to bomb my car.”

“What’s your explanation? You think it’s every day you see a rabbit driving down the street?”

I shoved the door open and got out of the Trans Am. I had the cuffs in one hand and pepper spray in the other. “I’m in a
bad
mood,” I told Lula. “I’m up to here with
snakes and spiders and dead guys. And now I don’t even have a car. I’m going in, and I’m dragging Bender out. And after I drop his sorry ass off at the police station I’m going to Chevy’s, and I’m going to get one of those margaritas they make in the gallon-size glass.”

“Hunh,” Lula said. “I guess you want me to go with you.”

I was already halfway across the yard. “Whatever,” I said. “Do whatever the hell you want.”

I could hear Lula huffing along behind me. “Don’t you pull no attitude with me,” she was saying. “Don’t you tell me to do whatever the hell I want. I already told you what I want. Did it count for anything? Hell, no.”

I got to Bender’s front door, and I tried the knob. The door was locked. I knocked loud, three times. There was no answer, so I banged three times with my fist.

“Open the door,” I shouted. “Bond enforcement.”

The door opened, and Bender’s wife looked out at me. “This isn’t a good time,” she said.

I pushed her aside. “It’s never a good time.”

“Yes, but you don’t understand. Andy is sick.”

“You expect us to believe that?” Lula said. “What do we look, stupid?”

Bender lurched into the room. His hair was a wreck and his eyes were half-closed. He was wearing a pajama top and stained khaki work pants.

“I’m dying,” he said. “I’m gonna die.”

“It’s just the flu,” his wife said. “You should get back to bed.”

Bender held his hands out. “Cuff me. Take me in. They got a doctor that comes around, right?”

I put the cuffs on Bender and looked over at Lula. “Is there a doctor?”

“They got a ward at St. Francis.”

“I bet I got anthrax,” Bender said. “Or smallpox.”

“Whatever it is, it don’t smell good,” Lula said.

“I got diarrhea. And I’m throwing up,” Bender said. “I got a runny nose and a scratchy throat. And I think I got a fever. Feel my head.”

“Yeah, right,” Lula said. “Looking forward to that opportunity.”

He swiped at his nose with his sleeve and left a smear of snot on his pajama top. He hauled his head back and sneezed and sprayed half the room.

“Hey!” Lula yelled. “Cover up! You never heard of a hankie? And what’s with that sleeve thing?”

“I’m gonna be sick,” Bender said. “I’m gonna puke again.”

“Get to the toilet!” his wife yelled. She grabbed a blue plastic bucket off the floor. “Use the bucket.”

Bender stuck his head in the bucket and threw up.

“Holy crap,” Lula said. “This is the House of Plague. I’m outta here. And you’re not putting him in my car, either,” she said to me. “You want to take him in, you can call a cab.”

Bender pulled his head out of the bucket and held his shackled hands out to me. “Okay, I’m better now. I’m ready to go.”

“Wait for me,” I said to Lula. “You were right about God.”

“It was a drive to get here, but it was worth it,” Lula said, licking salt off the rim of her glass. “This is the mother of all margaritas.”

“It’s therapeutic, too. The alcohol will kill any germs we might have picked up from Bender.”

“Fuckin’ A,” Lula said.

I sipped my drink and looked around. The bar was filled with the after-work crowd. Most of them were my age. And most of them looked happier than me.

“My life sucks,” I said to Lula.

“You’re just saying that because you had to watch Bender throw up in a bucket.”

This was partially true. Bender throwing up in a bucket did nothing to enhance my mood. “I’m thinking about getting a different job,” I said. “I want to work where these people work. They all look so happy.”

“That’s because they got here ahead of us, and they’re all snockered.”

Or it could be that none of them were being stalked by a maniac.

“I lost another pair of handcuffs,” I said to Lula. “I left them on Bender.”

Lula tipped her head back and burst out laughing. “And you want to change jobs,” she said. “Why would you want to do that when you’re so good at this one?”

It was eleven o’clock and most houses on my parents’ street were dark. The Burg was early to bed and early to rise.

“Sorry about Bender,” Lula said, letting the Trans Am idle at the curb. “Maybe we could tell Vinnie he died. We could say we were all set to bring Bender in, and he died. Bang. Dead as a doorknob.”

“Better yet, why don’t we just go back and kill him,” I
said. I opened the door to leave, caught my toe in the floor mat, and fell out of the car, face first. I rolled onto my back and stared up at the stars. “I’m fine,” I said to Lula. “Maybe I’ll sleep here tonight.”

Ranger stepped into my line of sight, grabbed hold of my denim jacket, and pulled me to my feet. “Not a good idea, babe.” He looked over at Lula. “You can go now.”

The Trans Am laid rubber, and disappeared from view.

“I’m
not
drunk,” I said to Ranger. “I only had
one
margarita.”

His fingers were still curled into my jacket, but he softened his grip. “I understand you’re having rabbit problems.”

“Fucking rabbit.”

Ranger grinned. “You are definitely drunk.”

“I’m
not
drunk. I’m on the verge of being happy.” I didn’t exactly have the whirlies, but the world wasn’t totally in focus, either. I leaned against Ranger for support. “What are you doing here?”

He released my jacket and wrapped his arms around me. “I needed to talk to you.”

“You could have called.”

“I tried calling. Your phone isn’t working.”

“Oh yeah. I forgot. It was in the car when the car blew up.”

“I did some investigating on Dotty and came up with some names to check out.”

“Now?”

“Tomorrow. I’ll pick you up at eight.”

“I can’t get into the bathroom until nine.”

“Okay. I’ll pick you up at nine-thirty”

“Are you laughing? I can feel you laughing. My life isn’t funny!”

“Babe, your life should be a prime-time sitcom.”

At precisely 9:30 I stumbled out the door and stood blinking in the sunlight. I’d managed a shower, and I was fully clothed, but that was where it ended. A half hour isn’t a lot of time for a girl to get beautiful. Especially when the girl has a hangover. My hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and I had my lipstick in my jeans jacket pocket. When my hand stopped shaking, and my eyeballs stopped being burning globes, I’d try putting lipstick on.

Ranger rolled up in a shiny black Mercedes sedan and waited at the curb. Grandma was standing behind me on the other side of the door.

“I wouldn’t mind seeing him naked,” she said.

I slid onto the cream-colored leather seat beside Ranger, closed my eyes, and smiled. The car smelled wonderful, like leather and fries. “God bless you,” I said. He had fries and a Coke waiting for me on the console.

“Tank and Lester are checking campgrounds in Pennsylvania and New Jersey. They’re doing the closest ones first and then moving out. They’re looking for either of the cars, and they’re talking to people when possible. We have your list of Evelyn’s relatives, but I think they’re long shots. Evelyn would worry that they’d get in touch with Mabel. The same goes for Dotty’s relatives.

“There were four women Dotty was friendly with at work. I have their names and addresses. I think we should start with them.”

“It’s nice of you to help me with this. We aren’t really employed by anyone. This is just an issue about Annie’s safety.”

“I’m not doing this for Annie’s safety. This is about your safety. We need to get Abruzzi locked up. He’s playing with you right now. When he stops enjoying the play he’s going to get serious. If the police can’t tie him to Soder, Annie might be able to tie him to something. Multiple murders, maybe, if the drawings are from life.”

“If we bring Annie in, can we keep her safe?”

“I can keep her safe until Abruzzi is sentenced. Keeping you safe is more difficult. As long as Abruzzi is at large, nothing short of locking you in the Bat Cave for the rest of your life will keep you safe.”

Hmm. The Bat Cave for the rest of my life. “You said the Bat Cave has television, right?”

Ranger slid a sideways look my way. “Eat your fries.”

Barbara Ann Guzman was first on the list. She lived in a tract house in Elast Brunswick, in a pleasant neighborhood filled with middle-income families. Kathy Snyder, also on the list, lived two doors down. Both houses had attached garages. Neither of the garages had windows.

Ranger parked in front of the Guzman house. “Both women should be at work.”

“Are we breaking in?”

“No, we’re knocking on the door, hoping we hear kids inside.”

We knocked twice, and we didn’t hear kids. I squeezed
behind an azalea and peeked in Barbara Ann’s front window. Lights off, television off, no little shoes laying discarded on the floor.

We walked two houses down to Kathy Snyder. We rang the bell, and an older woman answered.

“I’m looking for Kathy,” I said to the woman.

“She’s at work,” the woman said. “I’m her mother. Can I help you?”

Ranger passed the woman a stack of photos. “Have you seen any of these people?”

“This is Dotty,” the woman said. “And her friend. They spent the night with Barbara Ann. Do you know Barbara Ann?”

“Barbara Ann Guzman,” Ranger said.

“Yes. Not last night. They were here the night before. A real full house for Barbara Ann.”

“Do you know where they are now?”

She looked at the photo and shook her head. “No. Kathy might know. I just saw them because I was walking. I walk around the block every night for a little exercise, and I saw them drive up.”

“Do you remember the car?” Ranger asked.

“It was just a regular car. Blue, I think.” She looked from Ranger to me. “Is something wrong?”

“The one woman, Dotty’s friend, has had some bad luck, and we’re trying to help her straighten things out,” I said.

The third woman lived in an apartment building in New Brunswick. We drove through the underground garage, methodically going up and down rows, looking for Dotty’s blue Honda or Evelyn’s gray Sentra. We scored a goose
egg on that, so we parked and took the elevator to the sixth floor. We knocked on Pauline Wood’s door and got no answer. We tried neighboring apartments, but no one responded. Ranger knocked one last time on Pauline’s door and then let himself in. I stayed outside doing lookout. Five minutes later, Ranger was back in the hall, Pauline’s door locked behind him.

“The apartment was clean,” he said. “Nothing to indicate Dotty was there. No forwarding address for her displayed in a prominent place.”

We left the parking garage and drove through town on our way to Highland Park. New Brunswick is a college town with Rutgers at the one end and Douglass College at the other. I graduated from Douglass without distinction. I was in the top ninety-eight percent of my class and damn glad to be there. I slept in the library and daydreamed my way through history lecture. I failed math twice, never fully grasping probability theory. I mean, first off, who cares if you pick a black ball or a white ball out of the bag? And second, if you’re bent over about the color, don’t leave it to chance. Look in the damn bag and pick the color you want.

By the time I reached college age, I’d given up all hope of flying like Superman, but I was never able to develop a burning desire for an alternative occupation. When I was a kid I read Donald Duck and Uncle Scrooge comics. Uncle Scrooge was always going off to exotic places in search of gold. After Scrooge got the gold, he’d take it back to his money bin and push his loose change around with a bulldozer. Now this was my idea of a good job. Go on an adventure. Bring back gold. Push it around with a bulldozer. How fun is this? So you can possibly see the
reason for my lack of motivation to get grades. I mean, do you really need good grades to drive a bulldozer?

“I went to college here,” I said to Ranger. “It’s been a bunch of years, but I still feel like a student when I ride through town.”

“Were you a good student?”

“I was a terrible student. Somehow the state managed to educate me in spite of myself. Did you go to college?”

“Rutgers, Newark. Joined the army after two years.”

When I first met Ranger I would have been surprised by this. Now, nothing surprised me about Ranger.

“The last woman on the list should be at work, but her husband should be at home,” Ranger said. “He works food service for the university and goes in at four. The guy’s name is Harold Bailey. His wife’s name is Louise.”

We wound our way through a neighborhood of older homes. They were mostly two-story clapboards with the front porch stretching the width of the house and a single detached garage to the rear. They weren’t big, and they weren’t small. Many had been badly renovated with fake brick front or add-on front rooms made by enclosing the porch.

We parked and approached the Bailey house. Ranger rang the bell and, just as expected, a man answered the door. Ranger introduced himself and handed the man the photographs.