“He treats everybody like a trained monkey.”
“So don’t you get enough of him at work?”
He thought about that one. “You know, when I got out of school, I was living in Manhattan, in the tiniest little apartment. I was totally broke, trying to get jobs. There were a couple of men who could have really opened some doors for me, but I wouldn’t sleep with either of them. So I wasn’t going anywhere. Then I heard about this Winston Vargas out in Michigan of all places, looking for a New York City interior decorator. I figured what the hell. I called him up. The first thing he asked me was, ‘Are you really from New York City?’ I said yes. He said, ‘If you’re calling me from Ohio, I swear to God I’ll kick your ass all the way back home. I want somebody from New York City.’ I had to give him my phone number, with the Manhattan area code, so he could call me back and make sure. He flew me out here and showed me the store, told me what he was planning on doing with it, how I would be his lead designer and we’d all make a ton of money. Well…”
He looked out at the water.
“All my friends, they thought I had lost my mind. Michigan! They thought the whole Midwest was just farmers and bigots and homophobes, you name it. But I said, hey, I’m tired of living in a closet. I mean, in an apartment the size of a closet. I’m going out there for a year, see what happens. Twelve years later, here I am.”
I looked out in the same direction. It was hard to argue with.
“At first, when he asked me to go play poker with him, I didn’t know what to think. You know what he said? He said, ‘You guys play poker?’ Like there was some kind of gay code, what we do and don’t do. Anyway, I ended up playing. I like playing poker, and you know, why not? It gets lonely around here. What else am I gonna do? Stay at home all night, live like a hermit?”
“You wouldn’t want that.”
“There was another reason, too,” he said. “You see, Win was hiring some other designers. They all worked for me, but if I didn’t play, and one of those guys did…Hell, they’d kill for my job. A little after-hours time with the owner, getting to be pals, you know how it is.”
“You were protecting your territory.” I said.
“Something like that. Interior design is a pretty cutthroat business.”
“I’ve heard that,” I said. “Worse than the Mafia.”
He looked at me, maybe deciding how offended he was supposed to be. Then he laughed.
“Sorry,” I said.
“Don’t worry about it.” Then his smile drifted away. “I didn’t steal his money, Alex. You know why?”
“Why?”
“I’ve already sold my soul,” he said. In an instant, his voice had changed. “I’ve already made all the money I’ll ever need. Why would I steal more?”
“All right, Kenny. I get the picture.”
“Please,” he said. “Call me Kendrick. That’s my real name. I wish Win would call me that.”
“Kendrick,” I said. “Okay. I like that better, anyway. I think we got off on the wrong foot the other night…”
“Yeah, I wasn’t exactly charming. I guess it’s a defense mechanism. Win’s friends tend to be the dumb jock type. It’s like high school all over again.”
“Believe me, I’m not one of his friends.”
As I drove away a few minutes later, I knew he had no part in the robbery. At least, that’s what my gut told me.
I gave the man in the gatehouse a little wave on the way out. He had the gate up so fast I didn’t even have to slow down. When I was out on the open road, I picked up the cell phone. I had left Kenny’s house, make that Kendrick’s house, actually liking the man, and feeling a little sorry for him, if getting rich meant he had to put up with Vargas. Now it was eleven o’clock and I hadn’t even ruined anybody’s morning yet. So I called Swanson’s secretary.
“Good morning, ma’am,” I said when she answered. “I’m wondering if Mr. Swanson is there today.”
“He most certainly is not,” she said. I didn’t have to wonder if she had recognized my voice. “He will not be in the office at all today.”
“Is he in court? That’s right next to the City-County building, right? Maybe I can catch him there.”
“He’s not in court today, either.”
“Ma’am, why do I get the impression he doesn’t want to talk to me? All I want to do is ask him a couple of questions.”
“I’ll give him the message that you called again, sir. Now if you’ll excuse me…”
“That’s all right,” I said. “I’ll just catch him later.”
“As I said, he will not be in the office at all today.”
“Yeah, I got that one. Don’t worry, I’ll find him. Have a good day.”
I hung up before she could say another word. I put the phone on the passenger’s seat, right on top of the piece of paper Leon had given me. It just so happened to have Swanson’s home address, right there in black ink. It was about time to make a house call.
I drove for a while, then picked up the phone again. After that call to Swanson’s secretary, I needed to talk to somebody who would truly appreciate the sound of my voice. I dialed the Soo police station and asked for Chief Maven. I got bounced around, put on hold, had to ask for him again, put on hold again, and then finally the man himself came on the line. I was going to ask him about the Canadian license plate. Then I was going to ask him if he had any revelations yet-like maybe realizing that somebody was leading him in the wrong direction, and he was falling for it.
I didn’t get the chance.
“McKnight, where the hell are you? I’ve been calling you all morning!”
“I’m downstate,” I said. “What’s going on?”
“Downstate? Where?”
“Just outside of Petoskey,” I said. “Are you gonna tell me what’s going on or not?”
“How soon can you be here?”
“A couple of hours,” I said. “About one o’clock.”
“Make it twelve-forty-five, McKnight. I’ll be waiting for you at War Memorial.”
It took a few seconds for that to sink in. “Chief, what the hell happened?” I said. “Why do you need me at the hospital?”
“Go downstairs to the coroner’s office,” he said. “You’re the only man who got a good look at those guys… We want to see if you recognize this one.”
“One of the gunmen? He’s dead?”
“No, McKnight, we just thought he’d be more comfortable waiting down here in the morgue.”
“Take it easy, Chief. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
I hung up and punched the accelerator. Whoever was behind this, it looked like the stakes had just gotten a lot higher.
Chapter Fourteen
War Memorial Hospital is right in the middle of the Soo’s business district, a few blocks south of the river, a few blocks west of Leon’s office. I got there a few minutes before one o’clock, and walked into the outpatient waiting room. Maven was sitting there, looking at a magazine. Aside from him, the chairs were empty. He didn’t smile when he saw me.
“The hell took you so long?” he said, standing up. He threw the magazine back on the pile.
“I was going seventy,” I said. “I don’t have a siren I can flip on like you do.”
“Let’s go,” he said. I followed him to the elevator.
“Were you waiting here the whole time?”
“Of course not. You think I have time to sit in a waiting room for two hours? I went to the office. I just got back here five minutes ago.”
“Then why are you reaming me out for taking so long?”
“Who’s reaming you out, McKnight?” he said. He pushed the down button. “You’ve always been way too sensitive.”
I just shook my head, got in the elevator with him, and rode down to the basement.
“When’s the last time you were in a morgue?” he said.
“Nineteen eighty-four.”
“The last year you were a cop?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Long time ago.”
“I don’t imagine they’ve changed much.”
The elevator stopped. The door opened. Maven led me down a long hallway. When he opened the door to the morgue, I smelled the antiseptic, felt the touch of cold air on my skin. Maven was right-it had been a long time. But it was all coming back to me.