The telephone rang. I looked at it hanging on the wall just inside the kitchen and hesitated. I was done with on-call now that the weekend was over, but if they had a call-out and couldn’t reach the on-call detective, they started walking down the list. It was hard to believe they’d get all the way down to me now that I was at the bottom again, but you never knew.
I got up and answered. “Hello?”
“John? It’s me.”
Stephanie. Great.
“What do you want?” I walked around the corner from the dining room and deep into the kitchen, stretching out the cord.
“You don’t have to be rude,” she said.
“I’m not being rude. Just direct.”
“No, it’s rude.”
“What do you want, Stephanie? You didn’t call to teach me phone etiquette.”
“I wanted to remind you to send my check.”
“I sent it to you right after I got my first paycheck this month. You didn’t get it?”
“I did. I mean the check from this coming paycheck.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“I’m serious. You get paid this Friday. I checked at the credit union.”
“So what? I don’t have to pay you again until the 31. It’s in the divorce decree.”
“John, you get paid every two weeks and this is a three pay-period month. You get paid on the first, the fifteenth and the twenty-ninth. You need to pay alimony out of every check. You get a third check, I get a third check.”
Unbelievable. “That’s not what the decree says.”
“It is what the decree says.”
“You want me to go pull it out and fucking read it to you?” I raised my voice.
“Don’t curse at me.”
“It says twice a month. On the 15and the last day of the month.” I lowered my voice to a loud whisper. “I read the fucking papers, Stephanie.”
“I said, don’t curse at me. It’s crude.”
I wanted to scream every curse word I’d ever learned at her.
“Don’t try to con me,” I said.
“I just want what is rightfully mine,” she said. “Are you going to send a check or do I need to call my attorney?”
I ground my teeth and said nothing.
“John? What’s it to be?”
I opened my mouth and closed it before I let the words slip out. I forced them back down and tried to remember Stephanie before the divorce. Tried to remember her smile. Her hands on my face. Making love in the mornings. How she was with Ben right after the accident.
None of it worked. All I could see was her bitter face and her hand extended out. Pay me.
“Go ahead and call your lawyer,” I said and hung up.
When I walked back into the dining room, Ben and Teri eyed me carefully as I slammed the receiver into the cradle. Both returned to their meal and we all ate without a word. I tore into my second taco and finished my Kokanee in less than two minutes.
After my second taco, I was suddenly full. My stomach roiled from the previous night’s drunk and too much coffee all day. My eyes hurt from staring at reports all day long, none of which ended up having anything to do with my murder case. And now a Stephanie headache was starting.
Teri rose and put her plate in the sink. She gathered up her backpack and gave Ben a small wave. “See ya tomorrow.”
Ben waved back with his taco.
“Bye, John.”
“Bye.”
“Thanks for dinner,” she said and slipped out the back door. Ben ate quietly and I stared at my empty Kokanee bottle while we both listened to Teri’s Honda Accord start up and pull out into the alley, then drive away. Mellencamp began singing Love and Happiness.
I rose and grabbed his plate and mine. I put them in the sink on top of Teri’s. Ben sat at the table, staring at the tablecloth. I grabbed the last Kokanee and sat back down at the table.
“You want one?” I asked him, twisting off the cap.
He shook his head, not taking the bait.
I sipped my Kokanee while he wheeled into the bathroom and brushed his teeth. I knew that when he was finished, I would need to help change him into some pajamas and lift him into bed. I thought about what I would say to him after tucking him in.
But when the time came, I kissed him on the top of his head and said, “Sleep well, buddy. See you in the morning.”
“Love you,” he said.
“You, too.”
I turned off his light and wished for more Kokanee, but the fridge was empty and I left it that way.
Tuesday, April 13th Davenport Hotel, Morning
VIRGIL
My luck had improved with cabs since the visit to the cemetery. After the hotel concierge called, River City Taxi sent over a clean, white Taurus. The driver was a pudgy ball of a man with shiny silver hair. I climbed into the cab and he asked in a low, gravelly voice. “Where to?”
I rattled off the location from memory. He glanced over his shoulder at me with a disapproving look.
“What?”
He turned forward and shook his head. “Nothing.”
The cab lurched forward as he pulled away from the curb. A couple of minutes later we were hurtling east on I-90. The cabbie never said a word while we were on the freeway and I didn’t try to get him to talk. I stared out at the passing landscape, absently wondering what life would have been like if I stayed.
At the Altamont Avenue exit, the car swayed when the cabbie turned to the off ramp. We were on Third Avenue as we approached Altamont and a dirty 7-11 occupied the southwest corner.
“Stop here.”
“But this isn’t where you said you wanted to go.”
His eyes met mine in the rearview mirror and I pointed over at the convenience store.
The car bounced into the parking lot before pulling in front of the building. A smirk grew on the cabby’s face and he shrugged. “You don’t belong here,” he said.
“Why’s that?”
“It’s rough.”
“I’m fine.”
“Want me to wait?”
I pulled my money clip from my pocket and peeled off a ten dollar bill. He reached over his shoulder and carefully took the money from me.
“Need change?”
With a shake of my head, I climbed out and swung the cab door shut.
Inside the 7-11, a blast of cold air from the vents and Bon Jovi from the speakers shocked my system. It was April in River City which was definitely too early for air conditioning.
The clerk behind the counter was a heavy-set black man with a round face and sleepy eyes. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead and he wheezed as he walked.
From a back cooler, I pulled out a bottle of water and went to the counter.
“Good morning, sir,” the clerk wheezed.
“You get a lot of kids coming in here?”
His eyes challenged mine. “Why?”
I put my bottle of water on the counter and pulled out a picture. “You ever seen this girl in here before?”
“You a cop?”
”No.”
“Why you want her then?”
“She’s my daughter.”
He watched me for a minute before deciding to speak. “Yeah, she came in here a while back. Haven’t seen her in at least three, maybe four weeks.” His breathing was shallow as he spoke. “She really liked those Chic-O-Sticks.”
I raised an eyebrow at him.
“Those orange sticks,” he said pointing at the candy rack.
“She ever tell you where she was staying?”
“Why would she do that?”
“I don’t know. Did she?”
“She never said.”
“She ever come in here with anyone?”
He rolled his eyes up as he thought. “I don’t think so. She was a nice kid though. Polite.”
I searched his eyes and knew he was holding something back. His eyes flicked away from me but quickly returned. “What else?” I asked.
He pointed at the picture. “She didn’t look like that.”
“What’d she look like?”
His tongue darted across his lips before rubbing them together. “Strung out.”
“Dope?”
The big man shrugged. “I don’t know, but she looked like she’d seen better days.”