Five
I awoke the next morning, which was a Monday, ready to tackle the world. I jumped up out of bed, only to be reminded of the sorry state of my body, which had grown stiff and sore overnight. No headache, however, so that was a plus. I wandered into the bathroom, spent some time trying to make myself presentable, then ran back to my newly reorganized and clean bedroom, determined to keep it that way. Feeling better the more I moved, I went downstairs for breakfast. It was exceptional; bacon, eggs, oatmeal, several types of juices and pancakes with blueberry syrup. Everyone enjoyed themselves. I thanked Mother and she asked how I felt. I told her I was a bit sore, but in a great mood. She smiled.
I said, “I think I’ll take a walk, and see if I can scare up Soot.”
“That would be very nice, After.”
“I think the old boy can take care of himself, but he may not know that!”
She laughed, and agreed, but still had a worried look on her face. “What shall I make for supper? Does your lady friend have any preferences?”
“I honestly do not know, but I am sure she will be happy with anything you dream up, plus she looks like she hasn’t eaten a solid meal in months.”
With that, I wandered out the door and began retracing my path from the previous day. It was nearer mid morning this time, and there were no raccoons and quite a few less dogs and cats as well. There were children out however, and one or two even trusted me enough to talk to me. None seemed to have seen a cat that matched Soot’s description. I wandered throughout the neighborhood for an hour, thinking that I ought to do this every morning until the rascal showed up, or was found. It was good exercise and I was able to think a bit as well. I was trying to piece together why I was being singled out for extinction. There were two possibilities; one, that someone thought I had some evidence that might be harmful to them…that could be the person that whacked me in Felix’s apartment, two; it could be Steroids and the continuing aftereffects of my anonymous phone call to ‘The Green Frog’. Either way, I must be getting someone worried that I might be getting near to figuring out about the disappearance of Felix Jeffries. I was interested in what might have happened to Charlie Underhill, a.k.a. the Greaseball, and was actually looking forward to my visit downtown.
Any information gathered might help me with my own case, if it could still be called a case, with no client, a missing person that may have just left on his own, one witness apparently dead, and another that appeared to be a pale version of the Hulk. Like it or not, Steroids was my only lead, and I was going to have to deal with him. At least I knew his phone number.
As I walked, I looked around for Soot. I realized the little twerp liked heights, so I kept an eye on the tops of fences, ledges near windows and low tree limbs. The neighborhood was one of those old time neighborhoods, where there were wide sidewalks, well away from the street, houses neatly kept, also well away from the street.
There were verdant lawns where children and their pets and friends played. The old, large front porches had swings that were actually used on summer evenings. Driveways with older cars parked in them, very rarely a garage. It reminded me of a ‘Leave It To Beaver’ show, and it made me feel safe. It was a far cry from the various neighborhoods of my youth, where one had to dodge bottles thrown by drunks, speeding taxis, or pedestrians made out of steel that could walk right over you. There had been no lawns, just wide areas of concrete bordering rocky, littered patches of dirt. Billboards with women in various stages of undress were everywhere. Delis, bakeries and open trash cans competed for the attention of your nose.
None of the houses I had lived in looked like any of these either.
Most that I had been familiar with were second or third story flats with broken front doors, lending them to use by the homeless or other lost souls that inhabited the streets. I got used to dodging the bottles, the drunks and the others, but was never comfortable with them. I was happy with my third floor room at Mother’s. It was the way life should have been with my own mother. She never seemed to catch a break. She couldn’t hold a job, couldn’t keep a man, and never stayed at one place for more than a year, at best. I managed to attend several different schools, sometimes finding myself back at one I had left a few years before. My senior year, I was in two separate schools, probably explaining the lack of a social life, and self esteem.
Anyway, I had been at it for an hour, when I found myself outside the hardware store where I had bought the water gun that I shot Soot with. I went inside and asked the girl at the counter if I could establish a credit line with the store.
“Sure,” she smacked, her mouth working furiously at a large wad of gum. “What’s your name?”
“After Coffman, I live at Mother Teresa’s,” I told her.
“K,” she said and wrote my name on a piece of paper. “Pay on the first or we charge ya interest.”
“Good deal,” I exclaimed. Try to get that sort of trust in Brooklyn.
I wandered about a little, until I came to the door area. They had all sorts of doors, and the associated hardware that goes with them. I finally found two dead bolts that I thought would work on Mother’s doors, and took them up to the check out girl. “I need to put this purchase on my account,” I said.
“What’s yer name?” she asked.
“I just got done talking to you, and gave you my name just a few minutes ago,” I said, somewhat amused and taken aback at the same time.
“Doesn’t mean I remember it.”
“After Coffman.” I sighed, wondering if she was related to the girl that had answered the phone at the newspaper.
“Don’t get many Coffmans in here.”
“Do you get many Afters?”
“After what?”
“Never mind. Can I take this now?”
“Just sign here,” she said, handing me a receipt.
I gathered up my purchase before she could forget anything else and scurried out of there. I walked home, trying to look for Soot, however realizing that he was probably not to be found in the manner I was searching.
I got home, checked the bolts to see if they would fit the front and rear doors, then went looking for Mother. I found her in the kitchen, cooking, as usual.
“I got new dead bolts for the doors. I was wondering if you have a drill and screwdrivers, that sort of thing?”
“No, but someone generally does, I never seem to have the need for tools. Usually someone living here is handy enough or knows someone with tools.”
I figured that Roy Mack would have something I could use, so I said, “I’ll try to round something up, and fix them tomorrow.”
“That would be wonderful,” she said with a smile, “now run along, and leave me to my cooking.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I went to my room, determined to find some clothes that would make me look at least somewhat dignified for my visit to the Homicide Department. The problem that I was having was that none of my socks truly matched. I know that I hadn’t bought them as mismatched sets, and I usually had the same number come out of the laundry process that went in, so all I could really ascertain was that the dryer gods occasionally asked for a sock sacrifice, and somehow gave back to me other people’s socks that didn’t make the final godly cut. Anyway, I found two dark socks, one with lines, one with a pattern, but basically the same colors, got my best dress shirt, a pale blue one with good buttons, and managed to locate my best khaki slacks. I had time to add a bit of polish to my loafers, so I felt somewhat ready to meet Lieutenant Howard and Detective Moore.
Tossing off a cheery wave to the fossil as I went out the door, I felt ready to face whatever they had for me. I turned up the street and began my walk to the station. I thought I saw a glint of silver, and thought about the Volkswagen, but never got a real good look as the block had lots of trees and bushes, not to mention kamikaze kids and dogs that one had to dodge constantly. I passed it off as paranoia, and continued my walk. It was going to be a hot day, and I took my time so that I would be as fresh as possible when I got there. Nevertheless, I had a light sheen of sweat on my face, and my shirt was clinging to my back when I entered the air-conditioned Police house.
I went to the front desk, and asked for the Lieutenant. The desk officer told me to have a seat, and did absolutely nothing else. I waited, saw him give two other people the similar treatment, and decided that things must get done somehow, and decided to be patient.
Sure enough, a few minutes later, Lieutenant Howard breezed through the door and motioned me to him with a wave of his hand.
I got up and followed. We went through a warren of halls, past cubicles and doors with frosted glass windows lining them, until we reached some stairs. We ascended a floor, and came into a large open room, totally crammed full of desks, filing cabinets and trash cans which were overflowing with the paperwork that seems to be endlessly generated by the government. Each desk had an overworked ashtray, and the room had that off brown hue that rooms get when subjected to heavy smoke on a steady basis. It was livable today though, as the room was relatively devoid of people. I followed the Lieutenant to the far side of the room, and we neared the only area in the office that was immaculate. The desk was tidy and recently polished, no ashtray, and the bulletin board on the wall next to the desk was neat and orderly. The desk gleamed softly under the unforgiving florescent bulb overhead. I saw no pictures of family, or anything to indicate a home life on or near his desk. The totally organized professional. It made me feel better somehow.
He motioned me to the chair alongside his desk, and I sat. I noticed that his chair was the same, no rollers, and no cushion.
“They treat you well around here, don’t they?” I offered.
“My choice,” he grunted, “if I get too comfortable around here, I tend to stay at my desk, instead of working the cases.”
I nodded in understanding, as if I had a similar viewpoint. Come to think of it, there were no papers or ashtray in my little office either, and I had just recently cleaned it, so I felt on an equal basis with him. I did notice that his socks matched.
“Anyway,” he stated without preamble, “I need to know what you did from the time you chased Underhill out of the house till about 7:00 that morning.”
I told him everything, the call to Jocko preceding the chase, the chase itself, the subsequent visit from Jocko, the search for Soot and the discovery of the gun. “Just so you’ll know, the gun that you found was not the murder weapon, the gun you found was .38 caliber and the one that killed him was a .22.”
“Good, I’m relieved, I thought maybe I’d shot him for a minute there,” I joked. The Lieutenant wasn’t smiling. “I thought so too,” he said, “until Jocko vouched for you.”
I gulped. “ I was just kidding, Lieutenant. I haven’t held a gun since I was at the shooting range while trying for the police academy.”
He stared at me for a moment more, then decided to let me off the hook. “Police Academy huh? Let’s go get some coffee.”
I hopped up, happy to oblige. I was aware that the room had managed to fill up with cops, cigarette smoke and high energy foods, such as doughnuts, bagels and granola bars. I was glad to leave, the smoke had already gotten to me, and I wouldn’t be able to wear these clothes again until I had aired them out. I figured a night or two hanging outside my window ought to do it, they weren’t dirty enough to wash yet, for goodness sake.
We walked out of the building and across the street to a little dive that was probably the safest place in the city to eat, as there seemed to be no one there but cops, or people associated with them, such as secretaries and lawyers. In fact, there were several members of the law firm that occupied the building that I had tried to rent earlier. I felt like going over there to thank them for allowing me to find Roy.
We sat down, and the Lieutenant asked me what I’d have. I declined, but he said it was on his expense account, so I opted for a glazed and a cup of orange juice. He sat and looked me over carefully, then said, “There seems to be something you aren’t telling me, you know….it could be important. You are now loosely associated with two murders. In fact, you may be the last person besides the murderers that saw these two.” “Are you now considering Felicia’s death a homicide?”
“I am, the department doesn’t see it my way though.”
“Hmmmm,” I mused, “I don’t have a clue why anyone would want to kill her. She just recently joined a church group; they met on Wednesday nights with Pastor James. Other than that, I don’t know whom she saw, how much she knew about Felix, or anything else about her. I haven’t even seen where she lived.”
“There was nothing suspicious at her house either,” the Lieutenant said. “We didn’t find a key to her son’s apartment, that’s for sure.” He looked at me quizzically. “I never got it, either in person, by mail or from anyone else.”
He seemed satisfied with this, but was clearly struggling with something. Maybe he didn’t even know what it was. Our snack arrived and we talked around the food, general stuff, about my past, mostly.
“I do have one item to offer,” I said, after finishing my doughnut, “but it probably amounts to nothing.”
“What’s that?”
“Well, just recently, I have become aware of a silver Volkswagen showing up where I happen to be. It is always too far away for me to see the driver, but I have the feeling it is keeping tabs on me, for some reason or other.”
“Is that so? Could you recognize it if we find it? There can’t be many Volkswagens still around, and silver makes it even easier to find.”
“I’m sure that I could,” I said, “the way it looks, it’s sort of like someone spraypainted it, or the color has faded drastically, almost looks like shiny primer, but as I’ve said, it’s never been all that close to me. I wouldn’t be totally surprised to find that the guy who was with Underhill at ‘The Green Frog’ is the driver.”
“Makes sense to me, I’ll put the word out and maybe have a patrolman in your neighborhood in the early hours, see if you might be wrong, and find that they just head out to work early each morning.”
“Like I said, it may amount to nothing.” The lieutanant was done eating and waiting for me to finsish. A thought came to me and I asked, “How does a town the size of Hustle manage to support a Homicide Department? Is that a true necessity?”
He smiled and explained that Hustle was the only town of any size in the county, so the police department actually covered the entire county. This allowed for a greater tax base, better equipment, pay and manpower. Everyone was happy and the situation worked out well for all.
I finished my drink and he got up, “I guess that’s it for today.
Let me know if anything else turns up.”
“OK, thanks for the snack, the next one’s on me.”
“See if you can wrangle me an invitation to Mother’s for a meal one night, that’d do just fine.”
I laughed and said I’d work on it. The Lieutenant didn’t seem so intimidating at the moment and we left on good terms.
I took my time walking home, enjoying the late summer day, but realizing that the time was nearing for worsening weather, and the holiday season. I dreaded the holidays. It generally meant that I had to find where mom lived, figure out a way to go visit her, and what to get her. That was not a huge problem anymore, but the seasonal festivities still did nothing to improve my life, my mood or my pocketbook. Oh well, still months away, it was only August after all. Also, I had a dinner date with Felicity tonight, even though it would be Mother doing all the work. I decided to get on home and see if I could help. I took the long way, going through the alleyways and looking at the tops of fences and trees, seeing if the kooky cat was perched on any of them. No luck, and it was almost 1:00 by the time I arrived.
I was pleasantly assaulted by the smells emanating from the kitchen as I entered the door. I strolled in there, and told Mother how good everything smelled. She smiled, gave me some cookies and milk and told me to get lost. I was to disappear until 4:00, when Felicity was to arrive. We were eating a bit early, as I had to be at work that evening. I appreciated the extra effort as well as the cookies and milk. I took them into the front room where the fossil was asleep watching some old romance movie. I sat down quietly, munching away and feeling sorry for older people. They fell asleep so easily, they seemed to accept that life need not run at 100 miles an hour, and were glad to be off the treadmill. I felt somewhat superior to this lifestyle and was glad to be in the fast lane. Those were my last coherent thoughts before I fell asleep as well.
Hal came in a bit later and woke me up. He sat next to me, and I noticed he was crunching on my last cookie. I glared at him, then laughed at myself for falling asleep. I excused myself with the thought that it must have been the old movie. I asked Hal how the day had gone, and why he was home so soon.
“It’s not that early, nearly 3:30, and there are days when I am simply not needed,” he said.
“That late?” I was astounded; I had slept the afternoon away and needed to clean up a bit for Felicity. “Sorry Hal, I need to go clean up a bit!”
“Don’t worry,” he leered, “I’ll keep her company for you.”
“Right,” I said, as I hopped up. “You took the last cookie, you get to take in the empty glass!”
He grinned and assured me that he would. I ran upstairs, peeling my clothes off and setting them on the windowsill to air out, closing the window on them to insure they wouldn’t blow away in a wind. I ran to the bathroom, performing the obligatory quickie cleanup and went back to my room to look for suitable attire.
Paul was in there, in boxers and tee shirt, looking around.
“What’s going on Paul?”
“I was trying to figure out whose room this is, do you know?”
“It’s my room,” I said.
“Can’t be, it’s too clean.”
“Mother cleaned it up for me, must have gotten tired of it looking like it did.” “She never does that for me,” he complained.
“You need to start dating then, I’ll bet Jocko didn’t get the good treatment till he met Bitsy.”
“Ah, so you noticed he got the royal treatment too.”
“Yes, I did,” I admitted. “Now, run along, I need to get dressed, and so do you, if you’re going to eat with us.”
Paul got out of the room safely, and I continued my deliberations, finally settling on a decent golf shirt and a nice pair of blue jeans. I decided against mismatched socks and just wore the loafers.
I splashed on some cologne and declared myself fit for humanity.
I closed the door out of habit, mostly because of Soot encounters, but thinking about it, I reopened the door, thinking that the room was doing well during its airing out procedure, and Soot wasn’t around to despoil things anyway.
I walked down the stairs, to see Felicity being entertained by Hal, James, Paul and the fossil. Mother had the table set beautifully and I salivated at the smells coming through the doorway, fresh bread being the most prominent.
Felicity was laughing at something that Hal had whispered to her, causing her to blush a bit. Hal was standing entirely too close to suit me, but didn’t give an inch as I approached.
“Hi Felicity,” I croaked, as I neared the group. “How was your day?”
“Hi After,” she chirped, “I didn’t do too much today, just loafed mostly. I managed to pick up a few things for the apartment, and I had a faucet problem that Hal said he could fix for me.”
Why women pull this stuff, I’ll never know. All of a sudden, I hated Hal, had no use for Felicity, and lost my appetite. She just had to know that men don’t like these things, but then, as I was only one of several in the area, she had every reason to play the field.
She must have seen my depression building, because she took pity, and said, “Of course, he’ll probably need help, so maybe he can come over with you sometime and the two of you can fix it.”
Hal looked a bit stricken, but recovered well, saying that would be fine, then he sauntered off to the dining room, followed by the fossil. All of a sudden I had my appetite back. Felicity grinned at me and winked, rolling her eyes in Hal’s wake. James was lounging in a chair, legs over the side. He yawned and said to call him when dinner was ready, he wanted to watch Roadrunner beat up on Wile E.
Coyote some more. Paul just sort of stood there, hemming and hawing. He finally got up some nerve.
“Um, Felicity…” he stammered. “Y-you w-wouldn’t have a sister, or a f-friend that could stand a g-good time do you?”
Felicity smiled. “No Paul, I just got ba… ummm… here in town, and I know no one. The only relative I have is a brother, and we don’t get along at all. I’ll keep an eye out though. Aren’t there girls at the newspaper?”
“The only one that likes me is the switchboard operator, and she always forgets my name, in fact, she asked me if I wanted an application last week.”
“She must like you then,” I ventured, “if she thinks enough of you to want you to work there.” It was lame, but the best I could do. It seemed to work., “Yeah, that must be it, I think I’ll ask her out tonight!”
“You do that,” I urged, trying not to smile too much.
Felicity grabbed my arm, saying, “Come on, I haven’t eaten all day, and I am starving!”
I followed easily, letting her keep my arm, I had an extra leg and all of my hair to loan her if she wanted it. She was right too, the smell was overpowering.
Mother had outdone herself. There was fried chicken, cole slaw, potatoes as well, the little small ones, with the green flecks of something or other on them. Fresh rolls, marmalade and that fabulous honey butter. Corn on the cob, several things to drink, and a big, fat triple layered chocolate cake smack dab in the middle of the table. Cloth napkins that had the good silver wrapped within, the plates were her best, sitting on hand made lace place mats. There were two candles, unlighted, as it was daytime, but the effect was wonderful. There was hardly a word spoken as we settled in to graze, except for the occasional “pass this, pass that, please”.
I forgot to tell you how wonderful Felicity looked, as first Hal, then Paul, and then dinner had preoccupied me. I looked up long enough to notice that James had joined us. Hal asked if Roadrunner had been eaten, and James told him no, grinning all the while.
Anyway, Felicity was in a red summer dress, with white polka dots, just the hint of makeup, and had her hair in some sort of ponytail, but with a fancy thing holding it back. She wore little gold heart earrings, and sandals, so the effect was casual, but arresting. She smelled great too.
I whispered to her, “How do you do it? You look and smell great, and I’ll bet you didn’t think twice about it.”
She grinned and said, “I must have tried a hundred things until I settled on this, you look good yourself.” Then she turned her head away.
I felt great, and didn’t mind grinning at Hal across the table, to let him know that compliments had been exchanged. The cad just grinned back at me, then winked at Felicity. I was wishing for Soot to come back, I wanted to put him in Hal’s room and close the door while he was gone to work one day soon.
Supper was super, and I had two pieces of cake, an extra glass of milk and when everyone was suitably gorged, most of us went into the living room to digest it all. Mother had already put out a full coffeepot and mugs, so it gave everyone but James a chance to relax after the repast. James, of course, went up to his room, returned a few minutes later in shorts and a tee shirt and went jogging. What a waste of good fatty foods.
I felt that I was suitably dressed for work, so I got up at about fifteen till six and announced that I was walking to work. Felicity would have nothing of it and said she’d drive me. That was that, everyone got up, stretched, said their good-byes and went to do their own particular thing. It looked as if it might rain, so I grabbed my raincoat, then held the door for Felicity and walked to the car with her. She turned around and waved, I looked back and saw Mother waving at us. I waved too, got a smile and then Felicity and I got into her car. It was old and worn, but spotless, and somehow I knew it would run like a top. It did.
“Sorry about this car,” Felicity said, “but I haven’t had work in some time and it was all I could afford.”
“What sort of work do you do?” I asked.
“I try to paint, but it isn’t always how good you are, sometimes, it comes down to who you know. I’ve been told I have talent, so I keep plugging away. I generally do housecleaning to earn money.”
“Where did you live before coming here?”
She gave me an odd look, thought about it and said, sighing, “I’m not truly sure that I live here, it is just a side road to me. There is no way to sell my work here, and I haven’t been inspired to paint at all. That’s one of the reasons I came here, was to get a change of venue, maybe discover another side of myself, and see if I could get started again.”
I settled back somewhat grumpily, realizing that if she hadn’t been inspired, that I hadn’t had much of an effect on her. Anyway, who knows what inspires artists, maybe near death experiences or a lost butterfly in a hailstorm. Who knew? Before I could get too upset about it, we were at Roy’s. She pulled over, and I asked if she’d like to come in.
“No, not just yet. I may run a few errands, then I might drop by later!”
That was good enough for me. I thanked her, and she smiled, but didn’t lean in for a kiss, so I got out as graciously as I could.
“Tell Mother I had a great time, and that the food was the best I’ve had in years.” “I will.” Somehow this sounded like goodbye to me. “Thanks for the lift.”
“You’re welcome,” she said. Then without meeting my eyes, she smiled in my general direction and drove off.
I didn’t think I’d done anything wrong. I truly could not think of a thing I had said. Going over the conversation, I realized that it was something that she had said, that could have gotten her upset.
She may have realized that there was nothing here to inspire her, and she was thinking that it was time to go. I had to let it go at that for now.
I entered the building. Roy was hard at work selling something small, dark and metallic to a couple that seemed excited about their find. I smiled and went into my office, where I sat down to think.
Before long, I heard the door bells tinkling and the door to the street closed behind the pair.
I went in to see Roy. “How’d the day go?”
“Pretty good, I got some new things over the weekend, spent some time bringing them in, and then the people kept coming. I’ve been busy and made some money.” He pointed over to a pile of quilts on the floor near my office. “Do you think you could shake those out and place them on the benches by the back door wall?”
“Be glad to,” I said.
“OK, then I’ll leave it to you.”
“Have a nice evening!” I said to him as he pulled his jacket on.
I almost forgot. “Do you mind if I take a few tools back with me, I need to do some repair work on Mother’s front door.”
“Sure, help yourself,” he replied. Then he too, stopped and turned just as he reached the door. “By the way, I wouldn’t get too chummy with Jocko, if I were you.” I was shocked. What could Jocko possibly have done to elicit that comment. “Why not?”
“Well, he was a bit of a hellion when he was younger, got mixed up in some things as a young man, had some big city friends that used to come down here, spent time with him. Occasionally he would go up to the city as well, then come back with money, sometimes a flashy girl. People talked. He may have grown out of it, but it didn’t look good to me then, and I still worry about it now. Most of those guys were sent to prison on drug charges. No one ever came here to talk to Jocko, not that I know anyway. He met Bitsy, settled down, his uncle got him a job on the force, and he’s been good as gold since then. You just never know when your past will come back to haunt you, and there may be a reason that he is still only a beat cop, making the minimum salary.”
This was something to ponder, and I nodded farewell to Roy as he went out the door.
Still shaking my head over that news, I went to the quilts, picked a few up and took them out back to shake them. I know very little about quilts, but even I could see that these were fairly nice. Not many rough or worn spots, if any. The stitches were very small, and just irregular enough that I could see that they were done by hand.
I resolved to find a nice one, and place it aside, perhaps as a Christmas present for Mother Teresa. Now I was worrying about the holidays again.
The doorbells rang and a stringy looking, tall gent in a cowboy hat, and a cloud of cigarette smoke walked in. He looked at me, then asked in a very loud voice, “Hey pardner, where’s Roy?”
“Gone for the evening, I’m the new night help.”
“Pleased ta meet ya!” He came over, grasped