The old railyard district was a hell of a mess. Derelict buildings, rusting carcasses of old train cars, piles of rotting railroad ties, and overgrown weeds. It was not the most conspicuous place in the city, and it certainly wasn’t the safest. If what that kid Tracey had told me was true, this is where the junkies congregate to get high. The place served as a train graveyard, and I was convinced that it had also seen its share of human corpses as well.
I walked along an overgrown length of railway track toward a long, squat building with boarded up windows and the only intact door. It was safe to assume that this would be the building that the hopheads would use. I came to the door and held my breath; what I was walking into was its own little world, and I really wanted no part of it at all.
I slowly swung the door open and peeked inside. It was too dark to see anything, but the crack of the door allowed a blade of light to slice through the pitch blackness. I pushed the door all the way open and the light flooded most of the interior of the building. As it did, I could see the squirming, wriggling mass of human debris that littered the inside of the building. Protestations and cries bemoaning that sudden exposure to the sun emanated from the mass of flesh.
“Hey, come on,” came the cry of a weak voice, most likely a female, “shut the door, get the light out of here!”
I took a step inside.
“My name is Clayton Lane,” I stated in my best authoritative tone, “and I’m looking for someone who could help me get some answers.”
There was no reply for a moment, but I soon saw a figure slowly start to make its way over towards me. I took a slightly defensive stance, prepared for the worst. As they got closer, I could start to make out features. It was a woman, couldn’t be much older than 25. She looked haggard and exhausted.
“Hey,” the woman whispered, “kill the light, will you? These people don’t need all that.”
I wasn’t too keen on shutting myself in with a bunch of junkies, but I needed some cooperation. I partially closed the door and asserted myself once more.
“I’m looking for someone who can help me with a case. My name is Clayton Lane, private detective.”
The woman placed her hands on her hips and continued to whisper.
“I’m not so keen on ratting anyone out, gumshoe.”
She tapped her foot impatiently and gave off the impression that she was not going to be moved. I reached back and started to open the door once more, allowing more light to cut through the darkness.
“Hey, hey,” came the plea, “knock that off!”
“I will if you give me some answers. I don’t care about anything going on here, I’m interested in someone that might have been coming around looking for something.”
There was a tense silence as the woman refused to budge. I began to swing the door open even more.
“Alright! Please, just leave these folks alone.” She pointed behind me, indicating for me to step outside. I did, and she followed. She shut the door behind us and placed herself firmly in front of it.
For the first time I could see her clearly. She was blonde, thin and pretty. She still looked exhausted, but in the light of day it didn’t look like it was from the drugs. Instead, she looked overworked and not well rested.
“Ok, ask your questions.”
Her tone was abrasive and impatient, but I liked it. She had spunk, and I appreciated that. I pulled out Isadore’s picture from my lapel pocket and flashed it to my host.
“Isadore Jensen, might be going by Leclercq. You seen her around?”
She never even looked at the photo.
“No. We done here?”
I took a step closer to her and held the picture in her face.
“Look again. I got a tip from a Tracey that works at a ritzy joint downtown that says she was asking around about the dope scene. He told her to come out here. I’m looking for her, and I don’t care about you or any of these strung out junkies. None of this is going to vice, so spill, sister.”
She set her jaw and raised her eyebrows at me, but she gave a small sigh and looked at the photo properly. There was a sudden flash of emotion on her face, but she wiped it away quickly, but not fast enough for me to miss it.
“She might have been around, I don’t know?”
“I say she has, and I get the suspicion that you have seen her come around quite often. Don’t hide things from me, miss, I’m not too keen on playing games here.”
“Glenda.”
I lowered my arm, the picture with it.
“Pardon?”
“Glenda, not miss. That’s my name.”
She leaned in close and whispered.
“I talk, it doesn’t get around?”
I shook my head.
“Confidential,” I swore, holding up three fingers in a Boy Scout salute, “Scout’s honor.”
She nodded and began slowly, still whispering in case there were any foreign ears perked up around the corner.
“Yeah, that lady’s been around here a few times. First time she came around was a few months ago. She said that she had connections uptown and that she was wanting to help the folks down here in the gutter. She said that she would need to take one or two volunteers to go with her to talk to the city commission about the drug habit here in the city. She grabbed two of my girls, Mary and Gail, and left. She came back a few weeks later and did the same thing with two more girls, then a few weeks ago the same thing. Always took some girls, never the guys.”
I had taken out my notepad and jotted down the information. It was starting to become clear to me just what might be going on. This may be well above my paygrade, but I wasn’t convinced one hundred percent just yet.
“These girls ever come back around here?”
Glenda shook her head.
“Haven’t seen them since they left with her. It’s not unusual for users to find new dens. This place is popular because it’s secluded and there is plenty of space to lie down.”
I nodded as I scribbled in my pad.
“Has Isadore ever told you what happened to the girls that left with her, or if the city commission has done anything to solve the problem?”
Again Glenda shook her head.
“Not a word. As far as I’ve read in the papers, the city commission is more interested in funding Sandia Laboratories and adding new facilities to the university.”
“Tax dollars well spent,” I remarked as I flipped my pad closed and placed it back in my shirt pocket. “Thank you for the help, Glenda.”
I started to turn to leave but stopped short. I turned back to Glenda.
“If you don’t mind my asking, what exactly do you do out here?”
Glenda looked me dead in the eye.
“I help, Mr. Lane. I work as a nurse at Presbyterian during the day, and any chance I get to come out here, I help these people out. I keep them safe when they use, administer aid when necessary, and keep them from overdosing.”
“Seems like a waste of time to me.”
There was a fire that blazed up behind Glenda’s eyes, one that I had just stoked with my comment.
“It may seem that way to you, Mr. Lane, but I see them as people, not garbage. They deserve to live, regardless of their choices in life. I’m doing my damndest to help, and that’s more than I can say for the city commission, the police, and especially people like you, who feel that they are so high and mighty because, by the grace of God, you aren’t out here, strung out and wasting away.”
Tears streamed down her face as she gave her impassioned oration. I was struck with an arrow of guilt that found itself lodged deep inside my heart. For the first time in a long time, I did something that I hadn’t done.
“I truly apologize, ma’am,” I stammered meekly, “I- I suppose I never saw it in that light. Please forgive me and God bless.”
Glenda tipped her head slightly, begrudgingly accepting my apology and turned back through the door, taking care not to shut it on her angel wings. I took a deep breath and made my way back to my car. I was shaken, and it took the fiery wrath of an angel-nurse to do it.
I composed myself and drove off, back down Coal. I stopped off at The Standard, a cheap diner on Central, not far off from the old rail yards. I grabbed a burger and fries and ate quickly. After I finished, I ordered a second burger and a bottle of Coke to go. I was sure that Margy would have lunch ready, since it was already nearly half past noon, but I thought that Claudia would appreciate a nice burger.
I pulled up in front of my building and went inside. I made my way to the Montaño apartment. The sound of the kids laughing and screaming at play still bled through the door. I knocked loudly, and Fruity answered.
“Hey, qué pasa, Clayton? Back already?”
His face was flushed and he was a bit sweaty. I gave him an inquisitive look and he opened the door further to reveal Margy and Claudia on the carpet playing with the boys. All three were rolicking around Claudia as she made pretend with a toy army jeep. Margy smiled and laughed as she watched the gaiety.
“She’s really good with the boys,” Fruity said as he stepped aside to let me in. I entered and took off my hat and jacket. Claudia looked up at me with a beaming smile before going back to her game of soldiers. The boys giggled and shrieked as she ran the jeep along the floor, gently bumping into each child and making crash sounds each time.
“Hey, kid,” I said as I squatted down, “it looks like you had yourself a good time?”
Claudia laughed and set down the toy. She tousled the kids’ hair and stood up. Hernan grabbed up the toy and the kids continued to play as we adults walked over to the kitchen table. Claudia sat down and I placed the burger and Coke in front of her.
“Thought you might like some lunch, kid.”
She nodded her head, then looked at Margy, who also nodded, and pulled the food from the bag. Fruity retrieved a bottle opener from a drawer and popped the cap off the bottle of Coke. Claudia took a small bite of her hamburger, chewed and swallowed.
“How was your investigation, Clayton?” She took another small bite.
I rubbed my chin (I still hadn’t shaved since I started this case) and rolled my head around my shoulders.
“Well, I think I have a lead on what Isadore is up to,” I began as I pulled a Lucky from my pocket and lit it. “I’m not exactly positive, but it’s a good guess. Right now, I just don’t know where she is, and that’s the thing that I was hired to find out.”
Claudia continued to nibble on her burger and take small sips of her Coke.
“Is she in any trouble?”
I chuckled despite myself.
“Hell, kid, I really don’t think so. I think she’s probably the one to cause trouble for others.” I rubbed my eyes and stretched. “I really don’t think she has much to worry about at all.”
Claudia finished her meal as we sat and made small talk. Margy dotted on the kid, telling me about how the boys just loved her and how she was rather useful around the house, although her cooking skills leave something to desire. Fruity told me that you can tell a lot about a woman by the way she acts around kids, and that Claudia is just a kid herself. Claudia blushed at all the praise she was receiving, but I concurred with it all, I knew she was an alright kid.
After she finished her burger, I told Claudia it was time to go back to the office. I really needed a few hours to rest up before I decided where to go from here, and Claudia wanted to freshen up and have a drink. She gave each of the boys a hug, thanked Margy and Fruity for letting her stay with them, then we trudged our way up to my office.
I tossed my notepad and hat on the desk next to my gun and rubbed my face with both hands. The long night and early morning was killing me now, and a nice quiet nap would hit the spot. I sat in my office chair and leaned back, putting my hands behind my head.
“I’m gonna get some shut eye, kid,” I said as I was already drifting off, “you make yourself comfortable. Don’t leave, don’t answer the door, don’t pick up the phone. Got me?”
“Sure thing, Clayton. I think I am just going to sort through my things and maybe hang them up somewhere.”
“You do that.”
After that, I was out.