Highway 61, page 9
The Audi had been killed. It was still hung up on the signpost. One tire had been shredded, along with the front left quarter panel and headlight. A pool consisting of motor oil, radiator coolant, transmission fluid, and windshield wash had formed beneath it. From where I sat in the parking lot of the Seeger Square strip mall, it looked like blood—at least until the fire department doused it with a flame retardant foam that transformed it into a sickly pink color. A yellow, three-inch wide POLICE LINE DO NOT CROSS tape had been posted. A pair of cops stood outside the tape and cautiously merged Arcade’s two lanes of traffic into one and directed it around the crime scene while a half dozen more stood inside the tape and examined bullet holes. I was surprised by how few gawkers there were. The diners inside the Great Dragon and Taqueria Los Ocampo restaurants couldn’t even be bothered to come to the windows and look out. Then again, it was the East Side.
Two of the cops made their way up to the parking lot. I recognized them both. If I had seen them at Target Field or the Minnesota State Fair, I probably would have waved.
“McKenzie,” Bobby said.
“Commander Dunston,” I said.
“You all right?”
I stretched my aching back.
“Fit as a fiddle and ready for love,” I said.
Bobby nodded toward the woman standing next to him, his partner of the past three years whom he once described as “young, beautiful, smart as hell.”
“You know the sergeant,” he said.
“Hi, Jeannie,” I said.
“That’s Detective Shipman to you,” she said. She was smiling when she said it, though, so I didn’t take her seriously.
“What happened, McKenzie?” Bobby asked.
“Well, Officer, I was minding my own business, driving down the street—”
“Don’t screw with me, McKenzie. I’m not in the mood. Who shot at you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Guess,” Shipman said.
“I can’t.”
“Does this have anything to do with your trip to Thunder Bay?” Bobby asked.
“I don’t know.”
“McKenzie, this isn’t just about you.” He pointed at the elementary school on the hill behind the mall. “Other people could have been hurt, too.”
“I appreciate that.”
“I don’t think you do.”
Bobby turned to the paramedic, who was packing up his equipment.
“Excuse us, please.”
The paramedic nodded and moved to the front of his vehicle and climbed in behind the wheel. Shipman started to drift back to the crime scene.
“Not you.”
Bobby turned back to me.
“McKenzie,” he said, “I’ve known you since kindergarten. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had. You’re godfather to my eldest daughter. You’re the executor of my estate. My mother—Mom called Sunday. She said to tell you that if you don’t have any plans, you’re welcome to spend Thanksgiving with the family at her place in Wisconsin.”
“That’s kind of her.”
‘There’s no way that I could bring myself to arrest you.”
“Thanks, Bobby.”
“Sergeant Shipman, arrest McKenzie.”
Shipman stepped forward while reaching into her bag for handcuffs.
“Whoa, wait a minute,” I said.
“Hands on the vehicle, McKenzie,” Shipman said. “You know the drill.”
“What’s the charge?”
“During the thirty-six hours I can hold you without a charge, I bet we’ll think of something,” Bobby said.
Shipman grabbed a handful of my sports jacket and yanked me off the bumper. She was surprisingly strong.
“Turn around,” she said.
“You made your point,” I said.
“Hands against the vehicle, assume the position.”
“Bobby?”
“McKenzie?”
“I don’t know who they are, but I think they’re involved in drugs.”
Shipman stepped back. The expression on her face suggested that she’d just hit a dinger but didn’t want to gloat while she circled the bases.
I had to give them something, so I told the two cops about finding the drugs attached to my Jeep Cherokee in Canada and what happened next—the garage break-in, the assault in the parking lot of Rickie’s. I asked them if they wanted to see the bruises on my back. What I didn’t mention was the job I was doing for Jason Truhler. They were both shaking their heads sadly by the time I finished.
“Why didn’t you call the police?” Bobby asked.
“What?”
“When you found the drugs hidden on your Cherokee, why didn’t you contact the Thunder Bay Police Service? Why didn’t you call your friend the detective constable? Why didn’t you tell Marty Sigford when he responded to the break-in? Why didn’t you call the police when you were jumped at Rickie’s?”
“Why?” I asked.
“Yes, why?”
“It never occurred to me.”
“Of course not,” Shipman said. “Instead of doing something that might help us catch these guys, you decided to do what’s easiest for you. Does that pretty much cover it? You decide what’s good or bad, right or wrong, legal or illegal, and screw the rest of us. McKenzie, you used to be police. Now you’re just another self-serving citizen.”
Bobby and I had known each other for so long that we had developed the ability to communicate without actually speaking. I turned to him and flashed a look that said, “Are you going to let her talk to me like that?”
The look that he gave back said, “You’re damn right I am.”
“You’re just telling us enough now to make us go away,” Shipman added. “Isn’t that right?”
“I told you the truth, Detective Shipman,” I said.
“But not the whole truth.” She gestured with her head at Bobby without taking her eyes off me. “You’ll notice he hasn’t explained what he’s doing on the East Side.”
“Yeah, how ’bout that, McKenzie?” Bobby asked.
“I was sightseeing.”
Bobby dropped his chin to his chest, closed his eyes, and sighed deeply.
“You lying sonuvabitch,” Shipman said.
“Prove it,” I said.
“Which? That you’re a liar or a sonuvabitch?”
“All right, all right, that’s enough,” Bobby said. “I’ll catch up to you later, Sergeant.”
Shipman left, yet not without delivering a parting shot. “You’re lucky I’m not in charge,” she said.
Bobby placed his hand on my shoulder and moved me away from the EMS vehicle. We drifted into the middle of the parking lot. It was easy for us to see the remains of my silver Audi from there.
“You know,” Bobby said, “I never did like that color.”
“I did.”
“What are you doing on the East Side?”
“A favor. For a friend.”
“What favor? What friend?”
“I’m not at liberty to say.”
“You’re withholding evidence, brother.”
“I’m not on the job anymore, Bobby. I’m not licensed. I’m under no obligation to tell you—”
“You say that to me? To me? After all these years? What the fuck, McKenzie?”
Bobby took two long steps away from me and then two steps back.
“You’ve changed,” he said. “When you first started doing these favors for friends, all you wanted to do was help, and there was something noble about it. You helped and never asked for anything in return, and you never crossed the line. You were always the good guy. Always. Are you still a good guy, McKenzie? Are you on the right side of the line? Do you even know where the line is anymore?”
“I think so.”
“I don’t. You once told me that you do favors for friends because you want to make the world a better place. Tell me, how is that working out for you? I ask because it seems to me that the more favors you do, the less happy you are, and I’m wondering if that’s because you’re starting to do—what is it people say—two wrongs don’t make a right? I’m wondering if you’ve done too many wrongs for what you think are the right reasons and it’s starting to mess with you. I’m a cop. I’ve seen bad things. You used to be a cop. You saw them, too. Anyone who is a man would want to change those bad things—make them go away. If you try too hard, you become part of what you behold. Do you know what I mean by bad things?”
“Yes.”
“That’s why the cops have rules—to keep us from trying too hard. Do you have any rules, McKenzie?”
“Yes.”
“I’d like to know what they are.”
“I don’t have them written down.”
“Tell me, then.”
“C’mon, Bobby.”
“Do you know why I let you spoil my kids, why I let you buy Victoria and Katie stuff I can’t afford? I want them to have someone in their lives besides their parents that they can depend on absolutely should the bad things ever reach out to touch them. All they have to do is crook a finger and whisper your name and you’ll be there, they know that, I know that. It’s a comfort to me knowing that”—he pointed a finger at me—“as long as you don’t bring the bad things with you when you come.”
“I admit that I sometimes play fast and loose with the rules,” I said.
“You do more than that. Listen, you and I, we live on the fringe between light and dark. All cops do. We cross over into the darkness to do the job—but it’s no place to live. You gotta know that. Do you know?”
“I know.”
“I’m going to give you some advice, whether you want it or not. It’s not my advice. It’s what your father would say if he were here. Remember who you are. Remember where you came from. Remember that a man’s character is judged by how he behaves when there is no one around to see.”
When Bobby spoke the advice, I could actually hear the old man’s voice.
“Words of wisdom,” I said.
“I’ll see you around, McKenzie.”
Bobby started moving toward my battered Audi. I called to him.
“Don’t forget hockey Friday night.”
He waved in reply.
* * *
’Course, that wasn’t the end of it. I still had to give a statement and sign some papers. Bobby decided that the Audi was evidence in a crime and had it towed to the police impound lot, which was fine with me. It had to be towed somewhere. I told myself maybe I’d just abandon it there. Bobby gave me a receipt for the car. When I asked for a ride home, he told me to take a cab. Shipman said if I didn’t have the cash, I could take a bus, which reminded me—I had no idea what happened to the bus I had been following, the little girl, or Truhler’s $9,980. If that wasn’t bad enough, I received a call on my cell phone while I was outside the Subway in the Seeger Square mall waiting for the cab.
“McKenzie, this is Detective Constable Wojtowick.”
“Good afternoon,” I said. “Or should I say evening?”
“The sun is setting where I am,” she said.
“Here, too.”
“You’ll never guess, but Dooley Brothers is involved in carpet reclamation.”
“They’re the guys who replaced Daniel Khawaja’s carpet,” I said.
“Yes. They’re part of a group that recycles carpets, that tries to divert carpets from landfills.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means they still had the original carpet from the Chalet Motel.”
“After all this time?”
“After all this time, and in case you’re wondering, yes, we did find the carpet that was taken from room thirty-four. I gave it to forensics, and they identified the stain in about six minutes.”
“Was it wine like Daniel said?”
“No. It was a mixture of corn syrup, water, red food coloring, green food coloring, and milk.”
“What?”
“Theatrical blood. What they use onstage and in the movies instead of the real thing.”
“I’ll be damned. What about your fraud unit?”
“They never heard of a scam quite like it, but they’re going to keep a lookout.”
“I don’t know what to say. It looks like Jason Truhler was telling the truth after all.”
“At least about that.”
“What do you mean?”
“I checked with the good folks at the Prince Arthur Hotel. Truhler had made reservations for two on May seventeenth, four days before the reservations were made at the Chalet.”
“For two?”
“Yep.”
Dammit, my inner voice said. The sonuvabitch did lie to you. God! If you had known that this morning, think of all the trouble you could have saved yourself. Your poor Audi!
“I don’t know what to say,” I said.
“Say, ‘Thank you, Detective Constable Wojtowick, for your generosity and high degree of professionalism.’”
“Thank you, Detective Constable Wojtowick, for your generosity and high degree of professionalism.”
“Think nothing of it. Don’t forget, McKenzie, if you find the girl, I want to know about it.”
“I promise.”
EIGHT
“I lied,” I said.
“To who?” Nina asked. “Bobby?”
“I lied to him without even thinking about it, not a moment’s hesitation. I just did it. He knew I was lying, too. That’s why he was so angry.”
“Why should he be different from the rest of us?”
After taking a cab home, I changed clothes. Both my shirt and sports coat were lost causes, stained with so much blood I just balled them up and tossed them in the trash. Some of the cuts started bleeding again when I washed up, and it took me a few minutes to get them back under control. Even so, my face made me look like I had been mugged by a pack of angry cats. Nina noticed it the moment I knocked on her front door. Most people would have asked what happened. She said, “What now?” I told her. She was not amused. Now she was pacing in front of the chair in her living room where I was sitting. I asked her to stop. She ignored me.
“I withheld evidence that I knew to be pertinent to his investigation,” I said. “I never did that before.”
“About Jason?”
“Yes.”
“You were protecting Jason.”
“No. Hell, no.”
“Rickie, then.”
“My father never in his life did a thing that embarrassed me, that made me think less of him—as far as I know. I don’t want to know.”
“And you don’t want Rickie to know. You were protecting Rickie from the truth about her father.”
“Hell, Nina, I don’t even know what the truth is. Maybe your ex-husband is just a dupe. Maybe—ahh. Sometimes I feel like Yul Brynner in The King and I. I’m no longer positive of the things I know for sure. Maybe if someone else had been involved I would have come clean. If it wasn’t just me, if it wasn’t just my car…”
“Isn’t that enough? They nearly killed you. They destroyed your Audi.”
“I figure that’s just the price you pay for doing the things I do.”
“It seems like an awful lot of risk for so little.” Nina took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Sometimes, McKenzie, I just want to slap your face.”
“Please don’t. I’ve already lost too much blood.”
She stopped pacing and looked down at me. Somewhere inside her head a switch was turned. The expression on her face turned from anger to something else.
“Oh, hell,” she said.
“What?”
Nina sat on my lap, her legs hanging over the arm of the chair. She wrapped one arm around my shoulder, her hand resting on the nape of my neck.
“If I kiss you, will you start bleeding again?” she asked.
“I suppose you could give it a try. Think of it as a science experiment.”
Nina leaned in and kissed me on the side of the mouth and then moved her lips to my cheek. She leaned back.
“Nope, no blood,” she said.
“Call that a kiss?”
“Are you suggesting my kisses aren’t what they should be?”
“I’m just saying the results of your experiment would have greater validity if you were more aggressive in your research.”
“Oh, the things I do for science.”
She kissed me again, kissed me to the depths of my soul. I sat there and took it, my eyes closed—it was like receiving mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. Suddenly the gloom that had fallen over me since the assassination attempt was lifted. I felt alive again. It seemed hardly possible that this same woman had just spent the better part of a half hour berating me for taking unnecessary risks, for dancing with danger—she actually used those words, “dancing with danger.” I told her she made it sound like one of those silly made-for-TV movies on the Lifetime Channel. That made her even angrier. The kiss, however, suggested that she might be willing to forgive me my many trespasses if only I could resist saying something dumb—“A man has to do what a man has to do” came to mind. I had used that line on her earlier. I was joking at the time; I said that you could tell I was joking because I was smiling. I was never one of those guys, I insisted. Nina rolled her eyes and said, “McKenzie, you’ve always been one of those guys.” I argued that, while I wasn’t completely immune to all that macho bullshit, I usually had a good reason for what I did. The remark only antagonized her, causing her to harangue me even further. So now I just sat there and kept my big mouth shut and let her kiss me.
When she finished, she rested her head against my chest, and I gently stroked her hair.
“How does that Chinese curse go, the one you like to quote?” she asked.
“May you live in interesting times,” I said.
“You’re the most interesting man I know. I think that might be a curse, too.”
“Yeah, but which of us is cursed? Me, or you for knowing me?”
“Both.”
We kissed again. At just about the time the kissing was starting to lead to someplace more interesting, the front door opened and Erica stepped across the threshold, keys in one hand and a backpack in the other. The backpack made a heavy thud on the floor when she dropped it.
