Leather Maiden Page 16

  She danced over to me, took hold of my shirt and started to undo the buttons. I tried to help, but she pushed my hands away and did it herself, and pretty soon I was out of my clothes and we were in the bed. The smell of the banana nut bread from the candle was strong and I felt hungry. I took it out on her, and she didn’t mind. The next thing I knew it was morning and the sun was shining through the thin white curtains, and we made love once more, just to make sure we remembered how, and then we went back to sleep and didn’t awake until midday.

  I woke up first and thought about trying to make breakfast in bed, but that time was long past, so I took a shower, and about five minutes into it, she joined me. That took some more time.

  Dressed, we went to the kitchen. She got out some plates, the bread, peanut butter and jelly, and we made sandwiches and poured up glasses of milk and sat at her kitchen table and talked about silly things for a while, then she said, “You know, I knew her.”

  “What?”

  “Caroline.”

  “You knew her?”

  “Not well, but I knew her. I didn’t say anything before, because I didn’t know her that well, and I didn’t want that to be the first thing between us, some work-related thing. What I’ve been thinking, though, is I’m not sure anyone really knew her. Not in any way that really told you anything about her.”

  “I’ve been thinking the same thing.”

  “When I was going to school, I took some night courses at the university, and I saw her one night. And you know what I remember about her?”

  I shook my head.

  “I’m standing in the hall, by the elevators, waiting to go up to the fourth floor, and I see her coming toward me. I looked at her, because you couldn’t not look at her. She was stunning. She was coming toward me and her head was held down a little, but not so much I couldn’t see her face, and I remember thinking, Wow, that is one beautiful but dead face.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “When she saw me, she came out of wherever she had been visiting inside her head, and her face changed, lit up, and she smiled and said something friendly, and we rode up in the elevator together.”

  “People can look that way if they’re thinking about something else. Dead-faced, I mean.”

  Belinda shook her head. “Not like that. I don’t mean she wasn’t carrying a lot of expression because her mind was elsewhere; she had these perfect features that didn’t have any animation. It was like she was all made up for her coffin. It was like a book I read once about these things from outer space that were pods, and they were hid under beds and in closets while people slept, and the people didn’t wake up. Their place was taken by the pods and the people ceased to exist. They looked the same and did the same things, but their expressions were gone, their voices lacked inflection. They didn’t radiate emotion. They weren’t human.”

  “Invasion of the Body Snatchers,” I said.

  “That’s it. That’s the one. That’s how Caroline struck me. I knew who she was because really anyone that went to classes in that building knew who she was. You were in that building, and you saw her, you never forgot her. But I tell you, that girl wasn’t right. She was whatever you wanted her to be.”

  I had heard something similar from Ernie and Tabitha. But I said, “You can’t know that.”

  “You’re right. I can’t. But we rode the elevator up together, and when we got to the top floor, she saw one of the professors unlocking his office door, and when she called his name, she changed. Her posture. Her face. It was as if something came from somewhere and filled her up with personality. She moved differently. She had something she hadn’t had in the hall, or in the elevator, except for that little flash when she spoke to me.”

  “Maybe she knew how to handle men.”

  “No doubt she did. But it wasn’t just that. There was something about her that was empty, and when she needed a personality, it was like she borrowed it.”

  “From who?”

  “I don’t know. From any source she might have seen or learned from. She was someone who imitated life. I know how dramatic that sounds. But riding up in that elevator, I had the coldest, saddest feeling, and I wouldn’t turn my back on her. I pushed up in the corner so I could watch her.”

  “Did she watch you?”

  “She did. She even smiled a couple of times, but it was like a beautiful tiger showing its teeth, not like someone happy to see you, or just being friendly. I know. I know it all sounds like some kind of creep show, and from the outside I must sound like the biggest creep of them all. She was gorgeous, and I won’t lie to you, part of me was very jealous of her. I wanted to look like her, but I didn’t want to be her. Not even in the littlest ways. I don’t think she had feelings one way or another, except for the borrowed ones. I think had she not been so beautiful, she would have been found out sooner. People wouldn’t have trusted her.”

  “You mean men, don’t you?”

  “I mean anyone, but men especially. She could charm when she wanted to make the effort. She borrowed charm from her memory banks, and she only needed so much, because men, they don’t always have to have everything else just right if the woman looks good.”

  “That’s a sad commentary on my sex,” I said, “but what makes it even sadder is you’re probably right. This professor you mentioned, way you said it, you’re telling me something there, aren’t you?”

  “It was your brother. He was teaching a night class.”

  “And?”

  “And the way they looked at one another, the way he touched her shoulder, even though it was nothing but friendly, there was something going on there. I think it was one way. I think she wanted to make him think it was two ways, but I think it was one way. I didn’t even mean to get into this, and wouldn’t have said anything at all, but we are getting closer, and I don’t think a secret like that is good, even if it isn’t much of a secret. I’m sorry to tell you something like that, and now that I think about it, I wish I had just shut up. And you know what, I could be full of it. It might have all been innocent.”

  “I know about it. And you’re right. There was something there. Jimmy’s married, you know?”

  “I know. He and his wife have been in the news a few times. Stuff up at the college, even charity work. And he was in some kind of hunting club or something.”

  “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention what you just told me. I don’t want to make things worse for Jimmy. He knows he messed up, and now that it’s over…”

  “You’ve heard the last from me as far as their relationship is concerned.”

  “Do you know if anyone else knew they were having an affair?”

  “I didn’t really know much of anyone at the university. I knew your brother because of the newspaper, and I knew her because of how she looked, and some of the other students talked about her. I knew a few of the professors.”

  I thought about that a moment.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” she said. “That my opinions about her may come from something someone else said. But no one said anything about her, other than the guys, and then it was just the usual stuff about how fine she looked and what they would like to do with her.”

  “Any of those boys ever sound weird about it? About what they’d like to do?”

  “Not the way you’re thinking. I don’t have any better idea what happened to her than anyone else. You’ve been checking this out, haven’t you? And not just because of the column you wrote. Because of your brother?”

  It was hard to bullshit another reporter, or in this case, a would-be reporter.

  “A little. I didn’t really know about him and Caroline until I started checking things out. I think I’m through checking.”

  “I bet you’re not.”

  “No?”

  Belinda shook her head. “You’re too much of a reporter, and you have something of an obsessive personality.”

  “You think?”

  She grinned. “Yes, I do. I know abou
t you and Gabby.”

  “That’s old news.”

  “Not the way I hear it.”

  “You are a fountain of information, girl. How did you hear about it, and from whom?”

  “Melanie Popper.”

  “Who?”

  “She works at the vet’s office. Gabby told her you came by and tried to patch things up, and Gabby asked you to leave. Or that’s what Gabby told her anyway.”

  “Damn small town…Yes, that’s true. I did try and patch it up, and if she walked through this door right now and said she’d take me back, I’d go. I wouldn’t ask a question, and I wouldn’t look back. I’d go.”

  There was a bit of silence, like a couple of respectful sailors watching a huge iceberg pass by.

  “I can understand that,” Belinda said.

  “I don’t think you can. Listen to me. I said I would go without one word, and I would. But she doesn’t want me, and deep down, some place hidden behind the furnace, I don’t want her and know she’s wrong for me, and you’re helping me understand that. I don’t want it to sound like I see you as something to take her place until she comes back. I don’t mean it that way, but I’m trying to be honest. I hope you believe that.”

  “I do.”

  “You know what I really fear?” I asked.

  “That she won’t want you back?”

  “She won’t. Believe me, we’re through. What I fear is something different. I fear I might swap my obsession from her to you.”

  “That wouldn’t be all bad.”

  “Obsession and passion are not the same thing,” I said, “as has been recently explained to me by, how shall we say it, events on the ground. Straight up. I’m a mess. I’ve got war baggage. I’ve got Gabby baggage. I have drinking baggage, and some little side bags I’d rather not even discuss.”

  “Maybe I can help you carry that luggage, Cason. I’m small, but I am fierce.”

  “I believe it,” I said.

  Next day things cranked sideways and there were rips in the fabric of what I knew as hometown reality; it was the way I had felt in Iraq, realizing I was slipping through the cracks of reason and that I had my finger on the trigger of a rifle, beading down on a human being, about to cut him in half with a .50 caliber. In those clear moments, just before I sent the projectile hurtling, I could look through all the lies I had been told about nobility and the quest for democracy and know I was nothing more than a living pawn with a weapon and a dead-eye aim, and I was about to snuff out a human life that maybe didn’t deserve to exist, but was it my right to take it?

  All the Players in Their Places

  26

  I got the surprising news Monday morning.

  Mrs. Timpson came out of her office and placed her ample ass on my desk corner and looked at me with eyes that had probably seen the first star pop alive in the first night sky.

  “Oswald isn’t here today,” she said.

  “I noticed that. He isn’t at his desk and has not been all morning. So, I deduced he was not here.”

  “Well, that’s goddamn observant of you, Cason.”

  “I’m a highly trained and skilled reporter.”

  “And because you are so goddamn observant, and a little bit of a smartass, you can put your column on hold for today and do his job. My guess is you have a couple columns in reserve anyway. Am I right?”

  “Well…”

  “Yeah. I’m right. You still remember how to do a police report, I presume? You have done a police report, am I right?”

  “I’ve done a few. Yes. For the Houston paper. It’s a pretty big paper. They even have color funnies on Sunday and a crossword puzzle.”

  “That was my guess. Well, the police report is Oswald’s job, and since he isn’t here, today it’s your job. It’s also your job to take Oswald’s job of running down a story off the police report, and there is a story to run down. You still with me?”

  “Clinging to your every word like a sloth clinging to a limb.”

  I was pushing it, I knew, but I was tired and feeling irritable.

  She gave me a hard look and shifted her false teeth in her mouth. “I glanced the report over, and what I want you to do is look at it, and follow up on this murder and kidnapping.”

  My ears perked up. I liked being a columnist, but the idea of some real raw news appealed to me.

  “There’s been a murder and kidnapping?” I asked.

  “Well, I suppose the police who sent the e-mail could just be messing with us, but that’s what the story they gave us says, and they’re sticking to it.”

  “I’ll get right on it,” I said.

  “There’s two things I can smell quicker than anybody,” she said. “One is shit, and the other is a good news story, and I’m pretty sure what I’m smelling now is a news story, and it wouldn’t surprise me if it’s related to that girl who went missing sometime back, one you wrote about.”

  “Caroline Allison.”

  “That’s her. My take is this is related. Mark my words. The only reasoning I have behind that is my reporter’s nose is twitching. I sense a connection. I could just need to pass gas, but I’m going to stand by the connection theory.”

  “Probably be more pleasant for all of us if you do,” I said.

  “Get on it.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  I was about to stand up from my desk chair when Timpson leaned forward and gave me the watery eyeball. “Cason, you’ve done a good job on that column. I don’t give out compliments other than to tell the truth and because it seems to make people want to keep doing better, and that makes for a better paper, even if it makes my gums ache to say that crap. But you’ve done well. And you haven’t come in drunk. Those are two things I wanted to congratulate you on.”

  “Thank you.”

  “But you do seem a little distracted.”

  “Nothing serious.”

  “I just want you to know that I’m not here for you. I want the paper run right. That’s all I care about. If you got family problems, even if your mother is dying of some terminal cancer problem and it is eating her alive from the asshole out, you got to stay focused. She dies, you go to the funeral, and there’s a hot news story, you better be taking notes with your pad pressed up against her coffin. Understand?”

  I started to tell her to go to hell, but since my mother wasn’t sick, I said, “I got you.”

  “Just wanted to remind you that you’re always a worker here, and we’re never friends.”

  “Wouldn’t have it any other way,” I said. “I mean, sometimes, I think, wouldn’t it be great if you and me could just, you know, hang? Maybe shoot some pool. Take a bike ride. Moon some nuns together, just me and you. But mostly I think I’d rather not.”

  “As I’ve told you, I like a little comedy, Cason, but that’s about as little as I like. Understand?”

  I nodded.

  “Get with it,” she said, and walked away, back to her shadowed foyer in the back, disappeared behind the boxes there, possibly to kick a puppy or cut the head off a child’s teddy bear.

  The police reports had been e-mailed, and I read them over at Oswald’s desk on his computer. One of them, the one the old bat had wanted me to look into, hit me like a truck. I felt weak in the knees and my stomach turned queasy.

  Ernie was dead and his girlfriend, Tabitha, was missing.

  It took me a minute to take in that information and believe it. I thought about calling the police department, asking some questions, but I decided to drive over to Ernie and Tabitha’s place, get things a little more direct.

  On my way out I passed Belinda and she looked a question at me, but I just nodded at her and went on.

  I drove over to Ernie and Tabitha’s house. The address had been listed on the police report, but of course I knew where it was.

  When I got there the police were still working it. There were a lot of cop cars and unmarked cars along the curb. Uniformed cops were running about, and there were people wearing hospital footsi
es and plastic gloves and little masks pulled down under their chins. My first thought after seeing so many Houston crime scenes was simple. The Camp Rapture yahoos didn’t have a clue what they were doing and if there were any clues in the yard, they were stomping them flat, contaminating the crime scene.

  As expected, there were yellow strips across the front door of the house with POLICE, DO NOT CROSS written on them in big black letters. A couple of guys wearing the footsies and plastic gloves pulled their masks up and ducked under the tape and entered the house.

  The chief was leaning against an unmarked car, glaring up at the sky, waiting for a revelation, or perhaps the Rapture.

  He looked at me as I came up. “Reporter, how are you? I’m so goddamn glad to see you.”

  He sounded more than a little insincere.

  “What’s the scoop?” I said.

  “It’s ugly, Jason.”

  “Cason. How ugly?”

  “Dead is pretty ugly,” he said. “And the next-door neighbors, they tell us there was a girl, and she’s missing. They don’t think she could do such a thing, so maybe she got ’napped since we can’t find her. That’s what we’re saying for now.”

  “But you’re not so sure?”

  “We got her name and we’ve notified her family, and we’re going to notify the boy’s family. Holding off on that for a little bit, wait until we can get him sacked up.”

  “Was the girl a student?” I knew she was, but if she was missing, it might give them a lead. An idea to start checking the school and who might have known her. Of course, that could lead them right to Jimmy, but it was better at the moment for me to fish a bit, find out what they knew.

  “Yeah. She’s a student. We’ve checked at school, class she’s supposed to be in. Followed up a few leads we got from the neighbors. Doesn’t look good. Damn. I need a drink.”