American Crow (7 page)

Chapter Nine

     ‘uneasy alliances’

T
he Oldsmobile tailed us all the way then hung back as we
pulled up outside the small, lime-coloured house where Finch’s sister
supposedly lived.

I tipped the driver generously then
stepped out onto the snow-encrusted pavement, looking straight ahead as I did
so, so as not to arouse any suspicion from my admirer.

Much to my relief footsteps sounded out
straight away after I rang the bell, then security bolts being pulled back on
the inner door. The sullen fifty-something face that greeted me when it opened
though, wasn’t one I’d been expecting. It wasn’t some fifty-something American
housewife. It belonged to a cop. I suppressed my shock and forced a polite
smile.

‘Is Chrissie in?’

‘Who’s asking?’

The guy’s tone was gruff and
unfriendly. 

‘I’m a friend of Walter’s, her
brother...’

‘Yeah, yeah, yeah, my brother-in law. So
what do you want? You look like you’ve been in a fight, pal,’ he said pointing
casually at the blood spatters on my jacket.

I looked down as if he’d pointed out some
food on my tie and tried to look surprised.

‘I’m doing a favour for a friend of
Walter’s. He’s lost touch with his daughter over here. As for the stains...I
fell over some bins last night outside the motel.’

‘Sure…’ he said dismissively, hands on
hips, as if he could smell a lie like it were roast chicken.

‘For a time, Olivia was staying here
Walter said?’

I offered the question lightly hoping
that it would breakdown a few of the razor wire barriers that had already been
erected.

‘You better come in...’

I entered apprehensively and he beckoned
me sit at the table. He had a thick mop of ginger-brown hair, framing a craggy,
well-worn face, a solid build, and an air about him that pronounced loud and
clear that he didn’t take shit off anyone. I liked that. Maybe we could do
business, even though he was a cop.

‘The name’s Tug to my friends. How can I
help? Though now’s not a good time...’

‘Blake,’ I said with a respectful nod.

‘Coffee?’

‘Sure.’

 The cop headed into the kitchen.

‘I met the kid just a couple of times,
that’s all,’ Tug announced, as he clattered around. ‘I asked one of my
colleagues in another department who’s dealing with it if she’d heard anything.
She hasn’t.’

‘Officer Herring?’ I said loudly.

‘That’s right. Maybe I should ring her
about my Chrissie’s too...’

I didn’t say anything further, hoping
that he would open up some more. There was something seriously bothering the
guy that much was clear. After a few minutes he came back out and handed me a
mug of microwaved coffee.

‘Chrissie, my wife…well, me and her
haven’t been getting along in quite a while,’ he said taking a seat opposite.
‘I’ve actually been staying with a friend of mine who lives in St Paul’s
recently. After thirty years, things can get a bit stale. You know how it
is...Sugar.’

‘No thanks.’

The cop sucked some air through his teeth
as if wrestling with how much he was going to reveal then slurped at his drink.

‘I thought it would be a good idea for
her to have some company, you know, while we were sorting things out...’

I nodded politely thinking that maybe
that was just a different form of control, that he wanted someone else there so
she couldn’t bring another guy home on the quiet. Cops I thought...  

‘But now…’ he continued, ‘I’m regretting
it, because she’s gone.’

‘What do you mean gone?’ I probed, trying
to sound sympathetic.

He ran a hand over his weary face and
sighed.     

‘I think she’s on some big nostalgia
trip, you know...headed back to the mountains where she grew up.’

I forced some more of the bad coffee
down.

‘How long has she been gone?’

‘Nearly four weeks now since we last saw
each other. I just get the feeling that this time she’s not planning on coming
back, you know? As a cop, you develop a sixth sense for these sort of things
over the years. I think she may have left for good this time, Blake. Probably
met one of those old timers down there and realized what she’s been missing out
on, stuck here in the city with some overweight, over-zealous cop who’s always
out on patrol.’

His shoulders slumped a little. For a
second he looked vulnerable beneath the uniform, the shiny badge and the gun.

‘You might be wrong, Tug. You never
know,’ I said trying to offer some manufactured sympathy.

‘Perhaps…but she always wanted that sort
of lifestyle out in the wilds, free of routines...just like she had when she
was a kid.’

‘So have you had time to look, Tug? Make
enquiries?’

‘Sure, in between busting my ass. I went
over to Seward too, to where those gutter punks like to hang out and asked
about the girl.’

I leaned forward, hungry for information.

‘Go on...’

The cop lifted one hand in the air and
swiped it the air as if casually swatting a fly.

‘Aaah, they know I’m a cop. I’ve put a
few of them in the cooler before now, so they weren’t going to tell me much
that was for sure. They probably think I’m the Devil for all I know, and from
what Chrissie might have told Olivia, then more so. We’d had a row, you know,
just before I moved out...’

‘Right,’ I said blankly, getting the
picture.

‘Not that sort of row. I never laid a
finger on her, ever. But I can get a little blustery sometimes. In my line of
work you can take a lot home with ya, you know how it is…’

I stood up, feeling like I’d heard
everything he had to say, then glanced out the window to see if the tailing guy
was still there.

‘If it’s alright with you, Tug, I
wouldn’t mind taking a wander over to this squat or whatever it is now, and
speak to these people directly. Maybe as a stranger I can prize a few doors
open which you couldn’t as cop?’

‘Be my guest. Number seventy-eight on
Thirty-Six Avenue South. The house is emerald green shiplap with red edging and
a widow’s balcony.’

I pulled out the piece of paper Finch had
given me. It was the same address.

‘Thanks.’

‘If you hear anything, call me, huh?
Chrissie’s phone is switched off…has been for a while. The friends of hers who
talk to me, won’t tell me nothing neither. I’m worried about her, Blake...’

‘But what about Walter, doesn’t he know
where his own sister is?’

‘He said he had a message two or three
weeks ago. He got the impression that she was out of state for a few days, but
that was all he could glean from it. Chrissie was obviously keeping her cards
close to her chest, worried that Walter and I may speak. We get on, you know...Occasionally
go out and share a few suds together, like us men do sometimes.’

I headed for the door. Tug followed me
out. On the steps he shook me firmly by the hand then looked me up and down
again as if he had picked up on something suspicious.

‘So, you managed to get some time off
work to come out here and help Henry, you say?’

‘Yea, I was owed some free time,’ I said,
caught off guard for a second. 

‘That’s very big of you. What sort or
work?’

I hesitated for a second.

‘Insurance...but I’m taking a sabbatical
because I lost my daughter a few months back.’

‘Jesus...I’m sorry to hear that, buddy. I
thought my problems were bad.’

‘Being out here helps to take my mind of
it all in truth. It was her birthday just a few days ago too.’

One of Tug’s thick eyebrows rose.

‘Look, if you need anything, then come
down to the precinct on Minnehaha Avenue and ask for Sergeant O’Reilly, okay?
I’m there more than I am here. Maybe we can help each other out?’

‘I’m sure we can,’ I replied, thinking how
it wasn’t wise to get too close to some streetwise cop in case he started
checking up.

As I headed off down the street I heard
him call out.

‘How you getting there? It’s quite a ways
from here, you know.’

‘I was going to grab a taxi up on the
main drag...’

‘Forget about it. I gotta head back to
the bullpen now, so I’ll drop you off on the way. It’ll save you trying to find
a cab, or the stress of walking through some bad neighbourhoods.’

I strolled casually over to Tug’s squad
car as if I wasn’t being watched, then clocked the Oldsmobile through the
reflection in the glass. The tailing guy was still there, parked up discreetly,
maybe forty or fifty metres away. What in the hell did he want? Was it
something to do with Olivia? Or something to do with my past, come back to
haunt me? Hell if I knew…

A few minutes later the cop had locked up
and we were driving towards Seward. The stranger pulled out too and started
tailing us. We travelled several blocks, the Oldsmobile clearly visible in the
mirrors a few cars back. The guy wasn’t a pro, of that I was certain. Far too
obvious…I tried to ignore him and engage in polite conversation with Tug.

After a couple more miles we arrived at a
major crossroads. I glimpsed in the mirror again. The stranger was now taking a
right-hand turn, scared off perhaps by the company I was now keeping, or had
slickly handed over to another car who was better at his job. I checked the
traffic behind us in the side-mirror. Nothing suspicious. I turned around to
say something to Tug, but the crackle of a police radio interrupted us.

‘It’s all going on this morning,’ the cop
announced casually.

He turned the volume dial up and listened
to the call.

‘Some rig has just gone up at a truck stop
near Arden Hills,’ he said responding. ‘There are some real maniacs out there
I’m telling ya.’

I tried to suppress the look of concern.

‘Really?’  

‘Yeah, I’m going to have to head over
there now, as there aren’t many other units around. You good to come along?
I’ll drop you off afterwards…’

‘Sure,’ I said, beginning to feel more
uneasy.  

The radio burst into life again.

‘All unit, all units...Two suspects
wanted for the earlier Ten-Seventy now heading south, down Bloomington Avenue
at the junction of East Twenty-Ninth Street and...’

Tug picked up the handset and responded
again.

‘This is Five-Seven. I’m heading down
East Lake Street now and can respond, over.’ 

Pause.

‘Received, Five-Seven. One is a large
male in his thirties, with blonde hair and a blue bandana, the other shorter
wearing a black, open-faced helmet. The first plate is…’

I felt my gut tighten, realizing who it
probably was. 

‘God damn it...’ Tug cursed, hitting the
brakes and putting his siren on.

I braced myself against the dashboard as
he slewed the car around one-eighty, then pumped the gas to take us in the
opposite direction. I just hoped that when we arrived some other units may have
got there before us, so that I wouldn’t have to come face to face with Blackie
and his pyromaniac friend and end up having to explain to Tug why I’d been
travelling in Jed’s stolen and now, very burnt out rig...

We hammered down various rubbish-strewn
side-streets for a good few minutes then caught sight of several squad cars
thundering down a turning to our right. They were heading towards what looked
like a large liquor store lit up like a Christmas tree.

Tug span the car around hard again like
some maniac stunt man intent on following them. I saw the tow-truck coming in
the opposite direction…

‘No!’ I yelled.

‘Sweet Jesus!’ Tug cried, fighting the
steering wheel.

The truck flew past with some of our
paintwork on its wheels.

I pulled my fingernails out of the dash
happy to be in one piece then clocked the scene ahead. Two riderless bikes were
lying on the side-walk abandoned. Nearby, two motionless figures were sprawled
out on the ground. It looked like Blackie and his pyro friend from the diner…I
sank down in the seat, praying Tug wasn’t going to park too close, then lurched
forwards as he bumped up hard on the curb behind the nearest car.

Tug unfastened his seat belt as the
suspects were hauled roughly to their feet. I raised myself tentatively and
stared at the bikers through the cluster of cops. The forlesed pair looked
resigned to their fate. I felt relaxed a little. The situation looked under
control. No need for Tug to get involved, for things to get complicated...

Then, just as the pair was being led
away, Blackie kicked out suddenly at one of the arresting officers,
shoulder-barged another, and taking his chance, sprinted across the parking lot
as if his life depended on it.