Come Out Tonight (17 page)

“She seemed to wake up, but then I guess she went back under,” I said.
 
It was a lame excuse, but it was all I could think of.
   

For a minute I thought I saw a gleam of murder in his eye, the same gleam he must have had when he hit Sherry over the head with the African statue, but then it was gone, and I couldn’t prove a thing.

*
   
*
   
*

I waited till O’Donnell left before I had the detective paged.
 
I know Sirken told me not to call her, she’d call me, but no one had called, and I didn’t see any police detail for tonight. Someone had to take charge of this case.
 
So, I had Sirken paged before I left the building.

“We had someone there stationed at her room all night,” she said.
 
“Your friend never showed up.”

“He’s not my friend.
 
And I know that.
 
The nurses told me.
 
But your man wasn’t around when I got there.”

“You were there?” she asked.

“Still am.
 
Yeah, where’s your guy?
 
I’ve been here all day, and a good thing, too, because O’Donnell showed up this evening.”

“Did he?”

“Yeah, he came in and shook her.
 
Then he saw me and acted like he was just trying to see if she was conscious.
 
He even acted angry at me for lying to him that she was awake.”

“So now he knows she’s not awake,” Sirken replied.

“Well, I told him she
was
awake, but must have gone back under.”

“Very convincing.”

“It was all I could think of.
 
Anyway, he’ll be back.”
 
I watched as the more able-bodied residents filed out of the dining room, branched off at the lobby, then trudged, shuffled and wheeled their poky way down the hall to their rooms.
 
The lobby was emptying out.

“You better schedule someone for tonight,” I said.

“Stop acting detective and let me do my job.”

The phone clicked off.
 
I crossed the lobby towards the night nurse.

“You here again?” she said, looking up.

“Yeah, I’m just leaving.”

“Cops coming again tonight to mess up the schedule?”

“I don’t think so.
 
Listen, you gotta help me.
 
If you see a guy with sandy colored hair, around my height in a suit and tie, don’t let him in.”

She shrugged.
 
“Doors close at 9:30, anyway.”

“Good.”

Just then a bell sounded.
 
“Gotta go,” she said.
 

“Remember, don’t let him in,” I said again.

“Yeah, yeah,” she said, turning her back to me and taking off down the hall.

I walked the fifteen blocks to the subway in the dark, half expecting Ryan O’Donnell to jump out of the bushes at any minute.
 
Old, boarded-up houses lined the streets.
 
This must have been a classy neighborhood at one time, but now it was a place you didn’t want to walk through at night.
 
A huddle of guys on the far street corner looked up as I passed by.
 
Whoa.
 
I walked faster and faster, rounding the corner, finally sprinting the last stretch to the subway.
  
I raced down the stairs and slipped my Metrocard into the slot.
 
The local train was just pulling in.
 
I pushed my way through the gate and sailed through the open doors of the car.
 
There must have been about fifteen people on the train, some dozing, some reading newspapers, others just sitting there, eyes blank and straight ahead.
  
No one blinked an eyelash as I came in and dropped into the first empty seat, breathing heavily.

All of a sudden, my phone rang.
 
I flipped it open, thinking it must be the police, when suddenly this loud angry voice was yelling at me in a Spanish accent.
 
Half a dozen people glared at me for invading their space, but when I glared back, they backed off.

As soon as I could get a word in edgewise, I said, “I think you have the wrong number.
 
Who is this?”

“Who the fuck is this?” the voice growled.

“Hey, it’s my phone.
 
I don’t have to tell you anything.
 
Just get off and try again.”

“Isn’t this Jackman?” the voice demanded.

“Yeah, it is.
 
But don’t swear at
me
!
 
I don’t even know who the hell you are.”

“Listen, if I even see you around my girlfriend one more time, I’m going to kill you.”

“What?
 
Who is this?”

“Just consider this a warning.”

The phone clicked off again.

I checked the last number, and called it back.

“Listen yourself!
 
Don’t you dare threaten me!
 
I haven’t been near your girlfriend.
 
I don’t even know who she is.
 
And if you threaten me, I’m gonna call the cops!”

By now the entire subway car was listening in.

“I’m just going to say this one more time,” the voice said.
  
“I DON’T EVER WANT TO SEE YOU NEAR ALICIA AGAIN.”

“Who’s Alicia?” I said, but the phone went dead.
 

I tried calling Detective Sirken on the cell number she had called me back on, but she didn’t pick up.
  
She had Caller ID and wasn’t picking up on purpose.
 
I felt frustrated.
 
There was nothing I could do to either protect Sherry from the nutcase who had attacked her once and would do it again; or myself from a lunatic warning me to stay away from a girl I didn’t know.
 
When I got home, I poured myself a jigger of Scotch and turned on Letterman, but neither did the trick.
 
What the hell.
 
I took a Somnolux and went to sleep.

*
   
*
   
*

The phone was ringing in my dream.
 
I walked over and picked it up. “Hello?” I said.
 
I could barely hear Sherry’s voice on the other end, because the phone kept ringing.
 
“Speak louder!” I shouted.
 
“I can’t hear you!”
 
Then I woke up.
 
The phone on the bedside was still ringing.

“Hallo,” I said, half asleep.

“Hey, Henry.
 
It’s Carl.
  
I’ve been calling and calling.
 
Where were you?”

“I’ve been sleeping,” I said, catching a glimpse of the clock.
 
“Wow, look at the time.
 
Sorry, I took a Somnolux last night and I guess it just knocked me out.”

“I was wondering whether you were still sick.”

It took me a moment or two to remember I had called in sick yesterday.
 
“No, I’m okay.
 
Just a little punch drunk.
 
I’ll be in soon as I get dressed.”

“Make it soon. We’re really busy.”

“Sure.”
 
I hung up.
 
Wow, was I ever tired.
 
And achy.
 
I pulled off the covers.
  
Apparently I had gone to sleep in my boxers last night.
 
Yesterday’s clothes were still scattered on the floor.
 
Were those the things I had been wearing?
  
I shuffled over to the bathroom, turned on the light and took a look in the medicine cabinet mirror.
 
A strange bruised face with a black eye stared back at me, a cut on my lip, dried blood caked around it.
 

I sat down on the toilet to think.
 
What was I doing last night?
 
I last remembered coming home on the subway.
 
The angry phone call from the guy about leaving his girlfriend alone. Could he have called again?
 
Maybe he did a reverse directory search and got my address.
 
No, you can’t do that on a cell phone.
 
Could he have challenged me to a fight?
 
I picked myself up and walked down the hall to the living room, half expecting to see it torn to shreds, but, no, it was in perfect order.
 
In the kitchen, I found a bloody napkin sticking out of the garbage, a pool of water on the floor, and a box of half-eaten cookies.
  
None of this made any sense.

I went back to the bathroom, took a hot shower, cleaned myself up and opened up the closet door.
 
Whatever I wore on top was going to get covered by a lab coat, no problem, so I grabbed a short sleeve knit shirt. The only clean pants hanging was a pair of old ripped jeans.
 
Carl would have my head if I wore those, so I reached over to pick up the wrinkled khakis from the floor.
 
As I did so, my cell phone fell out of the pocket.
 
I could have sworn I’d stuck it in the charger last night.
 
And if it wasn’t in the charger, I realized, it would be - I flipped it open to see no bars left – dead, of course.
 
I stuck the phone in the charger, pulled on the wrinkled pants and the short sleeve shirt and went one more time into the bathroom to inspect my eye.
 
It was bad: bluish-black and swollen.
 
Carl was going to have loads of fun with this.

After a cup of coffee and a few of the remaining cookies for breakfast, I walked slowly to work.
 
My knees hurt, and my back wasn’t so good.
 
What the hell had I been doing last night? Wrestling?
 
I opened the front door and shuffled along to the back counter, hoping to get there before Carl noticed.
 
No such luck, of course.

“What the hell happened to you?” Carl shouted.

“I don’t know,” I said.

“Was this why you didn’t come in yesterday?”

“No,” I said, thinking.
 
“It must have happened last night.”

Carl grabbed my chin and pulled my face toward him.
 
“You better put something on that eye.
 
Wait.”
 
He climbed down from the platform and searched the aisle, pulling a bottle off the shelf.
 
“Least you can do is put some of this on it,” he said, shoving some Calamine lotion at me, when he came back.
 
“What do you mean you don’t know?
 
Were you knocked out cold?”

“I guess,” I said.
 

“You mean you don’t remember anyone’s fist making contact with your face?”

“No,” I said gingerly applying Calamine to my eye.
 
“Maybe it wasn’t a fist.”

“Maybe it was a train?”

“Cut it out, Carl.
 
I already said I don’t remember,” I said, waving my arm right into the Calamine bottle.
 
It turned over, a river of pink heading for the edge of the counter.

“Shit.
 
Whassamatta with you today?” Carl cried.

I was reaching around for something to mop it up with, but not coming up with anything.
  
I reached into my pocket for a tissue.
 
Instead, I found a scrap of paper with an address written on it, and stood there staring at it.

“Hey, Henry.
 
C’mon.
 
It’s starting to spread,” Carl shouted, tossing me a wad of paper towels.

I started mopping up the counter with my right hand, still staring at the scrap with the address in my left.
 
Carl came over with another wad.
 
“What’s that in your hand?” he asked.

“I don’t know.
  
Just a piece a paper I found in my pocket.”

Carl looked over.
 
“Whose address?” he asked.

“Don’t know.”

“Full of answers today, aren’t we?”

“I never saw this paper in my life.”

Carl looked over my shoulder.
 
“Looks like your handwriting.”

I took another look.
 
“Nah.”

“For sure.
 
You wrote it.”

“But I never saw it before.
 
How could I have written it?”

“Makes sense,” he said.
 
“Your handwriting.
 
You wrote it.
 
Now, please mop up the rest of this stuff, Henry, so we can get to work. ”

I wiped up the rest, using the stuff left on my hand to dab at my eye.
 
“
Queens
,” I mused.