Homicide Related (34 page)

“You expecting someone besides me?” Dooley said.

She lowered the frying pan onto the stove top.

“I've been thinking—what if those guys come back?”

“Why would they?” Dooley said. “You already told them you don't have the money, right?”

She nodded. “But maybe they'll want to take some of my stuff instead.”

Dooley looked around. Besides the big-screen TV, he didn't see anything worth taking, nor could he picture anyone wrestling that TV down those stairs. Besides, it wasn't even new.

“Those guys who were here,” he said. “You said they wanted money that Jeffie owed them, right?”

She nodded.

“The thing is, Teresa, Jeffie borrowed money from me to pay off someone else he owed. He said he needed it right away because the guy wouldn't wait. Then, the day before he died, he came by the store where I work. He said he needed another day before he could pay me back, which I figure means he'd already used my money to pay whoever he owed and he was having a little problem getting the money together to pay me.” This had been bothering him. “So the thing is, if he took my money and paid the guy he owed, who were the guys who were here giving you a hard time?”

Teresa's eyes filled with tears.

“I don't know,” she said. “They didn't tell me their names. I thought they were friends of yours, you know, because you told me Jeffie owed you money.”

“Yeah, but they weren't. You don't have any idea who they were?”

She looked down at the floor. “I guess maybe it could have something to do with the gambling.”

“Gambling?” Dooley shook his head. “He got back into that?”

“When he won, he said it was the biggest rush. But he didn't always win.” She looked at him again. “He told me he was going to stop. He said if he could get it together, maybe we could go down east, you know, where he was from. He said it was nice and quiet down there; maybe he could get a job in a garage, maybe get a little place on the ocean. Jeffie was crazy about the ocean.”

Jeffie was just plain crazy, if you asked Dooley, gambling with owed money. Boy, now Dooley could see it. Jeffie had promised to pay him back. Maybe he'd even made that money he'd been hoping to from that downtown party guy he'd told Dooley about the first time, the one he'd said reminded him of Dooley. But then he'd pissed it away gambling on … well, whatever he gambled on. It looked like maybe he had lost more than he could afford so that he didn't just owe Dooley, he owed someone else, too. Maybe that's how he ended up dead.

“Did you tell the police that, Teresa?”

She shook her head.

“I think you should. It'll give them something to go on.” Something besides Dooley and his uncle. “You want them to find out who killed him, don't you, Teresa?”

She looked reluctant. She was probably scared. But Dooley thought maybe he could talk her into it.

“You've been so nice to me,” she said. “Jeannie, too. I'm sorry Jeffie never paid you back.”

“You told the cops he was looking forward to seeing me.”

“He was,” she said. “He'd been in a bad mood for a couple of days. I could tell something was bothering him. He was on edge, you know? He spent a couple of days sitting there”—she nodded at the couch—“looking at the TV and flipping through the channels. That used to drive me crazy. You never had a chance to figure out what show he was on before he'd flip to the next one. I used to want to kill him.” Her eyes got all watery again. “If he was here now, I'd let him flip through the channels all he wanted.”

“Did he say what was bothering him?” Money problems, Dooley bet. Probably paying-Dooley-back problems if he'd gambled away a bundle.

She shook her head. “He was just sitting there, flipping through the channels. But he couldn't find anything he wanted to watch, and it was pissing him off. Everything was pissing him off. I went into the kitchen to microwave some popcorn. I thought maybe that would cheer him up. Jeffie liked popcorn, really salty, with extra butter. All of a sudden he came into the kitchen. He had a great big smile on his face and he hugged me and said his problems were over. Then he went out to make a phone call.”

“Went out? You mean, took his cell phone outside?” Maybe to have some privacy.

“No. He went out to use a pay phone.”

“A pay phone?”

“Yeah.”

“But he had a cell phone.”

“He went out to use a pay phone, Dooley. He did that sometimes. I don't think he wanted me to know about it, though. He always said he was going out for a smoke—he never smoked in the apartment. But I watched him one time. He went across the street to the pay phone on the corner. That's what he did that night. I could see him out the window. I thought he was calling you.”

Jeffie had called him Monday night, but he'd called from his cell phone. Dooley had seen the caller ID on his own phone's read-out.

“What makes you think that?”

“Because when he came back, he said everything was going to be okay with you. I asked him what he meant, but he said I shouldn't worry about it, which I didn't get because I didn't know there was anything to worry about. He said the important thing was that you were going to be happy.”

“He didn't say anything else?”

She shook her head.

“He went out for a while after that. He never ate the popcorn I made him.”

To the video store, Dooley thought. Jeffie had gone out and made a call on the pay phone. Then he must have called Dooley—a bunch of times—before finally coming down to the store to speak to Dooley in person, to ask for more time.

“He never mentioned any guy he'd met recently, some downtown guy that liked to party a lot?”

“Downtown guy?”

“Some guy he knew who worked or lived downtown?”

She shook her head again. Then, “Well, he told me one time maybe a couple of weeks ago that he was in one of those big buildings, you know, the gold one that's down there, it's all windows and all the windows are gold? He told me there's a restaurant at the top of that building, they charge twenty-five dollars for a hamburger. He said he heard two guys talking about it while he was waiting for the elevator. You think that's true, Dooley? You think someone would actually pay twenty-five dollars for a hamburger?”

Dooley bet someone like, say, Madonna, would pay even more, assuming she ate meat—hell, assuming she ate at all. He bet there were people who would eat twenty-five-dollar hamburgers just because a whole lot more people could never in a million years afford to.

“What was Jeffie doing down there, Teresa?”

“He didn't tell me. He just said he was there.”

“Did he say who he went to see? Did he mention a name?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

She was sure. “I guess I should clean out his stuff, huh?” she said. “Maybe give his clothes to Goodwill?”

Dooley said he thought it might be a good idea.

“Teresa?”

She had picked up a bunch of CDs and was flipping through them. Tears trickled down her cheeks.

“Did Jeffie ever say anything to you about a cop or an ex-cop?”

“What do you mean?”

“Did he ever mention that he was going to meet a cop or that he was doing business with a cop—or an ex-cop?” Like, say, Dooley's uncle.

Teresa shook her head. But given how little Jeffie had told her, what did that really mean?

He went to the video store to pull a half-shift for Linelle—and she said he never did her any favors. Then he went home.

The first thing he saw when he came through the door was the photograph album that Gloria Thomas had given him, the one he'd tossed into the wastepaper basket in his room. But it wasn't in the wastepaper basket anymore. It was sitting on the table in the front hall.

“Dooley, is that you?” Jeannie called. She came out of the kitchen. “I went out to see Gary this afternoon. He asked about you.” She saw what he had been looking at, and she flushed with embarrassment. “I wasn't snooping,” she said. “Garbage pickup is tomorrow. I was just emptying wastepaper baskets, and I saw that and … I … I understand that you and your mother … it's just … well, I guess I didn't want you to be too hasty.”

“Did you look at it?”

“I did. I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't have. And after I did, I just couldn't bring myself to throw it away. I was afraid you would regret it one day.”

Gloria Thomas had said the same thing about Lorraine. Dooley looked at the album. He doubted he would regret tossing it. But he wasn't mad at Jeannie. She was just trying to do the right thing.

“I'm sorry,” she said. “I didn't mean to upset you.”

“It's okay,” he said.

“Are you hungry? Did you have any supper?” She seemed eager, as if she wanted to make it up to him.

“Some fries.”

“Sit down,” she said. “I'll make you something.”

Dooley watched her disappear into the kitchen. He looked at the photograph album sitting there on the front hall table. He picked it up and saw the self-help book under it, the one that he'd pitched out with the album, the one that smelled like Lorraine. He left the book where it was but carried the album into the living room. He put it down on the coffee table and stared at it for a moment. Then he flipped through the first couple of pictures of himself way back when.

Jeannie was back in a couple of minutes with a sandwich—cold cuts with some lettuce in there, a side of potato salad, and a few slices of tomato and cucumber all nicely arranged—and a glass of soda water. She set the food down on the coffee table, glanced at the picture that was staring up from the photograph album, and smiled.

“You were a cute little boy,” she said. “How old were you there?”

“I'm not sure,” Dooley said. “I think I was in kindergarten.” He took a bite of the sandwich. It was terrific, ham and Swiss cheese and spicy mustard. “Jeannie, can I ask you something?”

She sat down on the sofa beside him.

“How long have you known my uncle?”

Jeannie looked up from the photograph album. “Eight or nine months.”

“That's all?” She must have still been getting to know Dooley's uncle at about the same time that Dooley was getting ready to move in.

“I took a silk dress into his store to get cleaned,” she said. “It came back without the buttons. When I complained, the girl behind the counter said that happened sometimes, usually with cheap buttons.” She shook her head. “It was an eight-hundred-dollar dress. When you take an eight-hundred-dollar dress to the dry cleaner, you expect it to come back with the buttons on it—at least, I do. And if it doesn't, the very least you expect is an apology. I got neither. I was pretty steamed, I can tell you.” If you asked Dooley, she was getting steamed all over again just thinking about it. It must have been some dress. “I demanded to see the manager. I got the owner instead.” Dooley's uncle. “I gave him an earful. I told him if he didn't make good on my dress, I was prepared to take him to court. I also told him that I would tell everyone I knew what kind of establishment he ran.”

“I bet he liked that,” Dooley said.

Jeannie smiled. “He said he was sorry—right away, as soon as I finished talking. He said, of course I was right to be upset; he'd be upset himself if one of his suits came back without the buttons. He asked me to come back the next day and promised that the dress would be as good as new. He was so nice and polite.” Dooley had trouble imagining that. “It took the wind right out of my sails. I went back the next day and there was my dress, with brand new buttons on it. He'd even managed to match the original ones. I have no idea how he did it, but he did. He also gave me a refund on my bill. He fired the girl who had been rude to me. On top of that, he insisted on taking me out to dinner. Your uncle is quite the charmer, Dooley.”

Those were certainly not the words Dooley would have used to describe him.

“Did he talk about me—before I moved in, I mean?”

Jeannie nodded. “He told me the first night we had dinner together that he had a nephew who was going to come and live with him. He told me that you'd been in some trouble, but that you were a good kid.”

“He said that?
Before
I started living here?”

“He did.”

“Did he talk about Lorraine?”

Her face got more serious. “He never mentioned her. I got the impression your mother had died, although now that I think about it, I don't remember him actually saying that. When I saw her picture and heard her name, it never occurred to me that she was Gary's sister.”

“You saw her picture?”

“On TV. I don't watch a lot of TV. But your uncle and I were going through a bad patch a couple of weeks ago. Something was bothering him and he refused to tell me what it was. So there I was, spending more time at home than I cared to.” She shook her head. “I think I spent one whole weekend in front of the TV, and I never do that. I was just telling myself that I had to snap out of it. I decided that I would go down to Gary's store first thing the next morning and force the issue—either he told me what was eating him or we were through. I was just about to turn off the TV when the news came on. They mentioned the name Lorraine McCormack and showed her picture, and I remember thinking, what a coincidence. Here I am thinking about strangling a certain Gary McCormack if he doesn't open up to me and tell me what the hell is going on—and another McCormack shows up dead on the TV.” She flushed again. “I don't mean any disrespect, Dooley.”