Murder in the Air (22 page)

Kay waited until the following night when Jonnie was away at class. She poured some of the leftover wine from the party, and then popped some popcorn. She was trying to make it as relaxed an evening as possible. After Sally's third glass, Kay broached the subject. She said she'd met this guy. She told her about his sensual mouth, his sexy eyes, or whatever the hell women talk about when they gossip about men. To Kay's surprise, Sally demanded to know where she'd met the man. What was his name ?

Well, Kay hemmed and hawed and then made something up, but Sally seemed to sense the lie. Except, the lie she sensed wasn't the underlying charade. She thought Kay was keeping this guy's identity from her for a reason and she was furious about it. Later, when Kay was recounting the story to me, she said it was almost as if Sally was jealous
—
like this man was someone she knew, but wouldn't name. Kay was nonplussed. The conversation ended by Sally stomping out of the room and taking the bowl of popcorn with her.

So much for my idea. Yet the more I thought about it, the more I realized we were on the right track. That's when I got another idea. I decided to talk to Sally myself, follow up on Kay's admission of a mystery man with deep depression on my part. I drove over to the apartment two nights later and knocked on the door. I'd already prearranged with Kay for her to be gone. I knew Jonnie was at class again that night, and hoped that Sally would be home. Luck was with me. I explained that I'd come to take Kay out to dinner, and acted angry, like I'd been stood up when she wasn't there. In a huff, I asked Sally if she'd like to join me for a drink at the nearest bar.

Well, Sally was never one to turn down either male company or the offer of a drink. She grabbed her coat and ten minutes later we were sitting at a dark table in Turner's Tap on Hennepin. I decided to go with Kay's instincts. I let
Sally get well oiled on several whiskey sours and then confided that I was worried about Kay. I said I thought she might be losing interest in me. I explained that I'd seen her with another guy a few nights ago. They were in his car.

Sally jumped on the comment. What did the man look like? What kind of car? I said that I couldn't see his face very well and I didn't remember the make of the vehicle, but they were parked right in front of the apartment building. I was so stunned when I saw her kiss him that everything just went out of my head, everything, that is, except the desire to beat the crap out of him.

Sally grunted. “Was it a big Chrysler New Yorker?” Her voice was eager. “Dark green? Plush seats?”

I took her lead and said, yeah, that sounded right.

She mumbled a few words. The only one I caught was “bastard,” but that was enough. I felt sure I'd struck a nerve. Time would tell if it was the right one. I said to her, “You seem like you know the guy.”

“He's bad news
,”
she said. Then she explained that if it was the same guy she was thinking about
—
one they both could have met at Manderbach's department store
—
that Kay was in way over her head. This man preyed on women. Used them. Hurt them. I said that I couldn't believe Kay would get involved with a married man. “Oh, he's really smooth. He's very unhappy in his marriage, you know. Misunderstood. If he ever found a woman who truly loved him, he'd divorce his wife in a minute.
”
Her laugh was so bitter, I cringed. Men really could be bastards. As I thought of Mitzi I knew I was one myself. I also knew then that Sally had really cared about this man, and that she'd been dumped.

“ What's his name?
” I
asked.

“Mr. Bigshot Shithead.
”
By then, she was on her fourth whiskey sour. Her words were kind of slurred, but the venom was crystal clear.

“How come you know him? “ I asked.

“I dated him late last summer. It was a complete disaster. I just want to forget about it now.”

But, I told her, she couldn't let Kay get hurt, especially since there was something she could do to prevent it. She had to tell me who he was. If I knew, I'd go right over there
—
wherever there was
—
and wipe up the floor with him. I'd make him pay. Maybe I'd even tell his wife. Get him in big trouble. She smiled at that, saying it would almost be worth it to give me his name. But not quite, I guess, because she left it at that.

I worked on her for another half hour, but her silence on the matter never budged. She did urge me to marry Kay, get her out of the situation before it was too late.

Finally, I said I was going to follow Kay until I found out who he was. She said great. She just couldn't pass the name on to me because of a “sort of business arrangement he and I have. Fm not supposed to tell anyone I know him.”

I asked her why.

She leaned close and whispered, “It's a secret.” She giggled, hiccuped, and then she winked.

I asked her what she meant by that, but she brushed the question aside. She said men were all beasts. By then, I think she'd forgotten she was talking to a man. I bought her another drink, waited until she was almost done with it, and then tried one last time. I knew that pushing this hard was a risk, but I went ahead anyway. Fll never forget what she said. This is as close as I can come to the actual words.

“This guy you dated, Sally, he was really bad news, right?”

“The worst.”

“Did you ever see him hurt anyone?”

“He hurt me.”

“Other than you?”

“Yeah. Once.”

“Who?”

“I didn't know her.”

“How'd he hurt her?”

“With something very very big.” She said the words teasingly, leaning over and brushing my cheek with her lips.

“Big like a car?”

She was too plastered to be surprised by my lucky guess. “Maybe.”

“Didyou see it happen?”

“Maybe I did, maybe I didn't. “She dropped her head on my shoulder and batted her eyelashes at me. “But we can't talk about it because that would get Mr. Bigshot Shithead into trouble, and we couldn't have that. Mr. Bigshot Senior wouldn't like it.”

“Who's that? His dad?”

“Do you know any other Mr. Bigshot Seniors?” She gave me another wink.

At this point, even in her drunken state, she saw where I was headed and demanded to know why I was asking so many questions. I told her I loved Kay, that I was simply trying to protect my woman. I needed her help. I needed a name. She lifted her head, thought it over, and then dropped it back on my shoulder. “You poor sap,” was all she said. I'm not sure, but as I looked down at her a few seconds later, I think she'd fallen asleep.

I didn't get a name out of her that night, but I was positive now that I was on the right track. I told Kay all about it the next day at lunch. She agreed that Sally held the key, but she didn
't
know what else to do. I mean, we couldn't exactly beat it out of her.

A couple of nights later Jonnie cornered Kay in one of the apartment bedrooms and said she knew Kay was cheating on me. That meant Sally and Jonnie must have talked. As I reflect on it now I realize that as a young psychology student, Jonnie saw herself as Bryant Avenue's answer to Dear Abby. There was right and there was wrong, and it was her job to point out error, especially when it came to relationships. When Kay asked her how she knew, Jonnie lied, she said she'd seen Kay and this man sitting in a parked car outside the building, necking. Since it never actually happened, the only way she could know about it was through Sally. Jonnie nodded to the ring I'd given to Kay and said, “Doesn't that mean anything to you?”

Kay said, sure it meant something. But it wasn't an engagement ring. Which was true. The night of the party, when we were sitting by the creek and I came clean about why I'd been following her that first day, I felt I needed to give her something to show her how much she meant to me. It was the ring you gave me when I got out of the army, the one I wore all the time. I planned to give her an engagement ring later. Anyway, Kay promised Jonnie that she wouldn't see the man again. That seemed to placate her and she left Kay alone for the rest of the evening.

The more I thought about it, the more curious Jonnie's whole approach seemed. I should have seen the writing on the wall, but I missed it completely. The thing is, Mom, if I'd left it there, stopped my search and simply enjoyed my new life with Kay, everything would have been all right. I did think about it. Some days I even forgot about Olga Landauer and Sally's mystery boyfriend. It's just, something inside me couldn't leave it alone. I had no idea then that my pursuit of a good story would put everyone's life in danger
—
including yours. If I had it to do over again… but then, I don't. And hindsight is a useless exercise, as they say, the refuge of fools.

I did eventually find out the man's name, Mom. And that's what started the chain of events that led to Kay's death. I'll tell you more about it tomorrow. I have to take some medicine now and this particular pill usually makes me pretty sleepy, so I'll stop and resume again in the morning. I am feeling better, although my progress is slow. I go for long walks and struggle to put Kay's face out of my mind. I can't bear to think of her, of what our lives could have been. I simply have to empty myself Is that what a wanderer's mind becomes? A void? Vacant and inexpressive because to think, to remember, creates too much pain? When I'm done with my storytelling, Mom, will I retreat into cowardice and spend the rest of my life hiding, even from myself?

Until tomorrow,

All my love,
Justin

19

On Friday evening, Sophie pushed through the swinging door into Rudy's hospital room carrying a Scrabble game under her arm. “I'm going to beat the pants off you tonight,” she said, setting it down on the bedside table. “I feel lucky.” Behind her cheerful smile, she examined her son for a sign, any sign, that would assure her he was getting better.

The AIDS test had finally come back, and much to everyone's great relief, it was negative. And yet, after Rudy's initial euphoria over the death sentence that had just been lifted, he'd sunk into a new depression over his continued illness.

For days now he'd been listless and pale, thwarted by his inability to meet his personal and professional responsibilities. After much agonizing, a decision had been made to postpone the commitment ceremony. It was hard for Sophie to keep encouraging him, especially in the face of such a deep personal disappointment, but she had to try. Rudy had a bleeding ulcer, and he still wasn't out of the woods. The doctor wasn't sure the bleeding had stopped.

Sophie tried as best she could to stay centered, not to give in to her fears. While she didn't want to be a Pollyanna, she knew Rudy needed people around him who were positive. He'd been sleeping a lot the last few days. Yet tonight, he seemed much more alert. She could even see a hint of color in his cheeks.

Switching off the TV set, Rudy stared at the game in front of him. “The problem is, Mom, you can't spell.”

“Oh really?” This was the first time he'd joked with her in days and it felt good. She sat down, crossed her legs, and
folded her hands calmly in her lap. Nodding to the plants, she said, “This place is starting to look like a greenhouse.”

“Yeah.” He sighed. He transferred his gaze to the window ledge. “I guess you could call it poinsettia central. A couple of school friends came by this afternoon. They brought the new one with the pink leaves.”

“It's pretty. Puny, but pretty. All right,” she said, breaking out the board. “Let's get down to business.”

“Don't you want to hear what the doctor said? She was in to see me just a little while ago.”

Sophie was surprised and more than a little frustrated. Last she'd heard, the doctor planned to come by after dinner. She'd made it a point to arrive
before
dinner so that she could get the latest report firsthand. “Sure,” she said, wondering if he could read the anxiety in her face. “What'd she say?”

Rudy clasped his hands behind his neck and gave her a triumphant smile. “I'm being released tomorrow.”

“Rudy! That's great news.” She released the breath she hadn't even realized she was holding. “What else did she say? Is the ulcer under control? No more bleeding?”

“That's what she thinks. They've been watching me carefully all week. My hemoglobin count is coming back up, so I don't feel so tired.”

Sophie relaxed back into her chair. “Good.”

“They may give me one more transfusion tonight. I guess that funny noise I was hearing inside my head was actually my heart. I didn't have much oxygen in my blood, so my heart had to work really hard.”

“And why did you get an ulcer in the first place?”

“They aren't one hundred percent sure. It could have been stress, or it could have been the pain medication I was taking for my back. If you mix Naprosyn with other aspirin-based painkillers, which I was, you can get in real trouble. Since my back is better, they've taken me off the painkiller.”