Rita Hayworth's Shoes (14 page)

“I'm looking it up right now. Hang on…” Jane said, cradling the phone between her chin and chest as she pecked out a Google search on her keyboard.

“Okay,” she paused. Got it. Looks like daisies mean gentleness, innocence, and loyal love.”

“Well, that would be nice if he was the kind of guy who knew the meaning of flowers, but I'm pretty sure he wasn't thinking that much about it.”

“Are you sure?”

“He thought they were pretty, and that's about it.”

“I don't know if that's true, because he seems like kind of an introspective guy.”

“Who would rather be happy than deep,” Amy challenged.

“Right.”

“In any case, I don't think he thinks as much as you think he does,” said Amy.

“That was a mouthful.”

“Sorry. Anyway, I don't know what he thinks. I don't know what to think anymore. I haven't even spoken to him yet today. He's was out all morning and he's been behind closed doors since he got back,” she said, her attention directed at Deck's locked door.

“So, go and knock.”

“I couldn't do that.”

“You had sex. He left you flowers. You can do whatever you want.”

“I don't know. The whole thing seems a little weird if you ask me.”

“His ex is back. I can see how that would put a wedge in things. But if you want him, you have to let him know.”

There was a rustling as Deck approached his door. “He's coming out. Gotta go.”

“Call me later?”

“Sure.”

Amy quickly hung up the phone but Deck did not emerge. So she turned her attention to her work, scanning through her papers for the notes she had taken at the last department meeting. She finally produced a torn sheet of lined paper with a coffee stain, a doodle of a dragon, and about three coherent words. “Great,” she said, and turned to her computer to try and dredge up the main points from memory.

As she typed, Franks came in. “Ollie, hi,” she said, getting up to give her friend's boyfriend a friendly hug. “We weren't expecting you. How are you today?” she asked.

“Hi, Amy,” he said, returning her gesture with a light, cold hug, as he looked around. “Deck here?”

“Sure. Just locked up all day. You want me to buzz him?”

“That's okay,” he said. “I'm actually here to speak to you.”

“Oh?” she asked nervously. “Something new come up about Heimlich?”

“Yes and no,” he said. “Is there somewhere more private we could go?” he asked, just as Hannah was turning the corner.

“Who's this?” Hannah asked, looking Franks up and down.

“Detective Franks,” Ollie said with a wave.

“Oh, right. We've met,” said Hannah.

“We have?” he asked, seeming to have no memory of her.

“Forget it,” she said, and just stood there.

“It's important,” Franks said, nodding to Amy.

“Of course. Excuse us, Hannah. Please,” she said, and pushed passed her. She led Franks to the break room and motioned for him to take a seat at the table.

“Marny's back, you know,” he said as she was closing the door.

“I did know that, yes,” she said.

“What did he tell you about it?” he asked. “About what went down with her?”

“Honestly, I think I got more of the story from you,” she said. “He's a little closed off about it, I guess.”

“And how has he been acting today?

“Like I said, I really haven't seen him. Why?”

“Nothing really,” he said, with a look that told her he wasn't exactly telling the truth. “Just trying to build a case here.”

“Huh.”

Just then, the door swung open and Deck walked in. “Ollie. What are you doing here?” he asked, and extended his hand for a shake. Ollie grabbed it tentatively, with about the same enthusiasm with which he had hugged Amy when he first arrived.

“How did you know we were here?” Amy asked.

“Hannah told me,” he replied, a little brusquely.

“What can I do for you, Ollie,” he asked, eyeing his friend suspiciously.

“Just tying up some loose ends on the Heimlich case,” he explained. “How are
you
doing?” he asked.

“I'm fine,” Deck replied, tentatively, and the two men stared at each other for a while.

“Okay, I think I have what I need for now,” said Ollie. “See you guys later,” he said, and he showed himself out.

Deck turned to Amy, and she started to feel a little scared. “What did he
really
want?” Deck asked.

“He told me Marny was back,” Amy said.

“Is that all?”

“Pretty much,” she replied, but she wasn't at all comfortable in his interest in things or the river of perspiration cascading over his forehead and face. “Are you sweating, Deck?” she asked him. “Why are you sweating like that?”

Deck let out an exaggerated sigh. “We've been through this before,” he snapped. “No hair, remember? Nothing to stop the flow.”

“Huh,” she considered this. “It's just that… It's just…”

“It's just what?” he barked.

“I've just never seen it so bad,” she said, carefully.

“I guess it's hot in here,” he deflected and then softened. “Look, I know we still need to talk about things, you and me.”

“I know,” she said, though she wasn't sure she wanted to hear what he had to say now.

“I still have some things I have to take care of. Can we get together at three?”

“Sure,” she said, but she wasn't sure of anything anymore. She was feeling full of suspicion and doubt and worry. “But…”

“Hey, just trust me, okay?” he said. “Everything's going to be fine.”

“Okay,” she said, now not believing either his intentions or her sincerity.

##

When lunchtime rolled around, Amy wasn't hungry, but she took up Hannah on her offer to join her for lunch at the Student Union because she knew it would be weeks or even months before she saw Hannah again.

“I can't believe I'm leaving tomorrow. Seems incredible,” Hannah said, and bit into her turkey club sandwich.

“What did you say you were looking for again?” Amy asked. “I can't keep track.”

“Because you never listen when I tell you about any of this?”

Amy felt the color rise in her cheeks. Why didn't she pay attention to Hannah when she talked about all of this? “Maybe.”

Hannah stared at Amy for a moment or so before she finally spoke, “I'm looking for El Dorado.”

“El Dorado?” Amy asked, incredulously.

“Sure.”

“But that's ridiculous.”

“Why? Why is it ridiculous?”

“I mean, you
do
know that El Dorado doesn't exist?”

Hannah regarded her coolly. “How do you know?”

Amy laughed. “Because it doesn't.”

“But how do you
know
?”

“I guess I don't know,” Amy said, and then she was quiet for a moment. “I guess I don't really know anything anymore.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“This whole Deck thing, I guess. It just seems so crazy. So out of the blue, you know?”

“Hmmm,” was all Hannah said.

“Why hmmmm?”

Hannah wiped her face with her napkin. “What difference does it make in your life one way or the other?” she baited.

“Because I…”

“You're
involved
with that maniac now, aren't you? Forget it. Don't answer that. I already know you are.”

“He's not a maniac.”

“Then why was the detective here asking questions about him?” Hannah asked, now raising her voice.

“I don't know. I guess tying up some loose ends before putting the Heimlich case to bed. Why are you getting so excited?”

“I'm just saying, that detective didn't have the look of a cop putting a case to bed. If you ask me, he just opened up something new and he's ready to pounce.”

“On what? You think
Deck
killed Heimlich?”

“I'm not sure how Heimlich is involved in any of this,” said Hannah. “I'm just saying it doesn't add up.”

“Good, because Deck would never hurt anyone.” Then the image of a small bald boy beating a goldfish with a shoe swam through her head and she hated herself for it.

“He's really got you, doesn't he?” Hannah said, and shook her head. “You really are the kind of girl who sleeps with a guy once and then
blam
! You can't see straight anymore.”

“How did you know about that?”

“Let's just say anthropologists and archaeologists are like detectives. You know this.”

“I don't.”

“Okay. Well, it's totally obvious to look at the two of you. But I still don't trust him.”

“Why do you say that? You've been suspicious of him from day one and you've never had a reason.”

Hannah looked away.

“Tell me. What do you know?”

“It's nothing. Just something Liz told me.”

“What?”

Hannah picked at her French fries and tried to avoid eye contact. “Don't worry about it. I'm sure it isn't true.”

“Tell me.”

“You know they used to work together?”

“Duh.”

“Well…Liz said that he used to get, well, physical with his wife. Apparently he has a hair-trigger temper and…”

“What do you mean?”

“I think you know,” Hannah said, and paused for a moment. “But seriously, how would Liz know, right?” she looked away. “Probably just heard a rumor or something.”

“Probably,” said Amy, but the doubt was pretty much already out there and beginning to set in.

“Anyway,” said Hannah, finishing the rest of her burger in one bite, “I'm gone as of tomorrow. Anything I can bring you from the jungle?” she chipped cheerily.

Amy wouldn't admit that the only image she could conjure was Hannah's head on a plate, shrunken down to the size of a small apple.

##

After lunch, Amy returned to her cubicle to find Deck's door still closed and Deck still locked behind it. She started to digest Hannah's words. Was it possible that Deck wasn't what he seemed? Had he really abused Marny and that's why she left him? Maybe something old and buried and raw had triggered within him. So many questions unresolved. She glanced up at the clock on the wall. Only two-fifteen. Three o'clock couldn't come soon enough.

Except that three o'clock wasn't coming—not for her and Deck. Because at two-fifty-five, Detective Oliver Franks stormed into the English department of Charles Stratton University, accompanied by two very serious-looking uniformed officers. Amy stood, subconsciously blocking the path to Deck's door, but Ollie waved her back as he headed toward Deck's office with focused intent.

“Marny's missing again,” said Ollie to Deck, who had opened his door at the commotion outside. “Why didn't you tell me she was back?”

“I didn't think it mattered,” said Deck, his forehead all a'glisten. “I mean, she
was
back. She came here looking for money—Amy will back that up,” he said, not looking at Amy. “But I didn't have anything to give her. So I guess she ran off again.”

“Except this time she left a note,” Ollie said, as he held up a white envelope.

“A note?” Deck asked, either not aware it had existed or doing a very good impression of someone pretending to not be aware. “Well, what does it say?” he asked, looking away.

Ollie looked at Deck, sizing him up. He opened the envelope. “She says she fears for her life. That she's afraid of you—that you're going to hurt her again.”

“That's preposterous. Surely you don't believe–”

“She says here that she left you the first time because you went crazy and burned all your photo albums in a ditch in the backyard,” Ollie said flat and serious. Deck and Ollie shared a pointed stare.

“Where did you get that note?” asked Amy. “Where did it come from?”

Ollie looked coldly at Amy. “Do you know a Hannah Lindstrom?”

“Hannah?” she was baffled. “She did…”

“She turned it in.”

“But how would she…where did she get that note? This doesn't add up,” she looked at Ollie. “Surely you can see that this doesn't add up. Hannah doesn't know Marny. How could she…”

“I'm afraid we're going to have to head downtown to sort this out, Deck.”

“But why would she do this?” Amy was dumbfounded. “Why would she…”

Deck sighed deeply. “I understand, Ollie. Let's get to the bottom of it,” he said, as one of the officers whipped out his cuffs.

“I don't think that will be necessary, Patterson,” Ollie said, not taking his eyes off Deck. “I know this guy. He'll come peacefully.”

“We were supposed to have that talk,” she said to Deck as he started to leave. “At three.”

Deck turned to Amy and smiled warmly at her. “Sorry, Amy, but it looks like I can't do it today.”

“But…” she pleaded and stopped, visibly in shock as she watched him walk off between the two officers.

“Ollie, you can't be serious,” she said. “You can't do this to Deck. What will Jane say?” Then she gasped. “Does Jane know about this?”

Franks turned around, “Actually could you do me a favor? Could you call Jane and tell her I'll be late—”

“Are you
kidding
me? I'm not telling Jane anything for you.”

“Amy, it's okay,” Deck reassured, but didn't look very sure of anything. “Ollie's just doing his job,” he said, taking a few steps towards her. “There's a note. There's evidence. He's got to check out his leads,” he said, and stroked her tenderly on the cheek. “Which reminds me,” he said. “Do you still have the dolls?”