THE LAST BOY (41 page)

“And you’re not in the least curious, huh?” he said, giving a sideways glance at Sisler as they entered Tripoli's upstairs office.

“Well…” Sisler finally cracked a smile.“Yeah…of course. Sure.” He grinned.

“Good!”Tripoli closed the door.

Sisler pointed the empty Glock out the window, closed one eye,
and tried sighting it on a distant tree. “I heard you went to see Yerka.”

Tripoli told him about the vault, how it was constructed.

“So somebody swiped the body.” Sisler loaded the Glock's clip, feeding in one shiny cartridge after the next until he had inserted all seventeen rounds, then slammed the clip into the butt. A southpaw, he holstered the gun under his right arm.“We ought to get a list. Access.”

“Now you’re talking.”

“The chief already questioned Teeter and Paolangeli and Pellegrino. It was the three of them that were on rotation and they’re all insisting they never budged for a second.”

“Why don’t you talk to them yourself,” suggested Tripoli. “But informally. You know, pull them aside. Or take them out for a beer or something.”

Sisler started to load the second clip for his belt, then stopped and looked up.“Are you going back to the hospital?”

“You’re becoming a regular mind reader, Sisler, you know that?”

“Please Rosie, forget it already,” Molly juggled the phone as she sliced onions, her eyes watering.

“Are you crying?” she asked.

“No. It's onions. Look, it's not your fault. It's nobody's fault. This has just been the day from hell.”

“If I hadn’t gone into the kitchen and left him alone,” said Rosie,“Danny would never have slipped away.”

“Don’t count on it.”Turning the fire up under her wok, she shot a glance out the window to check on Danny. Through her watery vision she could see him barefoot in his little garden hoeing weeds. Remarkably, the garden, sheltered by the trailer, had hardly been touched by the storm. She poured oil into the hot wok, letting it sizzle, all the while her ears keyed in the sound of Danny's repetitive strokes.

“From now on, I swear,” said Rosie emphatically, “I’m not taking my eyes off him.”

“Rosie. I can’t do this to you. You’ve got enough to worry about.”

Rosie started to object.

“Or to me,” Molly added.

“But then what are you going to do?”

The question hung for a moment in the air.“Danny stays with me,” she said resolutely. “There's just too much craziness going on. Another month, things’ll be settling down, and then he’ll be starting school.”

“
School?
” echoed Rosie.

The sound of hoeing had stopped, and Molly turned to see Danny standing close to the open window. How much had he heard?

“You can’t do that to a boy like Danny,” Rosie was saying.“And the people at school wouldn’t understand him. He couldn’t take it. Can’t you see that—”

“Rosie, I can’t talk now,” she said. “Let me call you back later, okay?”

The evening was still steamy, a palpable soup of humidity and grit hung suspended in the air.

“This summer's getting to be a real killer,” mumbled Sisler as they left the station and marched to the parking lot. “I heard it broke a hundred again today. All afternoon the ambulances have been running people with heat stroke up to the hospital. Paolangeli told me that two old people and a baby died. They’re packing people in ice in the hospital like they were corpses. Can’t even get enough ice.”

In the short hike to the parking lot, Tripoli's shirt was completely drenched, and Sisler, walking a yard away from him, reeked from sweat.

“Let's take yours,” said Tripoli motioning towards Sisler's newer Caprice. The cooling system in Tripoli's car was worthless in this heat, and Sisler's had a powerful air conditioner.

They drove out through the West End. Although the sun had set, the concrete was still baking and it seemed like the whole neighborhood was out on their stoops drinking beer and soda. Everyone looked drained. The kids who would usually be playing in the street were hunched listlessly on the curbs. On State and Plain, where a lot of the drug deals took place, a bunch of tough-looking adolescents were clustered in front of the pizza parlor. Ordinarily when one of the unmarked cars approached, someone would always yell “Five-O,” and the young men in baggy gangsta attire would quickly saunter off in all directions. Tonight they didn’t have the energy to turn their heads.

Tripoli and Sisler caught Valerie Hagen, the chief hospital administrator, just as she was getting ready to leave. She had her key in the door and looked annoyed.

“But the D. A.'s people were just here,” she objected.“I’ve spent two hours with them!”

“Well, we’re investigating this, too.”

“I’ve got to pick up my daughter. I was supposed to be out of here ages ago!”

“We’ll try to make it fast,” said Tripoli.

“Just a couple of questions,” added Sisler.

She shook her dark, tight curls, reopened the office, and turned on the lights.

“If you could,” said Sisler,“we’d like a list of everyone who had a key giving them access to the morgue room.”

“Okay,” she said, opening her drawer and handing them the list. “Here. This is what I gave to the D. A.'s people.”

With Tripoli leaning over his shoulder, Sisler studied the sheet. It included supervisory personnel, nursing, and janitorial staff.

“Anybody else that ought to be on here?” asked Sisler as Tripoli hung back and let him handle it.

“That's it.”

“What about you?”

The woman's face flushed.“
Me?
”

“Yes,” said Sisler. Now it was his turn to sound annoyed. “Do you have access?”

“Well…yes…but I never go down there.”

“We need everybody.”

“And anybody,”Tripoli chimed in.

“You don’t think that
I
would steal a body, do you?”

“I would hope not,” said Tripoli affably.“But maybe you want to go back to the beginning and make this list all inclusive.”

Flustered, Hagen sat down at her computer and went to work. Fifteen minutes later she had come up with a comprehensive list which included a number of resident physicians, orderlies, and cleaning staff who had escaped her first pass. All told, there were an extra dozen.

“You don’t ask, you don’t get,” said Tripoli, studying the two-page list as they cruised back down West Hill to the station.

“Hey, I thought you were so depressed,” said Sisler, slowing for a red light.

“Who said I was depressed?”

Sisler crept forward and managed to reach the light just as it changed to green. “Well, you were down.” He kept his eyes on the road.

“So now I’m up, okay.”

“Fine. No complaint from me. Just wondering is all.”

“I’m stimulated,” said Tripoli with a faint smile.

“Huh?”

“You know the cloud lifts, things start to make a little bit of sense, the chase quickens the heart.”

Sisler finally turned to face him.“What are you talking about?”

“Supposing the old man didn’t kidnap the kid.”

“What? You mean the kid just stumbled onto him?”

“Something like that…”

“All these months, in all that space—we’ve got helicopters with electronic surveillance gear, rangers and search parties tramping through the woods—we couldn’t find the old man, much less a goat. So how does the kid find him?”

“Maybe he knows right from the beginning where to go?”

Sisler looked obliquely at him.

“Please don’t stare at me like that. I’m not crazy. All I’m asking you to do is to employ a little imagination, be inventive. We keep driving in the same ruts, seeing the same things, and in the process fail to spot the obvious that's just a little off the road.”

From the look on Sisler's face, it was clear he just didn’t get it. For the moment it was better to leave it be. When they reached the parking lot, Tripoli handed Sisler the list the hospital administrator had compiled.“Okay. This is your department.”

“Huh?” Sisler looked dumbfounded.

“Check them out.”

“You mean I’ve got to do all this? Alone? Come on, man, I thought we’re working on this together?”

“We are. We are. It's just that you’re just going to have to handle this end of it, that's all. Meantime, I’ve got a few other fish to fry.”

“Try to be quiet,” said Molly when Tripoli came by that night. “I finally got Danny asleep. He was all worked up about being with you today. He kept going on about his old friends the animals.”

Tripoli eased the front door closed, then tiptoed in.

“No I’m not asleep!” piped Danny, bounding out of his room. “Hi, Trip!” He sprang into Tripoli's arms as if launched from springs.

Tripoli laughed. “Howya doing, big fella? Have a good time today?”

“It was great! The best day in the whole world!”

“I thought you were sleeping,” said Molly, less than enthused to see him up.

“I was,” said Danny.“But then I remembered something important. I forgot to tell you, Trip,” he snuggled close,“you can milk the mother goat and the sheep, you know. The milk is very good to drink.”

“Well,” said Tripoli, weighing the matter. “I’ll think about that.”

“And you can make yummy cheese, too.”

There was such an endearing innocence to the boy that Tripoli couldn’t resist giving him a kiss. Danny locked arms and legs tightly around Tripoli's torso and clung tightly.

“Come on, go back to bed.
Please
, Honey,” said Molly wearily. “It's been a long day for all of us.”

“And I want Trip to have some of my vegetables, too.”

Heaped on the counter were a cornucopia of cherry tomatoes and green onions, fresh young potatoes and eggplants.

“Boy, these look beautiful,” said Tripoli, leaning over to get a better look.“Wow, they’re humongous!”

“And we’ve got lots of beans in the fridge,” Danny added.

“Yes, they’re beautiful,” said Molly, “but could you go to sleep already?”

Tripoli carried Danny to the bedroom and, when he lowered him to his bed, the boy clung to his neck, pulling him close. Tripoli buried his face in the curve of his throat and inhaled. His skin had a wonderful fragrance to it, the essence of milk and greenery, of clothes dried in the sun, of flowers and fresh-turned earth.

“Please,” Danny whispered in his ear. “Don’t let them put me there.”

“Where?”

“School. They want to put me in school.”

“Huh? Who?”

“My mother. Larry.
Everybody!
”

“Oh…” uttered Tripoli, ambushed.

“But you won’t let them, will you.”

“Well…but…” he stammered, “It's not really for me to…I mean, that's the way it is. All children have to go to school.”

“But Trip, I won’t like it there,” said Danny under his breath. “Please. You gotta help me,” he begged.

“No way!” Pellegrino exploded, flinging his fork into his beef stew and sending a splash of gravy out in all directions. Kesh, the owner of the State Diner, came over from the grill and wiped the counter. He offered Sisler a wet cloth for his shirt. Pellegrino was still in uniform and the dark blue had a way of hiding stains. His face, however, was beet red.“I never so much as budged a fucking inch.”

“What time did you get on?”

“I got there at eight in the morning. Took over from Paolangeli. I did a crossword I found in Yerka's
Times.
It was a real bitch. I couldn’t get half of it.”

Kesh continued to linger, cleaning the counter, an ear cocked.

“I don’t get this. Why the fuck are you grilling
me?
” Pellegrino spat at Sisler.

“Ssshhh, come on. Lower your voice,” he said, which just irritated Pellegrino more. “Hey, you’re not being singled out. I’m talking to everyone.”

“And it's not even your goddamn case! I heard the state's sending in a special investigator.”

Everybody in the diner was looking their way.“Easy. Easy,” muttered Sisler under his breath.

“The body,” said Kesh, nodding his head.

Pellegrino turned on him.“What the hell do you know about it?”

“Know? Ha!” Kesh tossed a shoulder.“Everybody knows.”

“Yeah?” said Sisler.

Kesh drew close to the cops, looked around. “About the boy. How he can make storms. About the Old Man. How he can pass through the walls,” he whispered, “like a ghost.”

“Are you
nuts?
” exclaimed Sisler.

“No. No. I’m serious,” said Kesh, earnestly. “Things like that happen all the time.”

“Maybe,” said Pellegrino.“but not in Ithaca.”

“I never even thanked you for today,” said Molly.

They were sitting on the couch with their feet up on the low coffee table. Molly had reheated the noodles and veggies from dinner. Tripoli had taken a few bites before settling back with a cold beer. It was almost beginning to feel like old times, he thought to himself, when they were close and always had their hands on each other. Yet it had been so long since he touched her, really touched her, that this intimacy now felt slightly awkward, almost new. They would have to go back, he feared, start again from the beginning,

“Nothing to it. It was my pleasure. Daniel's great to have around. I even got him working,” he chuckled, playing with a silky lock of her hair. She had turned the TV down so Danny could sleep. Running faintly in the background was a news program about crop failures in the Midwest, but Tripoli was too intent on Molly to give it much attention.

“I didn’t mean to snap at you about bringing Danny back early. And I still feel terrible for jumping on Danny back in the car. I was so frustrated. I don’t want to lose my job, and I’m already in hot water as it is.”

“Daniel understands.”

“I was grateful that you took him today. Really. Hey,” she interrupted herself,“I don’t know what kind of miracle you performed, but I haven’t seen him this happy in days.”

“It took me by surprise, too.” He told her about Danny sulking
under the tree and then breaking into gales of laughter.

She looked at him.“So what happened?”

“Nothing that I could see. That's the amazing thing.”

“After you left, he kept going on the whole evening. The sheep this, and the goats that. How you guys cut lots of grass for them. Then fixed the fence, and met the cat that lives under the porch.”