I had some amends
to make, and despite the fact that I wasn’t looking forward to dealing with Kelley’s anger, I wanted to face him. I owed him an apology, so I headed to AJ’s right after work so I could be there when he arrived.
I also had an ulterior motive. Sherrie said that the tattoos the three from Forrest Point had were spiderwebs. That’s a pretty common jailhouse tattoo, though it’s one usually sported by bikers around their elbows. With that group, it signifies the fact that they had the distinction of having committed a murder, kind of like how Cub Scouts get merit badges. I was dying to know if Kelley knew anything about spiderweb tattoos and if they had any relation to Walanda’s “Webster.” Still, I was a bit nervous asking Kelley for any information tonight. When it came to favors, my account was in the credit column.
I was distracted from my anxiety by the Fearsome Foursome who were already in mid-evening form, even though it was barely six thirty. TC and Rocco were in a heated debate centered on wedding rice and birds.
“You can’t throw rice at weddings anymore because the ASPCA outlawed it,” said Rocco. “The rice gets eaten up by the birds and it expands when it warms up in their stomachs and they blow up.”
“That’s bullshit,” said TC. “You’re thinking about seagulls and Alka-Seltzer. If you give seagulls Alka-Seltzer, they explode in mid-air because of the fizziazation.”
“If you use Minute Rice at a wedding, do the birds blow up faster?” Jerry Number Two said, pausing to sip his Cosmo.
“God, Jerry, you did way too many drugs,” said Jerry Number One.
“You’re right, there,” Jerry Number Two said. “One time I was tripping and somebody gave me a bunch of those Pop Rocks and a Dr Pepper. I was in the emergency room for eight hours. I felt like a seagull at a wedding.”
I was three-quarters of the way through my first Schlitz when Kelley came in. Trying not to be obvious, I studied his face for how he felt. As usual, Kelley’s facial expression didn’t give anything away. He took his usual spot.
I motioned to AJ to set Kelley up with a beer. AJ is often a pain in the ass but he knew his trade. He sensed there was a tension between Kelley and me and he stayed out of it. Almost imperceptibly, he opened Kelley’s beer and slid it in front of him.
“Thanks, Duff,” he said.
“Kel, I owe you an apology. I’m sorry if—” Kelley interrupted and I didn’t get to finish.
“Oh, your little ‘Duffy for Hire’ deal?”
“Uh, well yeah.”
“Well, I know you private eyes kind of live on the edge a bit,” he said. “Shoot from the hip, live for the moment. I know, I’ve read the books,” he said.
I deserved Kelley’s sarcasm and I wasn’t going to argue with him. He wasn’t looking at me and he was trying to be nonchalant, but I could tell he wasn’t happy with me.
“Look, you were way out of line, and it could have cost me my job,” he spun around on his stool and looked me right in the eye. “If you want to get killed living out some vigilante fantasy, that’s your business. Next time leave me out of it.”
“I’m sorry, Kel,” I said.
“It’s fine. The guy’s going away for a long time so the end result is that another piece of scum is off the street. Besides, I got a special commendation from the chief for my actions … geez.”
“I’m glad you didn’t get into trouble over it.”
I was tempted to make a joke about the heroics but decided against it. Kelley was a man of principles and what mattered to him was that my irresponsible actions could’ve screwed him. The fact that the results were positive was incidental.
AJ set us up again, again on my tab. Kelley didn’t protest. I decided to chance asking Kelley about the tattoos.
“Kel, what do you know about jailhouse tattoos?” I asked.
“Oh, now we’re just making conversation?” he said.
“I did a group in the jail and these three tough-looking women from Forrest Point all had small spiderwebs tattooed between their thumb and forefinger.”
“Look, ‘Duffy for Hire,’ didn’t we just have a little talk about you retiring from the gumshoe life?”
“C’mon, Kel,” I said. “I’m just curious.”
“I’ve never heard anything about it. Bikers have ’em on their elbows sometimes, but that’s something different.”
“Yeah, I know. Do you think it has anything to do with the ‘Webster’ stuff Walanda was talking about?”
“Duff, you watch way too much TV.”
With that, he half turned to direct his focus on the TV. The Yankees were off, so the TV was on ESPN Classic. They were showing a 1984 USFL game between the New Jersey Generals and the Arizona Wranglers. Kelley acted like it was some storied rivalry akin to Notre Dame and USC, and fixed his attention on the screen. I decided to let it go.
The Foursome, like a dog with a bone, was still chewing on the seagull/rice/Alka-Seltzer dilemma.
“TC, it’s a known fact,” Rocco said, raising his voice. “Accept when you’re wrong.”
“How come you don’t see dead birds all in front of churches if it’s true?” TC said.
“How come you’re just an asshole?” Rocco said.
“I heard about a lady,” Jerry Number Two said. “She tried to dry off a guinea pig in a microwave and the poor thing blew up.”
“The guinea pig or the lady?” asked Jerry Number One.
“I don’t remember,” said Jerry Number Two.
“That happened to me once,” TC said. “I put a chicken liver in the microwave for the cat,” said TC.
“What the hell kind of voodoo were you practicing?” said Rocco.
I couldn’t take it anymore. I stood up and was counting out money for my bill and AJ’s tip when Kel spoke without looking away from the Wranglers’ classic touchdown drive.
“How many times did you hit him?”
“I hit him with a one-two and then a body shot. Then I slammed his head into the bumper twice,” I said.
“The one-two landed on the nose? The head slam was on the side of his head?”
“Yeah.”
“The scumbag’s nose was halfway over to his ear,” Kelley stayed focused on the television. “It separated right off his face, you know.”
“Yeah,” I said. I turned for the door.
“Duff,” I turned back around. Kelley was still watching the game. “Nice combination,” he said.
I headed past the Foursome and went home. I was halfway home when it dawned on me that my mysterious Crown Vic friend wasn’t tailing me. I smiled to myself, thinking about how my imagination can run wild, but I didn’t get to smile for long. Just as I was pulling into my driveway, a silver Crown Vic passed the Moody Blue heading the other way.
“Hey Duff.” I hated
it when Sam greeted me first thing in the morning. Actually, as I thought about it, I hated when Sam greeted me regardless of his timing.
“Yes, Sam?”
“How can you tell when a Polack chick has been using a vibrator?” Sam smiled.
“Gee, Sam, I don’t know. How can you tell when a Polish-American woman has been using a vibrator?” I said.
“Her front teeth are chipped.” Sam really got a kick out of that one, and before I could say anything, he disappeared and went back to the business office.
It was a lovely start to another shit sandwich of a day. It was time for the second Quality Assurance Committee meeting. As I made my way into the boardroom, I saw Sheila talking to Gabbibb, and I think I heard her mention something about Botox. Gabbibb was wearing an authentic Derek Jeter Yankees jersey with dress slacks and polished Bostonian shoes. He was heading to the Stadium after the meeting to catch his beloved Bronx Bombers.
Bowerman led off the meeting with an announcement.
“Before we get started, I wanted to let you all know something. As you all know, we’re very excited about our new halfway house and though it’s far from being refurbished, we would like to invite everyone out to see the new facility.” Bowerman had her hands folded neatly in front of her. She was doing her best to be ultra-professional. “We’d also like to present an overview of the type of program we’d like to run, once we get approval from the state and all the construction is done,” she said.
There was an effort to unite the various Jewish agencies to coordinate services. For people like Claudia and Bowerman, this was threatening because it meant the possibility that their little empires might be compromised. It was Hymie’s idea, and on paper it was a good one. Unfortunately, the inane power struggles that dominate the lives of people who rise to the positions of leadership in these organizations would find a way to sabotage whatever good could come of a partnership.
Besides this committee and a couple of others, the big joint project was the halfway house that Espidera was funding. Anyone in social services will tell you that there’s an absolute dearth of residential facilities for women with children. It is probably the biggest single obstacle for women to get help for addiction, prostitution, and physically abusive relationships. There were halfway houses and safe houses, but none where you could bring your kids for longer than a few weeks. It was going to be a great thing, despite the fact that Espidera made it possible so he could get a tax break. I guess sometimes the ends do justify the means.
“I’m just so excited,” Espidera said, beaming at the attention he was getting. “The possibilities this new program will offer the women and children of this area are tremendous.”
Bowerman and Claudia figured a date for all of us to take a ride out to Kingsville to see the new facility and to discuss some program planning. It wasn’t hard enough that I had to get caught up with all this paperwork, I also had to somehow get it done on days when we weren’t even in the office. These little field trips to pat board members on the back and stroke the egos of people like Bowerman made me crazy.
I had just gotten back to the cubicle when Trina stopped by. I liked Trina and, even though she was the Michelin Woman’s secretary, she seemed to be on my side. I also liked her because she was twenty-four years old, with shoulder-length brown hair and legs that reached all the way to the ground. Being twenty-four, she gravitated to the hipper fashions, which was fine by me. Having her pass by the cubicle in some of her tight-fitting pants or significantly above-the-knee skirts had a way of breaking up the day.
Trina was my women’s focus group of one. I ran relationship issues past her, got date ideas, and dissected rejections with her. She was eager to help me navigate the minefield that was the fairer sex, and I could tell she genuinely liked me. She smelled nice and was a pleasure to be near. She also had been seeing a guy named Lou for two years and I could sense she wasn’t always pleased with him.
“Hey Duff,” Trina almost whispered.
“What’s up?”
“I’m not supposed to tell you this, but she’s going to audit ten of your charts in the morning.”
“Shit. Do you know which ones?”
“She usually has me, you know, randomly select them.”
“Ugh.”
“Duff, suppose you, like, happened to let me know which ten of your files are in the best shape. Maybe I could, like, randomly select them for you.”
“Trina, you don’t have to do that.”
“Let me know by the end of the day,” she looked over her shoulder to see if anyone was watching. “It’s, like, so not a big deal.”
She smiled at me and let her eyes linger on mine a little after we stopped talking. It made me wonder. I didn’t feel comfortable having her stick her neck out for me, but I am also not a fool.
The problem was I didn’t have ten good files. I could give Trina a list and try to get ten files into some sort of shape. It would mean close to an all-nighter, but it would buy me some time. I came up with ten and discreetly slipped the list onto Trina’s desk on my way to get some coffee. She smiled at me and tucked the list away.
Before I started on the files I wanted to see how Mikey and Eli were doing. I got Rudy on the first ring.
“Rudy,” he said.
“Geez, you ever think of doing any of those Dale Carnegie courses?” I said.
“Fuck you.”
“I’ll take that as a ‘no,’” I said. “Hey, how are the guys doing?”
“Actually, real well. They’re in some pain, but they’re healing, and best of all, neither of them seem to be having bad effects from the radiation,” Rudy said.
“That’s good, right?”
“Yeah, as long as the stuff gets after the cancer. If it leaves the rest of the body alone—that’s the best,” Rudy took a bite out of something and chewed into the mouthpiece. “The cops doing anything?”
“Kelley told me in subtle terms that they’re doing about the minimum. Eli and Mikey were hit randomly, so it’s a very hard investigation to nail down. It also doesn’t help that neither one of them are pillars of the community,” I said.
“Maybe the community would care if they knew that treating them was going to cost about two hundred large.”
“Are you serious?”
“That’s conservative, Duff.” Rudy took another bite of whatever he was inhaling. “They’ll be in here for a month, they’ll wind up with several surgeries each, and then there’s Gabbibb’s bill.”
“The oncology costs a ton, I bet.”
“It’s not just that. He gets a cut on all of it because his practice has orthopedic guys, trauma guys—you name it. Ol’ ‘DAT, DAT’ will make a killing,” he said.
“Shitty choice of words, Rude,” I said. “Hey, what happened to making these guys get out of the hospital in a hurry?”
“Turns out their Medicaid was the right kind, especially with the cancer. They can be here forever.”
I signed off with Rudy and went to the file cabinet to get my charts. It was going to be a long night.
D: Patient reports eating twenty-two Krispy Kreme donuts and then having sex with the cashier at the donut shop.
A: Patient appears to struggle with self-control and moderation.
P: Patient to make a list of positive and negative consequences of her impulsive episode.
It was heading toward
midnight and I was trying to get the ten charts I identified up to snuff. I was putting the finishing touches on Martha Stewart’s.
Martha goes nuts over Krispy Kremes. She spent an entire session talking about how good they are. I still remember it clearly.
“They come down that big conveyer belt from the oven and they’re still so warm,” her eyes were as glazed over as a glazed cruller. “They’re awesome and they feel so good going down.”
“Martha, it’s probably not a good idea to obsess like th—”
“… and they have this coating. It’s white and it’s both crispy and sweet. It’s like, uh … like …”
“Liquefied sugar?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
Martha made six trips to the donut shop that day, eating a few warm ones from each batch. She was so overcome with warmth from the deep-fried carbo that she hung around after closing to have a go with Vassily, the Ukrainian guy who works the counter. Martha explained that she became uncontrollably attracted to Vassily and just had to have him. I think my correspondence course in Intro to Psych said that was projection. No, maybe it was displacement. Anyway, I was moving on to the Jewish couple when I heard someone coming up the stairs. I stepped out of the cubicle to see what was going on. It was Trina.
“Hey,” I said. “What are you doing here?”
“I saw your car outside and thought you might be here,” she said.
“It’s almost midnight, isn’t it?”
“Well,” Trina sounded like she had had a few—not drunk, but glowing. “I think it’s past midnight, Duff.”
Aside from the glow, she was looking good—faded Guess jeans, black leather boots with a three-inch heel, tight black turtleneck, and a leather jacket.
“Duffy, I worry about you.” She took a step toward me.
“You worry about me?” I said.
“I’m afraid you’re going to get hurt, or get fired, or maybe catch pneumonia in that can you live in.”
“Not to mention get eaten alive by that wild animal I live with.”
“That too.” Trina paused.
“It’s not my place to say, but I’m going to say something anyway.”
She was barely a foot away from me, and I got the feeling up my spine that was part nervousness and part excitement. I guess tonight you could also add part confusion.
“You could do a lot better than Lisa.” She moved even closer to me.
“Ah, Trina … where’s Lou?”
She stopped moving forward. You could see that whatever state of mind she was in was suddenly changed. She looked away and awkwardly put her hands in her pockets. Her eyes welled up.
“Lou … was out with someone else tonight. He told me …” her voice trailed away as she stifled tears.
“I’m sorry, Trina. I didn’t mean to—”
“Don’t worry, Duff, he was a jerk. I just have to get over the shock of—”
“Being alone and scared?”
“Yeah.”
“I know a little about that too,” I exhaled. “Lisa called us off.”
I hugged her and she held on to me tightly. She quietly cried into my shoulder and neither of us said anything. She held me even tighter and the pressure of her body went right through me. It was part physical and part something else. Something I couldn’t find a label for.
“Trina, is there anything I can do to help?”
She pulled back from me, her eyes wet with tears, bit her lower lip, and smiled. The smile was a genuine one, and it made for a weird combination with the tears.
“Yeah, Duff, there is.”
Trina stepped back, tilted her head, and smirked at me. She shrugged out of her leather coat and gently untucked the turtleneck from the top of her jeans.
“Duffy, did I ever tell you how much I love your blue eyes?”
“No, I would’ve remembered that,” I said.
“Or your really strong jaw line?” She ran her finger the length of my really strong-looking jaw line.
“Er, uh, no.” That was the best I could come up with.
“Tonight I would love to feel like a very hot, desirable woman.”
With that she turned on her heel and slowly started to walk through the office. I stood transfixed, wondering exactly what Monopoly square I landed on today. A few steps later, Trina’s turtleneck fell to the carpet and her hands reached up to undo the clasp of her bra. Without breaking stride, a step and a half later, the bra went the way of the sweater.
Though I am quite capable of cerebral pondering, this clearly wasn’t the time. I followed Trina’s strip march through the agency. I found her in Claudia’s office. She was shimmying out of her Guesses in that way that makes men stand back and feel grateful. She slid
her thumbs into the thin piece of material that made up the strap of her thong, and in one motion whisked it off and threw it in my direction.
She used both hands to hike herself up on Claudia’s desk. Her naked body stood out in stark contrast to all the trappings of an office, especially this office.
“Duff, haven’t you always wanted to sit in the boss’s chair?”
“Actually, not until this very moment.”
I sat in Claudia’s chair facing Trina. This was getting very weird.
“Isn’t this the position your corner man is in between rounds of a fight?”
“I guess so.”
“Let’s go a few rounds.”
With that, there was the tussle of getting out of my clothes, the hurried groping and touching that comes before two people find a rhythm. We did it with an intensity that brought the two of us together and, at least for then, chased away any feelings of aloneness. I felt both in and out of my body as Trina surged through me.
Breathing hard, glistening with sweat, we both got where we were going, seemingly all at once. It was intense and it was passionate. We finished up on top of Claudia’s desk, our naked bodies spread over the top of it with all her pens and pencils and knickknacks knocked to the floor. When my consciousness returned and I looked around at where we were, I couldn’t help but start laughing. Trina joined me, and we slid off the top of the Michelin Woman’s desk onto the carpet, both rolling around with laughter.
“We just screwed on top of the boss’s desk, you know,” Trina said when she could breathe again.
“Yeah,” I thought for a second. “I can’t even begin to think of the amount of time in psychotherapy I’m going to need to process that.”
“Thank you, Duff. It was what I needed tonight.”
“I’m glad I could do you the favor.”
Trina punched me in the side then nuzzled her head into the crook of my neck. We laid back on Claudia’s carpet amongst the debris from the top of the desk. Trina rolled over on top of me, straddling me with her legs.
“You feel like doing me another favor?”
“If I must,” I said. Trina was insistent on another favor, and I did my best to comply. When it was over, we did our best to straighten up the Michelin Woman’s desk.
It was the most fun I ever had in this office.