The Dream Ender (24 page)

After Joshua was soundly asleep, we left.

Oh, and Jonathan was right. I guess I do bellow. A little.

*

As we were getting dressed Tuesday morning I reminded Jonathan it was rehearsal night for the Gay Men’s Chorus.

“Of course you're going,” I said, “It wouldn't look good for you not to show up—this is only your second rehearsal. I'll stay at the hospital until he goes to sleep, and there's no real reason you can't go and enjoy yourself.”

After a little more persuading, he reluctantly agreed.

Thursday finally arrived, and I got Joshua home safely at around two o'clock. He didn't want to go to bed, so I put several pillows on the couch, so he could lie there and watch TV, and covered him with a light blanket. The excitement of getting out of the hospital and being back home had worn him out, and he soon fell asleep, Bunny on the floor beside him.

Since I'd gotten precious little work done since he went to the hospital, I took the opportunity to start writing up some case progress notes for Glen O'Banyon.

Jonathan called around four, waking Joshua up from another nap, asking me if I could start dinner—he suggested macaroni and cheese and hot dogs by way of celebrating Joshua’s return.

“Let me say a quick hi to Joshua,” he said before hanging up, and I carried the phone over to the couch.

“Hi, Uncle Jonathan!” he said. “I’m home!” He listened for a few seconds then said, “Okay. Bye,” and handed the receiver back to me. “We’re having macaroni and cheese and hot dogs tonight,” he announced happily.

After dinner, which we made into an impromptu picnic on Joshua’s bed—the only way we could talk him into getting into his pajamas and under the covers so early—Jonathan left for the chorus and Joshua and I spent some time “playing cards.” When he decided he wanted to color, I went into the living room to call our friends, to whom we’d not talked since Joshua’d gone to the hospital, to let them know what was going on.

Bob and Mario were already at work, so I left a short message on their machine. Phil and Tim expressed surprise and said they’d like to come over and see Joshua the next night. Since Jonathan had made a huge pot of chili a week or so before and the containers had left little room in the freezer for anything else, I suggested they join us for dinner and they agreed.

Not sure whether Jared was still commuting to Mountjoy from Jake’s during the week, I called Jake’s number after making a quick check-in on Joshua. I felt I owed it to Jake and Jared to let them know what was going on with the case, too, so was glad to find Jake home. Jared, I learned, was back to spending the work week at Mountjoy.

I first told Jake about Joshua’s trip to the hospital, and like Tim and Phil, he expressed surprise and concern.

“Jared’ll be here Friday night…maybe we can come by and see him. Is there anything we can bring him?”

“Thanks,” I said, “but he’s already spoiled rotten. He’s got enough toys and books to last him until he goes off to college. He’ll just be glad to see you.”

Jake brought up the case before I had a chance to. “So, how’s your investigation going, if I can ask?”

“Of course, you can ask!” I said and gave him a quick rundown of my conversations with the guys from the meeting.

“You still think it was one of them, then?” he asked.

“Well, they all knew you had the gun, and they’re the most likely to have figured out where it was. Your bathroom has two doors, right?”

“Yeah, from the hall and from the bedroom, but I always keep the bedroom door closed.”

“But someone could get from the bathroom into the bedroom to look for the gun, right? Especially if the hall door to the bedroom was closed, they wouldn’t be seen.”

There was a pause. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. That never occurred to me.”

“Do you remember who went to the bathroom that night?”

He laughed. “I have a hard enough time remembering what I had for breakfast this morning,” he said. “Remembering who might have gone to the bathroom weeks ago…sorry.”

“No problem,” I said.

“So, anybody stand out as a prime suspect?”

“Not really. They all had a damned good motive. You don’t run into someone like Hysong very often, thank God.” I paused while my mind did a quick flashback through my conversations.

“What do you know about Tom Spinoza and Art Manners?” I asked.

“Good question,” Jake said. “Tom likes to play hard-ass, but I think his bark’s worse than his bite. I think he gets a kick out of ticking people off.”

“Yeah, well, he succeeded with me,” I said, and he laughed.

“I’m not surprised,” he said, “but Tom’s basically okay. As for Art, he’s a good-enough guy, but there’s something…I don’t know. It’s hard to put my finger on. I understand he’s really close to Pete Reardon, and I always wondered why he spends so much time at the Male Call, considering the bad blood between Pete and Carl Brewer. Not that guys don’t go to both places, but…”

“I was wondering the same thing. You suppose he might be keeping tabs on the Male Call for Reardon?”

“Hmm, that never occurred to me, but I wouldn’t be surprised. It seemed like he was always up on the latest rumors, though I don’t remember that he particularly went out of his way to spread them.”

“How does Manners get along with Carl?”

“Okay, I guess. I know they speak, but I’ve never seen them having much of a conversation. I’m sure Carl knows about Art being close to Pete. But again, you have to remember we’ve never been what either of us would consider regulars at the Male Call. All we really know is what we pick up when we do go there.”

“Understood,” I said.

We talked for a few more minutes then said our good-byes. I returned to Joshua’s bedroom just in time for Story Time.

*

Jonathan got home around ten, and by the time I’d filled him in on my phone conversations and our busy upcoming weekend, it was time for bed. My mind wouldn’t let me sleep, though. It kept replaying my conversations with the guys from the meeting. Again, any one of them could very well have done it. They all had a solid motive and they all were angry, but for some reason, Spinoza and Manners’ anger seemed to have an element of—What? Defensiveness?—in it. True, with Manners I’d undoubtedly provoked it, but still…

Once again, the gun was the pivotal element in this whole case. Whoever had stolen it had killed Hysong, and while there were probably an untold number of guys out there he had infected and who but for the gun might also have been prime suspects, not all of them knew about Jake’s gun and only one person had taken it.

I’d never given much thought to “Why Jake’s gun?” It was clearly a matter of opportunity. Most people don’t have guns of their own, and to buy one for the purpose of killing someone, as Don Gleason had done, would be a slam dunk for the police when it came to tracing the murder weapon to the killer. So, knowing someone else had a gun that could be stolen—and particularly a rifle with the power and range of Jake’s…

So, though I might be wrong—it’s been known to happen—I was pretty much staking everything on it being one of the guys at the meeting. If I was wrong, well…

I’m not sure what time I finally did get to sleep, but it seemed as though I’d just dozed off when I felt Jonathan move my arm from over his chest as he got up, and I cracked one eye open to see that it was morning. Damn! I hate when that happens.

The next thing I knew, I heard the shower running and was aware of someone standing beside the bed, not two feet from my face. I opened my eyes to see Joshua, his pajama top pulled up with one hand.

“You wanna see my scar?” he asked.

Apparently, the bandage I’d put on after changing it before Story Time the night before had come off during the night, showing a bright red scar about two inches long.

“That’s a very nice scar, Joshua,” I said. “Thank you for showing it to me. I’ll get you a new bandage in a minute.”

“That’s okay,” he said, dropping his pajama top back in place and turning to pad out of the room toward the kitchen.

I got up quickly, threw on my robe and followed him; as I’d suspected, he was dragging a chair over to the cupboard preparatory to climbing up on it to reach into the cabinet for the cereal. I didn’t want him to do any stretching just yet, so I hurried over and said, “I’ll get it, Joshua. You can get the milk out of the refrigerator for me.”

I got the cereal, a bowl, and a large and small glass out of the cupboard and set them on the table as he came over with the milk. Rather than let him scramble up on the chair as he normally did, I lifted him onto the thick cushion that enabled him to reach the table then went to get him some juice from the refrigerator.

“As soon as you finish your cereal, we’ll put on a new bandage,” I said.

“Can I go to school today?” he asked, splashing milk over the mound of cereal in his bowl.

“Not for a while yet,” I said. “We want to make sure you’re ready.”

“I’m ready,” he said, munching a mouthful of cereal. “I want to show them my scar.”

“It’ll still be there,” I said, pouring water into the coffeemaker. “Trust me.”

Jonathan came into the kitchen, toweling his hair.

“Hi, Uncle Jonathan!” Joshua said, pulling up his pajama top. “You wanna see my scar?”

Jonathan shot me a look, and I said, “His bandage must have come off during the night. I told him I’d put a new one on as soon as he finishes his cereal.”

“You put the one on that came off,” he noted in an interestingly constructed sentence. “I’ll do it.”

I just shrugged and continued getting the coffee ready.

*

At ten o’clock, Glen O’Banyon called.

“I was sorry to hear about Joshua,” he said. “How’s he doing?”

“He’s doing fine, thanks,” I said. “We’re keeping him home for another week, if I can last that long,” I said.

He laughed. “Kids are a lot of fun, I understand,” he said.

“Most of the time,” I conceded.

“The reason I’m calling is that I just heard St. John has convened the grand jury for this afternoon and was wondering if you’ve found out anything that might help us. I’m pretty sure he’ll get his indictment. He wouldn’t have convened it if he didn’t think he would. Oh, and I also found out that while Jake’s prints were on the gun, there were no prints on the trigger.”

“Jeezus,” I said. “Doesn’t that pretty much invalidate the other prints? I mean, if Jake left his prints on the gun but not on the trigger…”

“You’d think so and I’d think so, but neither one of us is Victor St. John. I suspect he sees some karmic significance in his first name.”

I sighed. “True. Well, I’ve been writing up my notes for you, but I can give you a quick rundown, if it might help.”

“Shoot,” he said, and I outlined everything I’d done to date.

“Not much in the way of hard evidence,” I said, “but my money’s resting pretty heavily on either Spinoza or Manners.”

“Now all we have to do is prove it,” he said.

“I’ll do what I can.”

*

As I hung up the phone, I had an idea—as so often happens, one I should have had when I first heard Jake had discovered his gun missing. He’d said something about leaving his kitchen window open a crack.

I wanted to talk to Marty Gresham and had just picked up the phone to call the City Annex when Joshua came up to me and said, “Can I go outside and play?”

I suddenly felt guilty, realizing the poor kid must have a major case of cabin fever, having not been outside, other than to go to and from the hospital, for more than a week. A week is like forever to a five-year-old boy. And living in a large city in a twelve-unit apartment building where he was the only kid his age couldn’t be easy for him.

“Sure,” I said. “Why don’t we go down to the park for a while?”

“Okay,” he said, immediately heading to the door.

*

“Just remember,” I said as we walked the two blocks to our local park, “you’ve got to take it easy. The swings and the slide and the merry-go-round are okay, but no monkey bars and no jumping around. Understand?”

“Okay,” he said, making it perfectly clear I was talking to a brick wall. The minute we reached the park, I took his hand to keep him from taking off like a shot toward the monkey bars.

He tried to free himself from my grip, but I persisted and led him over to the swings.

“Let’s swing first,” I said, and released his hand so he could sit down.

“Push me high!” he urged.

We then did the slide and the merry-go-around, which was one of his favorites—mine, too, if truth be told. I would run it around until it reached a pretty good clip then jump on with him.

We both had fun, though he frequently got frustrated when I kept him from doing everything he wanted to. I knew he would have done a lot more running and jumping than was good for him at the moment, but I was concerned that he not risk loosening his stitches.

By the time we returned to the apartment, I could tell he was pretty tired, and I hoped he hadn’t overdone it. I put him on the couch with his coloring book while I went into the kitchen to fix lunch. I’d opened a can of tomato soup and was getting bread, butter, and cheese from the refrigerator for grilled cheese sandwiches when I glanced into the living room to find him sound asleep, coloring book still in his lap.

I decided lunch could wait a bit.

*

It was two o’clock before I had a chance to call the City Annex and ask to speak to Detective Gresham. I wasn’t surprised to hear he wasn’t in, but I left a message for him to call me at home and about three he did.