Malice Times Page 11

  “I thought you said that you two haven’t been out in a week.”

  “We haven’t.” Her words were muffled against my shoulder. “Doesn’t mean we haven’t been staying in. How did you know about me and Tom?”

  “You used his name with too much familiarity. You referred to him as just Tom and referred to Brad as Brad Graber. Have you seen Daniel?”

  “No, he’s not out there. Why?”

  “I don’t know. I want to talk to him about this story he says he’s investigating. Maybe I’m just a little paranoid nowadays.”

  “I’ll let him know you want to see him when he comes in.”

  After she left, I ran downstairs and through the printing room, which smelled of ink, fresh paper and grease. The presses were running and loud whirring noises filled the room. I opened the door that led to the archives and walked through, closing it as I entered. Gertie and Regina were hard at work. Regina looked up at me through a pair of glasses I'd never seen her wear. She took them off and quickly laid them on the table.

  "I have something specific I need you to find for me," I said.

  "What?"

  "Everything you have on the disappearance of Brad Graber and Celia Archer in July of last year. They disappeared somewhere between July 4th and July 12th. Also, anything that has to do with Stephen Archer that month. I am especially interested in anything concerning his relationship with Dempsey and my father."

  “No problem," Regina said.

  "I need it as soon as possible. Before I leave tonight. So, make it a priority."

  I went back up to my office to think. At around six o'clock I stepped out of my office, looked around and saw Dulcy standing by the water cooler fanning herself and drinking a cup of water. I walked over to her and tapped her on the shoulder.

  "Dan never came in?” I asked.

  "No," she said.

  "Is that normal for him?"

  "No. He's always at his desk. He has no life other than this paper. Ever since he started working on that story of his, he’s always working on it either here or at his apartment.”

  “Do you know what it is?” I asked.

  “No, he wouldn’t tell anyone about it. If anyone would get close to his desk while he was working on it, he would just close everything up in a file so no one could see it.”

  "Call him and tell him to call me. I'll be in my office."

  A few minutes later Dulcy strode in with a perplexed look on her face. "He doesn't answer.”

  Something gnawed at my stomach. It was the familiar gnawing of fear. “Do you know where he lives?”

  “Yes. It’s right around the corner.”

  “Take me.”

  I followed her out of the building and around the corner. We walked for a short distance and came to a tall, nice apartment building. I again wondered why my brother would be living where he was living when this very nice apartment building was right around the corner from the Malice Times. Dulcy walked up to the door and entered into a small entryway. On the wall to the left was a listing of the residents. She pushed a button that had the name Daniel Miles written next to it. We waited and there was no answer.

  “He didn’t answer his phone,” she said. “So, I don’t expect that he would answer his door buzzer.”

  I looked at the names on the list and found some familiar ones. There were a number of names that I recognized. Rae Dempsey, Elizabeth Pray and Tom Watkins all had apartments here.

  "Can you go get Elizabeth and ask her to come over here and let us in?” I asked.

  “Sure thing. Are you really worried about Daniel?”

  “I just have a bad feeling. Like I said, I’m starting to get paranoid. Probably nothing.”

  She left and a few minutes later, she came back with Elizabeth. Elizabeth had a concerned look on her face and just went right to the door and unlocked it with her key. I entered and walked to a pair of elevators in the lobby of the building. Both girls followed. I pushed the up button and the doors automatically swung open. We entered and I pushed the third floor. The elevator climbed and came to a stop. The doors swung open and we stepped out. I found my way to Daniel’s apartment. I knocked on the door. No answer. I turned the knob. It was locked.

  I looked at the two women who stood there staring at me with wide eyes. “You’re not seeing this. In fact, turn around and make sure no one walks by unexpectedly.” They did, one looked down towards the elevators. The other looked in the opposite direction. I pulled out my wallet of picks and went to work on the door. It didn’t take long for the lock to click open. I turned the knob and we all walked into the apartment. It was sparsely furnished, everything neatly in place. There was a couch that faced a television. A bed was off to the left and an open kitchen to the right. A computer sat on a desk against the far wall between two windows. I looked through the apartment and found no signs of Daniel.

  “You’re worried about Daniel,” Elizabeth said.

  “He didn’t come into the office today and from what Dulcy said, that is not ordinary,” I answered.

  “It isn’t,” Elizabeth said. “Although he has been working hard on a story that he is trying to get together.”

  “Do you know what it is about?” I asked.

  “No,” Elizabeth said. “He wouldn’t show it to anyone.”

  “All he would say is that it was huge,” Dulcy offered. “But I just took that as him being grandiose.”

  “He’s probably off working on this story and didn’t have time to come into the paper today. I just broke into a guy’s apartment because I’m getting paranoid to the point of schizophrenia. I need a drink.”

  “I do, too, now,” Elizabeth said.

  We walked out of the apartment, locking the door behind us. We went back to the Malice Times. When I walked back into my office Regina was sitting at my desk with her notepad.

  "There you go, chief,” Regina said.

  I picked up the pages and read them carefully. It was exactly as I had expected. Celia Archer’s disappearance was front page news. Brad Graber’s disappearance was not. She never showed up dead or alive. But everyone was so very eager to tell me the story of how Brad Graber and Celia Archer had run off together. I continued reading through Regina’s notes when I came to an interesting notation. On June 30th, Archer donated police security to the opening of Joseph Marchello's new night club, The Flying Princess. On July 13th, Archer publicly stated that Mayor Flanks should be replaced, saying, "He is a disgrace to the integrity of our fine city." He further endorsed a man by the name of Mark Frame for mayor. Mayor Flanks had been my father’s man for as long as I could remember. He lost the election.

  Sometime between June 30th and July 13th something happened that caused Archer to switch alliances from my father to Dempsey. It had to be something big because Archer and my father had been friends since college. It most certainly had something to do with the disappearance of Celia Archer, but I suspected the real mystery lay in the disappearance of Brad Graber. I thought I had a pretty good idea of what may have happened, but it needed further investigation.

  Regina sat and watched me read it all from beginning to end. When I finished I looked up at her. "Tell me why Rae Dempsey is working for me."

  "I convinced her to," she said.

  "How? And why?"

  "What happened to your head?" she asked finally.

  "Someone hit me. How and why?”

  "We were roommates in college. She always follows my advice. We're very good friends. I thought she needed to get past her anger."

  "Anger, sometimes, is our best friend."

  "It's been Rae's best friend for ten years.”

  “She asked me to dinner,” I said.

  She looked at me with a worried expression. We sat in silence for a few moments. "Who hit you?"

  “I don't know," I said lost in thought.

  She nodded and walked out of my office. I wasn't sure how to figure Regina. Most of the time she seemed to like me and other times she didn't like me
very much. But I sensed something else, like she was trying to hide something from me. I was getting used to that feeling. Once paranoia begins, there is no end.

  19

  The hot day turned into a cool night. After a quick shower I dressed myself in a pair of faded blue jeans and khaki button-down shirt over top of a gray t-shirt. Charles emerged from his apartment as I locked my door. He had a cut above his left eye and a fat lip. When he saw me, he tried to walk back inside his apartment.

  "Charles," I said.

  "Yes boss," he said trying to shield his face with a hand.

  "What happened to you?"

  "Oh, nothin'," he said in a whisper. "Just a knock’em up, drag out fight with the little woman."

  I could smell the alcohol on his breath.

  "Is she all right?"

  "Oh, she's fine boss," he said quickly with a smile. "I didn't hit her. I never hit her. I wish I could say the same for her. She threw stuff at me. Caught me on the head with a dish."

  "Because you had a few beers down at the bar?"

  "Well boss," he sounded offended. "If I wants a drink, I'm gonna have one. And that little witch ain't gonna stop me."

  "Why don't you do yourself and your wife a favor and not drink so much."

  "Why don't you mind your own damn business?" He pushed past me and walked down the stairs.

  I walked over to his apartment and knocked just to make sure the little witch was alive. Cheryl opened the door. She looked fine.

  "Why if it isn't Mr. March," she said. "Come in."

  "No, thank you. I can't. I was just talking to Charles."

  "Oh," she said. "He should be more careful at work, I know, but please don't fire him."

  "Fire him? For what?"

  "He said he fell and broke something and busted up his face."

  "He did?"

  "You didn't know?" she asked. "Oh no, he's gonna be madder than hell with me. I never know when to keep my mouth shut."

  "No, he won't, don't worry. I won't say a thing to him. You two haven't been fighting about his drinking, have you?"

  "Well, I doesn't buy him any beer if that's what you mean."

  "That's what I mean," I said. "You haven't hit him or anything?"

  She laughed. "Oh, no. I wouldn't hit my Charles."

  “That’s good. I was wondering if I could ask you something.”

  “What is it?”

  “Charles was saying he often heard my brother on the telephone.”

  “Yeah. I did too.”

  “He was a bit vague on the details of the conversations. He said it sounded like he was blackmailing someone.”

  “Yes. That’s right. Although, recently, I think someone was trying to get something out of him.”

  “What makes you say that?” I asked.

  “Well, I heard your brother on the phone the night before he up and got hisself killed. He said that he promised that he would get him his money back soon. After listening to the response, your brother said something like ‘I know your time is up’. Then he said that he was sorry for everything.”

  “That’s what he said?” I asked.

  “Something like that. And something else, what was it? Oh, yeah. He said that this was it. That he would give him the pictures. That he was done with the whole thing.”

  I thanked her and told her I had to get going. I wanted to know how Charles had his face busted, but it would have to wait. I made the short drive over to The Grove. The place was already packed. Sitting at the bar drinking a beer was Charles. I walked over to where he was sitting and smacked him on the back. He swung his whole body around. When he saw me he relaxed.

  "Long time, no see," I said. "You should have told me you were coming down here. I would have given you a ride, saved gas."

  "That would have been real nice, boss." He turned back to his beer and took a long sip that drained half of the glass. He watched the television above the bar.

  "Why don't you tell me what really happened to your face?"

  He kept his eyes on the television. "I told you."

  "You told your wife a different story. And they both amount to one thing. You lied."

  "No, I didn't." He swung around to face me. "Cheryl threw a glass at me and hit my eye."

  "You told me it was a dish."

  "That's right." He stumbled over his words. There was a pained expression on his face that could only mean he was thinking. "Now see what you've gone and done. You made me all nervous. It was a dish not a glass. We got in a fight and she threw a dish at me. And hit my eye."

  "Then how did you get a fat lip?"

  "I... I... I fell when the glass, I mean dish hit me."

  "Cheryl says she didn't hit you. She says she'd never hit her Charles."

  "She's a liar," he said. "I told you..."

  He trailed off. Then he stood, pushed passed me and walked out the door. I walked after him, but ran into Joshua.

  "Where are you off to in such a rush?" he asked.

  "I have to talk to a friend," I said and walked past him and through the door. There was no sign of Charles, so I walked back in to The Grove.

  Joshua took the seat Charles had just vacated. The same big bartender who had been here the night I returned to Malice Grove approached. Music drifted down from speakers imbedded in the corners of the ceiling. I looked around for the jukebox and saw the big red box on the other side of the room. The song, Owner of a Lonely Heart, reminded me of high school and Rae. I looked around but didn't find her in the crowd. I walked over to Joshua. His dark brown hair was slicked back and drawn in a long pony tail that reached down between his shoulder blades. Hints of some peach fuzz grew right below his lower lip. He wore gray slacks and a black button-up shirt under a gray blazer. He wasn’t wearing his trademark gloves. I found this fact odd for some reason. He looked naked without them. His hands were smooth and pale like a newborn. He picked up his scotch with the carefulness of a surgeon handling a scalpel.

  “Who you waiting on?” he asked.

  “A friend,” I said.

  “I didn’t know you had any of those left in Malice Grove.” He smiled a dim smile looking me in the eyes. I hadn't noticed how blue those eyes were before. Sorrow and pain filled those eyes. I got lost in them for a minute. They were almost hypnotic. Something crawled up my spine.

  “And you?” I asked.

  “I definitely have no friends in Malice Grove.”

  “I meant who are you waiting for.”

  “I know what you meant. Your date is here.” He handed me a card. “Instead of dinner here, why don’t you stop over at The Diamond Schooner? We’ll take care of you.”

  Rae had walked in at some point during our brief conversation. Her hair was up off of her shoulders. Her body fit snug in a short black dress. She wore a choker with a silver heart. I stared at her neck, my heart pounding.

  “I thought this was going to be a private party.” She made no secret of her annoyance at Joshua’s existence.

  “I was just leaving, Ms. Dempsey.” He finished his drink and stood. “You two have a wonderful evening.”

  I led Rae to a table by the front window and we sat down. Joshua eyed us the whole way. “I don’t like him,” Rae said.

  “You don’t say.”

  “You two seem to be getting friendly. I don’t think I like that either.”

  “Let’s forget Joshua. So, what is it that you have planned for me?”

  “For you or for The Malice Times,” she said.

  “Let’s start with The Malice Times and work from there.”

  She laid out what she had planned for The Malice Times. I watched her intently as she gave her pitch. They weren’t grand schemes. Just minor tweaks that she thought would help the building look less like a warehouse and more like a building. Basically changing out the sign on the front, some paint on the exterior and interior and changing out the heavy steel doors for glass ones. I agreed to everything she suggested save one.

  “On the door, we’ll
have printed The Malice Times, with your name underneath,” she finished her presentation.

  “No, don’t put my name on the door.”

  “Why not?” she asked. I could see a twinge of anger rising up inside of her. She let it go in a small, little sigh as if releasing steam.

  “I don’t plan on keeping the newspaper. I know nothing about running a newspaper and have no desire to learn. It seems stupid to put my name on something that I am going to sell.”

  I watched her process that for a moment, trying to decide whether it was worth an argument. She decided it wasn’t, because she just agreed and we ordered some drinks. We both ordered beer. It was a wholly uncomfortable exercise. The conversation died after talking about the renovations.

  The tension kept building and building until I couldn’t stand it anymore. “Is this a date?”

  She laughed. “I suppose it is.”

  “You really want to date me after all these years?”

  “I don’t know. You certainly have filled out nicely from that skinny little kid I used to go out with. Tell me what you did after you left Malice Grove.”

  “I joined the Navy.”

  “That would explain the muscles. You always did love boats. Did you like it?”

  “As much as you can like a life like that when you’re someone like me.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I always rated pretty high in insolence.”

  “Did you get kicked out?”

  “No. I served and got out. Went to work for a security firm, have been working there ever since. Well, until I got shot.”

  “Security firm? Like bodyguard?”

  “Sometimes. Not often. I mostly do detective work. Trailing people, taking pictures, gathering information.”

  “Many murders?”

  “No, the police generally do a fine job with murders, and they don’t really like civilians interfering in their investigations.”

  “But not in Malice Grove?” she asked.

  “Not in Malice Grove,” I said. The uncomfortableness had given way to a banter that I had missed for a long time. The banter with someone who may not know exactly what you’re going to say, but knows exactly how you’re going to say it.