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CHAPTER 16
Dean’s plan had been to pick up Jenny and head home, making her a dinner of spaghetti and garlic bread and maybe a salad. He had a limited repertoire of cooking, but he could accomplish that.
Instead, he stopped at the Shambles, which was empty except for an elderly couple drinking coffee in a booth and Joe Banks at his barstool. The evening crowd, such as it was on a weekday, was not due for another hour or so.
Joe nodded and told the bartender something before Dean put his elbows on the bar and crossed his hands in front of his chest.
“How’s it going Dean?” asked Joe.
Dean nodded. “It’s all right.”
The bartender, Gordon Vito, slapped a coaster down in front of Dean and then a bottle of Pabst. Dean looked up and Gordy pointed at Joe.
To Joe, Dean said, “Thanks.”
“Any time.”
“How’s the case going?”
“Actually, that’s why I’m here. Gordon, were you working the night of January second?”
Gordon had been tending bar at the Shambles since after Korea where he had flown a Chickasaw helicopter, flying front-line medical missions, helping to pioneer the use of helicopters that would save so many lives in Vietnam. He kept his hair cut in the high-and-tight style, graying along the sides. “Yeah, I was here.”
“Did you remember Billy and his friends? Guthrie’s report says you do.”
Joe looked at Gordon.
Gordon nodded. “If that’s what it says, then that’s what I said. Billy, Corey, and Josh. They were drinking.”
Dean lifted his beer and held it as he asked, “Anything seem odd?” He took a drink.
Joe put his hand on Dean’s shoulder and leaned over. “What’s with the questions of Gordy?”
Dean pushed Joe’s hand off. “Just part of the job. Gordon, anything odd?”
Gordon looked at Joe, shrugged, and looked at Dean. “Nope. Normal so far as I could tell. They talked and drank. The only odd thing was Alex showed up after they’d gone.”
“He did, did he?”
Gordon nodded once.
“What time did he show up?”
Gordon twisted his lips and looked up at the ceiling.
Joe shook his finger. “It was after I left. ‘Cause I didn’t see Alex after. I didn’t. And I left right after the game. The Knicks lost.”
Gordon gave a thumbs up to Joe. “He’s right. Alex showed up after Joe left and right after Billy, Corey, and Josh left, but not long. Before midnight that’s for sure.”
Dean took a drink and gazed up at the mirror above the bottles behind Gordon.
After a significant pause, Joe put his hand on Dean’s shoulder and quickly withdrew it. “That answer your questions?”
Dean shook his head to clear his mind. “Yeah, I think so.” He looked at Gordon and cocked his head to the side. “One last thing. I know Sarah and William were an item, but you see anything between Sarah and Alex?”
Gordon shrugged. He picked up a wet cocktail glass and wrapped a white towel around it, rubbing it dry. “I don’t know. Maybe? She was friendly with all of them. More so Billy, but yeah, I’d see Alex’s arm around her when Billy wasn’t around that I wouldn’t like if I were him.” He slid the glass into the slot hanging above the bar and grabbed another.
Joe asked, “So what does that mean?”
Dean took another drink. He smiled at Joe. “Not sure yet. Thanks for the beer.” He placed a dollar on the bar and walked out. As he drove to his parent’s to pick up Jenny, he replayed the discussion with Gordon in his head, trying to understand why Joe was so odd during it. He had not come to a satisfactory answer when he pulled into his parents’ driveway. When he opened the front door and walked a couple of steps in, the smells of cooking charged forth: Cherry pie, potatoes, and hot oil.
Jenny ran up and hugged him and told him grandma was making dinner for all of them and a pie for dessert.
Dean hugged his daughter back. “Did you have fun today, pumpkin?”
She smiled and nodded vigorously. They had played board games and worked on a puzzle together—half completed on a living room card table.
“What is that?” he asked.
“Castle New-shwa something.”
“Castle Neuschwanstein. The Walt Disney castle is based on it,” said Jessica, her voice coming from the kitchen. “Your father’s in the family room. Jenny, dear, why don’t you help me mash these potatoes?”
Jenny said, “Coming,” and darted out of the room.
Dean walked into the family room, where his father sat in his dark brown recliner. On the end table between the recliner and matching sofa sat a pipe cradle—cigars were reserved for work—with three pipes, all bent stems, along with a pack of pipe cleaners in a Ziploc bag, and a pipe lighter. The kitchen’s smells were defeated by the cherry tobacco. A cream and light red striped wallpaper put up many years before covered the walls. Dean had assisted in the process. The lamps were his mother’s touch. Light red, almost pink glass bases with cream light shades. Time, Newsweek, and Sports Illustrated fanned out on the pine coffee table. The Zenith console TV was encased in a dark, reddish wood. Family photos sat in a mixture of gold and wood frames. One photo was of a younger Eric and Jessica in San Diego just after his father’s return home from Korea, where he had been stationed after Japan surrendered.
“How’d it go?” asked Eric, looking up at Dean. He held a copy of The Shining, corners of the pages bent showing his progress through the book.
“It was a day. We’ve got some context for what happened up to about eleven-thirty the night of his disappearance.” Dean updated his dad on what Renard had told him, including the passports, cash, and copies of communist paraphernalia.
Eric re-fired his pipe tobacco and took a couple of heavy puffs. “Hmm. What’s next?”
“We still need to talk to Josh and Alex. And I think we need to make a visit to Zorn.”
Eric set the book down beside the pipe stand. Zorn and the chief had long known each other, indeed, had been rivals since high school. Zorn joined the Navy and saw action supporting MacArthur’s drive through the south Pacific to the Philippines. After the war, he founded the Grim Devils motorcycle club, which he had run since. To most people, Zorn ran a trucking company most notable for hauling Adamson’s furniture south to New York and served as president of a club of war veterans. The Wallaces, however, knew better. The Grim Devils were an integral part of illegal drug distribution in Zion. For years, Eric had attempted to get enough evidence to prove it but had failed. “What the hell does he have to do with this?”
“William’s cash. I can’t think of a legitimate reason to have that much. Nothing we’ve found yet at least. The obvious answer is its drugs, and we know where Zorn is with that. Just want to cover all the bases.”
The chief grunted. “What about that commie—”
Jenny jogged into the family room. “Dinner’s ready.” She smiled.
“What’d I tell you about running in the house?” said Eric as he wrapped his hands around the recliner’s armrests, lifting himself up.
“Sorry grandpa.”
“Don’t be sorry. Do what I asked.”
Jenny nodded and looked at her father, he shrugged, though Eric could not see that.
The chief paused by Dean as he was standing. “You got to talk to the reporter.”
“Paige?”
“Yeah, but I don’t care what her name is. If the paper sends over a reporter, you talk to her. I can’t have you getting the department on their bad side.”
“I think—”
Eric stared hard at Dean, running his tongue across the inside of his cheek and across his bottom lip. “This isn’t a debate.”
After a plateful of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and creamed corn casserole, Jenny excused herself from the table to work on the puzzle. Dean complimented the chef on the meal. She smiled and said, “You’re welcome.”
Dean tapped the top of the table next to his plate and then pushed the fork around before setting it down. “I saw Tony today.”
Eric’s eyes opened wide and he screwed his mouth sideways.
Jessica smiled. “How’d he look?”
“Good. He looked good. Didn’t have time to talk, though.”
“Probably too busy dodging,” said his dad.
“Eric.” Jessica was the one person who could scold the chief. Not even the mayor dared to. “He’s trying to make up for it.” She too had been disappointed by her son’s skills in avoiding the draft, but her sense of duty to country was less rigid than Eric’s. She accepted Tony’s job working for the FBI as his belated attempt to serve his country.
“Let’s not talk about him. Not while there’s pie to eat.”
“Pie sounds good,” said Dean.
After, the two men sat at the table, coffee cups in front of them, crumbs of pie on the plate. Eric said, “Keep working this case hard. Like you been doing. The drug angle could be right. Just don’t press Zorn too hard. He’s tough.”
“I will. I did follow up with Gordon.”
“Gordie at the Shambles?”
“Yes. He said Alex came in after the others left. About midnight.”
“Hmmph. Be careful with that one.”
Dean pulled out his flask, twisted it open, and started to pour a shot into the coffee.
Eric put his hand over Dean’s coffee cup. “Don’t do that son. You’re driving that angel home.” He pointed to the room from which the combined laughter of Jessica and Jenny emerged.
Dean looked at his dad, tried not to glare, but put the cap back on. “I plan on finding out who did this to Billy. I’ll follow the evidence.”
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