The Hunting Wind: An Alex McKnight Mystery (4 page)

I didn’t say anything. I just sat there with a bag of ice against my right eye.

“Jackie, this is damned good,” he said.

Jackie came over, looked at me for the seventh time since we had come in the place, and shook his head. “Alex, tell me again what happened.”

I gave him as nasty a look as you can give a man with your right eye swollen shut.

“Are you telling me, Randy,” he said, still looking at me, “that this man
forced
you to throw to him?”

“He wouldn’t take no for an answer,” Randy said.

“And he made you try to throw that pitch you used to throw? What was it called?”

“The slinky,” Randy said. “On a cold day, without even warming up. I could have ruined my arm.”

“Well, it serves him right,” Jackie said. “He got what he deserved.”

“If you guys are about done,” I said, “I could use some more ice.”

“Hurry up and eat, will ya?” Randy said. “We gotta go see your partner.”

“Randy, I’ve been trying to tell you,” I said. “He’s not
really
my partner. I mean, he is, but it’s because we have this arrangement. All his life, Leon has
wanted to be a private investigator. His old boss fired him and talked me into taking his job. Don’t even get me started on that. Let’s just say it didn’t work out very well.”

“But you are still a private investigator,” Randy said.

“I still have the license,” I said. “But I don’t do anything with it. Leon helped me out of a jam, so in return I agreed to be his partner. You know, just to have my name on the business cards.”

“And in the phone book.”

“Yeah,” I said. “We’re in the phone book. Like we’re gonna get a lot of business up here.”

“And on the Web site.”

“Yeah, the Web site. I’m gonna have a little talk with him about that.”

“I’ve got plenty of money, Alex,” he said. “I plan on paying you for this.”

“It’s not the money, Randy. Are you listening to what I’m saying? I’m not really a private investigator. Two times now I’ve gone out trying to find somebody, and both times it ended up being a disaster. I’m not any good at it.”

“You were always a good two-strike hitter, Alex.”

I dropped the bag of ice and looked at him. “Say that again?”

“You were always a good two-strike hitter.”

“Randy, we played a whole season together. Were you ever watching when I went up to the plate?”

“Of course.”

“How many times did you see me go after a bad pitch with two strikes?”

“Offhand, I don’t think I can remember you ever doing that.”

“How about at least once a game, sometimes twice, sometimes three times. Hell, I remember doing it four times once. Swinging at a ball a foot outside and striking out. In fact, if you had to pick one reason why I never made it as a ballplayer, Randy, just
one
reason, that would be it.”

It was all coming back to me, and after already taking one in the eye that day, it wasn’t doing much for my mood. I was good behind the plate, I was
great
with the pitchers, especially the headcases like Randy, and I had a decent throw to second base. But I never batted over .240, mainly because I struck out swinging too much. It didn’t take long for the pitchers to find out. If they got two strikes on me, I was dead.

I guess that says something about me. Two strikes and I’ll try too hard to protect the plate. I’ll swing at anything.

“Well, okay, then,” Randy said after a long moment. “Here’s your chance to make up for it.”

“Seriously,” I said. “We gotta talk about this.”

“Hold that thought,” he said. “I gotta hit the little boys’ room before we go.” He spun off the bar stool and started singing.
“L’amour, l’amour, oui,
ya da da . . .”

“Where’s Jackie?” I said. “I need more ice.”

“How does it go?” Randy said, and then he started singing it again.
“L’amour, l’amour, oui, son
ah something . . . What’s the next line?”

“I don’t know.”

“It’s Romeo’s song,” he said. “From the opera, in French. It’s beautiful.”

“I don’t know the words, Randy. Especially not in French.”

“L’amour, l’amour
. . .
Oui, son ardeur
. . . Is that it?”

“I don’t know, Randy.”

“You try to think of it while I’m in the bathroom, Alex.”

When he disappeared into the bathroom, Jackie finally came over with the new bag of ice.

“What am I gonna do with him?” I said.

“What do you mean?” Jackie said.

“I mean, what am I gonna do? He really wants to find this girl he met in 1971. How crazy is that?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he said. “It’s a moot point. You know you’re gonna help him.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because you have to,” he said. “You spend your whole life up here sitting in your cabin all by yourself. You don’t even have a television, for God’s sake. You’re so desperate for human contact, you gotta come in here every day and make
my
life miserable. If a new face comes through that door and asks you for help, you’re gonna do it, no matter what. I’ve seen it before, remember? In fact, you know what? One of these days, an alien spaceship is gonna land out there in the parking lot, and a couple of little green men are gonna come in here and ask you to help them. You know, take you back to their planet so you can help them ward off some other aliens who are trying to invade them or something. And of course you’ll just get your ass kicked again, but it doesn’t matter. Because
you’ll go.
In two minutes, you’ll be out that door and on that spaceship.”

I just looked at him for a while, with the new bag of ice pressed against my eye. “That’s quite a story, Jackie. Little green men, eh?”

“Yep. Right in that parking lot.”

“And they’ll come ask
me
for help. They’ll speak English and everything.”

“By the time they get here, yes. That’s why they haven’t landed yet. They’re still studying you. They’ve already picked you out as the biggest sap on the planet Earth. Now they have to learn everything about you before they come get you. Hell, I bet they’ll even have a case of Canadian beer in the spaceship waiting for you.”

Randy came back out of the bathroom, still trying to sing his song. “What do you say, Alex. Are you ready to go?”

“Randy, you better take him quick,” Jackie said. “While he’s still available.”

As he walked away laughing, I threw the bag of ice at the back of his head.

I followed Randy to the airport so he could turn in his rental car, and then he hopped in my truck for the ride over to Leon’s house.

He was quiet for a few minutes, looking out the window at the passing trees. “There’s not a whole lot up there, is there,” he finally said.

“Besides trees?” I said. “No, there isn’t.”

“It’s kinda nice,” he said. “Big change from L.A.”

“I imagine.”

“Hey, we’re headed for Sault Ste. Marie, right?”

“Yeah, Leon lives in a little town called Rosedale, just south of the Soo.”

“I’ve never seen the Soo locks before,” he said. “I think we should go up there first, while there’s still daylight. Then we can go see Leon.”

“What? I thought you said Leon was waiting for us.”

“He’s not going anywhere,” he said. “Come on, you gotta show me the world-famous Soo locks. When am I ever gonna see them again?”

“Randy, the locks aren’t even open yet. Not for another week.”

“There’s another reason why I don’t want to see your partner yet,” he said. “I sort of have to tell you a little bit more about Maria first.”

“Why? What are you talking about?”

“It’s just . . . some stuff,” he said. “I want to tell you this myself, so you don’t get the wrong idea.”

“Just tell me.”

“Take me to the locks, Alex. Some things you can’t talk about unless you’re looking at water.”

I shook my head and kept driving. “Why is this happening to me?” I said. “What did I do to deserve this?”

Twenty minutes later, the truck was parked in front of the Soo Locks Park. In the summer, the lot would be full, and the observation deck would have maybe forty people on it. On this overcast April afternoon, with a cold wind coming up off the bay and blowing right down the St. Marys River, we had the place to ourselves.

Randy stood on the observation deck, looking down at the locks. There were still great blocks of ice
floating in the water. He was already shivering, with that poor excuse for a coat wrapped tightly around his body. But it was his own damned fault, so I didn’t feel too bad for him.

“This is it, huh?” he said. “The ships come right through here, and then what, they get lowered in the middle here?”

“Lowered if they’re going into Lake Huron,” I said. “Or raised if they’re going into Lake Superior. Twenty-one feet.”

“How long does it take?”

“Ten minutes maybe.”

“Must be an impressive sight.”

“When you’ve got a seven-hundred-foot freighter coming through here, it’s pretty impressive, yeah.”

“It opens up next week, you say?”

“Randy, are you gonna tell me about Maria before you freeze to death?”

He moved up onto the cement bleachers, where there was at least a little bit of shelter from the wind. “This is going to sound a little crazy,” he said as he sat down. “Damn, this cement feels cold on my ass.”

“It’s gonna sound crazy? How much more crazy can it get?”

“Well, here it is,” he said. “Just let me tell you the whole story before you say anything, okay?”

“I’m all ears,” I said.

“Okay.” He took a deep breath. “In 1971, when I went up to Detroit, there were a few of us who got called up together. You remember Marvin Lane, the outfielder, and Chuck Seelbach, the other pitcher? A couple guys from double-A, too. Anyway, we were all new in town and kinda overwhelmed by everything,
so we ended up spending time together, just hanging out in the afternoons, before the games. One day, we’re having lunch at the Lindell AC. It was a nice September afternoon in the big city, you know, so we’re just walking around down there in Corktown, feeling like hot shit ‘cause we’ll be going over to the stadium in a few hours for the night game. And we see this place, with this sign on the sidewalk. A big hand, with all these lines on it.
MADAME VALESKA, SPIRITUAL READER
. I guess she’d call herself a psychic nowadays. But back then, the sign said
SPIRITUAL READER
. It was one of those buildings with the stairways that go up the side. We all went up there, thinking we’d all get our fortunes told. See if we’d see any game time that night. You know, just as a gag. I tell ya, Alex, this place was wild. It had this incredible red wallpaper, and all these strange paintings on the walls. One was a guy hanging upside down, like on the tarot cards, and another was a skeleton in a black robe—you know, with the big blade thing he carries around to harvest souls. Anyway, Madame Valeska was sitting in the back room, with a crystal ball, I swear to God, and she read our fortunes one by one. All five of us. I was the last guy. By the time I got into see her, I was already in love. This girl, in the lobby, sitting at a little table. She had black hair. And these eyes that just . . . God, I know what this sounds like, Alex. I don’t know how to make this sound any different. But when she looked at me, it was like everything just stopped. I couldn’t even breathe. I finally asked her what her name was. She said it was Maria. And that’s it. That’s how I met her.”

We both sat there for a long moment. The wind picked up and whistled through the deck. The cold air was making my eye hurt.

“So what did Madame Valeska say?” I said. “What was your fortune?”

He laughed. “I wasn’t listening too well. Although I do remember, she said some things that were pretty amazing. She knew that I was about to have the biggest test of my life.”

“You were there with a bunch of other young baseball players,” I said. “Of course she’s going to say that.”

“No, there was more than that. She seemed to know stuff about how I was trying to prove to my father that I could be successful doing my own thing instead of going into business with him.”

“A son trying to impress his father. Another amazing revelation.”

“All right, Alex. I hear ya. It’s not like I really believed in that stuff. It’s certainly not why I went back the next day.”

“Let me guess.”

“I left Maria a little note. Just like a high school kid. I was only twenty, remember. She was nineteen.”

“How many times did you see her?”

“Every day for ten days. Until I got shelled and then . . . um, sort of left the human race for a while.”

“You had your fortune told every day for ten days?”

“No, just a few times,” he said. “Madame Valeska would have killed me if she’d know about Maria. And her father. And God, her older brother. His name was Leopold. He saw us walking together downtown once,
and he just about strangled me right there. Maria had to go over and talk to him, calm him down. She must have made him promise not to tell their parents. We always had to sneak around, you know, meet in different places. I saw her every day, even if it was only for a few minutes before a ball game.”

“Did you have sex with her?”

“Alex, come on.”

“Did you?”

“It was 1971. Everybody was having sex back then.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Yes,” he said. “We had sex. Although really it was only the one time. A couple other times, we sort of just—”

“All right,” I said. “I don’t need the details. Let’s go.”

“Where are we going?”

“To Leon’s house,” I said as I stood up. “He’s waiting for us, isn’t he?”

“Does that mean you’re going to help me?”

“How can I not?” I said. “It’s such a heartwarming story.”

“I told ya,” he said. “I know it doesn’t sound good.”

I led the way down the stairs. “Did you say that Leon has already been working on this for you?”

“Yeah,” he said as he caught up to me. “Actually, I had already tried a couple of those person-locator services, but all I had was an address from 1971. I don’t even know her birthday. Leon’s been looking at some stuff, says we’ll probably have to do some leg-work in Detroit. And in his condition . . .”