Death on the Sound (3 page)

    
Tom and I worked on pairing down our list
the next morning. In the middle of it all, he got a call from his doctor to
come in that afternoon at four thirty. It’s hard enough to get into doctors'
offices nowadays, and when they fit you in this quick after a test, something’s
going on. Tom covered the mouthpiece and spoke in a whisper across the desk.

    
“Are you available this afternoon at four
thirty to go to the doctor with me?”

I
gave him a thumbs-up, and started to prepare myself for a bad news afternoon at
the doctor’s office.

I got
my call from Maya at eleven.

    
“Hi Abby, sorry but no new earth shattering
evidence but if you could send me the names of the women on your list I can get
going on the dental search.”

    
“They’ll be on your email in less than a minute.”

I
quickly typed in the names of Janice Conrad, Teri Jorgensen, Jenny Talbert, and
Sharon Keller and hit send. I hoped we’d get a match from one of these if we
didn’t the continuing search was going to be a bitch.

    
At three thirty, Tom and I marked us out of
service, and he drove me to his doctor’s office on Queen Anne Hill. He was
quiet as we drove. We both knew it wasn’t going to be a fun afternoon. At four
fifty, Tom and I sat in a bar four doors down from his doctor’s office. The
light was practically nonexistent, and the waitresses were amply endowed with
swaying breasts held in by skimpy tank tops. It was pretty repulsive, but then
young women weren’t there clientele.

The doctor said Tom had Type II diabetes and that he
needed to get with the program quickly, or his health could change rapidly for
the worst. Tom had a folder about diet changes and exercise plans, plus a
prescription to help maintain insulin levels. He sat looking down into his
drink as he stirred it with his finger, a habit I gave him crap about every
time. Today, I let it go.

    
“Tom, give me some feedback. You took in a
lot of information this afternoon. Are you ready to change your lifestyle
around?” I asked.

He
pulled his finger out of his drink, and sucked the scotch off the tip of his
finger and then took a large gulp.

    
“Abby, I don’t know if I can do this? I’m
almost sixty fucking years old. I’ve been living like this for most of those
years. How do I flip the switch, and turn most of it off?”

    
“You need to look through the information,
make a plan, and then stick to it. You’re not going to change everything
overnight, but Tom if you don’t start you’re going to die a very painful death.
Do you get that?”

    
“Yeah, I get it.”

He
was looking down at his glass as he twirled it on top of the table.

“You should start now after your drink, and stop
alcohol too. I don’t know what the reasonable quantity is but it’s, for sure,
not one a day.”

Tom
looked like he’d really lost his best friend. I felt sorry for him, but he had
to keep himself alive.

    
“Well, now see what you’ve done, I have to
go to the bathroom; back in a minute.”

As
I watched him walk away, I thought of the father I never knew. He’d decided to
leave my mother and me when I was seven. All I have is a small picture tucked
away somewhere in a faded photo album. The last time I think I saw it was when
I moved to Lake Union.

    
Tom returned, and he pushed the rest of his
drink toward the wall and away from him.

    
“I’m ready to go home Abby. I think I’ve
had enough for one day. Do you want me to drop you at home?”

    
“Actually, could you drop me by Harborview;
I’d like to go see if Maya has any hits yet.”

We
drove pretty much in silence for the few miles to Harborview. I let him think
about his next steps. It had to be him making up his mind, not me.

    
I waved to Tom as he drove away, and told
myself I’d call him later tonight to see how he was doing. I walked through the
hospital to the back elevator and pressed the down button. The brightly lit
lobby with its modern art pleasing to the eye was good camouflage for the floor
below that handled almost all of the dead in King County.

    
The elevator doors opened, and I walked
down the well lit hallway to the very end and turned through the double doors
into the morgue. There were six individual large rooms and one main operating
room at the far end that had three tables equally spaced apart. They all were
spotlessly clean and ready for the next visitor. I turned down the hall to my
left, heading for Maya’s office. I walked into the doorway to her office, and
she was heads down on her computer. I stood and looked at her for several
seconds. I noticed the wisp of hair hanging down next to her eye and her
delicate fingers gliding across the keyboard; just a few more seconds and then
I softly knocked on her door jamb. She looked up and smiled.

    
“Hi Abby, I think I may have some good news
for you. Have a seat I shouldn’t be more than a few minutes.”

I
sat across the desk from her taking in the exotic dark skin and sat watching
her eyes. I loved her eyes. We’d known each other for two years, and had
conversations on several occasions at crime scenes, with our lunches and
dinners scattered in the middle.
 
She
never mentioned a boyfriend, and as I scanned her desk there were no pictures.
In fact, there were almost no personal items on her desk or on her office
walls. As my eyes scanned the nearly blank walls of her office, I heard the
triumphant thwack of her finger hitting the enter key. I looked over at her as
she was standing.

    
“Back in a minute, I need to retrieve some
printouts.”

She was wearing slacks, a white silk blouse that was
open wide at the neck showing a canvas of dark soft skin with a hint of
cleavage at the bottom and a gorgeous piece of gold jewelry dangling at the
center. I listened to her clacking heels as she moved to the work area down the
hall to get her printout. As the clacking sound was returning, I was debating
with myself about asking her out. The mystery of her was overriding my already
full dance card. I never finished the debate she walked into the room, and sat
down next to me.

    
“Okay Abby, here’s what I’ve got. Using the
names you sent over to me, which, by the way, saved a lot of time on this, I
found a match for Sharon Keller. The report on her is that she was a homeless
girl of twenty five. She worked in clubs when she could, but lived in flop
houses around the core area. Her mother reported her missing eleven years ago,
along with another person whose name is in another part of the file, that’s
what got her on your list. That’s it Abby, you have all there is to get from
this one,” she said, her sultry eyes locked onto mine.

Maya
slid the output over to me as I stared at it. It was something but not very
much. But then that’s why I like what I do, figuring out the puzzles.

    
Maya’s perfume was entering my space, and
it was activating more than just my sense of smell. I glanced over at her to
see the radiant smile, and those gorgeous eyes boring into me.

    
“Thanks for all your work on this Maya. It
really helps to have a starting point and a name.”

I
smiled back with my best smile, and decided to take a shot. I had to pursue the
mystery of her.

    
“Okay, change of topic. I haven’t eaten
yet. Would you like to get a bite downtown?”

Maya’s
eyes stayed on me as her smile went from bright to half bright. I was preparing
myself for the rejection. Her eyes continued to look at me as I stood my
optical ground, and looked back into hers. Half bright in her sultry eyes
changed back to bright, and her soft voice responded.

    
“I’d like that Abby, let me clear up my
desk, and we can go.”

    
After a short discussion, we decided on
Italian, which surprised me but I didn’t say anything to Maya. I thought she’d
opt for oriental food. I hailed a cab in front, and we were off to Al Boccalino
on Yesler. The dinner was great, and so was my dinner companion. We exchanged
family history, and I found out that she’d had so much oriental food growing up
that although she liked it, she really loved Italian. We laughed and naturally
talked about work; the one thing that linked us for now. I did find out that
she lived up the hill from me in a condo overlooking Lake Union, and when I told
her I lived on a houseboat the topics of conversation opened up even more. As I
grabbed the bill and gave Maya’s hand a soft slap as she tried to hijack it, I
commented.

    
“I asked you out, so it’s my treat. Next
time I’ll let you get the check.”

I
was testing the waters to see if a next evening out was in the offing.

    
“Okay, but I’m holding you to it,” she
smiled.

We
exited the restaurant and hailed a cab. Mine would be the first stop. This is
one time I wished I had my car.

    
“Maya, I really enjoyed our dinner, I’d
like to go out with you again, soon. Would that be okay?”

    
“I had fun to Abby, except next time I’ll
ask you and I’ll pay.”

    
“I’ll look forward to the call.”

In
the darkened cab, I couldn’t see her eyes, but my hand reached the short
distance between us and took her hand. There was no jolt of surprise, no
resistance to my touch as I held her hand. The cab pulled up to my security
gate, and I leaned over and kissed her cheek.

    
“I’ll be waiting for a call Maya, and don’t
wait too long okay?”

    
“Don’t worry Abby; it won’t be long at
all.”

I
got out and waved to Maya as the cab roared off into the night.

I
checked my watch under the bright night light at the head of the ramp down to
my dock, and saw that it was nine thirty. I pulled out my cell and hit the
speed dial for Tom. It took six rings for him to answer.

    
“You weren’t in making an ice cream sundae
were you?” I asked.

    
“No, I was watching John Wayne and fell
asleep. I must be tired I never do that. So, why the phone call at nine thirty
Abby?”

    
“Two things, one I have a name for us to
start on in the morning and two I wanted to make sure you were alright. You
took quite a jolt from your doctor today. I didn’t want you feeling too sorry
for yourself.”

    
“Not sorry, just pissed that I did all this
to myself. It’s an awful big ship to turn around Abby; I just hope I can do it.
Oh, and who is the winner in the hole in the ground contest?”

    
“The winner is Sharon Keller; a twenty five
year old homeless girl that I’m sure will have left no clues for us to track.
Now, turn off John and go get some sleep, we have a busy day tomorrow and no
lip.”

    
“Yes, dear, goodnight Abby.”

    
“Goodnight Tom.”

I unlocked my door and shed my clothes as I walked to
the counter to pour a short scotch. Felix, my pushy black cat, was complaining
about his late dinner hour, and I stopped my scotch interlude to feed the cat.
As Felix slurped and smacked, I sipped my scotch, and looked out at the blinking
lights of the other houseboats across the water, and wondered how many were
standing in their underwear sipping scotch.
   

    
I gathered up my clothes, went upstairs,
steamed myself in a hot shower, and went to bed.
 
As I lay thinking about Sharon Keller and how
I was going to start investigating, Maya came walking into the picture,
literally. She stood in the doorway of her office, slowly turned in front of
me, and then walked over and sat in my lap; that’s all I remembered, as my eyes
and brain gave in for the day.

    
Thursday started like Monday; more rain.
After a drive by breakfast, I ran out my door and up the ramp to the street
above, hoping I didn’t miss my bus and have to wait the twenty four minutes
until the next one came by. My umbrella was throwing me all over the sidewalk.
Have you ever tried to run with an umbrella in twenty mile an hour winds; it
sucks.

    
I got to my stop and heaved a sigh of
relief when I saw the usual crowd that rode my bus. As I watched my bus turn
the corner four blocks up, the wind killed my umbrella. One minute it was doing
its job and the next it was inside out with three broken doohickeys dangling at
the side blowing in the wind. As my bus pulled up to the curb, I turned and
made a deposit to the litter can. I rewarded myself, on the ride to the
precinct, with a replay of my dinner with Maya. When I stepped off the bus, I
was calmer, and only missed my umbrella a little as a morning mist started
soaking the life out of my hair; thanks Seattle.

    
I was shocked to see Tom at his desk. His
cheeks were red, and he looked like he’d just stepped out of the shower.

    
“My, don’t we look rosy this morning.”

    
“I decided to use the police gym in the
basement, and try getting myself back into some kind of shape, nothing fancy
just some sit-ups and a five mile turn on the stationary bike. I don’t want to
kill myself in the gym. I already have diabetes; I don’t need a stroke to go
with it.”

    
“That’s great Tom, I’m proud of you, and I
don’t think you want a stroke now, either. I’m glad you didn’t overdo it.”

I
saw his smile beaming. He just needed someone to encourage him, and with no
wife, I was elected.

    
“I thought if you could nose around into
Sharon Keller’s records that I’d go check a couple of sources on the streets
and see if we can get moving on who killed Sharon.”

    
“Good, I need to rest from my morning
exercise. I’m not used to this shit Abby.”

I
put my hand Tom’s shoulder, and gave it a friendly squeeze.

    
“You’ll get used to it Tom.”

    
I checked out a car, and joined the rush of
cars moving toward downtown at snail’s pace to track down Conrad Baines. Conrad
was a fifty something year old transient that stayed in Seattle year round. I
hoped he was still alive; most of them tend not to live a full life. He told me
once Seattle was the only city he’d been in that had class. Class to Conrad
meant good handouts, and a place to get in out of the rain. I parked the car,
and put my get out of jail free card on the dash and started my search. I hit
the bars, flophouses, and alley hangouts. As my feet were giving me a song and
dance about being tired two hours later, I spotted Conrad sitting on a metal
bench, in front of a cigar shop at the edge of pioneer square.

Conrad
was inching his way into the uptown crowd. He was sporting new clothes, at
least for him, and looked half way presentable. He looked like any typical
retiree watching the pedestrians trudge by in the morning rain. I knew Conrad
because I’d arrested him several times over the years. He was somewhere in his
late fifties, but he looked forty five; men have all the luck.

    
“Conrad, you handsome devil, as I live and
breathe. I’ve been looking for you for two hours or more. This is uncharted
territory for you isn’t it?” I said, waving my arm at his surroundings.

    
“Well, if it isn’t Abby, my favorite sexy
detective. I thought you’d be one of the head coppers by now.”

    
“Nope, I enjoy meeting the backbone of Seattle
society like you Conrad,” I grinned.

I
noticed his front tooth was still missing in action. It gave him that Terry Thomas
look.

    
“I need some help Conrad. We found a body
uptown a couple of days ago, and it’s been identified as Sharon Keller. She was
about twenty five, almost twelve years ago. I need to pick your brain, and see
if you remember her or can point me to someone who does. It’s worth some
serious money for me to get some information.”

I sat down next to Conrad, which in the old days could
be considered dangerous to your health. Well, mostly your nose’s health. Conrad
was not a friend of water and soap.
 
I looked
over at him as he screwed up his face trying to feign deep thought. The man was
a consummate actor, and full of bullshit like most of them. He kept to himself,
and had very little to do with anyone that wasn’t from his lot in life. I was
probably the only exception. It had been me that saved him from becoming
barbeque. Nine years ago, while I was on patrol, my partner and I rolled up on
a transient that was on fire. It was the “cool” thing to do for high school
kids at the time. Fine a transient that had passed out and set him on fire. It
was sick, and I so wished I could have caught them in the act. My foot was
itching to drop-kick their nuts into the next county. We luckily got to Conrad
before he was too far along. He’s been my “bud” ever since.

    
“I seem to remember her. Just what kind of
serious money are we talking about?”

    
“I’ll go a hundred for good information,
and more if you break the bank with the best information ever.”

His
dirt encrusted eyes twinkled at the prospect of some wine money.

    
“She was a cute girl and popular, but she
had her issues with drugs. She’d be in the cellar of life trying to dig herself
out for a few months, and then come back and really start to make a good
showing. She used to run with a girl called Tawny James. I think Tawny may
still be around, but I just haven’t seen her.”

I
took out my card, a hundred dollar bill, and pressed them into Conrad’s almost
clean hand.

    
“If you think of anything else call me. It
may mean a bit more money if it’s good stuff. How have you been Conrad? I don’t
get down here often enough to see you very much anymore. You look like you're
doing good, for an older transient gentleman.”

    
“I’m at the pinnacle Abby, at the pinnacle.
My daughter tracked me down last month, and she’s asked me to leave this life,
and come live with her and her husband and my two grandkids in Olympia. I told
her I’d think about it. I don’t know if I could stand living in a home all the
time. I’m too used to the outdoor life here in Seattle.”

    
“Conrad, that works fine when you’re young,
spry, and supple. When you get up to your age you may want to rethink your
priorities. It sounds like a good deal. I’d accept if I were you.”

    
“Yeah, it’s getting harder to make ends
meet in this economy. People are crankier than usual, and there are more and
more people like me, trying to eke out an existence on the street; just too
much frigging competition Abby.”

I
patted his boney knee, and stood to leave.

    
“Call me if you think of anything else
Conrad and please take your daughter’s offer. You deserve to finish out your
years in comfort,” I smiled down at him.

His
Terry Thomas smile beamed up at me, and gave a short nod of his head.

Most
of the snitches we detectives use are the dregs of society that go unnoticed by
most everyone, but they’re the ones that see what goes on in our streets. Their
information is invaluable to us at least most of the time.