Keegan 00 Soft Case (19 page)

The doorbell rang for the ninth time, and I decided to let it keep ringing. I just wouldn’t have been able to handle the kid right then. I wondered how he knew I was home. Maybe he heard me, or maybe he smelled me, God only knew.

As if in time with the doorbell, the phone rang.

“Hello,” I said.

“Is this John Keegan?”

I suspected it was someone from the station, but the voice sounded a bit Midwestern.

“It is,” I replied.

“This is John D. Keegan?”

“It is.”

“How are you today?”

“I am.”

“Mr. Keegan, sir, my name is Ralph Smith, from I-tel, and do I have something that will make you smile today.”

“You have a couple of people’s heads on a platter for me?”

“He-he. No, I am calling you to inform you that you are qualified to receive our Premium Plus package.”

“The Premium Plus?”

Telemarketers are pretty much the bottom feeders of society. I decided to have a little fun. “Yes, you’ve heard of it?”

“Two of my friends can’t stop talking about it.” I said in the most deadpan voice I could come up with.

“That’s great.” He seemed a bit stumped. No one ever heard of his fucking Premium Plus package. He probably hadn’t heard of it until that morning when the boss came out with the promos for the day.

“Isn’t it?”

“Well, what we are offering today, is free long distance service on weekday nights, and a discounted rate at all other times,” the poor guy said, following his script.

“What are you offering tomorrow?” I asked.

“Excuse me, sir?”

“I said, ‘What are you offering tomorrow?’ I just want to make sure that tomorrow’s deal isn’t better than today’s. I mean, if this is the deal of today, tomorrow’s just has to be better by definition.”

“What could be better than today’s deal?” the guy asked, clearly outwitted, something I enjoyed a little more than I should have.

“The option to not pay the bill,” I said,

“Ha, yeah we don’t have that option.”

“Maybe tomorrow you will.” I hung up the phone. There is only so much fun you can have with a mentally thwarted individual. I felt bad for myself that the only entertainment I could find was with a telemarketer. My, how the mighty had fallen.

The doorbell had stopped ringing, but not because Jared had given up. He was a persistent bastard, no doubt about that. Instead of ringing the doorbell, he went outside and rang the intercom buzzer. If he wasn’t such a cute kid, I would have strangled him. Hell, I was thinking about doing it right then, whether he was cute or not.

Then again, I couldn’t blame the kid for having a jackass for a mother. I had talked to her a few times, and despite the fact that she had some of the nicest cans I have ever seen in my life, she was so two dimensional, I could see right through her. Get the pun? I never said I was a literary genius. She was a typical Queens woman, about thirty-four, with fake blonde hair and a fake smile. Her accent belied where she came from, and I could picture her working in a beauty salon, chewing gum and gossiping all day. To make matters even more interesting, she was actually a fairly successful CPA. But she was dumb as stump, and couldn’t carry a conversation longer than thirty seconds. Jared was probably the product of one of the few conversations that made it past that point. She came on to me a few times, well, all women do, but I had to turn her down. I had met the kid first, and I had seen how she treated him. That turned me off. And it takes a lot to turn me off.

The buzzer kept buzzing, and I saw that it was going to be nearly impossible to sleep the afternoon away, or sit in my apartment and feel sorry for myself. I would have to find something else to do that. That, unfortunately, required me to get up, take a shower, and get dressed. Well, it only required me to do two out of those three, but I don’t want anyone spreading rumors about my not showering. So, for all intents and purposes, I took a shower too. A long, clean shower. And I scrubbed every comer of my body. Okay?

I went to get dressed. Guess what? I forgot to pick up my dry cleaning. I couldn’t really blame myself. It was a busy day, with a lot of unexpected twists and turns. I cursed out loud, and rifled through my drawers to find anything that was clean and wearable. I found a pair of jeans that were a few years old and never worn because I never liked how they fit, and a Yankee sweatshirt. I never wore that either. Not because I wasn’t a Yankee fan, I was, but this was one of those cheap knockoffs you buy outside the stadium after a game when you are drunk. I hadn’t even taken the tags off, and the shirt was over three years old.

What an outfit.

I got dressed, brushed my hair, and snuck into the hallway. I looked both ways, and didn’t see Jared anywhere. Thank God. What Jared was unaware of was the side exit. He was still buzzing me from the front, so I easily exited through the side and ended up on Fourth Avenue.

Standing outside, I thought about where I was going. I didn’t want to go to the station, even if I had to check in there. The whole process would only piss me off. With nowhere else to go, I decided to drop by my parents’ place. Dad took off Fridays, and I knew my mother would still be there. I needed the comfort of my parents right then, and I am not too much of a man to admit it. I could only hope that they hadn’t heard anything about what has happened the night before, and I also hoped that no one was watching the house.

“Hope” sure is an interesting word.

Fifteen

I made it to my parents’ house by 11:15. They lived in Rego Park in a more residential area. It was considered a great place to live in when I was growing up, but by the time I had graduated high school, the neighborhood was falling apart, with gangs and punk kids running rampant. They didn’t mess with my old man, only because I think they were afraid of him. He had no problems confronting them, and gang kids have a problem with direct confrontation. Dad didn’t.

I saw Dad’s car in the driveway. He still drove the 1984 Toyota Camry he had bought brand new. It was his first new car, and he hadn’t bought one since. He always argued that he didn’t drive that much, and would rather spend the money on a vacation, or something else he would enjoy more. I couldn’t argue that.

I also noticed the Chevy Suburban in the driveway, which belonged to my loving sister and her husband. They had moved back in my folks three years before. It was supposed to be for only a year or so, but I guess the “so” turned out to be indefinitely. I knew it pissed my father off, but my mother was happy to have them and their two kids. And Mom pretty much got what she wanted.

Speaking of Mom, she was standing in the doorway, looking at me. I looked up, noticed her, and smiled. She didn’t smile back.

She opened the door, and I walked up to her.

“I’m not so sure you came at a good time,” she said. “But I guess I should be happy you decided to show up at all.”

“I’ve been busy. I’m sorry.”

“Your father, when he was building up his practice, worked twice the amount of hours you do, and he still made time to see his family.”

“I know. I’m sorry. Really.” Man, Mom could really make me feel like shit when she wanted to.

She gave me a look, the sort of look that said she wanted to be mad at me but couldn’t. That was part of my allure, my charm. I gave her a hug and she returned it with a tight squeeze.

“What’s this about it not being a good time?” I asked.

She pointed inside. “You know how Laura and Donny get sometimes.”

“No, I don’t. What’s going on?” My brother-in-law could get angry sometimes. He had a lot of stress. Sometimes, I thought he went a bit too far.

“Now, don’t get all riled up. They just had an argument, that’s all. It happens with married people sometimes. Nothing for you to get concerned about.”

“Did he go overboard again?”

Mom grabbed my arm. “What did I just finish telling you?”

“I heard you. I just asked a question.”

“They are both at fault. Trust me. You know how your sister can get.”

I sure did. My sister was the type that loved to argue. She was three years younger than me, and she always tried to pick fights with me, despite the age difference. She knew more than I did, she would always say.

“I do. Still - ”

“It isn’t your place. Don’t you get any ideas about making things worse,” my mother said.

“I won’t.”

“Good. Your father is in the garage, pretending to fix the weed whacker. Why don’t you go down there and talk to him?”

“I will.”

I walked off the porch and down toward the garage. I noticed the door was open a crack, so I lift it up, and found Dad sitting at his work bench, sipping a Michelob. It looked real good right about then.

“John,” he said, swiveling to look at me.

“Dad.”

He got up and gave me a hug. That didn’t happen to often from Dad. He pulled away from me, and looked at my jaw.

“Any pain?”

“No, it’s okay. The jaw was a little sore last night, but other than that, it’s fine.”

“Great. Want a beer?”

Of course I did. “Yes.”

He reached into the small refrigerator underneath his workbench and handed me a Michelob. It had frost on it. One of the true pleasures in life, a cold beer. I popped the cap and took a swig. It was fantastic.

Dad looked me over for a moment. “Wait a minute,” he said, “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Long story.”

“What happened?”

I went through the whole thing with Dad, from the trip to Sondra’s house right up to when I was released. He kept nodding, as if he were carefully ingesting everything I said. When I was finished, he looked up at the ceiling, then back at me.

“Geiger.”

“What?”

“It has to be Geiger. You said he was the last one you would suspect would sell you out.”

“Yeah, but Dad…”

“No buts. He is also the one you haven’t heard from yet, right? He was your direct boss. He was the one who sent Calhill home. He is the only one who could have set you up. Trust me on that.”

“I don’t know.”

“Hell, maybe I am wrong. It just seems that whatever makes the least sense usually is the truth. At least in my experience it is.” Dad had a point, for certain. But there was no way I was going to accept that Geiger was the one who sold me down the proverbial river. I just couldn’t do that.

“I knew you were going to dive into a river of shit,” Dad said, reaching down for another beer.

“I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“And you didn’t cover your ass.”

“True.”

“You trusted other people, and they fucked you.”

“They did.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know what I can do.”

“You can sue the fuck out of them. That’s a start.”

“It’s more complicated than that.”

“It’s never more complicated than that. They are playing with your life here. You can’t just sit and let that happen. You have to fight back, let them know you mean business. It’s the only way.” “What about the case?”

“What case? From what I can see, there is no case.”

“Yes, but they are going to try and frame an innocent woman for the murder of her husband.”

“You really think she is innocent?”

“I think so.”

“So who do you think did it?”

“I keep coming back to Harold Chapman.”

“Understandably so. What are you going to do about him?”

“I’d like to strangle him.” I paused. “Well, seriously, I don’t know what I can do. If he is that tight with Agnelli, there really isn’t much I can do. I’d have to get him to admit the whole scheme, and then get it on tape. We see how far recording technology has gotten me.”

“You think about speaking to Uncle Paul?”

Uncle Paul worked for the FBI, and had contacts all over the country. He had helped me one time before, but I generally didn’t think of using him to help me in this situation. He hadn’t even entered my mind.

“I hadn’t even thought of him.”

“Maybe you should.”

“You’re right.”

“Fathers always are.”

We finished our beers, and went inside the house. I could hear a few people talking in the kitchen. I recognized my mother’s and sister’s voices. I didn’t hear the brother-in-law, Donny. He was being uncharacteristically quiet, I figured.

“Mom tells you what’s going on here?” Dad asked.

“She told me a little about it.”

“It’s enough with the arguing.”

“You know how I feel about that.”

“Well, you don’t get to see it firsthand. And there’s nothing I can do about it. Your mother’s always telling me, ‘Don’t say

anything, it’s none of our business.” Well, it is my business. That’s my daughter, and they are living under my roof. I should be able to say something if I want to.”

I agreed with my father, but I also understood the situation. My sister was a grown woman, and the last thing she needed was to have her father come to her aid in an argument. She probably would have blamed my father anyway. On top of that, if my father did say something, it would only add to the tension within the family, and we really didn’t need any more of that.

“It’s a tough situation, Dad. And nothing you say is going to change that.”

He nodded. “I know. It’s just that, being a father, I want to take my daughter’s side. Makes me want to strangle someone.”

“If you do, call me first. I’d like to see that.”

Dad chuckled. I felt a bond with him. That didn’t happen too often. I didn’t get all sappy or anything. It just felt nice, considering what I had been through.

“Listen, Dad,” I said.

“Yeah.”

“Don’t tell Mom what we spoke about, okay? About the case I mean I don’t want her getting all upset.”

He smiled. “What do you take me for, an idiot? Of course I won’t say anything.” He gave me a stem look, and pointed at me. “You just make sure you take care of this, okay?”

“I will.”

We walked into the kitchen to find my mother with her arm around my sister, who looked like she had just finished crying. They sat upright when we came into the room. They were holding their own secrets.

“Hey Johnny,” Laura said.