Repo Madness (30 page)

“What do you mean?” Rogan asked, polishing a glass.

“Did he look…”

“Furtive?”
Alan suggested, as if I guy like me would ever say a word like that aloud.

“Scared?” I asked. “Alarmed?”

“I don't get what you mean,” the bartender responded.

“Well, what did you tell him?”

“I just said you were a private detective looking into some missing persons cases, and you had this whole list of women, and that one of them on your list was Nina Otis, who fell off the boat on the way to Beaver Island. That you wanted to talk to anyone who might have seen her that day, the day she fell. And I gave him your card.”

“Did he say anything to
you
about Nina Otis?”

“No. I was a little busy, though. Why?”

“Just seems strange. You ask him about Nina Otis, and he vanishes.”

Rogan's eyes crinkled as he thought about it. “Yeah, I guess that is pretty odd. You think he might have had something to do with it?”

“Honestly, no. I've been thinking—you know who would be the perfect person to get away with a murder?”

“For God's sake,”
Alan said disgustedly.

“Who?”

“An M.E. Medical examiner. Any clues left on the body, why, they don't show up in the autopsy, do they? Hair and fiber, fingerprints …
semen
 … You're the perfect guy to do it.”

“Whoa,” Rogan said, with admiration. “That's pretty smart.”

“He's no better a suspect than anyone else on the list,”
Alan muttered.

“But I do have to talk to Phil. What's his last name, anyway?”

Rogan frowned. “You know, I never heard it. He's just Phil.”

“Do you know which shanty is his in Shantytown? I am supposed to meet some guys there tomorrow to show me around, but they've recently busted their windshield and might not show. I'm not relishing the idea of walking all the way out there—the things are scattered for what looks like four square miles.”

Rogan laughed. “I don't know anything about Shantytown, Ruddy. Not my thing, sit in a box and look at a hole all day.”

I told Rogan thanks, especially when he waved off my payment for the beer. “Most interesting conversation I've had all year,” he told me. “Good luck with everything.”

Alan was fuming, I could just tell. As soon as we were outside, he jumped on me.
“What are you doing, telling him everything?”

“I didn't tell him anything,” I corrected testily. “He revealed some information.”

“Like what?”

“Like Phil hasn't been in.”

“We already knew that.”

“That as soon as Phil heard what I wanted, he took off and hasn't been seen since.”

“That's not what the man said.”

“You know what? I've been in this business a long time, trying to find people. And the best way to get information is to give information.”

“That makes no sense whatsoever.”

“Whereas having an actual argument with a voice in my head is so totally sensible. I don't know why more people don't do it. Think what a perfect world it would be if everyone went around
arguing
with a damn voice in their
heads
!”

Cruising down M-66, I mentioned to Alan that we would be close to Katie's work and maybe should stop in to say hi. He thought that was a bad idea, which helped me make up my mind to do it. She was busy on the computer but seemed genuinely pleased to see me, and when I asked her out to dinner, she told me her boss had brought in some fish he'd just caught and suggested I eat at her place, proving Alan completely wrong about everything. I mentioned I had an appointment the next morning in Boyne City, much closer to her little rental house than Kalkaska, and she said that was pretty convenient. I couldn't have agreed more.

“Are you and my daughter back together?”
Alan asked me sourly as I drove home to pick up some clothes.

“I'm not really sure,” I replied honestly. “We're apparently not officially un-engaged, but we're not talking about getting married, and she's not wearing her ring. We sleep in separate places, except when we don't, and she's invited me to dinner tonight.”

“Except when you don't,”
he repeated gravely.

Oh yeah, the dad thing.

“When did that happen?”

I sighed. “Remember the morning she was heading off to work from my place, first day as a licensed real estate agent?”

“Ruddy … I can't promise you I will be asleep when I need to be. And you can't ask me … She's my daughter.”

I didn't think it was time to tell him about my newfound ability to push him away when I needed to. We would just get into a huge argument, him insisting he was a real person and me pointing out that if I could force him to leave, it meant I was making him up.

“Let's just handle that when I need to. I promise I won't make you be part of anything,” I vowed.

He was silent, though I could sense him worrying about it. And after a while, I found something of my own to worry about.

Could I make him leave if I wasn't on the medication?

*   *   *

Becky wasn't at the Black Bear, so I parked the tow truck at the repo lot and walked the few blocks to the house she and Kermit shared. I knocked and entered, calling, “Hello?” over the unmistakable sound of a circular saw biting wood.

“In the garage!” Becky yelled back. I made my way to the door just off the kitchen, noting that some of the cabinets had been taken down from the wall.

Becky's garage had been turned into a workshop. She smiled at me, raising her safety glasses. “Hi, Ruddy! What's in the box?”

“It's just a gift for the baby. A Michigan State blanket.” I waved the box at her. Alan made an approving noise because the gift had been his idea. Becky opened the box and held up the square of green-and-white cloth, grinning.

“Thanks!”

“So, what are you doing?” I asked.

“I'm building a pantry for the kitchen before I lay down the new floor.”

“No, I mean what are you
doing
? You're pregnant. You can't be sawing wood. You need to be resting.”

“Oh, stop. I'm fine.”

“Women can work pretty much right up until they're due, if they're careful and healthy,”
Alan informed me. He had been married to a woman who gave birth a single time, so that made him some sort of expert.

“Won't the wood fumes be bad for little Ruddy Junior?” I asked.

“Wood fumes,” Becky repeated, laughing along with Alan. “And what if it is a girl?”

“I don't know.… Ruddette?”

“You kill me.”

“I just came by to see if it is okay if I leave Jake with you tonight.”

“Oh?” She raised her eyebrows.

“Date. Katie.” I was grinning.

“You just came by to tell your sister you have a date with my daughter and are presuming you'll spend the night with her,”
Alan translated moodily.

“That's really good, Ruddy.” She walked up to me and gazed into my eyes. “How are things with her?”

“She came back from downstate with a change of heart. She said she talked to her mother, who said such terrible things about me, Katie figured I must be a nice guy after all.”

“And you were going to tell me this when?”
Alan demanded angrily.
“Katie spoke to Marget?”

“I knew she'd come around,” Becky said encouragingly.

“I don't want to blow it with her.”

“You won't. Just be the man she fell in love with the first time.”

I liked that one. “Thanks, Becky.”

She looked around her workshop. “Well, I'd ask you to help, but I don't want to have to do everything all over again.”

“Very funny.” We were both grinning, though.

*   *   *

Alan jumped on me the moment I left my sister's house. “So sorry I didn't mention Katie talked to Marget,” I apologized. “I've had a lot on my mind.”

“So she's forgiven her mother for what was done to me?”
Alan asked, anguished.

“I don't know that. But, Alan, would that really be so bad? Marget is her mom. She raised Katie. Don't people eventually have to forgive? Move on?”

“Like you moved on from Lisa Marie Walker?”
Alan retorted.

I felt my face flash hot despite the cold air. “I get that you can't take a swing at me from in there, but if you're trying to get to me, that one didn't even make any sense. I did move on, got on with my life, and now I'm back in it because I'm looking for the truth. Because as much as I owe it to myself, I owe it to her; because I may not have driven her into the lake, but I did drive her to the 7-Eleven. Because I care that someone murdered her. Which you know damn well. Try going back to insulting my trousers; you had better luck with that.”

“Hey, I'm sorry,”
he said after a pause.
“You're right: I'm angry, but I shouldn't be upset with you. It just feels like Katie's choosing sides. Picking her, Marget, instead of me.”

“Your daughter isn't very easy to figure out, I'll grant you that. But the one thing I can tell you is that she'll make up her mind without help from anybody else.”

Back at the repo lot, I told Kermit he and Becky would be taking care of my dog for the night. “But you'll be here for the Wolfingers' send-off party, though, right?” he asked me.

“Oh yeah, that's tomorrow night? I wouldn't miss it.”

“Becky is launching a luau.”

“I will be there for the countdown and takeoff.”

I bent down to tell Jake he would be sleeping at my sister's place, but that I would be back and he needn't worry that I was abandoning him. It worked: He seemed pretty unworried.

“I know what was going on with your sister,”
Alan advised as I walked home.

“Becky? Do tell.”

“You know there is no such thing as wood fumes, and that she's not going to hurt herself when she's not even showing yet. You're acting dumb and protective to let her know you care about her and you're going to love her baby. Instead of just coming out and telling her.”

“No such thing as wood fumes?” I demanded with exaggerated incredulity.

Alan sighed.
“Are you ever going to get a haircut?”
he replied irrelevantly.

I ran a hand through my hair. “Just getting more handsome every day,” I proclaimed.

At home I changed into my one nice pair of pants and a sweater I'd been wearing to social occasions since the late nineties. When I sniffed it to make sure it was still fresh smelling, Alan nearly had a seizure. I threw a few clothes into an overnight bag and made sure I took my heaviest boots and gloves—it would be cold out there tomorrow, on the ice of Shantytown. If Kenny and Mark didn't show up, I'd be forced to knock on a few doors.

The Black Bear showed up on caller ID just as I was heading out to the truck. It was Jimmy. We exchanged how-ya-doin's as I cranked up the engine. “Hey, could you do me a favor?” he asked me.

“Shoot.”

“I lost my cell phone. Would you call it for me? Maybe I can hear it ring if it's around here.”

Alan snickered.

“Jimmy … couldn't you just call it from the phone you're using now?”

“Uh, well, I thought that the sound of it in my ear might make it so I can't hear my cell.”

“Okay,” I said. “But you could hold it away from your ear if you wanted.”

“Hey, yeah, that would work!” he agreed cheerfully.

“Say, Jimmy, you got a minute?”

“Pretty dead here,” he grunted agreeably.

I told him where I was with Katie. “I think it sounds good,” he told me when I was finished. “Like she's working things out in her life, and she sees you as part of that.”

“You think I should talk about the wedding?”

“Only if she brings it up,” Jimmy advised.

“Got it.”

“I cannot believe you're getting advice about dating my daughter from this moron,”
Alan sniffed.

We rang off. I set the cell phone in a cupholder and started down the road. “Alan,” I said after a moment, “you may not ever,
ever,
call Jimmy a moron. You got that? He's like a brother to me. You do that again, and I will never speak to you.”

“I'm sorry.”

“All your questions will go unanswered. I'll stop discussing Lisa Marie, Nina Otis, and everyone else with you. You'll be alone in the world.”
Or maybe I'll just make you go away forever,
I thought to myself.

“I get it. I said I was sorry. She's my daughter, Ruddy. I don't like you discussing strategy about her, like she's a hill the squad needs to take in a war.”

“You'd rather have her with someone who doesn't care enough to try to figure her out? To give her what she wants? Because I know Deputy Dumbbell is awfully convenient. That's who her mother, Marget, with her overbearing influence, wants her to marry.”

That shut him up, leaving me to ponder: Since when did Alan ever use a military analogy?

Strickland phoned me as I was pulling up in front of Katie's house. “Going to be sub-zero all week,” he informed me.

“Great, I'm going to Shantytown tomorrow. Wait, do you know which hut belongs to the mayor?”

“Hell no. The mayor? He's not a mayor; the whole thing is idiotic. Just a bunch of guys sitting in small boxes, drinking themselves into a stupor everyday.”

“It sounds pretty fun, the way you put it. Do you know the mayor's name?”