The Caterpillar King (6 page)

“This isn’t about me. Or you,” I said. “It’s
about them.”

She nodded. “I know a place we can talk,”
she said. “Follow me.”

She led us out the back door of the locker
room. We walked down an ancient hallway, the floors tile and the
ceiling asbestos. Neither of us said much. At the end of the
hallway, there was a room on the left. We went inside. There was
video equipment all around. It gave me a bad feeling.

She shut the door behind us. “This is where
we study tape. Coach said I can come in whenever I feel like
it.”

“You play basketball?” I asked.

“You eat donuts?” she said.

“Enough,” I said. “Talk. And don’t leave
anything out.”

I sat back and cracked my knuckles. It was
habit. I waited a minute. She didn’t start.

“What?’ I said.

“Don’t you need a notebook or
something?”

“I’ve got a memory,” I said. “World’s
biggest notebook.”

She frowned.

“Better not ask me for this a third time,”
she said.

“If you have to tell it again, you’ll be in
court. I really don’t want that, though.”

She glared at me. “OK,” she said. “Last
night, I didn’t hear anything. No messages, no texts, not from
anybody. I got to school today and people came at me hard. Like,
‘You hear about Ned? You hear about Madeline?’ And I’m thinking
they must’ve hooked up or something. Maybe she got herself
pregnant. But no. They were both gone.”

I took in the news without any reaction. Ned
was easy. He was right in my basement. Madeline? That was more
difficult. The last I’d seen of her, she was skipping off into the
darkness. I doubted she ended up anywhere good.

“What’s your take on it?” I asked.

“Isn’t that your job?” she said.

“I like amateur opinions. Sometimes, they’re
just stupid enough to be right.”

She didn’t like that. But she kept on just
the same. “There’s a rumor going around that they ran off together.
It makes sense to me. Everyone knows the two of them were close. I
never had much to do with Ned, but I knew Madeline. She was always
spending time with him. So yeah, that’s what I think.”

She sounded like she was trying to be
confident. But confidence isn’t something you can fake.

“I think you knew Madeline very well,” I
said. “And if that’s true, I don’t believe a word you’re
saying.”

“You’re crazy, man,” she said.

“Madeline wasn’t interested in Ned, was
she?”

Amanti shrugged. “She could do better than
him.”

“How much better?” I paused. “For instance,
could she be with you?”

Amanti dropped the act real quick. “Who told
you?”

“Doesn’t matter,” I said. “I don’t care
about your love affairs. But we both know Madeline didn’t run off
with Ned. So why don’t you tell me what you really think?”

“Listen,” she said. “I know how it works.
Someone disappears, people start looking for a suspect. Husbands,
wives, girlfriends, boyfriends, whatever. But I didn’t do it.”

“We’ll see,” I said.

“She probably just ran away from home,” she
said. “Her Mom was hard on her. Madeline cried about it almost
every day.”

“Oh yeah?” I said. “What else do you know
about the Mom?”

“I mean…she’s not all there. She got messed
up when Madeline’s Dad left. It was like she changed into a
different person. That’s how Madeline put it. She sees a
psychiatrist twice a week, takes a bucketful of pills every
morning. That’s what I know. That’s all of it.”

“Yeah, alright.” I stood up, grabbed a
couple of game tapes. I shook them in the air. “I’ll be watching,”
I said.

I walked out of the room, leaving her
sitting there. Out one hallway, then the next, the gym, then the
main lobby. I passed by the secretary and gave the blonde a
friendly wave. Her spirits looked lifted. Mine weren’t. Madeline
was gone. I needed to see about her Mom. My day just kept getting
better and better.

8.

Madeline’s driveway was empty and the lights
were off. That was fine. There were things to tend to at my house.
I had some meat cooking in the basement, and I liked it
medium-rare. It would’ve been a shame to burn the roast.

I went in the front for variety’s sake. The
house was spotless and lifeless. I walked through the entryway,
past the observation deck, and down the stairs. The darkness called
to me. I always answered.

The workshop hadn’t lost its spartan charm.
There was the chair, there was the bucket, there was the rope. By
the steel door, there were a couple drops of Ned’s blood. I took
the bucket and poured some water over it. Then I ground out the
stain with the heel of my shoe. I’d told him I’d clean up, and I’m
a man of my word.

I moved to the cave door and started to open
it. Halfway in, I paused. My doors always stayed locked. This one
wasn’t. The shovel rested on the wall to the right. I picked it up.
Then I went inside the cave. It was just as I’d left it. The big
hollow mouth, Ned in the center, and no one else. At least I
assumed it was Ned. I closed in on a white lump that looked like a
four foot wide cotton ball. It was hard to tell who was in there.
He’d been wrapped up like a present. Merry Christmas to me.

Close up, threads shot off in every
direction. It was a maze of cobwebs around a solid core. They had
built Ned a real nice cocoon. With each heartbeat, a light pulsed
inside. It revealed every inch of the empty cave. I put the shovel
down. The time wasn’t right. Not yet.

I locked the door and went back upstairs.
Across the street, an ailing Toyota pulled into the driveway. The
Little Duck’s mother got out alone. She paused. Then she sniffed
the air. It must not have smelled good. She vanished inside her
garage a moment later.

There was no reason to be shy with her. I
made my way through her yard. In the gray afternoon light, her
house looked like a tombstone. I got to her front door and rang the
bell. She had plastic flowers on her porch. Even they looked to be
dying. I knocked. Nothing. I rang again. Inside, there was
movement. A minute passed, and the door opened. A woman appeared
behind the screen.

“Not a good time,” she said.

“It never is,” I said.

She looked me up and down, the way women
sometimes do. She didn’t seem to think much of what she saw.

“What do you want?”

“If you plan on finding your daughter,
you’ll invite me inside.”

She considered it. Then she opened the
screen. I followed her in without a word.

The house reeked of cheap alcohol and
cheaper perfume. We moved into the living room. It was painted a
sick green. There were wooden chairs, a wooden table, and a wooden
bench. None of them looked very comfortable. I took the chair. She
took the bench. She had a cushion. I didn’t.

“Thirsty?” she said.

She didn’t wait for a response. She got up
and fixed us drinks. She put ice in mine. I like my drinks neat.
But you don’t complain to the person making your drinks. I
swallowed it whole.

There was decent light in the room. I got a
good look at her. She had wide, frightened eyes. Her hair was too
straight and soft for someone her age. She was not beautiful, but
she might have been a long time ago.

“Things have been better,” I said.

“You could say that,” she said.

“First your husband leaves, then you get
cancer. Now your daughter’s gone. It’s a lot to take in.”

“Just who the hell are you? What’s this
about cancer?”

“You can call me Blue,” I said. “Last time I
checked, cancer and wigs go together real well.”

On cue, she reached for her hair and brushed
it back behind her ear.

“Was I too far off?” I asked.

“You seem like a rude man,” she said.

I grinned. “I gave you the benefit of the
doubt,” I said. “I’ve met some women who wear wigs. They were mixed
up with some rough people. Rougher than doctors.”

“What are you implying, Mr. Blue?”

“Maybe you were out this afternoon on
business. Maybe pleasure. Maybe both.”

“Get out,” she said.

But I didn’t stand and she didn’t make me
leave. She didn’t really mean it. I picked up the bottle and fixed
myself another drink. Neat.

“You?” I held out the bottle.

“Of course,” she said.

I freshened up her drink. She looked better
with a drink in her hands. She looked better with a drink in my
hands.

“I’m here to investigate your daughter’s
disappearance,” I said. “Not you. Enough with the small talk. Let’s
get to the point.”

“I’d like that very much,” she said. But she
didn’t mean a word of it.

“How would you describe your relationship
with your daughter?” I asked.

“Maternal,” she said.

“That’s good,” I said.

She smiled a charming smile.

“You must’ve really been something,” I
said.

“I still am,” she said.

A glimmer of confidence played on her eyes.
It was enough to make a man like me think twice, or not at all.

“You know what I think about a woman with
hair like you? A woman who leaves her house for hours the day her
daughter disappears?”

She leaned in, ready for the big secret.
“Tell me,” she said.

“A woman like that,” I said. “She’s hiding
something.”

She leaned back and let out a shrill laugh.
Then she reached up and detached the wig. She let it fall to the
ground. Underneath, she was blonde.

“My name is Kerri, Mr. Blue. I wear a wig; I
don’t deny it. Sometimes a woman likes to change things, quickly
and drastically. I wouldn’t expect someone like you to
understand.”

“Where do you keep your pills, Kerri?”

She laughed bitterly. “You’re here for the
drugs
? I should’ve known from that look you had.”

“Nah, none for me. I was just thinking you
might’ve skipped a dose or two.”

“It’s entirely possible,” she said.

It was easy to get caught up in her games.
She had a way of focusing the spotlight on the two of us. But the
star of the show was offstage. That just wouldn’t do.

“The night Madeline went missing,” I said.
“You think there was any reason she left?”

At that, Kerri turned somber, reflective.
Her mood swung back and forth like a pendulum.

“The day started off well. It was fine.
Madeline received a progress report. It must’ve said good things.
Madeline went to school that day, and she had her friends at
school…but she also had enemies, of course. Beautiful girls always
have enemies. Then she came home, and she was pleasant, wonderful.
We ate dinner together. I kissed her goodnight…”

She covered her face with her hands and
pretended to cry. She was probably laughing under there.

“And…and when I woke up this morning, she
was gone. I assumed she went to school early. She does that
sometimes. I only phoned the police after I found the note.”

“I need to see that,” I said. “If you still
have it.”

“Of course,” she said. “The phone’s right
here.” She pointed to a black brick on the table.

“Don’t get smart,” I said.

“I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

“Begin with the note,” I said.

“Very well,” she said.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a
piece of notebook paper. It looked like the family dog had tried to
eat it. And maybe she had.

She handed me the note. It matched
Madeline’s handwriting from her journal. All the note said was:
I’m going to the cave. Goodbye.

I turned the note over. The back was blank.
“That clears things up,” I said.

“Not quite. I know the “cave” she’s talking
about. It’s at a park we used to frequent, back when she was just a
child. I already checked it. She’s not there.”

“You searched an entire cave?”

“It didn’t take long. It’s not even the size
of this room.” She laughed a mocking laugh. Then she took the
letter back from me and tossed it aside.

“You don’t seem too concerned,” I said. “She
pulls stunts like this often?”

“Everything’s happened before. Everything
will happen again.”

“Spare me,” I said. There’s nothing worse
than a drunk philosopher. And I’ve known a few. “Listen, I’ve got a
working timeline. I know two things happened yesterday. One: in the
morning, the lights came on early. That was in her room. Two: last
night, you had a screaming match with her. But it wasn’t much of a
match, because she never screamed back. Right after that, she
left.”

Kerri laughed. “Well, why didn’t you say so
in the first place?”

“I like to feel the other fighter out before
I throw a punch.”

“Are we fighting? I’m having such fun.”

I tipped the bottle of booze over. That
stopped her fun. The drink chugged out onto the ground.

“You idiot!” She ran over and picked up the
bottle like it was her baby. There was a large alcoholic stain on
the floor. I wouldn’t have been surprised to find her licking it
later.

She poured herself another drink and settled
back down. She was as composed as if nothing ever happened. But now
she stood between the bottle and me.

“Tell me what you said to her,” I said.

She took a calm sip of her drink. “Madeline,
you mean?”

I nodded.

“You’re a worthless slut, you’re the reason
I got sick, your father left because of you. Nothing out of the
ordinary.”

“You were begging her to leave.”

“Women need changes. Quick, drastic
changes.”

“Where do you think she was really
going?”

Kerri considered it. “Her best friend for
years has been this boy….Ned something. He’s as unrefined as you.
I’m sure you’d enjoy his company.”

“She’s with him now?” I asked.

“Perhaps,” she said.

“Where would they go?”

“There are only two people who know that,”
she said. “Ned and Madeline.”