The Railroad (27 page)

“I don’t think Benoit’s going to be a problem, Mike. Not that way.”

“How can you be so sure? And didn’t you tell me just the opposite a while back? When you told me to get out of Bardstown?”

“I’ve changed my mind. My instincts, they’re pretty good.”

“I wish I had your confidence. And why did you ask me to leave, then?”

“Go schluffy, Mike. It’s late.”

Being a New Yorker from the suburbs, I’d probably heard more Yiddish than Moskowitz; I knew he was telling me to go to sleep. “Good night, Moskowitz”.

*

About 3:30, I was awakened by a droning sound. I lay in bed for a while, not wanting to get up, but still trying to identify what the sound was and where it came from. After a minute or so, the best I could say was that it sounded like a grown man trying to imitate a young girl singing some pop song from the seventies.

It didn’t stop, so I figured maybe it was something I should be concerned about. I dragged myself out of bed and walked slowly out of the bedroom. I stood in the middle of the living room, listening. The volume of the sound kept rising and falling, but it still sounded like a man singing in falsetto. I moved gingerly forward, hoping to get to the window without being detected. Though the porch light was on, I couldn’t see much of anything.

I saw some slight movement, somewhere at the periphery of my vision. It seemed as though someone might have seen me. I wasn’t sure, but it sounded like whoever it was had moved closer to the house. Suddenly the pop song changed into a series of plaintive moans, almost as if someone were crying for help.

I was leaning forward, straining to see if I recognized the voice when the window exploded and glass flew all over the place. My immediate thought was
hand grenade
as I staggered back into the bedroom and threw myself over the bed to the floor. I lay for a while, waiting for the explosion. When it didn’t come, I started feeling stupid.

After another ten minutes or so, I crawled from the bedroom to find a big rock on my floor. Further inspection revealed that there was a note tied to it.
Ps and Qs
was all it said. On instinct I ran out the back door. Sure enough, someone was standing in my backyard. It looked like a man and he seemed to be straining to find out what was happening in my house. When he saw me he started running. I got the impression of a man of medium height, healthy enough to move quickly from a running start.

I started out after him, but he was already in the woods. I could see his outline in the weak moonlight. Knowing I would lose him, I did the only thing I could think of: I yelled
I am
three times, remembering the cryptic words in the Franz Kafka book the cops had found in my backyard. I’m not sure what I expected to gain; maybe I just wanted to confront him and let him know I was on to his tricks. Maybe he’d tell Benoit.

He jerked and turned back toward me, studying me from perhaps twenty feet away. Something told me that I’d gotten his attention and that he was expecting something else from me. It was almost as if he and I shared some kind of knowledge.

When I said nothing he turned away and started running again. In a few seconds he was covered up by the trees.

*

I woke the next morning to the sound of the doorbell. It seemed like déjà vu. I thought of the morning after Eileen and Megan left and my first sight of Detective Wills.

It seemed even more like déjà vu when I opened the door and saw Wills looking unhappily at me. But this time, instead of the cop who was with him last time, another man stood at his side. I decided that I wouldn’t tell them about the rock incident the night before; what was the point?

“Hello,” Wills said. “Is it okay if we come in?”

Why are you being so nice to me?
“I guess so.”

They walked in. The new man was doing his best to pin me with his eyes. I gestured for them to sit down in two of my ratty chairs but they declined. “And who are you?” I asked the new policeman.

“I’m Captain Chasen.” He didn’t seem disposed to say much more.

“Glad to meet you.”

It was said sarcastically and he bristled, as I’d expected. He jerked his thumb toward my broken window. “What happened there?”

“Baseball. Kids.”

Wills jumped in, fending off an argument. “Basically we’re here to ask you some questions about Bob Benoit.”

“What?”

“Benoit. The one you say…well we do know he has been bothering you. At least by phone.”

“Oh, you heard about that.”

“Law enforcement personnel communicate with each other,” Chasen threw in. He seemed defensive.

“I guess so. I’d gotten the impression that Verizon had to use state police because you wouldn’t cooperate.”

“We can only do so much.”

“Okay. So you know about the phone calls. And does that suggest that he might have broken into my house? Or might be involved in the murders? Why do you believe me all of a sudden?”

“There’s been more interest in the case lately. Some new theories have been uncovered.”

“The newspapers. Samuel, I would guess.”

Wills winced but ignored what I’d said. “Since he’s already been arrested for misuse of telephone company equipment, which proves he’s been harassing you, we thought we’d ask you again to tell us what you know about him and how he might be connected to the
Chapter and Verse
murders.”

I went through everything, including a vague description of the postcards I’d been receiving and the content of Benoit’s phone calls. When I was done they both looked slightly panic stricken.

Chasen jumped in. “We’re only discussing theories here.”

I bristled. “I know. And obviously they’re good enough theories that you’re here.”

Wills looked at both of us and seemed upset. Then he made a statement by sitting down across from me. It seemed like a conciliatory gesture so I turned to face him. After a few seconds, Chasen sat down as well. He glared at Wills.

“Let’s hear it all again,” Wills said.

“Okay. You know that Benoit attacked me on my porch. Then he started making the phone calls. Later on he threatened me in a bar. The next day I...”

“What do you mean,” Chasen barked. “I haven’t heard anything about a bar.”

“I didn’t see any point in telling you considering that Detective Wills couldn’t stand the sight of me and wouldn’t follow up on anything I told him.”

“I apologize for that,” Wills said quickly. “Just tell us the rest of the story.”

“Okay. Not long after he attacked me on the porch I started getting postcards. They were from various places in New England and most of them had no message. They just had my address. There was one that had the numbers on it:
4-5-1
. Now, the day after I got threatened in the bar, my place was tossed. Benoit left a note with a message only he and I would know about.”

“And what was that message on the note?” Chasen asked.

Wills seemed annoyed and didn’t make much of an attempt to hide it. “It said ‘mind your Ps and Qs,” I answered.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It’s something Benoit said to me in the bar.”

“We’re getting off track here,” Wills growled.

I nodded. “True. When my place was robbed, the only thing I could find missing was the postcard with
4-5-1
on it. That means that Benoit took it. Do you see the connection now?”

Both men were silent, but I could see that they didn’t really want to come to the same conclusion I had. Then Chasen jumped in. “Wait. Why would he steal the postcard? Wills tells me that you thought he was sending them in the first place to make you angry. Why would he steal back the card he sent you?”

I shrugged. “I can’t think of anyone else who would taunt me by sending a postcard with
4-5-1
in the first place. It’s clear that Benoit broke in here, so he must have taken the card. Maybe he did it to let me know he was one of the
Chapter and Verse
Killers
. Why else would he take it?”

“Maybe just to mess with you. This doesn’t add up to much in the way of proof,” Chasen snapped.

“Then why did you bother to come here?” I shot back.

Chasen grunted and stood up. “We’re leaving. Thank you for your time,” he told me. I could tell the words were truly heartfelt.

Wills turned and smiled sheepishly at me, then walked out behind his boss.

*

Melinda called me about 3:00. She wanted to tell me she’d had a great time at the bar. I knew I was expected to say something equally complimentary, which I did. However, I didn’t want to offer something I couldn’t follow through on. I didn’t think I could do that again and live through it.

I told her I’d call her in the next few days.

*

I woke the next morning covered with sweat. I found that I didn’t want to stay in the house so I got in the car and went to a movie. When that movie ended, I stood out in the lobby until another one began. After that I went to a diner and sat for two hours eating pie and drinking coffee.

It was probably around 6:30 when I returned to chez Moosehead. There was a message waiting for me. Detective Wills wanted me to call him immediately. It was urgent.

To my surprise, he didn’t ask me to come in to see him. He’d become very polite in the past couple of days. He came out to see me.

There was no bravado when he came to my house. He sunk down into my ugliest chair and sighed. Something had taken his spirit.

“Someone tried to burn down your house,” he told me.

I looked around. “It doesn’t look that way.”

He shook his head. “I decided that I’m not going to let you get me angry.” He shook out his hands nervously.

“Why would I have that effect on you?”

His hands stopped moving and he paused for a second. “Because I know you’re a good guy and the fact that I have to keep on playing the party line is reminding me that I’m a middle-aged hack policeman.”

“So what you’re saying is I knocked you out of your comfort zone.”

“Fuck you.”

“Thanks. So someone tried to burn down my house. How do you know that?”

“I can tell that you didn’t call us, but someone did. It was a woman. That’s all I know. It came from a throwaway cell phone.”

He stood up and I could feel the floor vibrate. “Come on.”

I followed him, feeling like I was walking behind a Kodiak bear. We went out the back door and he led me around to one of the corners of the house. “You see here?” He pointed to a spot that looked decidedly charred. There were some rags and fragments of boxes scattered around. “We pulled these out once we caught the guy. I’ve seen better work. He wasn’t a pro.”

“You caught him?”

“We followed up on the call from ... your friend. A real pro would have been able to set it and leave. This one was pouring lighter fluid on it to keep it going. There’s a ton of stone down here. I guess if he finally caught the wood or the insulation it would have worked. Even the sheetrock will burn if it gets hot enough.”

“Oh. I guess you have no idea why he did this.”

“Ah, but we do. And that’s why I feel a little less like a middle-aged hack cop. He wasn’t very brave. It seems that he admitted that Benoit asked him to do it. No, actually he paid him to do it. He’s just a shitty little criminal who worked in one of Benoit’s supermarkets.”

I thought for a moment. “I’d always thought that Benoit had some real organized crime connections. I guess not.”

“Him? He might pay someone to do something, but he’s not the one who pulls the strings. He’s violent and sloppy.”

“So what’s going to happen?”

“Benoit is going to be charged with conspiracy to commit arson. That is a felony; a serious one. I’m sure his lawyers can stall us and I doubt he’ll do any time. But he’s going to have some trouble on his hands.”

“I guess I can consider this a reprieve; at least temporarily.”

“If you mean that he’ll probably lay off for a while, I’d say yes. But not forever. Honestly, he could hire someone more professional next time who won’t get caught. And if they did, they probably wouldn’t confess.”

“I’ll remember that.”

“I have to ask you. With all this shit, why haven’t you just gone back to Manhattan?”

“I really don’t have an answer.”

“Okay. Well, I’ll let you know what develops.” Then he paused. “Are you sure you don’t know who’s rescuing you?”

“For a while I’d thought it was Benoit. Just flexing his muscles and disappearing before the cops arrived. But now, why would he call the cops when someone was here who could connect him to the arson. I’ve thought about it a lot, but I can’t think of anyone. It doesn’t make sense.”

He put out his hand.

I took it and felt my bones rub together.

*

The next two days were strangely uneventful and I found that I liked it that way. A couple of months before, I’d been going out of my mind with boredom and loneliness; now I had too much in my life. On day three, the phone rang and I found myself dreading it, feeling sure it would be a silent call. I almost stopped myself from answering it, but in the end, Eileen and Megan’s faces drifted before me and I knew I had to be sure.