Touch and Go (A Mercy Watts Short) (4 page)

Five minutes later, Stevie got control of limbs. He kicked off the blanket and stuck his head between the seats.
 

“Hey Mercy. How you doin?”

“Fine and you?”

“Got a headache.”

“Sorry. Couldn’t be helped.”

“I thought it’d be your dad.”

“Nope, he’s in Florida.”

“Oh yeah. Where are we going? Home?”

“Fat chance.”

“Who’s this?” Stevie said as he checked his reflection in my rearview mirror.

“This is Claire.”

“Claire. What a great name. You from around here?”

“I already told you.”

“Oh, yeah. You busy tonight, Claire?”

Stevie gave her his best shelter-dog look. It was the patented if-you-just-take-me-home-and-train-me-properly-I-could-be-a-good-boy look. It’d worked before, and it was on the verge of working on Claire.

“I’m hungry. Who wants Arby’s?” I said.

“Me. Let’s eat.” Stevie wiggled his way into eating position on the back seat.

We mulled over our choices at the Arby’s drive-thru and then Stevie ordered enough to make me think about getting reimbursed by his father. Claire ordered a diet soda and some grilled chicken thing. I was going to order two Beef and Cheddars with curly fries, but thought better of it after Claire ordered.
 

While we ate I did a little minor interrogation. “I have to ask, Stevie, why did you come back? I’m mean, seriously, are you crazy? You knew my dad was after you.”

“I needed some money.”

“Who’s gonna give you money?”

“Mom.”

“What about her Jag?”

“What about it?”

“You stole it.”

“No way! I’d never do that. I borrowed it.” Emphasis on the borrowed.

“For a month? Where is it?”

“A friend has it.”

“A friend. Would this be a friend from the track?”

“Yeah, he’s there a lot. How’d you know?”

“Lucky guess.”

Claire turned to him. “Your father could have you arrested.”

“He’d never do that. Mom wouldn’t let him. Besides, I borrowed it.”

I let that go and drove in silence. Stevie was going to be arrested. Big Steve had reported the Jag stolen and Olivia didn’t know. I didn’t want to be around when she found out. Stevie probably wouldn’t clue in until he was fingerprinted.
 

I pulled around back of the Crown office building and called up. Big Steve and a couple of his associates came down. They pulled Stevie out of the car and cut the zip-ties around his feet and hands. Big Steve watched a few feet away and ran his fingers through his hair.

“Hi, Dad!” Stevie said.

“Hello, son.” They looked at each other, Big Steve’s intelligent eyes looking into Stevie’s blank ones. I’d have liked to have known their thoughts, except Stevie probably didn’t have any.

Big Steve turned to me and said, “Mercy, thank you for doing this. If you need anything, call me.” He gave me a look that I knew meant absolutely anything and I took note. Stevie started talking about his flight and we left. I dropped Claire off and went home to find Pick in the fridge eating hot dogs. Skanky was crouched a couple of feet away, gnawing on a dog of his own. Dog and cat had come to an understanding. Pick was the brains of the operation and Skanky had the inside dope.

For the next three days I slogged my way through Peds. Mrs. Jackson walked Pick for me and Chuck was still MIA. On the fourth day, I planned to sleep until hunger or the phone woke me. Neither did. At ten till seven something started pestering me. This went on for a while despite much cursing and position changing. It was Skanky. He was tenderizing my entire body like I was a huge steak. Pick joined in by licking. When Skanky started meowing, I gave up and fed them.
 

I hit the road by eight-thirty. Lucky for me there was only one bank in St. Seb. The bank was a one-story art deco affair in sad shape. The lobby wasn’t much better. I didn’t see anyone who fit the description Christina gave me. A couple of blond tellers eyed me at the far end of the counter. I walked over and said, “Excuse me, I was wondering if you could help me. I’m looking for someone.”

“Who?” they said.

“I’m afraid I don’t have a name. She’s in her thirties, blond, big nose and wears a lot of jewelry.”

They looked at each other and shrugged.

“Her husband may have disappeared about nine years ago.”
 

“Evelyn!” they said and gave each other a high five.

“Evelyn?”
 

“Evelyn Calvin or Sorbeck. Take your pick,” said the heavier of the duo. It said Judy on her name tag.

The other one tagged Sara said, “Please. I wouldn’t try calling her Sorbeck, if you know what I mean.”

“She’s divorced?”

“Doubt it,” said Sara.

“Didn’t hang around long enough for that. When he split, he was G-O-N-E.”
 

“And he got it all. Least that’s what I heard.” Sara looked at Judy.

“Oh, yeah. He took everything, including her sense of humor,” said Judy.

“Did you ever meet him?” I asked.

“Yeah. We all went out to dinner a few times.”
 

“I never liked him,” said Sara.

“You did too. We all did. He was so sweet and—”
 

“And full of shit.”

“Yes he was, but we did like him. Until later of course.”

“Full of shit?” I said.

“Oh, yeah. He could really lay a load and we bought it all,” said Judy.

“I wouldn’t say that. We sort of wanted to believe it. It’s not like we could prove that he was lying,” said Sara.

“What did he say?” I said.

They put down their coffee cups, looked around, and edged closer to me.

“He said he was in the CIA and not to talk about him to strangers,” said Judy.

“He told me he was a Green Beret and had a Top Secret clearance,” said Sara.

“How about that he was a spy in Red China.”

“Or how he invented the Internet.”
 

“That was Gore.”

“I know, but Evan said it too, I swear.” Sara crossed her heart.

“What a loser. I felt so sorry for Evelyn when he ran off. You know he’d maxed all her credit cards and she’d bought him a brand-new car.”

“What about the loans?”

“Oh lord, the loans. She is still paying them off.”

“Loans?” I said.

“She took out a collateral loan on her own car so he could reestablish his credit after being undercover as a spy and all.” Judy rolled her eyes.

“And worse, the home equity loan. That was thirty-five thousand dollars.”

“How much did he take her for?” I said.

“Who knows. I think he cleaned out her accounts too,” said Sara.

“He just disappeared one day?”
 

“No, she found him out,” said Judy.

“How’d that happen?”

“He tried to take out a home loan in her name at another branch. I think it was about to go through, but our manager found out and asked her why she didn’t apply for it here.”
 

“Yeah, she called him up and he denied it. They faxed her the paperwork and there it all was clear as day. He forged her signature. She was crying and Dale had to drive her home. Dale’s our manager. When they got there, Evan was gone,” said Sara.

“What did she do? Did the police have any leads on him?” I asked.

“I never heard anything about that. He left and she turned into a world-class bitch.”

“Tell me about it,” said Judy. “We were all such good friends. We went to lunch, got manicures. I told her everything. She used to come to my little boy’s birthday parties. After he left, she acted like she didn’t know us.”

“I tried to talk to her, ask her how it was going, but nothing. She wouldn’t say word one. She transferred right away to Belleville and got promoted. She never had any ambition before,” said Sara.

“She had to pay off all those loans and cards,” said Judy.

“Is she still working at the Belleville branch?” I asked.

“Uh huh. Why do you want to know about this anyhow?” asked Sara.

“Sorbeck’s up to his old tricks.”

“Oh no! Not one of your friends, I hope.”

“Afraid so.”

“Damn. What a bastard!”

“I do think he was from around here though,” said Judy.

“What makes you say that?” I said.

“He knew a lot about the area. He told me stuff I didn’t know and it was true. Once he spent an hour telling me all about the county fair here in St. Seb. This was in the spring because Evelyn was planting flowers while we talked. Now, he only lived here for three months before he ran off and he said his family was from California. The fair is in August.”

“I have to go, ladies. You’ve been a big help,” I said.

“Anytime. You know, you really remind me of somebody,” Judy said.

“Yeah, I get that a lot,” I said.

“I bet you do,” said Sara with a laugh. “I wouldn’t mind looking like Marilyn.”

“It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”

I got in my car and called Christina. She wasn’t in, but her husband was. He reluctantly gave me her work phone. I called her and asked where Evan, the real one, went to high school. St. Sebastian Senior High.
 

Sweet.

High schools kept old yearbooks, didn’t they? Sure, they did. I was at the school in fifteen minutes. School was in session and the halls were packed with low-riding jeans and badly done makeup. In the office were the same secretaries that my school had. Where did they find these women? I never saw them on the street, wearing their double-knit trousers, flowered tops, and pin-curled grey hair. As usual, I got nowhere with them. School secretaries didn’t like me on sight. Maybe they could tell I skipped, forged my mother’s handwriting, and rarely did my homework. The principal was friendlier as a politician should be. He gave me free reign with the yearbooks, but I only needed one. 1995. I found Evan Sorbeck quickly. He was handsome, blond and in a ton of clubs. He played football, ran track, and was senior class president. I looked through the rest of the senior class and didn’t see the faux Evan. I started on the junior class and had thumbed through most of it when Lawrence Tisserling caught my eye. Add fifty pounds and it was Claire’s Evan. He was in no club or sports. He didn’t even give a quote.
 

I ran out to the parking lot and almost broke my neck on the ice. Once in the car, I removed the gravel from my palm and went home. I found cat and dog in the living room. Pick was on the floor, Skanky was on the sofa cleaning his ears and they were both watching CNN. I was pretty sure I didn’t leave the TV on. I could only hope that Pick hadn’t figured out the stove yet. Uncle Morty was back from his so-called vacation and I got him to nose his way into Tisserling’s life. The best he could come up with was an expired license and a couple of addresses in Reynolds County.
 

The next morning I was awakened by the animals watching the
Today
show. I fed them and gave Skanky a gentle boot in the butt for becoming so fond of a dog. I still couldn’t get ahold of Chuck. I needed to take a drive down and check out those addresses. I was afraid to leave Pick alone for that long. Mrs. Jackson was spending the day at the senior center. Pick’d already eaten all the tissues and pooped on the bath mat. I had to take him.

I spent the two hours to Lesterville with a drooling snout over my shoulder and occasional ear licking. We stopped for lunch and had the best cream of broccoli soup of my life. Even Chuck would’ve liked it and he avoids vegetables like he does commitment. In the parking lot, Pick scarfed Milk Bones and I decided on my next move. The locals were eyeing us and smiling a lot. I guess they didn’t get a lot of giant black poodles with pink ribbons on their ears. But Pick looked adorable and I knew it would drive Chuck nuts to know I’d been running around with his dog, his male dog, in pink ribbons. What the hell? He deserved it. Chuck, that is, not Pick. The dog didn’t care what was on his ears.
 

After Pick got petted about thirty times, I went to the addresses, but they were a bust, so I’d have to ask around. After trips to the Dairy Queen and auto parts store, I hit pay dirt with a liquor store. Larry had an overdue account with them and they weren’t feeling too kindly toward him. I got his work address, a double-wide on the river. The clerk was chatty and told me that Larry’s mom had been in a serious car accident a couple of weeks ago. He’d left Claire prematurely. He could’ve taken her for more, but even criminals have obligations.

I followed the signs to Swifty Canoe Rental on the banks of the Black River. There were piles of canoes rusting beside a couple of ramshackle trailers with beer signs and what looked like a dead dog by the front door. Pickpocket was barking his head off. The dog didn’t twitch and I had to fight to keep Pick in the car. I walked past the dog, who lifted an eyelid, and went inside.
 

A beat-up metal desk and chair was the only furniture in a large room with exposed wallboard and wiring. Piles of life jackets and paddles littered the floor. A couple of empty ice cream freezers droned pointlessly and there was a thin layer of dirt on everything. A kettle belched out steam on a wood stove and filled the air with earthy moisture that felt good in my lungs.
 

“I could go to the other trailer,” I said to myself.

A voice behind me said, “Who are you talking to?”

I turned and it was a man, thirty-five, with a potbelly and thinning hair. He wore an undershirt tank top, sweatpants and flip-flops despite the cold. It took me a second to recognize him as Evan. Larry was in full redneck mode.

“Evan?” I said without thinking.

 
Larry stood with eyes half open chewing on an unlit cigar. He gave no sign that he heard me.

“Guess there’s no point in beating around the bush. I’m here about Claire,” I said.

“Who?” said Evan scratching his stomach.

“Claire Carter, your wife!” I said more shrilly than I intended.

“Look, girly. My wife’s Sissy and we’re closed for the season.”

“Does Sissy know what a jackass you are?”

“I don’t have to listen to this crap. Get off my property.”