Cafe Underground Presents
Francois volunteered to hold down the fort while Andi drove to her mother's and Lena rendezvoused with Ramirez and a forensics officer. Andi's sinking sensation returned as she pulled into a parking place half a block down--it felt like descending on a fast, permanently-downward elevator destined to never making a stop. She felt lightheaded, there was a softness to the sidewalks and the world seemed to move in ethereal, almost dreamlike slowness--she wondered vaguely if she'd driven safely, but there was no one to ask.
From the front door through the carpeted hallways she was assailed by memory--stealing three old standing Liberty silver dollars from her mother’s jewel box when she was nine...then denying it. She had a urge to confess it now, to beg forgiveness for every laps she’d ever had. She shook her head to clear those thoughts and unlocked her mother’s door.
Her mother was awake, but drifting with her eyes half-shut like a blind person's, her breath coming in labored pants and gasps. When Andi pulled a chair over and took her hand, she clung with a grip that reminded Andi of a parrot.
"I woke this morning and enjoyed waking." she said simply. Her shallow breathing didn't raise the covering sheets and she didn’t seem to have the strength to turn her head.
Andi gave the hand a squeeze. "Good." She searched her mother's face, trying to remember the younger woman who'd made breakfasts, brushed hair and helped with homework.
"I’ve decided..." she whispered. Then she sighed a wheezing gasp, not turning her head to look up, her lips cracked and drying mucus forming a slight crust along her eyelids. Her skin looked almost transparent against the white sheets, the stand that had held the IV was now pushed against the wall, evidently not needed for the moment.
"Decided what?" Andi replied, swallowing the tearful lump in her throat. The sinking feeling continued--now like a long drop in an airplane hitting an endless air pocket. "I love you." she cried, squeezing the bony fingers in both hands, her tears finally released, but now coming uncontrollably. She gasped for breath, shaking her head to clear her vision without releasing her mother's hand; trembling, the tears streaming down her neck to wet her blouse.
"I know." her mother's hand gave a quick squeeze. "I've always known...even when you didn't." Still without looking, she sighed a deep, wheezing sigh and her hand released its grasp. Andi, held herself frozen a moment, watching to see if that was her last, but her breath continued, shallow and uneven, but recognizable.
Andi sat another half-hour, but her mother didn't wake.
Nancy came beside her quietly, standing a long moment before saying anything. "That's the longest she's been awake all day. She fought to stay up for you...refused her pain medicine. She probably won't wake again."
"Can I stay a while?" Andi asked, feeling like a little girl needing permission.
"Of course." Nancy reassured. "But she made me promise to keep reminding you to go about your business. She was emphatic about it." Nancy dropped her hand to Andi's shoulder and offered a fleeting smile, then retired to the living room, leaving Andi alone with her mother and her troubled thoughts.
Andi drove back home slowly, acutely aware of the fragility of life--her mother's life, her life, the frail web of life on earth--aware that, there but for fortune, she herself could be staring into the coming void.
Francois was still at work as she trudged the stairs. He'd commandeered Lena's computer and monitor and was working both at the same time. He didn't seem to notice her presence from wherever it was among the bazaars and virtual libraries and ill-used alleys he was working.
Andi left him to it, escaping to sit on the edge of the bed with her eyes closed before drifting to the kitchen, where she sat at the table, staring out the window.
Lena came in, her conversation already plowing loudly as she tromped the last steps of the stairs. She'd gone through two or three items Andi didn’t catch before bursting, mid-sentence, into the kitchen.
"...and then I said in a flat-mean voice, ‘Listen, I don't play at being a detective, I work at it.’ With that, I turned on my heel and stomped out." She crowed triumphantly. "I've been waiting for years to use that line." She turned with a smug swagger to Andi for comment.
"What?" Andi replied, distracted.
"It's a Raymond Chandler line..." Lena gave her a questioning look. "You know. Philip Marlow, private eye." She stopped suddenly, dropped her hands and read Andi's face. "Your Mom?" she asked, her eyes wide and already damp.
"She couldn't even move her head or open her eyes." Andi choked, but didn't cry. After a deep breath she said, "She only said a couple of sentences, then drifted off again. Nancy said it’d been the most she'd done all day."
Lena sat quietly, fingers touching Andi's wrist, wishing she could take back her last few minutes. "Did she know you were there?" she whispered.
Andi nodded. "Said she knew I loved her even when I didn't know it."
It was enough to dampen Lena's cheeks. They sat, Lena sniffing ineffectually against her tears and Andi mute and dry wishing it would all go away.
They recovered to find Francois quietly sitting across the table. He held Andi's eyes without comment as the building ticked and the muffled outside noises slipped in to share their silence.
"It's a rite of passage. Suddenly your family doesn't stretch in front of you." His voice filled the kitchen, filling the emptiness. “Suddenly you’re near the head of the line.”
"You?" Andi asked, blinking once and slightly tilting her head.
Francois nodded. "My Dad ten years ago, my Mom three."
Lena sniffed. "I was fourteen when my mama died." Her face seized with loss.
Andi reached cover Lena's hand. Francois blinked. They sat, not speaking, looking into each other's eyes for what seemed a long, long time.
"I'm going for sandwiches. Turkey and Swiss for you?" Francois broke the spell, getting up and exchanging a glance with Lena. "Pastrami ruben, Andi? Doctor Pepper's all around?"
They nodded and Francois let himself out.
"How's the office?" Andi asked, recovering finally.
"A mess." Lena shook her head. "Worse than when we left it. We should have taken pictures, Max and friends trashed everything that wasn't already wrecked."
"What’d you get?"
"Not much. They'd listened to yesterday's messages and it took me a while to figure out which ones were new. There were nineteen hang-ups and six messages. Two hangups before Bodega's that seemed like the night before." The number of hang-ups was way more than usual--a detail neither of them wanted to comment on.
"The first two," Lena pulled out a note scribbled on a crumpled envelope. "were Ramirez and somebody named Gloria Mistosky. Ramirez wanted a call back and Mistosky is missing a sister who might have Alzheimers." She tapped the envelope with a finger and continued. "The calls after Bodega's; Janice Thompson regarding another witness, somebody named Joey Paretti who only left a phone number and a man named Sam..no last name..who was very nervous, wanting to talk about Titan Marine and the DEQ.
"Titan Marine and the DEQ?" Andi struggled back into working mode. "You ever contact anybody at Titan?"
Lena shook her head.
"Where’d Sam get our name?" she puzzled.
Lena shrugged, paused a moment, then continued. "After that were seventeen straight hang-ups." She paused again for comment, but Andi didn't risk one. She pinched her lips together and made a rolling gesture with her hand, encouraging Lena to continue.
"At least the cops left the machine on when they left." Lena sighed. "There were seven messages after that, two from Bobby Soxx about the broken door. He offered condolences, says he has an extra door and asks if there’s anything he can do."
Andi smiled distractedly and made a mental note to get back.
Lena tapped the note again. "Francois called once. Janice Thompson again, our mysterious Sam again, still nervous, somebody named Dave English, and Judith-Anne Chapman...who is very, very eager to talk."
"Judith-Anne Chapman." Andi murmured. Armando's friend who didn't get back to her and who'd cursed Max. She’d no doubt heard about Armando. Andi shrugged, she'd already talked to Bodega, Ramirez, and Francois. "I'll take Sam and Judith-Anne if you do Thompson, Bobby Soxx and the others." she offered.
"Sounds fair." nodded Lena, neither of them were smiling.
"How about mail?" Andi asked, getting up for a glass of water.
"Oh yeah." Lena recovered her bag from the back of her chair and rummaged for a thick bundle of letters.
Andi poured a glass for Lena and returned to the table without speaking. She sorted through the envelopes, tossing everything looking like junk-mail in front of Lena. Nine letters down was a plain white envelope the size of a birthday card addressed in block letters with a single capital “A” for a return address. She showed it to Lena, and ripped open the flap.
Inside was a colorful card with a cartoon of a seedy cafe with loitering beatnik types. The message printed over the picture said,
A loaf of bread, a jug of wine, a double-skinny, vanilla latte with hazelnuts, and thou...singing in the weirdness...
Inside, two sheets of paper were folded around two checks, each made out for twelve thousand dollars. The papers were copies of Mardell's invoices and the inside flap of the card was inscribed in the same block letters.
Threats have increased...here's the lists and some money to cover upcoming expenses.
I'll be out of touch a while, but will get back soon.
Andi passed the card to Lena and glanced at the invoices, they seemed all but identical to the ones she'd gone over with Bodega. The checks lay on the table. She was almost afraid to touch them.
"Twenty-four grand?" whistled Lena, looking up, her eyes opened round.
"I don't know what to do..." Andi picked one up and examined it front and back.
"I do!" shouted Lena. "They go to the bank. Armando’s personal accounts are probably already frozen, the OINC accounts will be next. We don’t have a minute to waste." She didn't even crack a smile.
"But." Andi started.
"But nothing. We're still working for him. If it’s appropriate we can give it back later. If we sit on it now we won't ever have a say." She glanced at her watch, set her jaw and stared levelly at Andi. "Sign the backs and I'll run 'em over." She dug in her bag for a pen.
Andi signed the checks and pushed them across the table, pursing her lips doubtfully.
Lena folded them in half and shoved them in her blouse’s pocket. "I’ll cash ‘em at his bank and carry a check to ours.” She had her bag on her shoulder already and was headed for the door. "Want to come for the ride?"
Andi shook her head, leaning back in her chair to stretch. "Don't be long. Francois’ll be right back." She smiled weakly as Lena turned, then she reached for the mail and continued sorting.
After Armando’s note there weren't any others tempting enough to open. She pushed the pile to where Lena’d been sitting; she'd come to believe Lena secretly enjoyed wading through the junk mail, bills and incoming checks.
The thought brought her up with a start--she must be burnt out if incoming money didn't arouse enough of a spark pull it from envelopes. She slid back her chair, grabbed the phone and wandered into the living room.
She dialed Judith-Anne Chapman first, listening to it ring six times, idly subdividing the time between rings into seven-four time--a bar of three and a bar of four with the ring on the downbeat. Judith-Anne's message invited her to leave her name and number after the beep. Andi said who she was, that she was returning the call and was half-way into relaying her number when Judith-Anne broke in at a gallop.
"Andi Wicksham. I'm glad you called back. I’m assured you're one of the good ones."
It took Andi a moment to respond. Judith-Anne came across like she'd maxed her caffeine allowance and added on something illegal. "Yeah...it's been phone tag."
"I hate those sonofabitches with a passion and want to help you flay their asses."
Andi almost winced at the vehemence lacing her words. "Who do you think did it?" she asked evenly, consciously toning it down so Judith-Anne might too.
Judith-Anne gave a forced laugh. "One of Mardell's heavies pulled the trigger, but Rebecca ‘the bitch’ Sauturne pulled the strings."
"Mardell?" Andi asked, wondering idly who in this crowd didn’t. "How much do you know about them?"
"Enough to know that we'd be smart to discuss it in person and not on the phone." she retorted bluntly.
Andi blinked. "Unless it's something absolutely urgent, I'm busy until tomorrow." Judith-Anne was going to be a hard person to warm up to no matter which side she was on.
"How about this evening." Judith-Anne pushed.
"I'd have to get back to you. My partner is out at the moment and we're in a bit of a fix. The cops've locked us out of our office."
"Pricks," spit Judith-Anne vehemently.
"Can I call you later? Maybe we can meet tomorrow."
“This is important.”
Andi wasn’t about to be bull rushed. “I’m really busy...” If all she wanted was hand holding it would have to take a seat in the back.
Judith-Anne grudgingly acceded. "OK."
"I'm told you might know something about the DEQ murders." Andi offered the comment almost as consolation.
"Not on the phone." Judith-Anne snarled. "Phone me when you can set a time." That was it, she hung up.
Andi noted the exchange into her book shaking her head. Judith-Anne's bark must be worse than her bite or she'd be doing serious time behind bars. Ramirez’ comment on attitude came across clear as a bell.
She tried the mysterious Sam's number and stared blankly out the window as it rang twice.
"Yeah." a cautious male voice answered.
"It's Andi Wicksham returning your call..." She put on her business voice, the one with the double-starched creases.
"I need to speak to you." he whispered hoarsely, as if afraid somebody might overhear.
"Yes. What do you want?"
"Not on the phone." he hissed.
Andi closed her eyes, already tired of that line. "Can you tell me what it's about. It's been a hard day so far."
"It's about Titan Marine."
"Yes?" Andi prodded impatiently. "You said that in your message."
"I need to talk to somebody." he repeated. "I'm not asking for money. I'm trying to give you information."
"OK." Andi sat down and picked up her notebook. "How urgent is it?"
"I’ll be dead tomorrow if this phone is bugged."
Andi shut her eyes again, feeling the pulsing behind her eyes. "Where are you calling from?"
"Southeast Stark."
"Can we meet in some public location, somewhere unlikely to be bugged?" She wasn't about to be lured into a corner where she could be sucker punched and wrapped in duct tape. The doorbell rang--Francois with their sandwiches. Andi carried the phone as she let him in.
"You know the pizza place just east of Tabor?"
Andi searched her memory. "On Stark? Of course...Flying Pie." A family sort of place with the advantage of being the best pizza in town.
"That's it. I'm wearing a red baseball hat and a black tee-shirt."
"In an hour?" Andi asked hopefully. She'd no interest in missing lunch.
"If it has to be." Sam grumbled.
"Who gave you my name?" Andi asked conversationally.
There was a moment of silence, then. "Not on the phone." he hissed before the line went dead.
"Where's Lena?" Francois asked lightly.
"At the bank." Andi replied. "We got a letter and money from Armando."
Francois nodded and shrugged as he pulled the sandwiches from the bag and set bottles of Dr. Pepper on the table. He settled in a chair and looked up at her. "Phone calls?" he asked, pointing to her hand.
Andi blushed. She still carried the receiver. "It's been a hell of a couple of days." she set the phone on the table and unwrapped her sandwich. "Heard anything new?”
"I understand it'll probably rain." he quipped.
Andi chortled politely. Portland was famous for inevitable rain.
The front door slammed and Lena called "It's me," as her shoes pounded the stairs. She swept into the kitchen, with a breathy "Hi." and collapsed in her chair as if finishing a marathon.
"Turkey on whole wheat, Swiss cheese, hold the mayo, dijon mustard, extra pickle." Francois pointed to her sandwich.
"Cool. Ice anybody?" Lena took a tray from the freezer and plopped cubes in tall glasses, brought them to the table and whipped a dish towel from the rack to twist the bottle caps off. "Sauerkraut and pastrami." she made a face and shook her head in disgust.
"With mustard and cheese, on rye, heated." Andi mumbled, her mouth full, grinning again at the world.
As Lena and Francois returned to work, Andi snagged her cellphone, grabbed a coat and headed off to Flying Pie. How bad could this be? She spent the drive around Mount Tabor telling herself to take it easy.
Sam was easy to identify in that quiet valley between lunch and dinner rushes, he was sitting impatiently by the door in a red baseball hat, Levi's and black tee shirt--the only patron there. Besides that, he leapt to his feet and asked "Andi Wicksham?" as she stepped across the threshold. He was maybe five eight, fifty pounds overweight, balding and twisted a blue warm-up jacket between his hands.
Andi nodded. "Are you thirsty?" Armando's retainer could foot the cost of a coke or beer.
Sam shook his head. His eyes almost bulged from his head and sweat stood on his forehead like beads--a stroke or heart attack candidate if she ever saw one. "Let's walk." he said, slipping on his wrinkled jacket and peeking cautiously out the window.
Andi shrugged and followed him around the corner.
They were almost past the AA hall before he said anything. "You know about Titan Marine?" he asked, looking up Washington to check the traffic.
Andi nodded, "Yeah." she granted.
"I’ve worked there seven years." he glanced at her with fear naked in his eyes, then hurried across the street in a gap between cars.
Andi hustled to keep abreast. "How’s the work?"
"Not too hard, not too dangerous. The work, that is." he amended, with a sideways glance. "It’s OK."
Andi kept silent. He hadn't called her to tell her that and she knew enough to let him lead.
"You know the DEQ guy killed a couple of years ago?" he asked, unconsciously speeding up to a jog and glancing nervously over his shoulder. "I saw it." He wiped his lips and jaw with his palm and continued around the corner heading east.
The houses they passed were older working-class, family homes on larger lots. This side of Mount Tabor had been the edge of town when they were built. In the eighty-some years they'd been here, few owners did much landscaping--yard after yard with a few shrubs along the edges and flat plots of grass beginning to brown. Sam had sped up to almost a trot.
Andi grabbed his arm. "We're more obvious going fast. You mean the guy in the boat?" Andi let two measures beat by. "Who told you to contact me?"
He gave her another worried look. "I don't know if I should say."
"Why should I believe you're not setting me up?" she asked, holding his eyes.
Sam kept silent a moment, walking slowly now, but it seemed to take concentration to keep it slow. "Jaimie told me." he said quietly. "I felt I could trust him 'cause he has Earth First! bumper stickers and talks about environmental things. He got your name from somebody else."
"Do you know who that was?" Andi asked, trying a smile to put them on a lighter track.
"Judith something." he said quickly, then he pinched his lips together as if he regretted saying.
"OK. That's great. Thanks." Andi nodded encouragingly, kept her smile and conversational tone. "Tell me about the guy in the boat."
Sam closed his eyes either to block out the vision or to draw it up. "It was a night shift when it was raining really hard, visibility maybe a hundred feet. I had to walk down to the dock because some dip-shit didn't bring up the blocking cleats and there weren't any more around." He looked at her unhappily. "I'm the go-fer...I was told to bring a set up." He took a couple of deep breaths and glanced across.
She nodded sympathetically, but kept her mouth shut.
"So I was slogging through this downpour most of the way down to the dock when I saw a guy in a boat maybe twenty feet off the bank." Sam nervously licked his lips. "I knew he wasn't fishing because it's this torrential rain and the river was getting white caps and nobody in their right mind would be out there anyway."
He took two breaths before continuing. "Then I saw another guy standing on the dock. He was screaming at the guy on the boat and yelling into a walkie-talkie, but I couldn't understand anything. Just then, another boat roars up with two guys, one of them stands up with a rifle or shotgun shoots over the guy's head. I that’s when I got scared."
Sam stepped along faster and faster. Andi lay a hand on his elbow again, pulling back slightly, just enough to slow him down.
"Then the second boat comes aside the first boat and they curse and yell things. I couldn't really hear, but they were angry. The first boat gets herded up to the dock where they make him lay down on the dock and then throw all his gear into the river."
Sam's eyes were rolling. "The guy who was on the dock swings a stick at the guy on dock. The guy just lay there even though he gets hit a few more times. Then they pick the guy up... dead or unconscious...toss his body in their boat and take off towing his."
Sam stopped walking and turned to Andi. "So there I was, hiding next to this skimpy boat winch, out in the open with no place to hide when I realize that the guy on the dock was going to turn and walk toward me."
There was a pause as Sam took another deep breath. "I freaked. What could I do? I started backing up as fast as I could until I saw him turning. Then I bent down like I was shielding my face from the rain." he pantomimed with an arm raised, the crook of his arm to his forehead, bent over watching the ground. "And started forward as if I'd just gotten that far. It was all I could do, there wasn't anywhere to hide." His eyes rolled. "I just hoped I looked too dumb and wet to have seen anything on the dock."
Sam closed his eyes again. He told his story well, she had no doubt it had been traumatic. He opened his eyes and started walking again.
"So, I slowly picked my way down toward the dock pretending I didn't see anything, not even looking up, until he pushed into me. He said he was security, but he wasn't in uniform. He poked me with his gun, demanding who I was. I was scared, but I put on my stutter and tried to look even stupider than I am...you learn that...pretending to be dumb keeps you from a lot of hard jobs."
Andi smiled encouragement.
"He was real mean, jabbing my ribs with his gun and yelling. Over and over, I told him they told me to come get cleats and that's what I was doing. Finally he calmed down and I said something about how crappy a night it was and how come him and me were assigned to come out the downpour." he smiled, knowing he'd been dumb like a fox.
Andi nodded again and again. "What a great story." she commended. "Smart."
"It's true." he insisted, his eyes wide open.
Andi smiled and lay a accepting hand on his arm. "Then what? Did you see him again?"
"He watched me get the cleats and followed me to the warehouse to see me get chewed out for taking so long." He looked into Andi's eyes for reassurance.
"Was that it?"
"Well, the next day our manager was talking with two men in suits and I was called over. They talked about yesterday's rain and asked me about having to go down and get cleats. I just said that it sucked that they'd make me go get them, like all I cared about was going out in the rain. They asked sneaky questions about the dock and the rain trying to find if I'd seen anything. I was sweating, but just kept complaining about getting the cleats as they looked back and forth wondering whether to believe me. A day or two later, when the guy’s body was found, the guys in suits came back and watched me for about an hour, but I wasn't called over."
Andi let the sound of their shoes fill the street for a minute before replying. "Was the security guard from the dock with them?"
Sam looked into her eyes. "No, but I’ve seen him talking with bosses. I keep my head down and duck out of sight. He's scary-looking even when he's not killing somebody."
"Would you recognize them if I showed you pictures?" Andi pushed, still quietly. They were strolling now, ambling up and down as if looking at front yard gardens.
"I think so." Sam said, nodding seriously.
"Let me see if I can get you some." She pulled out her cellphone and dialed Lena. "Scramble." she said when Lena finally answered, then glanced at her watch and punched in seven, three, five. "Lena?"
A moment later Lena came on sounding concerned. "Andi, what's up?"
"I'm meeting with Sam and need pictures of Mardell's team, the Riparian's brass, everybody important. It’s important."
Lena talked to Francois before returning to Andi. "I got Armando’s photos of Jesse Clayton and Thomas Boyd, but the oversight people’s photos are digital files."
"Can't you print them?" Andi complained urgently.
Lena scoffed. "Not on this printer. Francois's shipping them to his place to get 'em in color. He'll pick ‘em up and deliver. Where are you?"
Andi looked at a street sign, "Seventy eighth and Harrison. There's a little corner store up a block or two. We'll get a snack and wander back to Flying Pie. We'll keep walking until we see him."
"He's out the door." Lena reported. "Anything else?"
"Nope." Andi responded. "See ya soon."
"Sayonara." Lena quipped.
Andi smiled at Sam. "Sam's not your real name is it?"
"No." he admitted nervously. "Jaimie said I should make up one." He looked at his shoes in embarrassment.
"That's OK. You can be Sam to us." Andi reassured him. "Want a candy bar?" They went into the little store, dallied fifteen minutes, talking mostly about what he did for Titan, then walked back toward Flying Pie. Francois must have been breaking speed limits--his brown Subaru pulled up almost immediately.
Andi took the manila envelope he handed out the window, said "Thanks" and Francois gunned his engine and sped away.
She and Sam retreated to Andi's car where she tossed the envelope on Sam's lap and pulled out into the flow of traffic, watching her mirrors for signs of interest.
Beside her, Sam pulled out the photos and gasped. "It's them." he whispered. He started breathing faster again.
"Ok." Andi soothed him, peeking in her mirror once more before swinging to the curb. "Tell me which people you know."
"This is the man on the dock...the mean looking one." Sam's voice was suddenly wheezy and he eyes were opened wide again. He held an eight and a half by eleven color copy of Hadrian Smiley's digital photo, staring as if transfixed.
"He's the one who saw you in the rain?" Andi confirmed.
Sam nodded and swallowed painfully. "On the dock."
Andi gave him another moment, then reached and pulled that picture from his hands. "Who else have you seen?"
He recognized both Robert Greg and Gary Plaskett, from their presence around the job site and identified Jesse Clayton and Thomas Boyd as the men questioning him after the murder. He didn't recognize Bryce Smith or Rebecca Sauturne.
"What prompted you to call me now?"
"That man came around Tuesday asking me questions again." he pointed to Hadrian Smiley. “I think they don't believe me and I'm scared." His voice took on a little-boy tone.
"This is serious stuff." Andi turned and appealed to him. "Are you willing to tell the police what you've told me?"
"I don't want to, it wouldn’t be safe. That's why I called you." Sam's agitation returned. "They'll want my name." he cried helplessly.
Andi didn't answer for a moment. "Let me talk to a friend and see if she can negotiate witness protection. You’re not safe now, at least its a direction to consider." She knew the program lacked the resources to hide the number of witnesses needing the service and didn't trust that they could keep their secrets from the resources Riparian could muster, but it was the highest card she had to play.
"They know where I live. Jaimie said they tap people's phones. They know I saw it." Sam wailed, suddenly aware of the enormity of what he'd just done, aware that the world chewed up people like him every day.
First things first, Andi decided. "Do you have a car?" she asked, trying to put as much confident assurance into her tone as she could.
Sam nodded and pointed back over his shoulder toward Flying Pie.
"Are they expecting you at work before Monday?" she asked, using her professional monotone to bolster credibility.
"No." Sam replied simply, his head sank between his soft shoulders. "I don't think I'm safe at home." he admitted in a small voice. "Jaimie said that just Thursday the man on the dock asked him what I’d was doing that night. They know."
"Can you call in sick? That would be better than quitting. You'd get money out of it too."
Sam nodded, staring at the tips of his shoes and looking more and more abandoned.
Andi pulled her car to the curb and turned to him. "Do you trust me? If you do, I can find a place for you to stay until we can figure a safe way to involve the cops, but you'll have to stay inside by yourself. And after you talk you'll have to move away, you might never get back to your apartment."
Sam lifted his head, nodded and said, "OK. Yes. OK." He swallowed painfully again, his eyes were damp and his hands shaking as they squeezed the envelope of photos.
"And you're going to have to talk to the police." She caught his eyes. "They're the only ones who can protect you for any time."
Sam opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. He tried again, then gave up and nodded--his sheen of sweat and slight tremor lent him a terrorized look.
"OK then." Andi straightened up and tried to sound assured and decisive. "We'll drive to your car and I’ll follow to get stuff from your apartment. Just two bags, do you understand?" She wondered how risky it would be--if Mardell had its eye on Sam they'd likely be watching, but to uproot him with nothing was a strategy destined to fail.
"What’s your address." She fished out a pen and opened her notebook. "Do you have a back door?"
Sam carefully printed his address. "I got a back door."
"Give me time to go around back and let me in. We'll gather what you want...important things, OK? Photo’s and keepsakes." She watched his face.
Sam's eyes were restless. He was having second thoughts, maybe changing his mind, certainly wishing he hadn't opened up this secret. At last his eyes returned to hers, he gave a slow, damp-eyed sigh and said, "OK..."
Andi let him out a block from his car and swung round the block to get behind him. She punched in Francois' cellular number, waited for him to answer, then asked him to scramble. "Sam needs witness protection. He saw one of the DEQ murders. Can you stash him in one of your priest holes?"
"I'm still in my car." Francois' tinny voice responded as if he were expecting the request. "How about if I make sure you're not trailing a spook?"
"Sounds good, we’re going to go pick up some belongings." She read Sam's address as Sam's car gave a slight lurch and swung from the curb. "Gotta go."
"I'll buzz Lena and see you there." Francois volunteered quickly. He hung up without waiting and Andi pulled out after Sam.
The apartment complex was of the stuccoed, sprawling variety, the ugly type with big parking lots. It needed paint, the management was behind in hauling away auto carcasses and litter lined scraggly bushes and fences lending an uncared-for look of desperation.
Sam pulled in, bouncing as he dipped through gutter up the driveway. He pulled into a place across from a group of youths drinking beer. Following by twenty or thirty yards, Andi pulling past without looking and backed-in between a pickup and a van.
She jumped out and jogged back. Sam wasn't in sight; she looked back to his car which was empty. With welling desperation, she saw that his ground floor apartment was second from the end and walked quickly around to the back.
The apartment had a sliding-glass patio door between a decrepit love seat covered with cat hair and a weathering pile of magazines. She reached for the door's handle and pulled.
It didn't open. She tugged again, jerking and rattling, but it was latched. Had Mardell’s team waited inside or grabbed Sam as he got out of his car?
A light shown from the hallway--she rapped insistently and cupped her hands beside her eyes to cut the glare. The kitchen was marginal, dirty and judged from the open cupboard next to the sink, minimally stocked. She rapped again, this time louder. A dining room table stood beyond the kitchen, piled with bottles and boxes and stray odds and ends. Still no sign of life. She knocked again--harder.
Finally Sam appeared, wide eyed, hurrying awkwardly to the door to flip open the lock. "I had to use the bathroom." he explained as she tugged open the sliding door.
Andi slid the door closed behind her and re-fixed the lock. "What do you want to bring?" she demanded insistently.
Sam made a slow turn around the dining room as if lost. "I don't know." He wandered toward the bedroom.
Andi followed, wrinkling her nose at the sharp, musty smell of unwashed clothes and souring grime. "Do you have family pictures?" she asked, looking for an album among the unorganized piles of clothes, old boxes and junk.
From under his bed, Sam pulled a dog-eared shoe box and a flat metal box draped with more than a year or two's dust bunnies. He sat on the bed and languidly poked at the contents.
Andi seized a half empty carton of smaller boxes and dumped it’s cardboard spawn on the floor. She took the items from Sam and placed them carefully in her box, "Any mementos or things you really like?"
Sam turned his head, glancing at each pile about him in turn. "No." he sadly shook his head.
"How about clothes?" Andi pushed, swinging open the closet to find nothing hanging. It’s floor was filled with more detritus and empty boxes. Sam swept his hand vaguely around the room, but remained seated on the bed. Andi picked up the least grimy of the shirts and pants on the floor. A second pair of shoes peeked out from under the bed--Andi tossed them on top. "Anything else? We're going leave in a moment."
Sam shrugged, pulled an almost-new jacket with the Raider's logo on it from under the bed clothes and got to his feet. "That's all." he mumbled, wandering out the door as if in shock.
Andi shut her eyes, wondering if this was really going to help him--this disruption might be worse than risking Mardell. She picked up the box and followed. There was a radio-tape player beside the bed, Andi unplugged it and tossed it and three old Phish tapes into the box.
In the bathroom, Sam took his toothbrush and toothpaste and a purple towel that hung over the bathtub. Andi laid them in her box and retreated to the kitchen. There was nothing that she'd value on the dining room table, but she waved her hand toward it before stepping into the kitchen. "Do you have a favorite cup or plate?" She felt desperate to provision him with things he would value, but after whatever years he’d been living here and working, it seemed he had next to nothing.
Sam picked a mug with a picture of Princess Di.
Andi carefully tucked it among his other belongings and turned back. "Books? Family bible? Anything else?" she pleaded.
He sadly shook his head and held his Raider's jacket close.
Andi looked at him. What was she doing to this man? He was only marginally functional and had little enough in this world. She almost abandoned the idea, before deciding that if he was too unhappy he’d be free to return, safe or not.
"OK." she told him as she stepped through the back door. "I’ll carry the box. Lock up and come out your front door. If you see me, pretend you don't know me. My car’s about half-way down from yours."
Sam clutched his jacket and nodded, shut the door behind her and twisted the lock. Andi put on a nonchalant swagger as she carried the carton around the end of the apartments and cut across the dying lawn. She evoked no attention, even the lager-louts in parking lot had better things to do than ogle a woman carrying boxes to her car.
Sam ambled, circling by his car as if to say farewell, then strolled on. Andi tossed his box in the back seat, unlocked the passenger door and started the engine. Sam wandered over, casually opened the door and slipped in.
Andi pushed at his shoulder, encouraging him to bend out of sight, but he couldn't do more than lower his head toward the dash. She cursed and rummaged a cap and dark glasses. Sam smiled thanks, slipped them on and leaned back in his seat like a sultan.
She pulled from the space as quickly as possible, heading for the exit furthest from his car. Once on the street she turned away from the apartment into the surrounding suburban maze.
Her mirror showed nobody following. Zig-zagging south to Division and turned west, still anxious, she was almost surprised when her cellphone buzzed.
"Yeah." she barked into it.
"Francois here." chirped in her ear, then a few clicks and a scrambled static.
Andi juggled the phone and steered one handed as she set the scrambler dials. The static on the phone didn't clear. She cursed and tried again. The same. She then glanced at her watch and understood, it was just past six--she pushed in seven, four, six.
"Finally figured it out?" Francois laughed. "You buzzed off like a bat from hell, so I headed toward town on Stark."
"I'm on Division. Just crossing 205. I'll cut north on 82ed and west on Stark, you should be able to see anyone following."
"Check." replied Francois. "Take the first left off Stark, then the second right up Alder. I'll see who turns at 82ed, then watch you go by at the next corner. Keep this line open OK?"
"Sure." Andi drove the maze nervously, the phone in her hand, expecting at any moment to hear Francois announce a tail. She slowly threaded her way up Alder to 76th before he said anything.
"Nobody even four blocks back and no one on the next streets over." he announced confidently.
"Meet by the hoops on Mount Tabor?" she asked, turning left.
"Will I get a TV?" Sam asked anxiously.
Andi glanced over, licked her lips nervously and didn't answer.
Parked in the lot by the basket ball courts she introduced Sam to Francois. Francois shook hands formally, as if meeting Sam was an honor. Then he turned to Andi. "Give me your phone."
He took the phone, popped the back off it, exchanged a few plug-in chips, clicked the back in place and punched in numbers. "Lena? It's me...checking Andi's new scrambles. First one?" He carefully set the dials, murmured, "Got me?" He listened, responded "Cool, cool,” fiddled and listened again. “OK, great. Bye," He hung up and tossed the phone back. "She says to stop by Pastaworks for grated romano."
Andi responded with a surly squint, transferred Sam's box of belongings and passed on the request for a TV. Sam stood by Francois' Subaru rocking from foot to foot.
"Of course." Francois reassured Sam with a wide, friendly smile. “Even cable." he grinned. "You like pizza?" He nodded to Andi--a minute later he pulled out with Sam strapped into the passenger seat and rock and roll leaking through the rolled up windows.
Andi watched them round the corner, hefted her phone with a crooked smile and followed toward Hawthorne for Lena's sheep romano.
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