A Long Line of Dead Men (Matthew Scudder #12)

A Long Line of Dead Men (Matthew Scudder #12) Page 26

At the meeting we'd just attended, I'd bought a meeting book during the secretary's break, and I went through it now with him, pointing out some meetings in his neighborhood. He asked me which ones I went to, and I told him I went mostly in my neighborhood. "Every meeting has its own style," I said. "If you try different ones you'll find out which one suits you best."

"Like different bars."

I gave him my card, one of the minimalist ones with my name and phone number. "That's my office," I said, "but when I'm not there the calls get forwarded automatically to my home. If it's an emergency you can call me any hour, day or night. Otherwise it's not a good idea to call after midnight. If it's after midnight and you get antsy, you can always call Intergroup. The number's in the meeting book, and they've got volunteers taking calls around the clock."

"You mean just call up and talk to a stranger?"

"It's better than picking up a drink."

"Jesus," he said, "you've given me a lot to think about, you know that? I mean, I didn't see this coming."

"Neither did I."

"You called me, I figured what the hell, I'd meet you, drink a glass of beer or two, gab a little, maybe I'd get lucky and you'd spring for the beers. I didn't figure they'd be the last beers I'd ever have in my life." He laughed. "I'd known that, maybe I'd've ordered something imported."

18

It was well past midnight by the time I got home. Elaine's Girls' Night Out had evidently had an early ending; she was sleeping soundly, and didn't stir when I got in beside her. I was exhausted- it had been a long day- but the time I'd spent with Jim Shorter had energized me, leaving me tired but wired. My mind was all over the place, and I thought I was going to have to get up and read or watch television to unwind. I was bracing myself to do just that when sleep came along and took me by surprise.

Over breakfast I told her how I'd spent the evening. "I don't know if he'll ever get to another meeting," I said, "let alone get sober and stay sober. He says he didn't drink that much and it didn't screw him up that badly, and for all I know he's right. But I'll tell you, it did me good. They say there's nothing like working with a newcomer to reinvigorate your own commitment to the program."

"Did he have anything helpful on the murder in Forest Hills?"

"Nothing," I said. "He had a lot of questions and a couple of theories, but he didn't suggest anything I hadn't thought of myself. As far as Forest Hills is concerned, I think I'm going to have to go out there. What's the forecast? Is it going to rain?"

"Hot and humid."

"That'll be a change, won't it?"

"More of the same tomorrow. Possibility of rain on Monday."

"That won't do me any good," I said. "I was hoping it would rain today, or at least threaten to."

"Why?"

"So I could get out of traipsing out to Forest Hills. I ought to see Alan Watson's widow and I'm not looking forward to it."

"No, but you'll do it," she said. "And if it was raining you'd go out there in the rain, knowing you. It'd be the same trip, only you'd get wet. So you're lucky it's only hot and humid."

"I'm glad you pointed that out to me."

"So enjoy yourself with the widow. What's the matter? Did I say something wrong?"

"No, of course not. Although I can't say I expect to enjoy it."

"Whatever, darling. Just so you're back here by eight this evening. We've got a date, remember?"

"You still want to go?"

"Uh-huh. We should get there by ten, and we'll want to have dinner first. Should I cook something for us or do you want to eat someplace downtown?"

I told her not to cook, that there was no end of nice restaurants within a five-minute walk of Marilyn's Chamber. "Although for fifty bucks a couple," I said, "you'd think the bastards could feed us."

"The body parts are just for show," she said. "It's considered bad form to eat them."

I went across the street to my hotel, collected my mail at the desk, went upstairs, and called the number I had for Alan Watson. It rang ten times, unanswered by human being or machine. I sorted my mail, threw out most of it, wrote checks for the rent and phone bill, checked the number with Queens Information to make sure I had it right, then dialed it again and listened to it ring another eight or ten times.

I broke the connection and called Lewis Hildebrand. The woman who answered told me he was working and offered to give me his office number. I told her I already had it, and when I dialed Hildebrand answered it himself.

"You're as bad as I am," he said. "Working on a Saturday. Though I don't know if I'm working or I just felt like getting out of the house. There's something extremely relaxing about a suite of offices when you're the only person around. It feels as though the whole place belongs to me."

"Doesn't it?"

"Well, yes, in a manner of speaking. But it's different when I'm the only one here. Late at night, or on a weekend. I had a call from Ray Gruliow."

"I was there."

"A second call. As of last night, there are still two members he hasn't been able to reach. Three of the others said they definitely can't make it on Tuesday, and a fourth has a conflict but will try to be there."

"Assuming he can't work it out, how many is Gruliow expecting?"

"Eight."

"That's including you and Gruliow?"

"Yes, and you'll be the ninth person present. I believe we'll be expecting you at three-thirty."

"I thought three o'clock."

"We'll be getting together at three," he said. "The members. The consensus was that we'd have half an hour together to discuss the situation, and then you'll join us."

"All right," I said. "That sounds good. I don't know exactly what role I'll play, but I suppose I'll be reporting on what I've determined and making recommendations as to what I think you ought to do."

"I would assume so, yes."

"But you're the man who hired me, so I wanted to give you a preliminary report." And I did, going over what I'd learned and what I'd come to suspect, summarizing, running it all down as much for my own benefit as for his.

"It sounds," he told me, "as though you've done a great deal."

"I know it does," I said. "It sounds that way to me, too. God knows I've been busy. I haven't kept track of my hours, but it seems to me I've put a lot of time in."

"If you've done more work than your retainer covers-"

"I don't know if I have or not, and that's something I don't want to worry about now. No, the point is I've done a lot and I've even assembled a fair amount of data, but I'm not sure what it amounts to. Am I any closer to wrapping it up than I was when we sat down to lunch at the Addison Club? I don't know that I am."

"What would constitute 'wrapping it up'?"

"Answering the major questions."

"Which are?"

"Is someone killing off the members? If so, who is he? And where is he, and how can we nail him for it? I'd say those are the main questions. I'm inclined to answer the first question with a tentative yes, but as far as the other questions are concerned, I'm still completely in the dark."

"Answering them would constitute bringing the entire case to a conclusion, wouldn't it?"

"I guess it would."

"So it's hardly surprising they're as yet unanswered. There's another question which I would certainly call a major one, although it's less a matter for investigation than for decision. Is it time for us to go public? Have we gone as far as we can reasonably expect to go with a discreet, low-profile investigation?"

"That's a big question," I agreed. "But it's not one for me to answer. I'm glad there'll be eight of you at Gruliow's house Tuesday. I'd rather there were more. I wish you could all be there."

"So do I."

"Because the question of where we go from here is one of the things you'll have to decide," I said. "And I guess that's when you'll have to decide it."

I spent the rest of the day in my room at the Northwestern. Every hour or so I tried the number in Forest Hills, and each time it went unanswered. I made other phone calls throughout the day, and watched the Yankees on the MSG channel. (Elaine asked me once, in all apparent seriousness, why they had named a cable channel after a food additive. Madison Square Garden, I told her. Oh, she said.) Wade Boggs tied it for New York with a rare home run in the top of the ninth. Two innings later, Travis Fryman hit a hard grounder down the third-base line. Boggs bobbled it, then threw it over Mattingly's head. Fryman wound up on second and scored on a shot to left by Cecil Fielder, all of which made them very happy in Detroit.

I turned off the set and the phone rang. It was Jim Shorter.

"I hope I'm not, you know, interrupting anything," he said. "But you gave me your card and said to call anytime."

"I'm glad you did," I said. "How's it going?"

"Not so bad. I haven't had a drink yet today."

"That's great, Jim."

"Well, it's early. The day's not over yet. Anyway, there's days when I don't drink at all." And, after a pause, "I went to a meeting."

"Good for you."

"I guess it was good for me. I don't know. I can't see how it could have been bad for me, right?"

"Right. Where'd you go?"

"The same place we went last night. I put a buck in the basket and I had two cups of coffee and a handful of cookies. You can't lose on a deal like that, can you?"

"The price is right."

He told me about the meeting. The crowd was lighter than last night, he said, but he recognized a couple of the same people. He gave me some highlights from the speaker's story.

"I wanted to raise my hand," he said.

"You could have."

"People who'd been sober for less than ninety days were raising their hands and giving their day count and getting a round of applause. I was going to raise my hand and say it was my first day, but I thought, shit, let me wait a few days."

"Whatever you're comfortable with."

"Maybe I'll go again tonight," he said. "Is it okay to go to more than one in a day?"

"You can go all day long," I said. "There's no limit."

"Are you going? Maybe I could check out a West Side meeting, see if there's a difference."

"I'd like that," I said honestly, "but I've got plans tonight."

"Another time, then. How's the case coming?"

"Let's say it's a slow day."

"Well, I won't keep you," he said. "Maybe I'll, uh, give you a call tomorrow."

"Anytime," I said. "I mean it."

I was crossing the lobby on my way home when I remembered I hadn't put Call Forwarding back on. I went upstairs, punched in the code, dialed the apartment across the street, and told Elaine I'd be home in two minutes. "So why call?" she said. "Oh, right. Call Forwarding."

She was already dressed when I got there, wearing the leather outfit she'd modeled for me earlier, along with more perfume and makeup than was her custom. "What I decided," she explained, "is that a dungeon is no place for understatement."