Bleeding Hearts Read online

  The man was crawling slowly toward the door. He left a vivid red trail as he moved.

  Tom sighed. Some people just didn’t know when they were dead. In two steps he was across the room and a few seconds later the guy knew for sure that he was finished.

  Tom cleaned up in the bathroom and left the body there on the kitchen floor.

  He was very glad to get back to Holly Point. Jody had the Humpty Dumpty Fun Palace practically gleaming. It felt like home. Just like their bedroom when they were kids, this place belonged to them.

  They sat on the floor, eating salami sandwiches. Tom didn’t think anymore about the house in Azusa or the dead man.

  Chapter 29

  It was nearly two a.m. when the phone rang.

  Spaceman swore groggily, reached out, swept the receiver up. Someday, he thought with a fuzzed corner of his mind, someday I’m actually going to sleep all the way through the night without this damned machine waking me up.

  Actually, this time he didn’t mind so much being disturbed, because his dreams hadn’t been all that terrific. He kept seeing faces of people he thought he should recognize, but didn’t. The people were all dead, and he seemed to see blame in their wide-open, staring eyes.

  So he was almost glad when the phone wrecked his sleep.

  He made a sound into the receiver, signifying that he was ready to talk.

  “Is this Kowalski?” The voice was muffled, as if it were being filtered through a handkerchief.

  “Yeah, so?”

  “You’re looking for your son, right?”

  He sat up. “Who is this?”

  “Never mind that. I’ll do the talking. I might be able to help you find him.”

  “How could you do that?”

  “Maybe I know where he is.”

  Spaceman fumbled for his cigarettes on the nightstand. “Either you know or you don’t. If you know anything, I strongly suggest you tell me.”

  The voice chuckled. “Okay, I’ll tell you. For a price.”

  “How much?”

  “Gee, ain’t it hard to know how much your son is worth?”

  Spaceman flicked ashes toward the empty coffee cup, just missing. “How much?” he asked again.

  “One hundred bucks. And cheap at that, right?”

  “Fine. Give me your name and address. If the dope pans out, I’ll mail the money.”

  “Whaddaya think I am, anyway?”

  “I don’t think you want to hear that, do you?”

  “Fuck you. We do it my way or not at all.”

  “What’s your way?”

  There was the sound of a deep breath being taken. “That’s better. Okay. There’s an empty grocery store near Lincoln and Olympic.”

  He visualized a map. “Yeah, okay.”

  “Come there. Now. Bring the dough and be here in thirty minutes or the deal is off. Got that?”

  Spaceman sighed, exhaling toward the ceiling. “I got it.”

  “Good.” The connection was broken with a click.

  He didn’t get up right away. Instead, he finished the cigarette and replayed the phone conversation in his mind. It was probably nothing. Still, he had to take the chance. He rolled from the bed.

  After some scrounging, and by raiding his poker stash, he managed to scrape up the hundred dollars. Then he dressed quickly.

  It was fifteen minutes past the appointed time when he pulled up in front of the empty storefront. LoPressi and Sons read the fading sign over the door. The street was almost empty, except for an occasional car passing, and one old man pushing a shopping cart. He went from trash can to trash can, stopping by each one to paw through the contents, sometimes removing a new treasure to add to the pile already in the cart.

  It didn’t look like such a bad way to spend your life.

  He got out of the car and walked to the front door, which was boarded up. He ducked into the alley and went around to the rear. The back door was ajar, and he stepped through, into complete darkness. After two steps, he stopped.

  “You’re late,” the same voice said, this time without benefit of handkerchief.

  Spaceman didn’t answer.

  The room was suddenly flooded with light.

  The boy standing there looked vaguely familiar, but maybe that was because he was just another punk, and they were all pretty much the same. He stared at Spaceman through barely opened eyes. “You bring the bread?”

  “You have the dope?”

  “Well, not exactly.”

  There was a sudden movement behind Spaceman, and the door slammed shut. He looked around, not really surprised to see three more kids standing there. He didn’t think any of them were friends of Robbie’s, but he couldn’t be sure.

  “This is real cute,” he said.

  “Hand over the money, and nothing bad has to happen here,” the leader said.

  “Where’s Robbie?”

  “Who the hell knows?” He laughed nastily. “Who the hell cares? He’s a creep.”

  Spaceman had been a cop too long for a crack like that to bother him. Much. “Well, I guess our business is finished, then, isn’t it?” He stepped to the side and toward the door. The boys blocked his way, four of them, staring him down. “This is pretty fucking stupid,” Spaceman said.

  “We don’t think so. We think you’re the stupid one.”

  That was a valid point. Spaceman sighed and held up one hand, like a traffic cop. “Why don’t we end this right now, before you boys get into a lot of trouble?” He was starting to get mad.

  “Give us the cash.”

  “Fuck you,” Spaceman said shortly. He took another step toward the door.

  One of the punks flashed a switchblade. “Maybe you need a little persuading,” he said in a TV tough guy voice.

  Something snapped inside Spaceman. Maybe it was seeing the knife that did it. Over the last several days, he’d had too much experience with just how much damage a blade could inflict on the human body. Maybe he was just tired. Or scared. Without even thinking about what he was doing, Spaceman shoved one hand inside his jacket; when the hand came out again, it held his gun. “Anybody moves even a hair, he’s liable to end up in a lot of little pieces,” he said tightly. “Any of you creeps ever see what a gun this size can do to a person’s face?”

  The boys froze. “Hey, man, cool it,” the leader said. “It was just a joke, that’s all. Can’t you take a goddamned joke?”

  “Am I laughing?”

  “We didn’t mean nothing.”

  “Do you know anything about where Robbie is?”

  “No. I just heard that he’d split and you was looking for him.”

  “So you vermin thought you’d cash in on somebody else’s troubles, is that it? You make me sick.”

  They were nervously watching the gun. “Look, man, why don’t you just forget it? You go, we’ll go. Pretend it never happened.”

  “I should blow you all away, and save the world a lot of trouble.” Spaceman realized that he almost meant it. The amount of anger and hatred he felt for these kids scared him. He really wanted to kill the bastards, and maybe he’d do it.

  “You’re crazy, man,” one of them said.

  “Sure. Why shouldn’t I be crazy? Everybody else in the fucking world is crazy. Why not me?”

  One of the boys made a sudden move, probably trying to get away, and Spaceman lunged, jamming the gun barrel into his ribs. “I said, don’t move!” he screamed in a voice that didn’t sound like his own.

  The boy began to cry.

  The insane tableau remained intact for almost two minutes. Then, as suddenly as it had fled, his reason returned. He pulled the gun back. “Get the hell out of here,” he said wearily. “If I ever see any of you again, I’ll bust you. No matter if you’re innocent as a virgin. I’ll think of something dirty and I’ll make it stick. Got that, creeps?”

  They all nodded, without saying anything. Nobody moved for yet another moment; then, as one, they bolted through the suddenly opened door, and w
ere gone.

  Spaceman leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. Sweat made his whole body feel clammy. He wiped at his face with his sleeve.

  It was a long time before he had the strength to leave the building and walk back to his car.

  Chapter 30

  Blue wondered what the hell was bugging his partner.

  Besides the case, of course, and the additional fact that his son was missing. Just those things were enough to make anybody crazy, but Blue decided that there was something else weighing on Spaceman. He came into the squadroom looking like a thing that had been warmed over once too often before being served.

  Despite his curiosity, however, Blue hadn’t been Kowalski’s partner even this long without learning a few things along the way. He didn’t ask why the man was the color of old yogurt or why his clothes looked even more than usually as if they’d been slept in.

  They were still in the office when a report came in that Steven Lawrence’s car had been found parked outside the Sweatshop. Although it seemed as if Spaceman had no interest at all in pursuing the matter, they drove over to the bar.

  It was too early for the Sweatshop to be open, but the door was unlocked. A sign in the foyer proclaimed that auditions were being held. A crowd of about ten young men, apparently lured by the promise of a job and maybe fame, were waiting in line for a chance to show their stuff, whatever that might be.

  Spaceman and Blue worked their way through the crowd and into the bar itself. “Excuse us,” Spaceman said, raising his voice a little so he’d be heard over the conversation and muted rock music. “We’re looking for D.C. Brigham?”

  A woman at the end of the bar raised her head. “You found her, honey.”

  She wasn’t exactly what they’d been expecting. For one thing, she was a she, or the best damned imitation Blue had ever seen. Brigham looked like somebody’s maiden aunt, wearing a well-cut and obviously expensive linen suit, with a rope of pearls that Blue knew had to be real. The eccentricity was expressed in the Billy Squier tee shirt worn with the suit, and in the vivid orange hair. Even with the hair, she was a good-looking woman.

  She waved a long cigarette holder in their direction. “Come on over, dear, but I’ll say right now, you’re too old and rotund for the job. No offense.” She squinted to look beyond Spaceman. “Blondie there, you might make it. Depends on what your body looks like out of that ice cream suit you’re wearing.”

  Blue felt a flush of red flood his face as he stepped forward. “We’re police officers,” he said flatly, showing his badge. “Detectives Kowalski and Maguire.”

  “So sorreee,” she said airily. “What brings you two down here?”

  “One of your customers got himself killed the other night.”

  “I heard.” Her face, all angles and not hiding her fifty years, but still attractive, grew serious. “He wasn’t the first to die lately, was he? You people have to do something to stop all the pretty young men in this town from getting killed.”

  “We’re trying,” Spaceman said. “Did you know Lawrence?”

  “Know him?” Her gaze flickered toward the small stage, where one of the hopeful waited, wearing only jeans and a smile. The smile was strained, but determined. “Well, not to speak of. Not much beyond the amenities. He was a pretty regular customer.”

  “Came in a lot, did he?”

  “Once a week, maybe.”

  “And I suppose he left with a lot of different men?”

  “He never left with anybody, as far as I know.”

  “He didn’t?” Spaceman said skeptically.

  She looked at him, seeming amused. “No. Oh, he might slip into the backroom or out into the parking lot for a little fun, but I think he always left alone.”

  “Except that night,” Blue said. “Since his car was still in the lot.”

  She only shrugged.

  “Did you see who he left with?”

  “No.”

  “How about someone else?”

  “I don’t think so. Mick was off that night. Flu. So it was just Karl and me behind the bar. There was a big crowd in here. We were both too busy to pay much attention. Prince Charles could have left here with Henry Kissinger, and we wouldn’t have noticed. Sorry. If I could help, I would, believe me.”

  They believed her, but that didn’t make them any happier. Blue nodded their thanks, and they walked toward the door.

  “Okay, sweet thing,” they heard her say to the young man waiting on the stage. “Drop those jeans and let me see what you’ve got.”

  Neither of them turned around.

  They were no sooner in the car than a message came in from McGannon. He wanted to see them immediately. Spaceman sighed and leaned his head back against the seat. “Maybe I’m getting too old for this kind of work.”

  “Shit,” Blue replied.

  There was a silence, then: “I almost killed some kids last night.”

  So. That was the problem. “What happened?”

  Spaceman told him about the phone call and the events in the empty store. “I came so close to pulling the trigger, to blowing one of the bastards away,” he said. “It scares me to think about it.”

  “They had a knife on you, right?”

  Spaceman waved away the knife and its implications. “I screwed up, man. Lost fucking control.”

  “It happens to everybody once in a while.”

  Spaceman turned his head to look at him. “Yeah? When was the last time it happened to you? Shit, I doubt you ever even put your deodorant to the test.”

  Blue watched the traffic. “The last time I blew it,” he said, “was a few years ago. A Vietcong colonel was asking me questions and he wasn’t crazy about my answers. Blew me out of my frigging skull. So I know all about going crazy, partner. I could probably give lessons.”

  He parked and got out of the car quickly, without even waiting to see if Spaceman was following him.

  “Jerry Potter is dead.”

  McGannon’s words hung in the air for a long time.

  Spaceman turned and hit the wall with his open hand and Blue sat down quickly.

  McGannon gave them the moment, then said, “It must have happened just after you spoke to him. The cops out there found your card and called us just a little while ago. A knife was used on him.”

  Blue thought about the bright, sunny kitchen and the terrible lemonade. “Damn,” he said. “It isn’t fair.”

  McGannon shrugged. “John Kennedy once said that life isn’t fair. Then he got his head blown off, so maybe he knew what he was talking about.”

  Spaceman turned around. “Was it Hitchcock?”

  “Seems to have been. They got a description. From a passing birdwatcher, if you can believe that. Fits what we have on him.”

  Blue felt sick. “Was it both of them?” he asked. He couldn’t believe—didn’t want to believe, anyway—that Jody would have done this to someone who so obviously cared about him.

  “No. The witness says only one man.”

  Spaceman was leaning against the wall. “Hitchcock must have trailed us out there. We led him right to Potter.”

  “Looks that way.”

  Spaceman shook his head. “Jesus, Maguire, we’re a couple of real fuck-ups.”

  Then he walked out.

  McGannon looked at Blue. “How’s it going with you two?”

  “Fine.”

  “No hassles?”

  “We get along.”

  “Nobody else has been able to do that. Maybe he’s mellowing in his old age.”

  Blue shrugged and left the office, too.

  They spent most of the rest of the day talking back and forth with the Azusa cops. Facts were skimpy. One killer had apparently stabbed Jerry Potter to death. There was no evidence of sexual activity. Nothing seemed to be missing, although the bed was cut to shreds.

  When quitting time finally came, they went across the street for a drink. They had that one and then another and then two more. Blue finally remembered that he had
a late date. Sharon Engels was coming to his place for dinner after finishing work. He paid for the last round and left Spaceman still sitting at the table.

  Chapter 31

  Spaceman made his way very carefully up the steps to Mandy’s apartment. Knowing just how much he’d consumed in the bar, he knew he had to be drunk. He didn’t feel drunk, but that was undoubtedly just a joke that the gods were playing on him. Trying to give him a false sense of security, so that one wrong step would lead to a fall and a broken neck.

  He walked with precise attention up the steps and tapped softly on the door.

  Mandy was glad to see him. She always was. They went into the kitchen and she put a pan of water on for coffee. Waiting for the water to boil, she jiggled nervously around the room in panties and tee shirt. “Guess what,” she said finally.

  He was sitting at the table, not much feeling like guessing games. “What?” he said.

  “I have a job.”

  “Terrific.”

  “The new road show of A Chorus Line.” She put a cup down in front of him. “It means I’ll be gone for at least six months.”

  He hadn’t thought about that. He frowned and took a sip of the coffee. “Six months? Shit.”

  “I’ll miss you, of course, but my career has to come first.”

  “I guess.”

  She bent down and gave him a quick hug. “I knew you’d understand. We’ve had some great times, but we both knew it couldn’t be permanent.”

  “Sure. I understand.”

  “How about some supper?” She opened the freezer and began to rummage through the ice-shrouded contents.

  Spaceman didn’t understand anything at all. How could she just take off like this? What about him? What about their so-called relationship? The world had turned into a pretty shitty place if a broad could just take off and go running around the country for months at a time, without giving a thought to anyone else.

  She emerged from the freezer finally, holding a package of lasagna. “This be okay?”

  He nodded sullenly.

  Maybe he could find a girl who knew how to make a decent cup of coffee. At least this gave him something to think about besides Jerry Potter’s murder.