A Naked Singularity: A Novel (91 page)

He started to take them out. I began retching again with nothing produced except more pain. Then I coughed a lot and when I spit out the results it looked like blood. I wiped my mouth with my sleeve. I was bent over, my hands on my knees. I looked up at him, raising my head only slightly.

“Well I went through a lot of trouble to get these so I’m sure you won’t want to be rude.”

I stood up. Through the tears in my eyes he looked stroboscopic. He held the picture up for me to see the way limo drivers hold their signs up at airports. “What are those marks on your neck by the way? I meant to ask you last time.” When I ignored him he went on yapping like it was the most natural thing in the world to be so treated.

“I have to go,” I said.

“I need to talk to you some more actually. Let’s talk right here and get it over with.”

“It’s cold.”

“It’s not bad. I think it’s starting to warm up.” I sat on a step and put my face in my hands. What could I do, he kept talking. “See I think someone went in there that night and took the money.”

“What money?”

“The records we found indicate the presence of quite a bit of money. Money to pay for the considerable amount of drugs involved. Only while we found the drugs, mixed in among the bodies, we never found any money.”

“So?”

“So someone took the money. And it was a third party not directly involved in the transaction.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Well the people in the house already owned the money they were going to use to buy the drugs so they wouldn’t steal their own money right? And if the people who brought the drugs stole the money then why even bring the drugs like they did?”

“Who says it was stolen at all? Looks to me like the deal went off as planned. The drugs are where you say they’re supposed to be and the money is gone, taken by the people who sold the drugs. Why do you need a third party?”

“Except that clearly the plan was not followed, something went wrong. I saw the bodies to prove it.”

“Fine, the buyers didn’t want to pay so the sellers took the money forcibly, hence the bodies. I still don’t see a third party Detective. More importantly what exactly does any of this have to do with me?”

“Do you recognize this guy?” he said handing me a picture. I recognized the person pictured as one of the lookouts. Heckle. He was on the same roof where I last saw him, in a drowning pool of his viscera with police tape circling him.

“Of course not,” I said. Then I looked closer. “Wait a minute, wait a minute during which cotton is picked,” I said. “Yep, that’s him. He sold me a pair of shoes once the prick. Really bad but expensive shoes.” I handed the picture back to him. “If you ask me, he got what was coming to him. I’d look at disgruntled shoe shoppers Detective.”

He stared at me. I stood up straight and stared back.

“The third party we’re looking for came in from the roof and killed that individual. As always the person left traces behind that we will eventually use to catch him. I felt sure you would recognize the person in that picture. From the roof. But I guess not right? That’s what you’re saying?”

“It is.”

“Anyway I been doing this for twenty-eight years and my experience is that when we do catch you, I mean this guy, he’ll be almost relieved. He’ll be able to unburden himself, know what I mean?”

“No.”

“It’s not easy to kill.”

“Lucky for you.”

“Sure there’s the insane. But whoever did this wasn’t insane. This took careful, almost morally-responsible, planning.”

“I have to go I’m late.”

“The person will be relieved,” he said and I thought I saw a sneer.

Alone in my office I started writing again, this time in longhand. I didn’t have to go to court that day so Jalen was everything then. When I took a break Mr. Melvyn Toomberg Esq. came in.

“What are you doing?” he said.

“Writing Jalen a letter.”

“Really?”

“Yeah I’ve been writing him more letters since I got back.”

“And he writes you back?”

“He does.”

“Just keeping him posted?”

“Exactly.”

“And your progress?”

“Believe it or otherwise I think I’m almost done, look.” I handed him the stack of paper.

“What’s this?”

“My point.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I never kid, you know that.”

“When did you . . . it’s huge . . . it’s . . .”

“I know. Would you mind editing it to fit the page limit and all that when I’m done? I’m just no good at concision.”

“Actually there’s no page limit.”

“No page limit? Yahoo, I’m just getting started then.”

“There’s no statutory page limit but I have to think there’s a practical one to how much these judges or more accurately their clerks will read attentively. I don’t understand how it could be that long though.”

“It’s not really that long if you look at it from a certain perspective, provided of course that perspective is one from which things that are very lengthy nonetheless appear to be quite short either due to Lorentz contraction or some other as yet undiscovered phenomenon. I’m sure you know what I mean.”

“Are you okay Casi? I mean physically.”

“Physically?”

“Yes.”

“Meaning you take it as a given I’m not okay otherwise.”

“No it’s just that, well, you look quite bad, no offense. Again, physically.”

“Well I’ve been
working
man. How do you want me to look? Isn’t work what you wanted? I haven’t eaten or slept and I’ve seriously cut down on my breathing too. Also there’s this detective, never mind.”

“Your neck, I asked you before, what are those marks?”

“Oh those.”

“What are they?”

“Liszt did that.”

“Liszt?”

“Yeah I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone but he tried to strangle me in retaliation for what I did to his wall. Notice how the bruises perfectly match his paws?”

“Be serious.”

“Don’t worry about it, how’s your point going?”

“Up until a few minutes ago I thought well. Then I saw this, it’s quite imposing.”

“But there’s no limit right?”

“Right.”

“And you’ll be ready to argue it?”

“Me? I always assumed you would argue it. I feel confident in asserting you are better at that sort of thing.”

“Not really Toom, you’re smarter. That’s all that counts. Besides I may not be around, I don’t think I’ll be around.”

“Where are you going?”

“No just that, you know with the hearings and, just be prepared to argue it is what I’m saying. I’m just concentrating on this you know. When I finish this I’ll know I did something and whatever happens after that I can live with, know what I mean?”

“No, not really.”

“Let’s just save this kid that’s all. Save the kid. Everything else is getting fucked up. I fucked it all up. But this is good, no doubt. Come by tomorrow and I’ll have the finished product waiting for you. Well, in need of your editing touch of course, but for all intents and purposes finished.”

“Look if this is about the hearing in a couple of weeks I just want to assure you that I’m going to handle it to the best of my abilities and I’m optimistic.”

“I know, thank you. Come by tomorrow and get the brief.”

“Wednesday’s the big day you know. The Supreme Court hears argument in Atkins versus Virginia, in which they will decide whether states can continue to execute the mentally retarded.”

“That’s Wednesday?”

“Yes it is. Of course even a good ruling would probably instigate a great deal of litigation on who fits into that classification and would take our representation of Jalen into yet another direction but nonetheless I am cautiously optimistic.”

“We’ll see what happens.”

“I think it’s going to be a good result.”

“I know, come by tomorrow and get that okay?”

“Yes.”

Later that day I got a page from Denise saying someone in the reception area wanted to talk to me. I knew it would be Assado but still found it somehow shocking when I stepped out and saw him.

“You said I could come talk to you here so I thought I’d share my latest thoughts with you.”

“I’m busy.”

“Won’t take long.”

“What are they?” eyes closed, forehead in hand.

“Just that it occurs to me that I still haven’t asked you the clichéd question you’ve probably been expecting.”

“Which is?”

“Where were you on Wednesday? Isn’t that how they show it on TV and then at the end I tell you not to leave town?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“So where were you last Wednesday counselor?”

“Like everyone else I guess I was shopping for candles.”

“You’re right, I should be more specific. Where were you early Wednesday morning before the blackout? Say three in the morning.”

“Three in the morning?”

“Yes.”

“Sleeping like always.”

“You sure?”

“Quite.”

“Strange.”

“ . . .”

“That’s strange.”

“What is?”

“No because I talked to your neighbors. You know the four guys that live below you? And they said that on that Wednesday morning, at that time, you weren’t home.”

“I’m curious how they would know. They’re neighbors not roommates.”

“True but they said, one of them in particular, that they were knocking on your door at that time and got no answer. Something about wanting to introduce you to a new friend.”

“They’re mistaken.”

“Normally I might agree except that as you know this was just prior to the blackout, which was certainly the kind of memorable event that would stick in someone’s mind you know?”

“I don’t understand. Are they saying that when I didn’t respond to the knocks they broke down the door and conducted a thorough search of my bed and my entire apartment and established that I wasn’t there?”

“No.”

“Because otherwise I fail to see how not answering a knock on your door at three in the morning is evidence of anything other than maybe sanity.”

“So you didn’t hear any knocking.”

“In my bed sleeping, I failed to hear it that’s right.”

“I see and you’re sure you were in bed?”

“Where else would I be? I have to get my sleep don’t I?”

“Okay, but one other thing.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Could you get me a picture of yourself?”

“Why?”

“Well it seems there were eyewitnesses to the incident we’ve been talking about. I just want to show them a picture of you so we can maybe rule you out and we can stop meeting like this. Of course I could get just get your OCA picture but this would be quicker and I’m sure you want to be cooperative right?”

“We done? That all?”

“There is one last thing actually.”

“What’s that?”

“Don’t leave town.”

I went home shortly after that. Everywhere I stepped I looked around for Assado. On the way up to my apartment I stopped at Alyona’s and banged on the door. No answer. I banged harder and Ralph answered the door. He was wearing the same bluish uniform from the other day.

“Hey pal,” he said.

“Ralph?”

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out, ho ho!”

“Is Angus home, or any of the others?”

“Just me pal.”

“You live here now?”

“Soytenly, for now anyways.”

“So where are those guys, I haven’t seen them in a good while. I think since the end of the blackout really, almost a week.”

“Beats me.”

“No idea?”

“No, you must be just missing them, what’s the big deal?”

“Just real weird is all. I’ve lived here over a year and during that period I don’t think I remember a time when all of them were out of this apartment at the same time like this and now suddenly I haven’t seen any of them in like a week.”

“What are you inferring?”

“Nothing I—”

“No I know what you’re inferring! You’re saying I had something to do with their disappearance!”

“Their what?”

“Pins and needles, needles and pins, it’s a happy man that grins,” he said. Then he forced a small smile with his lips pressed tightly together. “Now what am I angry about?” he said serenely. “I know what I’m angry about!
You
accused me of moyder!”

“Take it easy Ralph. I did no such thing. I just wondered if you knew where they were since you said you live here now.”

“All right pal, you’re right. I just get steamed. When I’m in the right, I’m in the right.”

“Okay I’ll be seeing you.”

“Oh someone came by to see you but you weren’t in. Tori, Tara, Terry something like that.”

“Traci?”

“Yeah that’s it.”

“Came by to see
me
? Or came here?”

“No she never came here. She was coming down from your door, she asked if I knew where you were. Everyone’s always asking me if I know where someone is in this place.”

“Amazing. Did she leave a number, an address, anything?”

“No. Quite a comely young lady at that pal. If I weren’t married.”

“You’re married?”

“Sure, how else would I have a wife?”

“What’s her name?”

“Whose?”

“Your wife.”

“Why Alice of course.”

“Got to go,” I said.

The news about Traci was beyond thrilling. I could think of little else even though I was supposed to be writing. Instead I paced around my apartment wondering how I could possibly contact her in the absence of a surname. I did feel much better. I shaved and showered and got dressed in case she came back. Then I practiced spontaneously greeting her and rehearsed some ad-libs. I longed to see her, maybe she would be wearing a hat, and it wasn’t as cold as before so she might even be wearing a skirt or something.

The next morning I jumped out of bed with actual energy. I had eaten. I showered again put on my sharpest suit and, after looking out my window to make sure no one was out there waiting for me, whistled various happy tunes as I walked out the door. It was liberating to think how I would never see Assado again, had all the money I would ever need, and would soon connect with the very yummy Traci. And that’s the way I felt, relieved and calm, until the very moment I stepped outside and saw Assado staring at me from the sidewalk.