The Taxman Killeth (12 page)

“What time is the story hour
next Saturday, Jennie?”

***

In a cheap hotel room in the
Tenderloin, Todd lay fully clothed on a faded coverlet. He hadn’t dared to
undress in this place, nor had he the stomach to check out the sheets under the
stained coverlet. Sunbeams slanted through the window, emphasizing the dust
particles floating in the air of the fusty room. He knew there was traffic in
the hallway all night, but he didn’t mind because that was when he was out.
During the day he could hear an occasional door slam or the steady beat of a
headboard against an adjoining rooms’ wall, but he figured it was pimps trying
out their own merchandise. The real transient clients came after dark.

Todd felt agitated. He sensed
something was wrong. He kept thinking of Amy, but would immediately discard the
idea that she could be in danger. His leaving her apartment would keep her
safe. Whoever wanted to destroy him had no reason to bother a simple law office
manager. His lips spread into a smile. Amy had called herself and her life
simple. Nothing about the woman was simple: it was all spectacular, he thought.

Trying to get his mind off Amy,
Todd sat up and pulled the top drawer of the night stand open. He figured a
little bible reading might do him some good at this point in his life.

He found the Gideon Bible
pristine in its book jacket; however, it was underneath a plethora of girly
magazines whose pages were ragged and torn. What else could he expect in this
hovel? he thought. He glanced through two until he recognized a familiar face.
Yup, he confirmed, that certainly was her hair, and the make-up was the same.
He even remembered the shoes, although there was no clothing to recall, since
she didn’t have a shred on. Edwina was spread across some lacy frill bedspread,
and the caption underneath indicated that the picture had been submitted by a
novice photographer, who was also her roommate. Todd threw himself back across
the mattress in a fit of laughter.

Chapter 13

The Tenderloin District

“You’ve been in a really rotten
mood all week,” Trudy said, laying her cafeteria tray on the rectangular table
next to the floor-to-ceiling glass window.

Amy was already seated, staring
out at the business-suited lunch crowd. It had been a week since she had heard
from Todd.

“Haven’t even asked me about my
dentist,” Trudy primly said, placing her paper napkin in her lap. “Are you
going to eat all those worms, or would you like to share some with me?”

Amy mechanically slid her plate
of spaghetti toward Trudy. Trudy slid it back.

“I’ve got enough here with my
avocado salad,” she said. “Amy, what is wrong? You’re so quiet. Why, even you
and Pickles are getting along, instead of fighting tooth and nail as usual.”

“That’s because we hardly talk
to each other,” Amy muttered. “He hardly ever asks for my assistance now.”

“That’s odd.”

“We had a misunderstanding.”

“What happened?”

Amy looked back at Trudy and
sighed.

“Oh, you wouldn’t believe it.”

“I’d believe anything about
Pickens. Tell me.”

“He thinks I’m interested in
him.”

“Interested. Like romantically
interested?”

“Yes.”

Trudy laughed.

“How did he get that idea?”

Amy shrugged.

“You must have done something?”

“I asked him his address.”

“Why?”

“To find out where he lives.”

“You were interested!”

“No, no, no. I felt guilty
because I had slowed him down, and I wanted to help speed up the job.”

“Is that why you’ve been so
glum?”

“Gosh, no. I guess I’ve been
tired lately. Been having a difficult time getting to sleep.” Amy remembered
spending several nights hugging the telephone.

“Maybe you should get a
check-up. I have a doctor you could see.”

“No. Thank you, Trudy. A doctor
isn’t going to make me feel better.” Only Todd could do that, she knew. “What
about that dentist you’ve been seeing?”

“He’s doing one filling a week.”
Trudy gave a broad smile.

“Don’t tell me you spend your
dates getting your teeth filled?”

Trudy nodded. “It’s worth it.”

Back at the office, Amy
literally bumped into Stu in the hallway.

“Sorry, Amy, my mind is
elsewhere.”

“That makes two of us.”

“I’m going on vacation, and—”

Alarmed, Amy interrupted.

“I didn’t know that. It wasn’t
on the schedule.”

“No. I discussed it this morning
with the partners, and we’ve all agreed it’s best until a few things can get
straightened out.”

Had he been caught? Amy
wondered. If so, this might be the break that could help clear Todd’s name. Of
course, Stu might not readily admit to murder or even to being associated with
Joey’s death, but perhaps it would crack the whole case apart and reveal the
name of the person who killed Joey.

“You’ll have to stay in the
city, right?”

“Not necessarily. One of the
partners has agreed to take on my work load. I was thinking about heading back
to Texas to look up some of my old buddies.”

“When?”

“What’s wrong, Amy?”

“In case I need to reach you, I’ll
need to know where you’ll be staying.”

“You won’t need me. The partners
don’t want me working on anything for the time being.”

“But... You’re not going to
leave town tonight, certainly.”

“Probably take me a few days to
settle some personal matters before I go.” Stu put out his hand and Amy
accepted it. “I’ve enjoyed working with you, Amy.” There was a nervous chuckle,
and he squeezed Amy’s hand tighter. “I’m sorry we didn’t get to know each other
better.” Stu leaned forward and gave her a peck on the forehead, then he freed
her hand and walked back to his office.

Stupefied, Amy watched him walk
away. Oh, my God, she suddenly thought, I have to tell Todd as soon as
possible. She was certain that if Stu left town, Todd might never be able to
prove he didn’t do away with his partner. Amy tried to think of where Todd
might be. She knew he was looking for leads on Joey’s death, so he probably
would be contacting friends of Joey and... those sleazy hangouts Jennie had
mentioned. Of course, she realized, that was where he would be. Amy resolved to
pay a visit to the Tenderloin district if Todd didn’t call her that night.

He didn’t call, and when Amy met
Jennie at the library on Saturday, she flooded the nervous young mother with
questions, writing down any name and location that Joey might have mentioned.
He seemed to have a penchant for any bar rowdy enough to hold the potential for
a brawl. And Jennie believed he had been involved in quite a few fights, given
the number of black eyes she had seen on him.

“Todd and Joey argued all the
time about the kind of people he hung around.”

“How come they were such good
friends, then?”

“Our parents began asking Todd that
question when Todd brought Joey home for the holidays one Christmas when both
were in college. Opposites attract, I guess. Look at me and Michael. I think
Todd felt sorry for him, too. Joey was brought up in foster care after his
father tried scalding him with boiling water. Todd would never harm Joey.”

“I believe you.”

“Are you in love with my
brother?”

Amy was shocked by the question.
She had lusted after him and had enjoyed the playful banter they had so briefly
engaged in, but love?

“Maybe,” she whispered.

That night Amy chose her clothes
carefully. She didn’t want to be mistaken for the kind of woman who frequented
any of the places she was going to visit; on the other hand, she didn’t want to
stand out as a naïve target.

She chose black jeans, a black
fuzzy turtleneck sweater and a pair of flat boots, along with a blazer to hold
her cash and credit card. No pocketbook to entice young hoodlums. Amy checked
herself in the mirror. Instead, of blending into the night as she had hoped to
do, she was afraid she might look like a professional dominatrix in all that
black. But the outfit would have to do. She didn’t have time to spend another
hour rummaging through the closet. Again she stuffed Sam’s card in her pocket
and left to hit the streets.

Upon arriving at her
destination, Amy was surprised to see a few obvious tourists wandering around.
She wasn’t sure whether they were lost or simply trying out the seedy side of
life. They didn’t approach her for directions out of the neighborhood, nor did
they rush for her departing taxi. Everyone has his own dream vacation, she
thought.

The first several bars she
stopped in were more depressing than seedy. Most of the patrons were older
guys, brooding over flat beers. The laughter from the televisions seemed to cast
a pall over the dimly lit rooms. There were no women, and the men didn’t seem
to mind, because no one paid much attention to her entrances or exits, which
was fine by Amy.

The final bar was livelier;
music was blasting, and a few middle-aged women were flirting with brawny
working-class men. The television was off, and the bartender was younger and
busier than most of the ones she had seen earlier in the evening. Actually,
this place had a good-sized crowd, she noticed as she sidled up onto a
barstool. She searched the view in the mirror in front of her for any sign of
Todd’s good looks. He certainly had no competition here, she thought. A scruffy
bum sat at the end of the bar, looking dirty and smelly. She noticed that he
had an empty stool next to him, which would probably stay that way until he
left. Then the bartender would no doubt bring out the Lysol, she figured. At
the opposite end, a man and a woman were becoming uncomfortably intimate. Amy
squirmed in her seat, wondering whether she should leave now.

“Want something?”

Amy looked at the bartender. She
hadn’t ordered anything in any of the other bars and no one had bothered her,
but then she hadn’t stayed longer than five minutes in each place. They
probably had thought she had wandered into the wrong joint, she surmised. This
place was different; she hadn’t seen the faces of everyone here yet, and that
might take a while.

“A white wine. Over ice,” she
added.

The bartender mugged as if
dropping the ice in the glass and pouring the wine would be hard work, but
proceeded to do so with efficiency.

The stool on her right was
abandoned by a young man who declared that he had to get home to his wife.
Without looking at the man, the bartender waved a hand at him while setting the
wine glass in front of Amy.

“Put it on my tab,” the guy to
her left said.

Amy looked in the mirror and saw
the man to her left staring at her. Since the man’s nose seemed to lean too far
to the left of his face, she wondered whether his nose had been broken by Joey
on several occasions. His blond, curly hair was matted against the upper part
of his forehead, and his eyelids drooped as if they were about to close.

“Thank you, but I’d rather pay,”
she said, fishing around in her blazer’s inside pocket for some bills.

The guy’s hairy hand reached
over to pull her hand out of her pocket. She instantly set her hand down on the
bulbous edge of the bar. The bartender had already walked away to serve the
scruffy bum. Things could be worse, she said to herself, looking at the knit
cap pulled low over the bum’s face and the black eye patch that hid his left
eye. But she wasn’t too sure about that when the guy on her left swayed against
her shoulder. She thought about moving over a stool, but didn’t want to make a
scene.

“I’m Morgan,” he said. “I haven’t
seen you here before.” He pulled away from her to have a better look.

“Come here every night?” she
asked.

He nodded.

“No place else to go.”

Amy took a deep breath.

“Know Joey Landis?”

“The guy who got shived? Yeah.
Weren’t his dame, were you?”

“No. I’m looking for a friend of
his.”

“Hey, we were all friends of
his. I was a friend of his.” He moved closer to her. “So your looking’s over
for the evening, baby.” He grinned and she noticed that his top front teeth
were missing. She could understand why, given his pick-up technique.

Just when she thought things
couldn’t get worse, a smell hit her so hard she almost fell into Morgan’s lap.
She heard the stool next to her squeak on the cigarette-studded floor.
Something brushed her arm. She figured it had to be the filthy tweed jacket she
had seen on the bum.

“Whoeee... Maybe you should open
some windows, Will,” Morgan said to the bartender.

Amy looked in the mirror and saw
the bum sitting next to her, his chin drooping down upon his chest so that she
couldn’t see his face. Her eyes shifted to see what Morgan was going to do. She
didn’t want to be in the middle of a fight.

Morgan was bracing himself with
a quick shot of whiskey followed by a gulp of beer. It must have numbed his
senses, because he seemed to forget the odor, even if she hadn’t.

“You’re not drinking, sweetie.
It’s going to take you a long time to catch up with me,” Morgan said.

She had no intention of doing
so.

Morgan reached for her hand, but
she withdrew it from the bar. Instead, he reached up and rubbed his nose. After
he was finished he used the same hand to order up another whiskey.

“And back her up,” he said.

“But I haven’t even touched this
glass yet.”

He looked down at the wine.

“Make the next one straight up.
You’re never going to be any fun if you keep drinking that watered down piss.”
Morgan was becoming anxious. He had started to move around on the stool as if
he couldn’t get comfortable. “You know, you’re not going to do any better than
me tonight.” He leaned closer and smiled. “I’ve got a job.”