"The days add up."
What about God, he wondered. What about the sign on the wall, the list of the twelve suggested steps. You just don't drink, I told him, and you come to meetings, and you keep an open mind. Did I believe in God? Some of the time, I said. I didn't have to believe in God all the time. The only thing I had to do every minute of every day was not pick up a drink.
He said, "I shouldn't be keeping you. You've probably got things to do."
"I'm glad to have the company, Jim."
"You know, I was thinking. In the meeting, because I would be listening to somebody and my mind would wander. I was thinking about Alan Watson. The guy who got stabbed?"
"And?"
"It seems to me there's something nagging at my memory but I can't get ahold of it."
"Maybe if we go through that evening step by step," I said.
"I don't know. Maybe it'll just come to me. You say this friend of his thinks it wasn't just a random mugging?"
"That's what I'm trying to determine."
"Why, is there someone had a reason to kill him?"
"Not that I know of."
"Then-"
No reason he couldn't know. "There have been some other deaths."
"In the same neighborhood?"
"No," I said, "and they didn't happen on the street, either."
"Then what's the connection?"
"The victims knew each other."
"Victims? Then they were all murdered, same as Watson?"
"Some were. Some might have been."
"Might have been?"
"There were suicides that could have been staged," I said, "and a couple of accidental deaths that could have been arranged."
"So you got this group of guys... What is it, a club or something?"
"I can't really go into the details."
"Sure, I understand. What happened, one of the guys hired you? Why didn't they go to the cops?"
"One of the things I have to do," I said, "is determine if it's a police matter or not."
"It would have to be, wouldn't it? If a group of guys are being killed off one after the other-"
"That's what I have to determine."
"I thought you said-"
"The murders could be unconnected. And the suicides could be genuine suicides."
"And the accidents could be legit," he said. "I get it. Are you making much headway?"
"I can't really-"
"- go into details, right. I'm sorry. I'm just trying to get an idea what it is I should be trying to remember. You know, I just took it for granted it was a mugging, what I guess they'd call a crime of opportunity. I think one of the cops used that phrase, meaning the mugger was out there looking to score a few dollars from somebody, and Mr. Watson came along, good neighborhood, looked like he belonged there, suit and tie, obviously a professional man coming home from work, figure he'll have a good watch on his arm and some big bills in his wallet." He frowned. "But if somebody was setting out from the jump to murder Watson, how would he do it? Just stake out his house and wait for him to come home?"
"That's one way."
"Then you'd have somebody lurking in the neighborhood," he said. "I don't remember seeing anything like that, but I don't know if it's something I'd notice. Some sleazebag with dirty clothes and a scruffy beard skulking around in the shadows, well, yeah, part of my job was to spot people like that and either roust them myself or call nine-one-one and drop a dime on them. But the guy you're looking for wouldn't operate like that, would he?"
"Probably not."
"He'd probably be dressed decent," he said, "and he'd want to be able to keep an eye on Watson's house, or on the approach to it. And, come to think of it, he'd most likely be in a car, wouldn't he? You think mugger, you picture a guy on foot, but somebody looking to fake a mugging might have his own car, right?"
"It's very possible."
"Was there a car parked in the neighborhood? Now there were plenty of cars, so the real question is was there anybody sitting in a parked car, and the answer is I would never have noticed something like that. What's the guy look like, the guy you're after?"
"No idea."
"You don't have a suspect in mind, huh? Or a physical description?" I shook my head. "So if he had a car-"
"No idea of the make or model or plate number."
"What I figured, Matt."
"Or even if he had a car," I said. "See, if I knew who did it, I'd be coming at it from another angle entirely."
"Yeah, I see what you mean."
We talked a little about the nature of detection, about the ways I'd approached other cases in the past. He didn't have a police background but the time he'd spent doing guard work and street patrol had left him with an interest in the subject, and he asked good questions and caught on quickly. The conversation died down when the waiter came around to refill our cups, and when it resumed the topic shifted to AA and alcoholism and where Jim might decide to go from here.
"I don't know if I'm an alcoholic," he said earnestly. "I heard a lot tonight that was interesting, but there's plenty that happened to the speaker that never happened to me. I was never hospitalized, I was never in a detox or a rehab."
"On the other hand, he never lost a job because of his drinking."
"Yeah, and I did. No argument there."
"Look," I said, "who knows if it's for you or not? But you're between jobs right now, you were saying how you've got time on your hands, and it's cheaper to kill time in meetings than around the bars. The coffee's free and the conversations are more interesting. It's the same people, you know, in the meetings and in the ginmills. The only difference is the ones in the meetings are sober. That makes them more fun to be around, and a lot less likely to throw up on your shoes."
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.