Hog Butcher: 2nd Edition Page 10

  Sheena had a tendency to decide how she wanted to act and expected other people to adjust their performances to match the choices she had made. That isn’t the way good acting works. During rehearsal, she occasionally said things like, “Marty, I think if Al would just do [fill in the blank] I could do [fill in the blank]. I just think it would play really well.” Al had let it slide for a little while, then said rather abruptly, “Sheena, if you want my character to do something, have your character manipulate me into doing it. It’s called acting.” Sunny called a break almost immediately after he’d said it. Sheena stormed out followed by Marty. Al didn’t give a rat’s ass.

  “You really don’t give a fuck what she thinks of you, huh?” It was Sunny. She was standing next to him at the coffee maker, waiting to get some hot water for her tea. He liked Sunny. She was a no-bullshit kinda gal.

  “All totaled, I think the number of fucks I give about what she thinks on any given subject is sub-zero. She wants me to do something, she should try acting.”

  Sunny laughed. “She’s a pain in my ass too, Al. Just so you don’t feel like you’re alone.”

  “Hey, speaking of which, I’m taking Gill out for old times’ sake tonight. I was going to try to get Frieda to pull herself away and come, but she has a thing. You want to step out with us? I’m not asking you on a date, but he’s bringing a girl, and I don’t want it to be weird.”

  “Why aren’t you asking me on a date?” She looked up at him with her big beautiful eyes.

  “Because I think we should keep things platonic in case you have to holler at me about something. I don’t want shit to get weird.”

  “I’ll yell at you if you fuck up Al. It’s my job. I’m good at separating my work from my social life. Call it what you want. If you are offering to buy me a meal, I’m in. Where are we going?”

  “Gene and Georgetti’s. I have reservations at 7:00. Frieda said to use Smed to drive. Does he know where you live?”

  “Yup. I’m about a fifteen-minute drive from that restaurant, so pick me up at 6:40?”

  “We will be at your place at 6:30 sharp. We’ll wait for you to come down.”

  She walked off singing to herself, “I’m going to a fancy rest-tau-rant…”

  The rest of the rehearsal went without incident. They finished at 4:30, exhausted, with a lot to think about and work on. They wouldn’t get back to the stuff they had worked today for another three days, so it was important for Al to spend some time going over notes and getting the information from rehearsal to sink in.

  At the end of rehearsal, Frieda came in and asked Al if he could come upstairs for a little bit. “Routine business,” she said.

  They went through her office and into the conference room. The little intern who he had been sent shopping this morning, Lisa, was there with a large stack of clothes for him on the table. “I hope I did good.” she said, biting her lower lip. It was a quirky habit that Al thought was darling. He bet lots of other people thought that, as well.

  “I went through the stuff she bought. I think she did a great job.” Frieda said. Lisa brightened at the compliment.

  Al examined the stack of goods. Sweaters, comfortable slacks, two pairs of Levi’s relaxed fit. A new pair of Mules and a new pair of training shoes. Everything he’d asked for was there, including the prepaid burner phone. He’d given her over a thousand dollars. She had a bunch of money left over and all of the receipts. “I hope you ate a nice meal.”

  “I had pizza at Gino’s East. I still feel like I have a food baby in my belly.”

  “Meat lovers?” Al asked.

  “Is there any other kind? Gino’s East Meat combo pizza. You tell me there’s a better pizza on the planet, and I’ll fight you.”

  “I absolutely agree. You have great taste. Thanks. This is for your pains.” He handed her a folded up bill. It was a hundred.

  “Mr. McNair, that’s too much. I couldn’t.”

  “It would have cost me that much in time and you saved me from shopping, which I hate. Believe me, I made out like a bandit.”

  Lisa gave Al an appreciative smile and wandered out. Al gathered his bags. “I’m taking Sunny out to Gene and Georgetti’s with Gill and whomever he is dating presently. It’s a friend date.”

  Frieda sauntered over to him and kissed him lightly on the mouth. “Do what you like. Sunny isn’t a long-term relationship girl. I’m not worried. I’m also not done with you yet.”

  “Good.” He kissed the palm of her hand and walked out with his new wardrobe. When he got to the hotel, he stopped at the desk. “Hey, pal.”

  A stout man at the counter turned and looked at him. “Can I help you?” His dialect was pure Chicago and a joy to listen to.

  “I should have a message here for room 1919. McNair.”

  The guy looked around under the desk, found a sealed envelope, and gave it to Al. “There you go, Mack.” It came out sounding like pure Mike Ditka “Dare ya go, Mack.”

  He went to the bank of elevators and opened the envelope. Written in a small and exact hand inside was the message, “Drop off your stuff in your room then come down to the lobby bathroom and call me. E”. Al did as he was told. Ten minutes later, he was standing in the men’s room, waiting for Edith to pick her phone up.

  “Hey, Al.”

  “Hey.”

  “Did you read my report?”

  “Yes. Do you work for the CIA?” He asked. “The report was pretty thorough, frighteningly so.”

  “That was my second-tier background search. There’s more stuff on you floating around out there. I thought this would suffice.”

  “It sufficed to scare the shit out of me.”

  “Well, you won’t like this this next part one little tidbit. Someone is monitoring your activities for sure. Not all of them, but there is someone out there who knows where you are from your paper trail. I went cloak and dagger with you because I didn’t know how sensitive our work would get. I don’t know if your room is bugged or your cell is tapped. I rather doubt it. I was also careful with my snooping, so I doubt it will be noticed. I’m pretty sure it isn’t government. They tend to be a little more heavy-handed when they pry. It could be NSA, but why would they want to look at you? Nothing in your background warrants that, so my guess is someone who colors a little outside the lines like you tend to do. If you want to be a little more secretive, use cash everywhere. Withdraw money and use cash. They know where you are, so withdrawing money won’t tell them anything specific. Unless you really don’t care. I’d care.”

  “I do. Nice work.”

  “I know. So what do you need from me?”

  “Nothing super deep yet. I want to know about any deaths of people from Chicago who happen to be theatre folks. I’m interested in the last two years. That’s probably much further back than we need, but I’d rather go too far back than not far enough. Some will be hard to track and you’ll miss some, but if you catch 75% or more, it might tell me a story I’m interested in hearing.”

  “So you want people who are or were involved in theatre in Chicagoland who have met with foul play? Suspicious death? Or do you want a list of everybody who has died natural or unnatural?”

  “Everybody anyhow. If it’s too many to cope with, we’ll brainstorm about narrowing it down. Will you need access to police records? There’s a chance I can help you with that.”

  She was laughing. He felt sure she was not laughing with him, but at him. “Silly rabbit. I’ve got it handled. Give me two days. I’ll have this phone on me all the time. If you have any other questions unrelated to this search, call me anytime.”

  “Don’t you have classes or sleep?”

  “If I’m fucking or eating, I might not answer. Other than that, I’m a twenty-four-hour kinda gal.”

  “If you need me, call and leave a message. I’m in rehearsals for a play at the boardwalk…”

  “I’ll need complimentary tickets to that, by the way.”

  “Of course. If I’m in rehearsal, I ca
n’t answer. We get breaks, so if it’s important, leave a text with 911 at the end; I’ll call on break. Otherwise, leave a voice mail, and I’ll call when I have time to chat. Now, as much as I like to hang out in men’s rooms, I have to get ready to go to dinner. I haven’t been to Gene and Georgetti’s in a while. Is it still a tie place?”

  “You can get away with a pair of slacks and a nice sweater. You probably clean up pretty good for an old guy. I’ll be in touch.” And she was off the line.

  Al went upstairs and got ready for his little adventure. All of his clothes were still creased from the stores they had been purchased in, so he didn’t have to do much aside from shave and dress. He was neither excited nor indifferent about his meal with Gill. It would be an OK night. He just remembered that every time he was with Gill, they were either working or drinking. He hoped there would be at least a little sober conversation. He was looking forward to spending some time with Sunny. He liked her a lot. She was a real theatre person. He missed that. He missed a lot about being in the theatre business. The only thing he didn’t miss was the neurosis. He’d had plenty of that this afternoon working with Lady Macbeth. He also wondered who had been checking into his business and didn’t like any of the answers he came up with. He decided to put it on the back burner. No use worrying about stuff you have no control over.

  He called Smed on the room phone, made sure the car was downstairs, then headed down to be whisked away on his evening of food and talk. If nothing else, he’d eat well.

  18

  Sunny came out of her building at 6:35. She was wearing a little black dress with a shawl wrapped around her shoulders and black woven tights. She was wearing makeup, and though her shoes were low-heeled and practical, Al was stricken by how beautiful she looked. Smed cracked his door open, and Al said through the partition, “Better let me handle this, old buddy.” Smed closed his door, and Al opened his own. He was on the curb side of the car and he stepped out to greet her. “Sunny. Wow! You look amazing.”

  She let her wrap fall off of her shoulders so it looped around her lower back. He’d never noticed how muscular she was. Her arms were well defined, and she had great deltoids. Well defined shoulder muscles were sexy on a woman. “I never get to wear my little black dress. Black clothes? All the friggin’ time. Black dress? It’s rare.”

  “I’m honored. Come on in. Car is warm and we can take the scenic route. We have about twenty-five minutes to kill.”

  Smed had overheard them. “I’ll have you there at three minutes until seven.” Then Smed dutifully let the partition slide up into place.

  “Drink?” He offered. He was sipping on a club soda with a twist of lime.

  “What are you having?”

  “Club soda with a twist. I don’t drink alcohol.”

  “Is that a religious thing?”

  “Allergic. When I drink, I have a tendency to break out in handcuffs.”

  She laughed. “I don’t drink much. I’ll have a cocktail there. A club soda would be nice, though. Thank you.”

  “You are most welcome.” He said pouring her a club soda. As he was twisting some lime in, he said, “So, what made you join the big bad world of theatre?”

  “It’s the only place I’ve ever felt at home. I’ve tried other things. Tried a couple of different majors, but the only place I ever found my voice was the theatre. In the theatre department in college, I was finally, I don’t know, home, I guess.”

  “Where’d you go?”

  “Loyola. My dad was an alum. He wanted me to go, and I got accepted with an academic scholarship. It seemed like it was all preordained. I was supposed to be a doctor like him.”

  “Oh, shit,” said Al giggling into his drink.

  She laughed right along with him. “I know, right? I go to get a solid footing in pre-med and end up spending all my time in the theatre department.”

  “How’d you break it to him?”

  “I invited him to come and see a show on campus that I was stage managing. I left a note for him at the box office that said I had a class project but would find him at intermission. I came down at the break and gave him a big hug. He asked me why I was dressed in all black and if I’d become a Bohemian artist type here at college. I pointed to the booth and said, ‘I’ve been up there for the whole first half, Daddy. I’ll be there the second half, too. With any luck, I’ll stay in a booth like that for the rest of the time I am a working adult.’ And you know what he did?”

  “I have an idea.”

  “He hugged me and said I’d snap out of it or I wouldn’t. He said he’d pay for my schooling, as much as I wanted, but when I was done with my education, I was off the teat. Didn’t matter if I was a doctor or a stage manager. He said he’d help me make it happen, to choose wisely, and to leave him alone because he wanted to pee and didn’t want to be late getting back to his seat to watch the rest of the show. He said it was damn good.”

  “And that was that?”

  “Yup. I interned at The Goodman here in Chicago, got my Equity card, and haven’t looked back. That’s the short version, of course. I’ll ask you your story when we have a little more time. I have a feeling your story is going to be a little longer and a lot more interesting than mine.”

  “That a polite way of calling me old?”

  “No. That’s a polite way of implying that we’ll be spending enough time together in the future for you to tell me a long story.” She smiled and sipped her drink. He’d forgotten how uninhibited theatre people can be. It didn’t make him uncomfortable exactly; it was just another thing in his life that had changed without his noticing.

  Just then the partition rolled down. “Mr. Al. We’re getting close. Wait in the car until I can pull up in front.”

  “Get us close, Smed. We can walk a half a block.”

  “I wouldn’t hear of it. Relax.” And the partition went back up.

  They enjoyed small talk for a few minutes. Smed finally got the opening he was looking for and swung the long, black sedan into the space in front of the restaurant. He came around and opened the rear door, helping Sunny out with a practiced hand, and standing ready for Al should he need help. Smed figured he would need none.

  “We’ll be a couple of hours.”

  “You have my number. Call when you’re done. I don’t have anything planned tonight, so I can most likely pick you up. If I’m unavailable, I won’t answer, but the gentlemen here can call you a cab.”

  “Tell you what, Smed, do your own thing. I’d like to take a cab or play it by ear tonight. I’ll see you soon.” He shook Smed’s hand with a twenty tucked neatly in his palm.

  “As you wish, Mr. Al. Have a nice evening, Ms. Sunny.”

  “You too, Smed. Thanks!” Sunny said this in a way that could only be explained as effervescent.

  Al offered his arm, Sunny took it, and they went into a world he hoped would be comprised of great food and old times.

  19

  About the time Al was climbing into the limo to pick up Sunny, Detective Marlon “Bud” Smythe was getting ready to leave work. It had been a normal day, meaning several dead bodies and about a dozen things that Bud thought should just go into the “weird shit” file. He was putting on his overcoat, ready to step into the darkening night for his barroom pit stop before heading home to his wife and kid. His desk phone rang and he had a small interior skirmish with himself about whether or not to pick up the goddamn thing. He finally picked it up, against his better judgement.

  “Smythe.”

  “Detective. This is Officer Mayer. I think I may have one for you.”

  “One what?” bud asked, knowing the answer.

  Mayer surprised him by saying, “I’m not exactly sure.”

  “Then why the fuck are you calling me?”

  “We got a floater. It looks like an accidental death but…”

  “Well, fuck. If it’s an accidental death, you don’t need Homicide. You especially don’t need a guy like me who deals with suspicious deaths.�
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  “No. I mean, maybe. The floater is in a bathtub.”

  “OK.” He wasn’t going to volunteer any information. He could feel his nightly whiskey getting further and further away from his with every word Mayer said.

  “He had burned a joint recently and had a half-empty bottle of beer next to him in the bathtub. He also had painkillers and muscle relaxers, so we think he may have taken a bad combo and fell asleep in the tub.”

  “How do you drown in a tub? Was he a fuckin’ midget?” Bud barely fit in his tub at home. When he did get in, which was seldom, his body had the appearance of a complicated archipelago with a couple of mountainous islands where his knees were, a couple where his man boobs were, and a huge bubble of a main island in the middle. He would have to try, and try hard, to drown in his bathtub.

  “It was a big tub, and he was a little dude. Like 5’7” or so.”

  “How did you find said floater?” bud was sitting back in his chair. He hadn’t taken off his jacket. He had a feeling he’d be wearing it to go look at a big bathtub.

  “His boss was worried when he didn’t come in today. Said he had a long day yesterday and was bitching about his back. I guess he had chronic back problems. Anyways, the boss wants the load of shit this guy picked up yesterday, theatrical lighting or some shit.” At this Bud’s ears perked up. “So he calls several times during the day, gets no answer, and decides to come over and check it out.”

  “The super let him in?”

  “No. He had a key. I guess this guy’s back went out one time and he was stuck on his floor for two days. Ever since, the boss has had a key.”

  “So the boss comes and finds the floater. Bing, bang, boom. Sleeping in the big motherfuckin’ bathtub. Why are we talking?”