Where The Bad Things Go

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Where The Bad Things Go

Detective Morley was kidded as he left the office.

“This one won’t get you in the papers.”

“If you arrest him bring diapers.”

“Morley breaks arm of oldster during confession. Easily.”

“Ok, guys. If it breaks big you’ll be sorry.”

He had “broken big” once on the High School kid Lawrence Gotham who had murdered his parents and almost gotten away with it. Lawrence had set fire to the house when he had been out of town, supposedly. But his girlfriend, who had been hiding him a few blocks away, found out she had become pregnant and didn’t want any dirty money for their new family. So she had squealed on him. Picture in the paper.

“Flames of Love Burn High School Murderer”.

And Morley’s own parents had been jerks but that was no reason to roast them.

And they just died the way you were supposed to. One sudden and one slowly.

Morley had a file. The old lady had finally shown up. She hadn’t run away like was thought twenty years ago. She hadn’t been kidnapped or taken away by a flying saucer.

She was at the bottom of the Porter property well. A bunch of collapsed bones next to a bunch of other things – tools, cans, a rusted metal toy and underneath the bones, clasped in the fingers of the deceased the nearly disintegrated brim of a baseball cap. So said the coroner.

So he had pictures of all that. And a ring- a high school ring with the initials “JS”.

Julia Sanders. Also known as Julia Sanders Porter. Also known, from her High School yearbook as the Most Likely To Succeed along with Bottom of the Popularity Pole. Morley thought she would not have been a good politician. Or a great one. She had succeeded by marrying into the Porter family and becoming the wife of the second biggest land owner in the township.

The bottom fell out when their first child, a son, was born retarded. Morley had looked through microfiche at all the social columns with her name mentioned and it all had stopped after that event. Morley supposed the actual event, the discovery, was after the happy birth, probably shortly after-he wasn’t sure- but it must have been a big disappointment for Julia who had made the baby room for a girl. James Porter continued to be in the papers without Julia. In Little League and Cub Scouts Scouts and 4F. But only with Arnie-the retarded kid- and his big infectious smile. No Julia.

Why didn’t they have another child? Morley thought as he pulled into the circular driveway of the Golden Leaves Rest Home. And why, if she was that upset, did she not divorce him, take some money and stuff, re-marry and try again?

And what the hell was she doing at the bottom of a well?

Morley walked into the reception area. There were oldsters sitting out front. Some chewing on their teeth, some smoking. Some smiled at him and he tried to smile back. He had never felt claustrophobia, even in the Navy submarines, but this feeling was pretty close.

“Morley, Detective Morley here to see Mr. Porter,” he told the pretty redhead who sat inside a glassed in office.

She glanced up at him and saw the badge which he had brought out casually. “I will take you myself.”

This could be something, Morley thought to himself. They walked to the stairs.

“You don’t mind the stairs?” she asked.

“Only if you go first.” She blushed and swished her skirt tighter.

At the top he had to catch his breath. She didn’t.

“Do you want to sit, Mr. Morley?”

“Let me just lean for a minute.” She glanced at the file he was holding. He remembered how he had written in a few seconds off his self test mile run last time he was tested. Maybe it was twenty seconds.

“I’ve never had a detective investigate any of my residents before.”

My residents. Hum. Morley took out the high school ring from an envelope. “I just gotta show him this and if he identifies it then it’s her.”

“It’s who? Her who?” God, she was so pretty and so innocent, Morley thought.

“Oh, his wife. We think we found his wife. A contractor went down a well on the Porter property. I think they are going to build a golf course or something. Anyway, he found this well that was covered up, went down in it and found bones and the ring and other stuff.”

“Oh my.” Perfect- hand- to- mouth like in the movies.

“It’s just routine. Identify the remains. But it solves the mystery of where Julia Sanders-Porter went.

“There was a mystery?-I’m not from here and I’m new here. I worked in Rockland at the Restful Oaks before,” Redhead said.

Not the brightest bulb maybe but who cares. She has to like a good dinner. Maybe a movie.

Was that a cashmere sweater she had on?

“Yeah, it even got on TV. Oh and their kid disappeared, too.”

“What kid?” she asked but he saw a light flick in her beautiful green eyes.

“The retard son.” She frowned but she was still beautiful! I Better watch it.

“Sorry. I know that word is awful now.”

“It was awful then. It is awful.” Her eyes glowed. Maybe there was something behind them, Morley thought. I should have worn my gun. Just to…

“Yes. Not a word that should have…Anyway, Arnie was his name. He vanished before she did. He would be about forty-three or so now. I don’t know how long ret…I don’t know how long someone lacking full mental capacity lives.”

The redhead crossed her arms. “My sister is intellectually challenged and she will live as long as I.”

Shit. There goes the date.

Morley stood up. The redhead was already walking away down the hall. He followed. She stopped at a door, waited and knocked and then went in. She shut the door. After a moment she opened the door. Her face was different, sweet, like she had let go of his rudeness. But maybe the sweetness was for what was inside.

She opened the door and waited for him to go in. He heard the door close behind him.

Morley’s eyes adjusted to the room. Then he saw a desk, a bookshelf, some glass front cabinets with what looked like trophies or statues or something. And on the walls were dozens of pictures and framed photos from newspapers. He heard a stirring and something moved along the floor-a cat. He walked forward and behind a porous, flowery Chinese screen was Mr. Porter in a faded and worn wingback with a folding table next to it. Morley stood next to the chair and waited for his eyes to focus on the man who squinted back at him.

“Mr. Porter, sir. Did they tell you why I am here, sir?” Mr. Porter kept his squint on him.

“They found a ring, her ring and some other things in the well. Let’s see it then. You got it there?”

Morley handed him the ring. He took out a magnifying glass and slide it out of its green felt case.

“That’s her then. JS. Yes. High School ring. Just barely passed her grades.” He looked up at the ceiling.

“Would you like some time, sir. I could come back.”

“Oh, no son. I was just thinking how the hell she got herself in the well. We had built a cover over it for my son. He got to throwing things in their when he was mad. I sort of started him on that track.”

Ok, sir. Well that would be my next question and last question actually. Do you have any idea how she may have gotten into the well?”

A cat jumped up into Mr. Porters lap startling Morley.

“She won’t attack you.”

“Oh, no, I like cats”- a lie. Morley walked up to the closest wall and looked at the framed page of a newspaper. He read “Smythe Pitches Near Shut-Out-Tigers Win League”. There was a picture of the team together and then Morley’s attention was drawn to the side of the picture where a man and boy with a huge smile stood. The boy had his glove on and both hands out. The man stood next to him. His smile was barely discernible as his face was somewhat towards the boy.

“He played in that game,” Mr. Porter said. “Outfield. He earned the trophy. Practiced hard. Learned how to trap the ball with his body. Not so good at throwing. We were still working on that.”

Morley looked at a shelf and noticed a glove, dusty but well used. Trapeze.

“Was that your son’s glove?” Morley asked.

Porter squinted over to where Morley was standing. “No, that was mine. His is with him. Must be with him, I guess. Same kind. Trapeze with his initials burned in.”

Morley couldn’t help himself.

“Sir, I am not here for Arnie, for your son, as you know. I have not even researched that case. But is there, are there any clues, is there any information...”

Porter pointed to another bookcase. There were books on the top shelves and file boxes, the old legal kind at the bottom. They were numbered and each had “A. Porter” and some writing scrawled on the labels. Morley had hefted many of these.

“Everything is in there,” he pointed to the boxes. “Except the answer. I had a few PIs like yourself poke around. I think she paid them off. She was not happy to have a son who was…In those days, there was a lot of pressure to put him away somewhere, mostly to hide the embarrassment. That’s why I put him in plain sight and made him do the best he could do. He was made fun of by almost everybody and I toughened him up and a few started to respect him for what he was. I think, I know, she thought of him like a freak and it ruined her plans-social plans. I didn’t care.” Porter reached over and grabbed a tissue.

“Mr. Porter, I am sorry to bring this up…” Morley did feel sorry and had attention on the redhead.

“Nonsense. It is the same thing with old people. Gotta toughen up and treat them like people. Hell it’s gonna happen to you and everybody. No sense pussy-footing around what’s real. That’s crap. You don’t have to worry about my feelings.” Morley felt the old man’s piercing gaze.

“Well, Mr. Porter. I thank you for your time. I will report that the ring is the ring of Julia Porter.” Morley walked towards the door. Mr. Porter stood up, slowly but steadily.

“You still haven’t broken the case.” Porter said.

“Well, all I really…”

“Find Arnie and you could break two cases. Get yourself in the paper.” Morley looked at Porter. He wasn’t kidding.

“Well, after all the,” Morley pointed to the file boxes-“work…”

“They didn’t look. They didn’t look. I paid em to look and they didn’t.”

“I can’t ask to be paid anything...”

“And I am not offering.”

“Then what…” Morley felt like he had when his favorite teacher had asked him why he blew up the snakes in the biology lab. Caught, really stupid and very aware that his life for sure had no real purpose.

“Okay, sir. I will give it some thought.” There was no response just the stare. Morley backed away and felt for the door. Even his Navy officers did not make him feel like he felt now.

In the hall he unconsciously felt for cigarettes in his pocket and then remembered.

Christ that was over two years ago. Same year I cheated on the running…

He walked to the elevator and the door opened just as he got to it. A woman resident on a walker slowly made her way out, carefully lifting the wheels at the lip of the elevator. Morley reached out to help her.

“I don’t need your help!” the woman said sharply and with surprising force. Morley backed away. He took the elevator down and started to walk out the front door. The redhead ran out and stopped him.

“Well?” she asked. Morley for a minute thought she was asking about the well where Mrs. Porter was found. Then he focused on her eyes. No words came out.

“I have seen that look before,” she said. “Veterans.” Morley decided he would not tell her he had never seen any real action. In fact his hands had gotten smoother in the Navy with the paperwork. But mostly he wanted to get out. There was too much something in this place.

“Ah. Interesting man. And I did what I came to do. “She continued to look at him.

“There is more isn’t there?”

“Well, I can’t. Professionally…”

“Pshhhush.”

“What?”

“Is said. Pshhhush. Dinner and you tell me.”

“Excuse me?”

“Buy me dinner and tell me.”

“Buy you dinner?”

“Okay, we’ll go dutch.” She smiled.

“Okay. But there isn’t really anything…”

“Two missing persons in the same family, one found years later in a well.”

“He wants me to see about finding his son, Arnie. Okay, Saturday at Mels sixish.”

“Sixish at Mels it is. I know where Mels is. I am new here but good with directions…” Sure.

Morley walked away. Now he felt like she was more of a sister, a little sister. He couldn’t believe it but he thought he would blow off the date, go out of town and fish or something.

And he did. And caught nothing. But frustration. And a headache from the warm beer.

Two weeks later. He and Roger were the only ones in the office. A transistor radio on Roger’s desk played the game. Roger would occasionally tap the top of the radio hard with a pencil and say-“Are you kidding me? I can tell from here that wasn’t a strike.”

Morley’s desk phone squawked and the desk said-”Someone here to see you,” in a sing-song fashion, very much unlike how she usually made her announcements.

“Send him back. But I don’t have any appointments.”

Morley took his feet off the desk and put the paper down on the floor out of sight and straightened up the papers he did have, mostly about a body that was found in a corn field. Most likely a transient. No ID. No sign of violence. Death by the slow grind and wearing away of an impossible life. Then he saw her through the glass. The redhead! Maybe she was that mad at being stood up and she was here to kill him! That thought flashed through his mind as he stood up noticing that she bore no weapons but a slightly wagging fore-finger and a slightly admonishing half smile.

He held his hands out. You got me.

“You’re forgiven. Almost. Just picture a girl-like me-waiting at Mels.”

“I...” she held up her finger again.

Why were girls so attractive when they got mad?

“Shh. We have more important things to talk about.” She sat down on the chair in front of his desk. Roger turned down the radio and peered over his glasses. Morley scowled at him.

“Can we talk here?” she asked? Roger stifled a laugh and got up with his radio and a brown lunch bag.

“Sure, sure. Let’s talk.”

“Do you need to take notes or anything.”

“Ah, no. well, I have no idea what…”

“Of course! I haven’t told you anything. “ The redhead leaned forward. “Okay. Over the last week I got to know Mr. Porter and a bit about his son-Arnie. I told him about my older sister, Anna, so we had stuff in common. I saw the sports things, the trophies and newspaper clippings and the other stuff Mr. Porter did with Arnie.” She started to cry. Morley reached into his desk and got out a tissue.

I’ll never understand the fairer sex. The unpredictable tears thing. Maybe that’s why I’m not married. Insensitive or something.

“Thank you. I’m not upset about Arnie. I’m sad that my family didn’t do more for Anna like Mr. Porter did. She basically went away and we visited now and then. But I was ashamed to even have her meet my friends because of what they might think. I could have, I should have…”More tears. “She even helped me with stuff when my mother wouldn’t explain stuff to me, young girl stuff. She helped me. You see?” Her eyes were red.

The desk woman, Robin, walked in with a hot cup of something and gave it to the redhead. She waited until the redhead took a sip, put her hand on her shoulder and got a smile.

“These guys don’t know how to treat a situation like this.” Glare at Morley.

“It’s okay. I didn’t come in really to talk about this. Detective Morley must be a good listener.”

Robin stood waiting.

“Oh, I’m Priscilla. Priscilla Mathews. I’m new here-in town.” Jesus. Priscilla Mathews. I never asked her name. Some detective.

“Well, I’m Robin. Actually Deputy Robin. The only one with manners around here.” Priscilla smiled. “Okay now. Back I go.”

“Thank you. Thank you.” Priscilla straightened up in her chair and leaned forward. “She is nice. And she carries a gun.”

“She is. Usually. Okay, now...”

“Okay. I think I found Arnie.” Morley felt and looked shocked simultaneously. Then he realized he had heard it all before. A thousand times. Okay hundreds. He waited.

“We have to go to Penglen.” She stared at him with such certainty but zero meaning. Morley had seen it before. Heard it, seen it. He started to feel hungry.

“Peglen.” Not a question because he had heard it all before. Saves time. Don’t question.

“Yes, my sister is there. I visit her. When I can. I was taking a bath two nights ago and it came to me. Sorry, forget the bath.” Did she turn a bit pink? He couldn’t forget it-not that fast.

“ I was remembering the Put it There Story that my Anna would tell me about this boy-man- there at Penglen. I think they had a romantic thing, or they liked each other. Anyway. They would take walks and he would say “Put It There.”

Morley got up and poured himself coffee and tilted the carafe toward Priscilla. She nodded no and showed him her tea. He took a stale roll and then sat down again.

“Oh.” She looked at her dainty wrist at a daintier watch. “It is your lunch time.” Roger made a face through the class and he saw Robin whap him with a newspaper.

“It’s okay.”

“We could go eat…” Morley smiled at her. This was how it usually went when someone had a hunch that wouldn’t go away. Draw it out-eat. Become friends.

“Okay. Let me explain better. When I visited Mr. Porter we chatted a bit about sports and baseball and I told him that my Anna loved badminton and when she visited, the few times she did, my dad would put up the net and we would all play but one time she got really wild and crashed through it. His brother, my uncle, was there and his wife and it was really embarrassing so we put it away.” Morley began to think again about her in the bath. She had brought it up.

“And then. And then! Mr. Porter said “Put It There!” While we were looking at the pictures he just said “Put It There”. Mr. Porter explained to me that he and all fathers say that to, to train their sons on baseball!” She paused to see if Morley got it.” Nothing happened to me just then but in the bath…Sorry.” She waved her hand in the air but that didn’t help-“ Two nights ago I realized Put It There is Arnie! Anna calls him Nelson. But when she says Nelson he looks sad. And you know what else?” She waited for him to say something. He nodded. Worse than usual coffee. Stomach did not like it or the roll. All fathers. Let’s see that is how many thousands?

“On Visitor Day when the parents come Nelson-Arnie- goes out by the gate waiting with a baseball glove. Saying Put It There Put It There over and over.” Finally something caught Morley’s attention.

“What kind of glove?” She looked blank liked women do around sports talk.

“That is why we need to go to Penglen. So you can do your Detective work on this case.”

Morley looked at his watch. “How far to Penglen?”

“One day drive. I am all packed and we can use my car. Be back Sunday with good news for Mr. Porter.” Morley scratched his forehead. She was smiling.

How did she do that?

“You owe me!”

Robin smiled at them as they left, giving a wink to Priscilla.

If I could crack that secret between-women-thing I would crack a lot more cases.

*

She was good with directions and knew the way by heart. He drove most of the way. They stayed at a Motel-separate rooms by about ten doors-Morley counted- and then she drove them in to Penglen.

Morley wondered how, if it was true, could a mother change her sons name and hide him away. Maybe it was because the world back them was better at putting bad stuff away and hiding it. But philosophical thoughts didn’t ever solve cases, in his experience. Only seeing what was there. Usually where most people didn’t want to look.

Priscilla was recognized at the desk and as Morley looked around at the huge ceiling with old scrollwork and angels and horses carved into the ceiling he heard the desk person say coldly it was not a scheduled Visitors Day. Morley had told her what to say and then when that didn’t work Morley walked up on cue as Priscilla got out her handkerchief to pretend cry. Or maybe real.

“Hello, Ms, Ms…?” the woman looked up from the desk. Morley had seen them before. The office called them Door Stoppers. Most organizations had them. He saw the name plate on the desk.

“Ms. Benson. I am Detective Morley.” He showed her his badge and let his holster hang somewhat forward.”

“No guns allowed in this building. And as I told Ms. Mathews, this is not a Visitor Day. If this is an official visit from the police you know a warrant is needed, don’t you, Detective.” She was more than a Door Stopper. Hum. Morley decided on a different tact.

“Fact is Ms. Benson, Ms. Mathews and I are trying to soothe the heartbreak of a father. There is no attempt at finding any wrong doing or criminal…” The door behind her opened and two men came out. Two men in suits. One of them spoke.

“Everything okay Ms. Benson?”

“Yes, Mr. Peterson. You know Priscilla, of course. She and her friend were in the neighborhood on an errand for an elderly gentleman. Priscilla works at…”

“The Golden Leaves…”

“Yes, and well. They were just leaving.” Morley looked at the man who didn’t speak. A thug. Plain and simple. What would a thug, two thugs, be doing in Penglen amongst the mentally challenged. Were there more thugs? That was why he was a detective. He saw, he questioned and questioned until the treat came out of the box. Cracker Jack. But not to eat it. To lock it up. Nothing more fun than ripping the box open. The More You Eat The More You Want. He felt all eyes on him. The bigger thug stepped forward.

“Have we met before?” Morley asked. “At the Twin Dimes maybe?” The Twin Dimes was a nickname for a county holding cell where criminals were held until transferred up state to the Big Time.

“Or maybe Big Time?” The thug advanced and the other man held him back.

“Priscilla, if you want you can go visit Anna briefly since you travelled all this way but Ms. Benson cannot offer a pass to ….”

Morley nodded at Pricilla. All while keeping his eyes on the thug.

“That would be nice. It would make the trip worthwhile.”

“Yes, you could have called about this issue and saved yourself time,” Ms. Benson said writing and stamping a pass efficiently, all the while keeping her eyes on Morley.

Morley walked back outside and saw a path that lead to a garden with roses that filled a trellis making a circular tunnel. It felt cared for but unused. He took the path and entered the tunnel. He could feel eyes on his back but nobody followed him. He walked through the garden and came to a high stone wall. It must have been at least ten feet high. It had curved iron on the top. With spikes. And there were square holes about eight feet high all along the wall filled with cement. Canon emplacements. This had been a fort a hundred years ago or more. And most likely a prison too since it was built so well. Morley thought he would look it up at the library when he got back.

He waited on an iron bench near where they had parked and then got up and wandered to the front gate.

Who pays for this? Could you hide somebody here and pay them off to keep it secret?

Finally, Priscilla came back out. She was flushed and as soon as she saw him she cried.

“I upset her. She wasn’t expecting me so she wasn’t ready. ‘ Not the time not the day,’ she said. But she hugged me. They get used to regularity and schedules and patterns.” Priscilla sighed. Tears came down and this time he was ready and handed her his handkerchief. She smiled. They walked toward the car and an elderly back man dressed in a white overalls appeared from a nearly invisible shed. He waved at Priscilla.

“Ms. Mathews, this aint Visitor Day. What brings you here?”

“Mr. Lester, this is Detective Morley, my friend. We came to. We both have a client who lost his child years ago. He may be, may be a friend of Anna’s.”

“Who that be?” Mr. Lester asked looking at Morley.

“Arnie, I mean Nelson.” Mr. Lester looked at them both back and forth.

“We gotta walk away, pretend I am showing you the roses.” They walked together back into the garden.

“Any kind of thing make you think he is the missing child?” Mr. Lester asked.

“A baseball glove. “ Morley said. Sometimes it was better to throw out a morsel rather than the whole meal.

Mr. Lester stared at Morley. “He gotta glove. It so old. I tried to buy him a new one. He won’t take it.” Morley waited. It was his best detective trick. To be quiet. Let them talk.

Finally-“It is a Trapeez. Probably thirty years old. He sleep with it. He have it everywhere he can.”

Morley looked at Pricilla.

“They got this place locked up tight though.” Mr. Lester said. “Uh-huh. Tight.” Morley waited. Quiet. “Yes, this is not all that it seems, no sir.”

“We just want our client to have some peace.” Priscilla said. And, of course, Arnie.”

“Uh-huh. He been waiting at the gate for thirty-three years. He been holding hisself together, physically too. Arnie. Hum. I remember the day he arrived here.” Morley saw someone coming along the path.

“Mr. Lester. Next time Priscilla comes can you get us his file?” Mr. Lester nodded.

“I see what I can do. And these roses here were planted back in…yellow roses…hello Mr. Peterson. Isn’t it nice to see Priscilla again? Well, I best gets to my chores out here. Bye bye.” Mr. Lester walked towards his shed and looked over his shoulder at Priscilla.

Mr. Stevenson walked them to the car and watched as they drove away.

“Like opening up a can of worms, Priscilla said.

Or a Cracker Jack box, Morley, thought. Depends on how you look at it.

As they drove off Morley looked in the rear view mirror. Definitely a prison now. Priscilla slid close to him and their legs touched. Neither of them spoke until dinner but both knew they wanted to get all the way home-straight shot.

*

Nothing happened for twenty-two days. That can happen in his business. And she-there was a fire, small one, in the Golden Leaves kitchen. No one was hurt but Pricilla had to put out the fire of concern and inspections and relatives.

So they didn’t really talk or see each other. Maybe once he saw her drive by.

The transient turned out to be the son of a farmer from a few counties over. He had been made to look like a transient. At least his clothes. But the coroner said “Teeth are too good.” He talked like that. Sentences were said like the cuts he made on bodies-precise, no emotion. Geometrically vivid.

Morley had once met him for lunch. Never again. He cut his steak like…

So Morley had been on the road. Found out about the missing farmer kid from Dunbar. Not really a kid-twenty-five. Confirmed it was him. Talked to the father and mother. Whose sentences were more like total emotion and no geometry. Lost points and lines-confusion.

Then he talked to a ranch hand-Charlie. The son had a gambling problem and the folks didn’t know about it. Does that help? You bet.

Then the coroner had discovered a mark on the body. He was very apologetic about not finding it right away.

“What kind of mark?”

“An IOU.”

“A what?”

“An IOU. I have seen it before. It is a sign that a debt is still owed. The Frank clan uses it to send a message.”

Whoa! So Morley got with the FBI. They visited the Frank clan. And the Frank clan offered up a Tyler Weeks who had befriended the dead kid before he was dead and then made him dead.

On whose orders? Thought Morley but the FBI said they case was closed, the debt was “paid”. Nobody would bother the poor dead kid’s parents.

Roger told Morley that the Frank clan worked with the FBI on bigger fish so they wouldn’t exactly nail them. The could lose some possibly good future intel.

That all took twenty-one days.

On day twenty-two Morley was at his desk and Robin brought him a hastily scratched note.

“She brought it in when you were out celebrating the dead kid case.” He and Roger had gone out to watch a high school baseball game. Hot dogs and coke and stuff. The Tigers. Morley had thought about Arnie out there is left field, or maybe center.

Morley knew Robin had read the note. Again, it was that woman unspoken thing.

“I got the file. Priscilla”. Was all it said.

So they met finally at Mels.

“This time you pay.” It wasn’t a question. Morley nodded. Instant obeyance.

I am gonna crack that female code someday.

They ordered and Priscilla brought out a crumpled legal size envelope. She looked around to see if anyone was looking.

“Should I pass it to you under the table?” She was serious!

“Sure.” This would be fun. Their hands went under and then met and his brushed her knee.

“Sorry.” No response. That could be good, or…”Okay, I got it. Want to open it?”

“Here?”

“Sure.”

“No let’s look at it at… my place. Mr. Lester in no longer employed at Penglen and I am worried that he did this and then got in trouble.” The salads arrived. Morley wasn’t a salad guy.

“When I visited Anna, last week, that big guy…”

“The thug?”

“Yes, he seemed to always be there with me and Anna, or somewhere close by. And…” Tears again. He practically grabbed his handkerchief and offered it.

Big liquid filled smile. “Thanks. And Nelson is gone.”

“What do you mean?”

“Anna said that Nelson-Arnie-went away in a truck with red lights.”

“An ambulance. Oh boy.”

“Yes, and Mr. Lester said goodbye to her and gave her this and she hid it and gave it to me. I hope Anna doesn’t get in trouble.” Priscilla straightened up and her sweater tightened up. Morley held his eyes on hers. It was hard.

“I did some casual digging.” She leaned forward. Neither of them ate the salads.

“You did?”

“Yes. I did recognize the thug that was following you. His name is Horace O’Connor. He has a long sheet…”

“Sheet?”

“He has done a bunch of bad stuff, starting at the age of thirteen. Robbery, tortured animals, hurt his sister, then when he got out of Reform school he was reformed to move on to the big time. And ever since he has been in and out. When I was with the FBI on the dead kid case they gave me the scoop and I verified it locally. “

“The FBI.” Her eyes grew wide. She took a roll and ripped it apart and loaded it with butter.

“Yes, and one of the guys told me confidentially that they had an investigator look at Penglen about a year ago. One of the relatives of a resident reported that their child had disappeared.”

Priscilla stuffed half the roll in her mouth. My kind of girl. The steaks came.

“He went in to inquire-undercover-and reported everything to the DA. It is a state facility so really the FBI have no authority. And you know Ms. Benson?” Priscilla held a bloody piece of steak on her fork in front of her mouth.

“Tell me!”

“Her real name is Maggie Smithers. She worked for the Mob and was given leniency back East because she helped the Feds on something.”

Morley tore into his steak.

“Honestly it seems like everybody helps the Feds. And gets away with stuff.” Morley said cutting vigorously. He heard the silence and then saw her stillness. But he kept chewing. She was staring over him, frozen. He thought Don’t Look back-but he did.

Feds! Suits and they were looking around and not getting a table. Finally Morley looked away.

“I know the one guy. Maybe they are here for dinner.”

“No, they found us. Darn and this was such a good steak.”

“Finish it. Don’t let them spoil our…” then he felt their presence. And at the same time he felt her hands tapping on his knees. He had put the envelope on his lap while they ate. She wanted it so he slid it to her and he could just barely hear it going under her skirt.

“Gentlemen.” Morley said, not stopping his chewing. “I can attest this is genuine USA steak—nothing illegal going on here.”

“Funny Morley,” one of the suits said. Morley grinned.

“Are you going to introduce...”

“No. Anything else?”

The suits sat next to them both causing them to have to slide over a bit. But Morley nodded to Priscilla to keep eating.

“Isn’t this cozy.”

“Morley. You did real good on that case. Real good. And as a Navy man you are real good at following orders.” Morley didn’t like where this was going.

“So, if you have anything that may be impeding any ongoing investigations, best to just turn them over to…”

“Can you pass me the steak sauce?” Morley asked the quiet suit who almost did it but then saw the others face.

“You get me?” the suit asked, picking up a salt shaker. Morley exaggerated his chewing. Loud.

“Sure, sure.” He reached over and got the sauce. “You know the difference between you guys and the bad guys?” The suits looked at Morley. “You guys all drive Fords. Hum.”

“Watch yourself Morley.” They got up and waited and stood there. Priscilla stared them and finally they left.

“They are on our side? “she asked.

“We’ll see. We’ll see. Where did you put the..?”

“Don’t ask.” Okay but he could imagine. “I don’t think it is safe to look at it tonight. Let’s go to my work and copy it all on the Verifax.” Priscilla looked very conspiratorial and Morley thought they may be getting in over their heads. What did the FBI have on Penglen? Didn’t they turn everything over to the DA?

“Dessert?” he asked her. She smiled all apple pie and vanilla ice cream.

Two days later she came in, right past Robin, and walked straight up to his desk. She wore a different sweater, like a day off sweater and slacks, day off slacks. And sneakers. She looked even better.

“They broke into my apartment and found it! When I was at the laundromat.” This time no tears-anger maybe and disbelief.

“Can they do that without asking?” Morley offered the handkerchief which she took, looked at and then gave back to him. “What are we going to do?”

“For starters we need to read the file. And then we need to find Arnie before…before. And we need to talk to Mr. Porter. Ask Robin to help you get a list of all the hospitals and nursing homes near Penglen. And I need to take some time off-we may need it.”

Priscilla smiled and walked over to the coffee. She poured herself a cup. She took a sip. Wow. She is really something. No reaction to the world’s worst coffee.

*

Mr. Porter was still in the wingback. Maybe he was always there. Except when he ate. They visited him on her day off. Morley thought he looked older, like his eyes had dimmed. Priscilla sat in front of him and stroked the cat who was on his lap.

“So you think you found my Arnie?” he said. Morley thought he saw some moisture in the old guy’s eyes. “So you broke the case without all these old files?”

“Well, sir. Ms. Mathews…”

She cut him off. “We both have been on, on Arnie, on finding Arnie. And between us, Mr. Morley and I have…”

“Are you guys sweethearts?” He looked at Morley who looked at Priscilla who looked at Morley who looked back at Mr. Porter. Nothing was said.

“Thought so. Okay, continue.” Priscilla looked at Mr. Porter.

“We think Arnie is at a nursing home. We think he had some sort of physical collapse and was taken to a County facility. My sister Anna and the grounds-keeper Mr. Lester have given us enough to think that this could be Arnie.” Morley went over to the glove. Mr. Porter saw him.

“He still got that glove?” Morley nodded. Ok. Good work. Let’s go then.” Priscilla looked at Morley.

Morley pulled up an old ottoman and brought out the copied file. There is one other thing, sir. Maybe two. We aren’t sure about the second.”

“Go on. I’m not going to live forever you know.”

“In the file here, one thing that Penglen did really well was to make very accurate notes with dates and records and you can see…”

“Get to the point. I’m not going to read the damn thing.”

“Yes, sir. Well, October Twenty-Second Nineteen-Thirty-Four Penglen did something that seemed to be very unusual. Per the file they took a field trip here, to Braws County and spent the night and the day…”Morley noticed that Mr. Porter suddenly looked very pale and the sharp eyes were unfocused.

“And in that file was noted that Nelson Gammond-Arnie- disappeared for four hours and was found finally at the bus stop.” Morley flipped over to the next page. “He was agitated about losing his baseball cap until someone gave him another one.” Priscilla poured Mr. Porter some water and he drank it slowly.

“You going to arrest him? And me?” he said back to his tough self.

“No, sir. There is no evidence here. Only an interesting coincidence of that date being the same date as the last time Julia Porter was seen by the gardener and from the papers of the time you, sir, were on a business trip in Saint Louis for the week. If I were doing a proper investigation I would think it worth a look but would know it would lead…”

“It would lead you to the truth, son.” Mr. Porter said. He stood up by pushing himself up on both arms of the chair. He was tall. Six-three maybe, Morley thought. And he still had pretty good posture but the strength was gone to support the shoulders.

“I taught Arnie to throw something, anything in the well we had, which had long since dried up, whenever he felt mad or upset or frustrated or whatever. Like it would help him. He got to throwing all kinds of stuff in there. I’d tell him-That’s where the bad things go, Arnie in the well. Throw them in the well.” Mr. Porter stood over by the pictures on the wall and looked at one with Arnie holding up a fish he had caught.

“So that’s what he did with her, with his mother. He recognized where he was, went home and looked for me at the house, didn’t find me, saw her, she reacted most likely, and then,” Mr. Porter started to sob. Priscilla came up to him and put her arms around him.

“He knew what to do. He knew what she had done.She had separated him and me. He was strong enough to lift up the top we had finally put on the well after he threw a cat in there. Arnie put his mother in the well. Put the top back on so no one would look-not sure if he thought this all through- She grabbed his baseball cap and held it as proof all these years. I guess she finally got her revenge.” Mr. Porter sat down again.

“Arrest me then. I taught him how to do it. I showed him where the bad things went. And she was one of them. That is for sure.” His eyes shone again.

“Mr. Porter, that is a good hypothesis of what may have happened but no one, no policeman, no judge, no detective would even…”

“No, Mr. Porter. We want you to see Arnie again.” Priscilla said.

“Bring your glove, sir.”

*

Two weeks later was when they planned to take him. It took that long because Morley was covering for a guy who had to go out of town to care for his parents and there was some knucklehead who was staring in windows of girls’ apartments so he had to do some late shifts until they caught the guy.

Priscilla had arranged to take Mr. Porter for the day. They loaded him into the car and bundled him up with blankets. It was a two hour drive and Mr. Porter slept most of the time. Priscilla rode in back with him and watched him and his breathing. His glove was in his lap.

When they arrived at the nursing home Morley jumped out and went up to the desk. This time the woman was nice and helpful. Morley wanted to kiss her. He got the room number and walked to it. The door was partly open. He looked in and saw an old man, familiar only in the shape of the face, sleeping with his mouth open. The room had two beds. The other wasn’t occupied.

Morley went back to the car. Priscilla and Mr. Porter looked at him and he nodded.

They helped Mr. Porter get out of the car. Morley gave him the glove. They walked down the hall and waited at the door. Mr. Porter looked at them and smiled and walked in. Morley and Priscilla walked away. But as they did, they heard-

“Pops, Pops how are you, Pops? Put Her There Put Her There!” And then- “Arnie my son, my son!”

Priscilla started to cry. And Morley held her. She felt light and warm and he felt a burning in his throat. They walked to the car and there he was. A Suit!

“Hello, Morley. Ms.”

Morley just stood and stared at him. He didn’t even feel like being funny.

“Trade you Morley. One copy of the file and no word about Arnie to the press. And where he was October Twenty-Second Nineteen and Thirty-Four.” Morley went to the car and got the file and gave it to him.

“Now who are you going to use to get rid of the bad guys?” Morley asked him.

“What do you mean? Oh that. We have more modern methods now. We don’t have to use them kind anymore. Plus, it isn’t popular anymore. They are just people right?” The suit laughed and laughed, red in the face. Morley walked up to him and punched him hard enough to knock him down. He stood over him. The suit got up and looked at Priscilla. His mouth was bloody.

Priscilla stood squarely in front of him, her arms crossed tightly.

“If you, if any woman decided to have you as a husband, which is unlikely, and if you have any children, and if your child was like Arnie-think about that if you have any humanity in you. Mister!”

The suit walked away, brushing himself off.

“Well, that was that.” Morley said.

Mr. Porter spent the night in the bed next to Arnie and they stared at each other and laughed and threw an old baseball to each other, missing several times and calling for the nurse to come pick it up for them. Finally they both fell asleep. A nurse checked on them.

They both snore the same!

Morley and Priscilla drove home. She sat next to him, right next to him and he put his arm over her shoulder.

“Well,” she said putting her hand on his knee giving him a delightful feeling. “You know what this mean, right?” Morley looked over at her.

“We have to get married!”

Morley pretended to make the car go out of control. She whapped his thigh.

“Ow!” He could feel her scowl burning the side of his face. “Yes, and have lots of babies.”

“Yes,” she said. “Lots and lots of babies!”

They drove the rest of the way, quiet, windows open, telephone poles whooshing by, cleaning the air.

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