Down in the Zero

'Oh I see.' She led us over to the reference room, showed us a few dozen issues suspended on wooden racks. 'The rest are in the back. Do you know which dates?'

'We need to go back about seven months,' I told her.

'Well, that would be a pretty heavy stack,' she said doubtfully.

'I'll carry them out,' the kid said.

She flashed him a smile as I nodded approval. They went into the back room as I sat down and started to work.

The kid was a help. He knew the names, cruised through the back issues looking for the suicide stories. It took less than two hours and we had everything the papers had printed. With the parents' names, it was easy enough to get the addresses from the bank of local phone books the library had.

'Did you find what you wanted?' the librarian asked.

'Pretty much,' I told her.

'You can just leave the papers on the table,' she said. 'I'll have one of the— '

'I'll put them back,' the kid said, earning another smile.

Driving back, I heard the chirp of a phone. I pulled the cellular out of my pocket. Nothing. The phone sounded again. The kid laughed, reached over and popped the console open, pulling out a car phone.

'Hello?' he said into the receiver. I couldn't hear the person on the other end.

'It's Randy.'

…

'I just felt like driving her car,' he said, an edge to his voice. 'What's it to you?'

…

'He's around somewhere,' the kid said, glancing over at me. 'I don't know. How come you— ?'

…

'Okay, I'll tell him. So long.'

He replaced the car phone, looked over at me.

'That was Fancy,' he said. 'She wanted to know if you were still working…being the caretaker.'

'How come you didn't tell her I was right here?'

'I don't know. I just thought…'

'You thought right,' I said.

The kid nodded gravely, a slight flush on his face. Embarrassed that he'd done something right. 'She said to tell you to call her.'

'Exactly that?'

'Yeah. 'Tell him to call me,' that's what she said.'

I didn't say anything. I made the turn onto the road for the house, shoved in the dashboard lighter, fitted a cigarette in my mouth.

'She's a bossy bitch, isn't she?' the kid said.

'Not mine,' I told him.

Not my bitch— not my boss either.

I

spread out my notes on the kitchen table, working with what I had. The kid watched me for a few minutes. I expected him to get restless–bored the way they do, but he hung in, quiet.

'You want me to do something?' he finally asked.

'We're looking for a pattern,' I told him.

'A pattern?'

'Yeah, stuff all these had in common, you understand?'

'Sure. Like on TV, when they're trying to catch a killer.'

'I don't know if we got a killer here, kid. But one thing's for sure— we got enough bodies.'

He got to his feet, rubbing his head with both hands. 'You want some food?' he asked.

'Sure. Whatever you're having.'

He went into the living room to use the phone. I kept my head down, concentrating.

The back doorbell startled me. Randy opened it up, signed something the deliveryman gave him. He opened a couple of paper bags, started assembling stuff on plates.

'I figured you might like Chinese,' he said. 'I mean…that restaurant in the city and all.'

'Sure,' I told him. 'You didn't give the guy any money. How come?'

'My mother has an account with them. With a few others too. It makes it easier. She says I really won't need