I guess that explains it as well as anything.
* * * * *
I didn’t really sleep much the next night either. After a while I turned the light on. It was four in the morning. I put on some clothes, got in my car and drove towards the city. Towards East Colfax. It was dead quiet, desolate, the air thick. The buildings and streets looked so damn filthy. Small black shapes scurried about the garbage cans. They were noiseless. Not much more than shadows. When I got to East Colfax I drove down each side street, each alleyway. All the peep shows and strip clubs and bars were closed. All had their entrances locked up with iron gratings.
I don’t know how I knew she’d be there-it was just kind of a funny feeling I had-but I found Debra Singer curled up in one of the alleyways.
All she had on was a halter-top and a trashy pair of shorts that only covered about an inch of leg. When I woke her she looked up, bleary-eyed, drugged, her skin kind of yellowish. She looked thinner than any time before. Not much more than a skeleton. When she recognized me she started saying some pretty awful stuff. Things that made my skin crawl. Then she broke into a hysterical mix of laughing and giggling. She told me it was my fault her father was dead, if I had left her alone none of it would’ve happened. Her mother wouldn’t hate her so much.
I tried to help her up so I could get her into my car, but she started grabbing at me, whispering about all the different ways I could screw her and how she would let me do it for free since I was such an old friend of hers. It made me sick listening to her. I tried to get her to stop but she just kept laughing and whispering and smirking. And she kept struggling to take off her clothes. And she kept grabbing at me.
She was completely lost. I realized there was no other way to help her. As weak and frail as she was it was no harder than cracking a walnut.
* * * * *
The next day it took me almost all morning to get ready. As shaky as I felt, I figured I had to start getting back to a normal existence. I stopped off on my way to work and had a small bite to eat. I could barely keep the food down. By the time I got to the office it was past noon. At first all I could do was sit in my chair and stare at things. Eventually I forced myself to pick up a case report and do some real work. After filing away a couple of cases I started feeling better, like things were getting back to normal.
The door to my office swung open. I put down what I was working on as Eddie Braggs stormed in, his neck thrust out like a pit bull smelling blood.
“Don’t bother knocking. Just come right in,” I murmured. He grunted and sat down across from me.
“Sure, why not have a seat?” I said. “Here for a social visit, huh?”
“Not exactly.”
“No?” I let my forehead wrinkle. “What did you come here for?”
“We’ll get to that in a minute. I ran into an old friend of yours.” He looked away, like he wasn’t paying any attention to me. His mouth opened and the name “Bertram Debbles” rolled slowly off his tongue. Then his eyes jerked towards me, and I just about crapped in my pants trying to keep from laughing. It was just too damn sloppy, too damn childish. I could see it coming way too early.
“Bertram Debbles?” I said, shaking my head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t quite place him.”
“Why don’t you give it a little more thought. See if anything comes up.” I pretended to think some more. I shrugged. “I don’t think I ever heard that name before. Who is he?”
Eddie was scowling, more at himself than anything else. Maybe he realized what a dumbass trick he had tried. “The old man found with Margo Halloran.”
“Why in the world would I have heard of him?”
His face went blank, like a television set being switched off. It was his turn now to act dumb, except it was no act. He looked awful uncomfortable, and then broke out chuckling. “I can’t figure it out. I guess there’s no reason you should.”
“I have to agree with you there. How’d you find out who he was?”
“His fingerprints were matched by the FBI computer system. Back in the seventies he went away for eight years for kidnapping. He turned out to be a real sweetheart of a guy. How about uncorking your bottle?”
I poured him the last of the rye, and tossed the empty bottle into the trash. As he sipped his drink, he told me what had been found out about Debbles. They knew he was from Carson City, Nevada, but they didn’t know what he was doing in Denver, or if there was any connection between him and Marge. They still didn’t have much of anything. There was really nothing to get.
“So you don’t know if he has any family or friends here?”
“He wasn’t the type to have many friends. The only family he had was a daughter, but she’s living in Miami. She didn’t have any idea why he’d come to Denver, nor did she care.”
“I take it they weren’t close?”
“She had only seen him a couple of times over the last twenty years, and that was only so he could try to get money out of her. She seemed relieved to hear about what happened.”
Yeah, I could see that. I remembered little Ginny Debbles. She went through pretty much the same as I did growing up. A cute little thing with the most godawful distant eyes. Like nothing more could touch her. It gave me a warm feeling to know she’d been made happier.
“Well,” I said, “I guess I should be getting back to work. Stop by anytime.” I reached over, extending my hand to him.
He didn’t budge. “I almost forgot what I came here for. What can you tell me about Mary Williams?”
“She’s a client of mine. Why?”
“Have you heard from her recently?”
“Not for a couple of weeks. What’s going on?”
“Not much. Except she tried to commit suicide a few days ago. She was found pulled over on Mountainview Road with a hole in her head.”
“I didn’t know. I haven’t seen anything in the papers about her.”
He stopped himself cold, studying me. “You’ve been looking for it, though,” he said. “Haven’t you?”
“No, th-that’s not it at all. Look-” I could feel a hotness spreading through my throat, making me dizzy. “I’m getting sick of your attitude. First, you come into my home and accuse me of having something to do with Margo’s death, and now this.” I stood up, my hands balling into fists. “You got anything else to ask me?”
He chuckled, his eyes sparkling. “Take a deep breath and calm down. No one’s accusing you of anything. I’m just kidding around, ribbing you a little. You’ve got yourself a quick temper, don’t you?”
I sat back down, hoping the redness wouldn’t come. Afraid of what would happen if it did. “I’m sorry,” I muttered. “She was a sweet kid. I-I can’t believe she’d do a thing like that. I guess it hit me pretty hard. You’re sure it was her?”
“Yeah. Why do you think she did it?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know, Eddie. I can’t think of anything.” And I couldn’t. She should never have gotten involved with Jerry Bry. She should have known better. “She was a hell of a sweet kid.”
“You know something that keeps bothering me?” I didn’t say anything. He didn’t wait for me to.
“You were involved with both Margo Halloran and Mary Williams. I keep asking myself, what would be the odds of that? A woman is beaten to death and another is shot in the head. And Johnny Lane knows them both. I find that a damn funny coincidence.”
It wasn’t funny enough. Neither of us was laughing. I stared at him. He returned my stare, his eyes narrowing. I had to pull my eyes away from him.
“You want to say something, Johnny?”
“I guess so. I-I c-can’t lie about it anymore.”
“Yes, Johnny?”
“I guess the truth has to come out sometime. Oh, God.”
“It’s better to get it over with. You’ll feel better afterwards.”
“Maybe you’re right. Anyways, anything’s better than what I’m going through now.”
“Go on.”
“I had her hypnotized, and ordered her to shoot herself in the head. You see, I was stuck. I couldn’t figure out how to solve the case she’d hired me for and I didn’t want to have to return her money. I never had an unhappy client before, and I didn’t know what else to do.”
