that ship? In Alaska?”
“The Exxon Valdez?”
“Yeah, that one. That’s what you’d get in Lake Michigan.”
“That’s good,” I said. “Hey, any chance of me seeing my friend for a minute?”
He stuck his tongue in his cheek and looked down the hall. “Make it quick.”
“I appreciate it.”
I stepped into the room. The heart monitor was beeping. The ventilator was contracting, blowing air, releasing, again and again. I moved closer to him. His eyes were closed. There were bruises on his face. The breathing tube was taped into his mouth.
And then the bandages, all over his neck, his shoulders. He was wrapped up like a mummy, and looked just as still. Like he’d never move again.
“Don’t die yet,” I said out loud. “I want some answers first.”
The monitor kept beeping. The machine filled his lungs with air and then released.
“Besides,” I said, “I want to kill you myself.”
CHAPTER 12
I looked at the piece of paper the chief had given me. Randy’s ex-wife, Sandra Van Buren. Randy and Sandy. They must have heard that a lot. Van Buren was either her maiden name or else she’d remarried. Either way, I wondered how she’d react to me calling her. I was about to find out.
I was back in my truck, in the parking garage. I dialed Sandra’s number on the cell phone I keep in the truck, an old analog piece of crap that I don’t use very often. The call didn’t go through. I tried again. The connection crackled and gave out. I threw the phone on the seat.
I got out of the truck and went down to the street, then back to the same bar. The bartender had finished washing a few more glasses. The woman was still watching her soap opera. She didn’t look up at me this time, either, even when I walked right past her. I had noticed a pay phone in the hallway by the bathroom, with a battered phone book sitting on a wooden chair. I put the phone book on the floor and sat on the chair. It creaked like it was going to give out and then decided not to.
After I keyed in my calling card, I dialed Sandra’s number. Over two thousand miles from where I was sitting, her phone rang. After four rings, she picked up.
“Ms. Van Buren,” I said. Up to that moment, I hadn’t even thought about what to say to her. “My name is Alex McKnight. I’m a friend of Randy’s.”
There was a long silence; then she cleared her throat and spoke. “Yes?”
“I’m just outside the hospital,” I said. “I saw him in the Intensive Care Unit.”
“What do you want?” she said.
There was a low humming on the line, riding back and forth across the country. “I just wanted to tell you,” I said, “that I spent a few days with Randy last week. He came all the way out here… well, partly just to see me, I guess. That’s what he said. And we…”
We what? What did we do? What could I say to her?
“It was the first time I had seen him in almost thirty years,” I said. “We played ball together back in 1971.”
She didn’t say anything.
“I didn’t know anything about what had happened to him since then,” I said.
“What do you mean, happened to him?” she said. “Nothing happened to him. He happened to us, Mr. McKnight. He destroyed everybody around him.”
“I understand that,” I said. “Now that I know, I mean… I just wanted to tell you one thing, because I have to. When I was with him last week, all he kept talking about were your children.”
“Stop right there,” she said. “Don’t even say that.”
“It’s true,” I said.
“If he said that, he was feeding you a line. Why do you think he came out there, anyway? You think he came out there just to hang out with his old baseball buddy?”
“I obviously don’t know Randy as well as I thought I did,” I said. “But I swear to God, he talked like a man who was very proud of his kids. You can’t fake that. Nobody can.”
“The policeman told me he was looking for a woman,” she said. “What do you think he was going to do when he found her? Tell her how proud he was of his kids?”
“I didn’t know why he was trying to find her,” I said. “I mean I thought I did, but…”
“It figures,” she said. “He had to go back thirty years to find somebody who’d still believe him.”
“Ms. Van Buren…”
“It’s Mrs. Van Buren,” she said. “I’m married to somebody else now. I try not to think about the past, okay? I didn’t need that policeman calling me up today, and frankly, I didn’t need this call, either.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I just had to call you.”
“Okay, you called me. You did what you thought you had to do.”
“Yes,” I said. “And I was thinking maybe I’d call your children, too.”
“I can’t stop you,” she said.
“If there’s a change in his condition…”
“Don’t bother,” she said. “I don’t care what happens to him. I really don’t.”
“All right,” I said. “All right, then. I guess that’s it.”
“I guess so,” she said.
“Good-bye.”
She hung up.
I sat there on the chair with the receiver in my lap, staring at the wall. The paneling was loose. One good pull and I’d bring the whole thing down on top of me.
The next name was Annette Wilkins. I dialed the number and got a recording telling me that the Turtle Cafe would open at 11:00 A.M. for lunch. I looked at my watch. It was 2:15 Michigan time, 11:15 California time. Somebody was late opening up the place.
I tried Jonathan Wilkins’s number next. I got a secretary telling me I had reached the law offices of about six names I couldn’t catch. When I asked for Mr. Wilkins, I was put on hold.
There was classical music for a while, and then a voice. “This is John.”
“Mr. Wilkins, my name is Alex McKnight. I’m calling about your father.”
“My father the embezzler and con artist? How much did he take you for?”
“I imagine you’ve heard about what’s happened to him here in Michigan.”
“Yes,” he said. “The police chief from Orcus Beach called last night. Wherever that is. Are you connected with the hospital?”
“No, I’m an old friend of his,” I said. “I just talked to your mother.”
“I don’t imagine that was a pleasant conversation,” he said.
“Not really,” I said. “But I had to call her, and I had to call you. Your father said some things about you when I saw him last week. I thought you should know.”
“What did he say?”
“He said that you had just passed the bar and that you were working as a lawyer in San Francisco. And that you’re going to have a baby soon.”
“That’s amazing,” he said. “Not one piece of that is a he. It’s a new record for him.”
“He also said that he was very proud of you.”
“Ah, well, there you go. The streak is broken.”
“I may be out of line, but I think he really meant it.”
“Mr. McKnight, what did he tell you about his baseball career? Did he tell you about all the games he won for the Tigers back in the seventies?”
“No, I know he only pitched in one game.”
