to work for a while, but something had changed for him. His heart was no longer in the job. He told me he had put in his time and now he needed to spend some time with his family. I have to confess that, once he was gone, I more or less forgot about him. Out of sight; out of mind.
I suspect I’m not alone there. Women seem to hang on to their friends with real tenacity. Men don’t. I’ve heard it claimed that’s due to our being so egotistical that we don’t care about anyone but ourselves. I still keep up with Ron Peters and Ralph Ames on a regular basis, but other than those two, most of my male friendships, which were usually job-related, have fallen by the wayside.
When it came to Big Al Lindstrom, I didn’t even know if he was still around. It was possible that he and his wife, Molly, might well have sold out and turned into snowbirds. I doubted he had corked off. If that had happened, I’m sure someone from Seattle PD would have let me know. I remembered hearing that he’d gone in for quadruple bypass surgery a while earlier-was it a year or so ago, or maybe longer? — and I’d even sent a get-well card, but I had been too caught up with my own life-with my new job and my new relationship with Mel-to pay much attention to anyone else. Now I felt guilty because I hadn’t made time to go see him-not while he was in the hospital and not later, after he got out.
Wrestling with the question of whether or not I was a worthy friend, I finally drifted off to sleep-with the laptop on my lap. I awakened to find Mel standing over me, shaking her head in disgust. She was up, dressed, ready to go to work, and holding a cup of coffee in her hand.
“You spent the whole night in that chair?” she demanded, passing me the cup. “Are you nuts? Just you wait. By tonight your back will be killing you.”
The truth was, now that I was awake, my back was already killing me, but I wasn’t about to admit it, not to her.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ll be fine.”
She rolled her eyes and then held up her cell phone. “I just got off the phone with Harry,” she said. “I told him what we learned last night. He wants all hands on deck and in Federal Way ASAP. Everyone else will be canvassing Silver Pines. I’m supposed to start with Denny’s, since that’s where Marina was supposedly working at the time of her disappearance. Care to join me?”
It was a fair question. And it shouldn’t have been hard to answer, but it was. During our dinner at the 13 Coins, I somehow hadn’t mentioned that Tom Wojeck and I had once shared a partner. I can see being squeamish about talking about former spouses or girlfriends with new spouses or girlfriends, but the truth was Big Al was a part of my old life, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to bring him into my new one.
“I’ve got something I want to check out first,” I told her. “I’ll come down in my own car.”
She gave me one of her freeze-your-balls blue-eyed stares. “Okeydokey,” she said cheerily, “but do me a favor. Don’t leave home without taking some Aleve.”
In the old days, if Karen had said those same words, I probably would have regarded them as nagging. Now I recognized them for what they are-one person looking out for another.
“Thanks,” I said. “I will. And once I get there, shall we do lunch?” I added.
She gave me a brushing kiss on her way past. “You tell me. Call me later.”
Forty-five minutes after that, I headed for Big Al’s place in Ballard’s Blue Ridge neighborhood. Despite two cups of coffee, two Aleve, a very long shower, my back was in a world of hurt.
Big Al and Molly Lindstrom’s Craftsman bungalow still looked much the same as it had back when he and I were partners, including that awful night when I had come here straight from a crime scene to tell Molly that her seriously wounded husband had been transported to Harborview Hospital. The small front yard was pristine, without a weed in sight. The azaleas on either side of a small wooden porch were awash in bright pink blossoms. They looked far more cheerful than I felt. Since I hadn’t called in advance to let Molly and Big Al know I was coming, I wasn’t sure of how I’d be received. But I put my misgivings aside and rang the bell. What was the worst that could happen? I’d either find out Big Al had died while my back was turned or he’d be so disgusted when I finally showed my face that he’d bodily throw me out of the house.
Big Al himself came to the door. Having heard about the bypass situation, I expected him to look frail and gray. He didn’t. He looked as rosy-cheeked and hearty as ever, but he was leaning on a cane. He gave my face a dubious once-over. I remember seeing that wary look a thousand times when I was out selling Fuller Brush. It means: Who the hell are you and what are you doing ringing my bell? But then he recognized me, and his scowl transformed into a wide grin.
“I’ll be damned!” he exclaimed, reaching out to pump my hand. “Look what the cat dragged in. You’ll never guess who’s here, Molly,” he called over his shoulder. “It’s J.P.”
“As in J. P. Beaumont?” a woman’s voice inquired from somewhere inside the house. “After all this time? You’ve got to be kidding.”
Molly Lindstrom appeared then, with her face wreathed in smiles and looking the way I remembered her, apron and all. Her hair was grayer-whiter, really-but other than that she seemed just the same. She grabbed me and hugged me. “Boy,” she said. “If you aren’t a sight for sore eyes.”
I glanced at Big Al, with particular emphasis on the cane. “What’s that all about?”
Big Al held it up and looked at it as if he weren’t sure what it was. “This old thing? Hopefully I won’t have to use it much longer. I kept griping to Molly about how much my knees hurt. She asked me if I was going to complain about it all my life or have them fixed. Now I’ve got two bionic knees. This is the second one. No telling what Homeland Security will say the next time I try to get on a plane.” With that he turned and limped back into their cozy living room. “Come on in,” he said to me. “Mol, do you mind getting us some coffee?”
Molly left without a word. Big Al took a seat in an easy chair with tall arms and then set his cane down next to him, carefully making sure it was within easy reach. “So what’s this all about?” he asked. “To what do I owe the honor of this visit?”
“You know I’ve gone to work for S.H.I.T.?” I asked.
Big Al nodded. “For the Attorney General’s Special Homicide Investigation Team. I heard you’re working with that wild and crazy guy from up in Bellingham. What’s his name again?”
“Harry I. Ball,” I said.
“That’s right. Good old Harry. People used to complain about him…”
“They still do,” I said with a smile.
“…but as far as I could tell, he always struck me as a pretty squared-away guy.”
“He is,” I said.
Big Al straightened in his chair. “It’s been a long time, Beau,” he said. “So what’s up? What brings you here?”
It was a fair question that deserved a fair answer.
“Tom Wojeck,” I said. “I seem to remember the two of you were partners at one time. What can you tell me about him?”
“You mean to tell me he’s still alive?” Big Al asked, looking surprised. “I thought he died a long time ago.”
“No,” I said. “He’s still around. As a matter of fact, I saw him just last night. He seems to have done very well for himself. Lives in a mansion out by Black Diamond with a woman named Mama Rose Brotsky.”
Molly came into the room carrying two mugs of coffee. “Who’s still around?” she asked.
“Tommy,” Big Al told her. “Tommy Wojeck.”
“And he’s got a girlfriend?” Molly asked. “That figures.”
Molly Lindstrom’s disapproval was obvious, but I had to ask. “What do you mean?”
“He was married at one time,” she said, “but that never kept him from fooling around.”
Big Al nodded. “Tommy liked to walk the wild side.”
“I’ll say,” Molly agreed. “Believe you me, he didn’t do that poor wife of his any favors.” With that, she turned on her heel and left the room.
“How so?” I asked.
Big Al sighed. “He got himself involved with a gentlemen’s club down in Tacoma.”
“You mean a strip club?”
“Yes. That’s what it was really. Word about Tommy’s extracurricular activities got back to the department up here. Internal Affairs was gearing up to do an investigation, but he quit before they had a chance. Not quit exactly. In the middle of all that, he got sick. The powers that be decided they’d be better off medically retiring him rather
