“I got it here. Curious though: Why do you need it?”
“Since when do you care?”
“Good point. Okay, let’s get to it then. First off, whoever it was wanted to be anonymous. The call was from a pay phone.”
“Where?”
“The location is near one-ten Livingston Avenue in Livingston, New Jersey.”
The center of town, Myron thought. Near his local Starbucks and his dry cleaner. Myron thought about that. A dead end? Maybe. But he had a thought.
“I need you to do me two more favors, Gail,” Myron said.
“Favor implies nonpayment.”
“Semantics,” Myron said. “You know I’ll take care of you.”
“Yeah, I know. So what do you need?”
Harry Davis taught a lesson on
Why did Myron Bolitar want to talk to him?
He did not know Myron Bolitar personally, but you don’t walk around the corridors of this school for more than two decades without knowing who he was. The guy was a legend here. He held every basketball record the school ever had.
So why had he wanted to talk to him?
Randy Wolf had known who he was. His father had warned him not to talk to Myron. Why?
“Mr. D? Yo, Mr. D?”
The voice fought through the fog in his head.
“Yes, Sam.”
“Can I, like, go to the bathroom?”
“Go.”
Harry Davis stopped then. He put down the chalk and looked over the faces in front of him. No, they weren’t beaming. Most of them were eyes-down in their notebooks. Vladimir Khomenko, a new exchange student, had his head down on his desk, probably asleep. Others looked out the window. Some sat so low in their chairs, with spines seemingly created from Jell-O, Davis was surprised that they didn’t slip to the floor.
But he cared about them. Some more than others. But he cared about all of them. They were his life. And for the first time, after all these years, Harry Davis was starting to feel it all slip away.
CHAPTER 31
Myron had a headache, and quickly realized why. He hadn’t had coffee yet that day. So he headed over to Starbucks with two thoughts in mind — caffeine and pay phone. The caffeine was taken care of by a grunge barista with a soul patch and long frontal hair that looked like a giant eyelash. The pay phone problem would take a little more work.
Myron sat at an outdoor table and eyed the offending pay phone. It was awfully public. He walked over to it. There were stickers on the phone advertising 800 numbers to call for discount calls. The most prominent one was offering “free night calls” and had a picture of a quarter moon in case you didn’t know what night was.
Myron frowned. He wanted to ask the pay phone who had dialed his number and called him a bastard and said that he’d pay for what he’d done. But the phone wouldn’t talk to him. It had been that kind of day.
He sat back down and tried to figure out what he needed to do. He still wanted to talk to Randy Wolf and Harry Davis. They probably wouldn’t tell him much — they probably wouldn’t talk to him at all — but he would figure a way to get a run at them. He also needed to interview that doctor who worked at St. Barnabas, Edna Skylar. She had purportedly seen Katie Rochester in New York. He wanted some details on that.
He called St. Barnabas’s switchboard and after two brief explanations, Edna Skylar got on the phone. Myron explained what he wanted.
Edna Skylar sounded annoyed. “I asked the investigators to keep my name out of this.”
“They have.”
“So how do you know it?”
“I have good contacts.”
She thought about that. “What’s your standing in this, Mr. Bolitar?”
“Another girl has gone missing.”
No response.
“I think there may be a connection between this girl and Katie Rochester.”
“How?”
“Could we meet? I can explain everything then.”
“I really don’t know anything.”
“Please.” There was a pause. “Dr. Skylar?”
“When I saw the Rochester girl, she indicated that she didn’t want to be found.”
“I understand that. I just need a few minutes.”
“I have patients for the next hour. I can see you at noon.”
“Thank you,” he said, but Edna Skylar had already hung up.
Lithium Larry Kidwell and the Medicated Five shuffled into Starbucks. Larry headed right for his table.
“Fourteen hundred eighty-eight planets on creation day, Myron. Fourteen hundred eighty-eight. And I haven’t seen a penny. You know what I’m saying?”
Larry looked as awful as always. Geographically, they were so close to their old high school, but what had his favorite restaurateur, Peter Chin, said about years flying by but the heart staying the same? Well, only the heart then.
“Good to know,” Myron said. He looked back at the pay phone and a thought struck him hard and fast: “Wait.”
“Huh?”
“Last time I saw you there were fourteen hundred eighty-seven planets, right?”
Larry looked confused. “Are you sure?”
“I am.” Myron’s mind started racing. “And if I’m not mistaken, you said the next planet was mine. You said it was out to get me and something about stroking the moon.”
Larry’s eyes lit up. “Stroking the moon sliver. He hates you bad.”
“Where is that moon sliver?”
“In the Aerolis solar system. By Guanchomitis.”
“Are you sure, Larry? Are you sure it’s not…” Myron rose and walked him to the pay phone. Larry cringed. Myron pointed to the sticker, to the image of the quarter moon on the ad for free night calls. Larry gasped.
“Is this the moon sliver?”
“Oh please, oh my god, oh please…”
“Calm down, Larry. Who else wants that planet? Who hates me enough to stroke the moon sliver?”
Twenty minutes later, Myron headed into Chang’s Dry Cleaning. Maxine Chang was there, of course. There were three people in line. Myron didn’t get behind them. He stood to the side and crossed his arms. Maxine kept sneaking glances at him. Myron waited until the customers were gone. Then he approached.
“Where’s Roger?” he asked.
“He has school.”
Myron met her eye. “Do you know he’s been calling me?”
“Why would he call you?”
