Deadly Treatment (3 page)

M
alone arrived at the Missing Person’s Office around ten in the morning. He knew he was developing a pattern of being tardy, but the reality was he really didn’t care. He was getting bored with paper pushing and sick of pushy people all wanting him to be their case officer.
Where’s Michael Malone? We want our advice and attention from him. We want Mr. Malone to handle our case. We want Malone to find our children
. He would hear them all day, outside his office door.

Malone often wondered where
his
Malone
had been when he’d needed him. Where was
his Malone
when his daughter Mary was abducted? Where was
his Malone
when his wife was brutally murdered? Where was
his Malone
when he turned his back on his faith? But
his Malone
had been a Jack or Jim from the Daniels or Beam families;
his Malone
was a golden brown color with a few cubes of ice.

Sometimes, he still craved the drink to help get him through the darker moments. The moments when he thought about his beautiful daughter Mary, and how blasé Robert Richens had been in prison when he’d admitted killing her. The moments when he thought about his wife’s vicious murder. The message left on his answering machine —

‘I know who has your daughter, Mary. She’s locked in a room under my boyfriend’s place. I can’t tell you over the phone where it is. Meet me on the east corner of 124
th
street and Alameda at three. He’s gonna find out it’s me who told, so bring a couple of grand cash so I can split. Oh, and come alone, no cops,’

The woman’s voice had permanently scarred his memory. It was a meeting his wife would never return from, a meeting that had killed her in such a horrific way.

With Taylor and Daniel’s help, each day things got better; but even though the memory of his family’s faces slowly faded, what had happened to his wife and daughter would never be forgotten.

Malone sat down behind his desk and rummaged through stacks of messages. Call urgently this person — so and so from such and such newspaper called — the list went on and on. Malone just sank into his chair and stared at his desk. Taking pride of place next to his computer screen — a computer he still didn’t really know how to use — was a framed photograph. A group shot that could easily be mistaken for a family. Taylor, Daniel, and Malone, all huddled together under the Golden Gate Bridge entrance to California Park in Disneyland. It had been a great day, one of many as they’d toured around southern California and into Mexico. Wistfully, Malone decided he’d need a strong coffee before starting the day.

He headed back through the chaos they called Reception and aimed for the door. On the way through, he noticed a young woman sitting quiet and alone on one of the reception room chairs. She looked somewhat out of place amongst the noisy demanding couples. Her frizzy, blonde hair flowed down to her shoulders where it met with the white frills of what looked to be a yellow waitress uniform. Her hands were pressed together in her lap, and her bobby-socked feet bounced quickly as she nervously waited.

‘Can I help you?’ Malone asked as he went and sat next to her.

She looked at him, a little startled.

‘I’m waiting to see Mr. Malone,’ she said in a slight Irish accent and a tone that seemed to Malone to be too deep to be coming from such a slender woman. Her brogue took him back to his birthplace.

‘I’m Michael Malone, what can I do for you?’ The reception room went quiet, and Malone immediately knew he’d made a mistake.

‘We’ve been trying to see you for weeks now,’ the couple to his left butted in.

‘So have we,’ came the voices from a couple over their shoulder.

‘Come with me,’ Malone said as he took the young woman’s hand, and led her toward his office.

The noise and discontent in the reception room grew.

‘Ladies and Gentlemen, I will try to get to you all when I can. Please be patient,’ he said standing in the doorway to his office.

Cries of favoritism and unfairness began to bounce around the office walls, bringing out the office manager, Veronica. Her voice boomed out, ‘Will everyone be quiet! What do you think you’re all doing? You’re behaving like a pack of animals. Now, I know you’re all frustrated, and believe me, Mr. Malone knows that more than most of you do. But please, please, be patient. There is only one of him, but we are
all
here to help. Now, who’s first?’

Veronica winked at Malone and turned back to the waiting crowd. Malone sighed and closed the door to his office.

‘You’re a popular man, Mr. Malone,’ the young woman said as she sat down.

‘It seems to be that way,’ he replied.

‘What can I do for you, Mrs…?’

‘It’s Miss, Miss Erin Costello. It’s my son, I got home from work yesterday, and he and his bike have disappeared. He’s been gone now for over twenty-four hours, and the gobshyte police are doing nothing to help. They just think he’s a runaway.’

Malone stammered a little at her directness ‘In my experience, they do the best they can. What makes you feel that they’re not doing their job properly?’

‘I think they just don’t care about him; in fact, I know they don’t.’ She pulled out a photo from her bag and passed it over to Malone.

‘You see, my son is what they call a problem child; he doesn’t seem to fit in at school, and he’s got into a few scrapes outside of it too. So I think the cops are quite happy he’s gone.’

‘I’m sure that’s not the case,’ Malone said as he took a look at the photo. It showed a small, young, good-looking, blonde boy; Malone guessed he was about seven years old.

‘His name is Joshua, and he’s nine years old, going on twenty.’

‘Nice kid,’ he said looking up from the picture and frowning slightly.

‘He’s a great boy, just a bit misunderstood.’

‘What do you mean by misunderstood?’

‘He’s got a bit of a speech problem, sort of a lisp. It’s a tongue thing…’ She was going to demonstrate when Malone raised his hand to stop her; showing it wasn’t necessary.

‘It means he gets picked on at school, and it’s made him a bit of a loner outside. He can handle himself though, and that’s what gets him into trouble. Other people start the fights, but he always seems to be the one who gets the blame.’

Malone assumed it was just a protective mother talking. Over the years, he’d seen a lot of them: women who believed that if you looked in their kid’s mouth, you would see a big slab of un-melted butter.

‘Tell me about the trouble outside of school.’

‘I work long hours at the diner, well actually two diners, and there’s no Mr. Costello.’ She looked a bit embarrassed; Malone decided not to pry just yet.

‘Getting a sitter is too expensive, so Joshua has a lot of time on his hands, and let’s just say he doesn’t use it the best way he can.’

Malone nodded sagely.

‘Look, I don’t expect you to feel sorry for him or even to understand the way he is; all I’m asking for is your help. I know that if there’s anyone who can help me find my boy, it’s you. I’m begging you, please help me find him.’ She began to sob.

Something about Erin sparked Malone’s interest. More times than he cared to remember, people entered his life for a purpose: Daniel, Taylor, and Logan, to name a few — for some inexplicable reason, this seemed to be one of those times. Maybe it was her accent, maybe it was that no one was helping her, or maybe it was just because he was bored, but ‘I’ll see what I can do,’ was what he said.

At the end of the long day, Malone knocked on Veronica’s office door. ‘Feel like grabbing some Italian?’

Veronica looked at the stack of files on her desk and let out a sigh. ‘Sure, why not.’

They went to the restaurant they’d regularly used when they worked in their old building; now it was a place they kept for special occasions or a place to go when they had something sensitive to talk about.

Since it was early in the week, the restaurant was virtually empty. The large, cheerful owner greeted them with a beaming smile and seated them in their usual seat. Disappearing into the kitchen, he returned with the menus and placed a basket of garlic bread on their table. Veronica ordered
tortellini a la panna
with a glass of red, and Malone ordered his usual spaghetti and meatballs with a mineral water. They made small talk until the food arrived.

‘Okay, champ, what’s on your mind?’

‘What do you mean?’ Malone responded with a smile.

‘Dinner looks great, and I’m famished, so make it quick and then we can enjoy the food before it gets cold!’

Malone took a bite from the garlic bread as he thought about how best to approach the subject.

‘It’s about Miss Costello…’.

‘Miss who?’

‘The blonde lady in the office today.’

‘Oh, is that her name. What’s her story?’

‘Her boy, Joshua, has gone missing, and the cops apparently don’t seem to be doing much about it. I told her I’d help.’

‘That’s great! I was hoping you’d get back in the saddle and take interest in a case; it’ll make a change from paper pushing,’ she joked.

Malone smiled then went serious. ‘The thing is, Veronica, I can’t think straight in the office, what with the calls, and the hordes of people in reception, it’s a market…’

‘You think I don’t know the way you work yet?’ she interrupted.

‘You’re a great draw card for the office, but I know you work better well away from our office buzz. So, is this about you asking for time off again?’

Malone nodded slowly.

‘Well heck, Malone, you know you can come and go as you please. Take all the time you need. Now can we eat?’

Malone relaxed and they both enjoyed their meal as their conversation returned to normal.

Arriving home later that night, he found Taylor was already in bed. As he moved around the room undressing, he excitedly told her about the case he’d agreed to take on.

‘That’s great, honey,’ she said wearily, ‘but do you mind if we talk about it in the morning?’

Malone reluctantly agreed and joined her in bed.

For Daniel, the next day started out like any other, waking to the voices of the morning pirates doing another trademark windup call to a listener’s significant other — all in the name of entertaining radio. Today’s topic was “Honey, I wrecked the car.” As usual, Daniel listened through to the end before getting out of bed.

As he shuffled to the bathroom, he overheard Malone and Taylor having their morning discussions, he couldn’t quite pick out what they were saying, but assumed that it was about the living arrangements, or the move, or the fact that Malone didn’t like his job.

Closing the door behind him, Daniel went to the shower and turned the faucets on. As he stood there listening to the familiar streaming sound of the water jetting from the shower nozzle, he thought about the rest of his morning regime. The washing, then the dressing, the small talk with Malone and Taylor over coffee, then settling down to his design work in front of the computer. He couldn’t help but be reminded of the movie,
Groundhog Day
.