The Interview (21 page)

Curious.

I stared at the screen for a while. Nothing happened on the screen
and my brain had the same response. I shrugged my shoulders and
cruised over to Netflix. I don't “surf” the web for the
simple reason that it's not a wave and not nearly as fun. I browsed
through some movies Kim and I could watch instantly. This led to that
and I found myself on a page that listed all the movies directed by
Michael Mann. A great director and writer.
Thief
is one
of my all-time favorites. The next movie after
Thief
was called
The
Keep
.
That title
was also the title of a perfectly creepy read by one F. Paul Wilson.
I clicked on the title and was rewarded with a synopsis that fit the
description of the book. When I think of Mann, I think of cops and
robbers,
Miami
Vice
, and
Heat
,
not horror books. It seemed like an odd fit for him. Netflix thought
so as well because
The
Keep
wasn't even
available to rent.

The second book in “The Adversary” series, of which
The
Keep
is the first book, is called
The
Tomb
.
Now that particular book features Repairman
Jack, and as I sat there surrounded by the events of the last four
days, it occurred to me that Repairman Jack and I had some things in
common. We were both not PIs. We both tended to operate slightly
outside the bounds of the law. And, most importantly, we were both
super cool.

“That was one of the best showers ever!” Kim came in my
room in shorts and a big t-shirt. Her hair was wet. Her eye was
swollen shut, and the skin around it was already starting to bruise.
She was beautiful.

“Glad to hear it.” I closed the browser and put my
computer to sleep. “You want a drink?”

“Nope. I want your bed. I'm exhausted and satisfied. Thanks for
the jump-start.”

“My pleasure. What made you think I wasn't going to finish the
job?”

“Please. Frankie's going to be here tomorrow. No way I'm
getting in the middle of that. 'Sides, I like what we got.”

“Amen to that, Sister.”

I watched her climb into bed. She was completely comfortable in her
skin, and in my room. I liked it. Confidence and a lack of
self-awareness are both very attractive qualities to me.

“I'm going to grab a shower.”

“Night.”

“You need anything? Advil?”

“Nope. Right as rain. Orgasms are nature's cure all.”

I SHOWERED. KIM WAS CONKED out when I returned to my room. I grabbed
my book and headed into the living room. I read for an hour about
ghosts demanding retribution for crimes against them. I slipped
outside, smoked, and considered whether my past contained any ghosts.
I couldn't think of any so I pondered my present and whether or not I
was really giving serious thought to becoming some kind of Repairman
for those who couldn't fix their own problems. It seemed kind of deep
for an aging beach bum, so I went back inside.

The Stormtrooper leaned against the kitchen counter.

“You're kind of short to be a Stormtrooper.”

“Huh?” responded Mr. Bat. “Oh, the line from the
movie. You're quick.”

“And you're breaking your promise. You said I wouldn't be
seeing you anymore.”

Stormtrooper shrugged. “Check this out.” He pushed a
button on the front of the helmet and a metallic voice said, “Set
for stun.”

“Nice. Halloween is a couple months away.”

“I thought you'd like it.”

“What I would like is for you to stop breaking into my house
anytime you feel like it. That's what I would like.”

“Who's the girl?”

“A friend.”

“She's got quite a shiner.”

“Yeah. Misjudged a situation. Wasn't supposed to happen.”

“Situations can be like that. You have to watch out for
collateral.”

“You ever see that movie? Tom Cruise and Jamie Foxx?”

“Yeah. Not one of Mann's best, but it was good.”

“Oh, are you connoisseur?”

“I like to check out Hollywood's version of my life.
Heat
was better.”

“I concur. I kind of feel like Foxx's character. You know what
I mean, Mr. Trooper? I feel like I'm about to become collateral. ”

He cocked his helmet. I couldn't tell if he was thinking or
listening. “I guess I could see that. I'm not using you,
Kelly.”

“What exactly are you doing then?”

“I'm opening doors for you, and closing some for me.”

“And what doors do you think you have opened for me? ‘Cause
I gotta tell you, it feels more like I'm getting doors slammed in my
face.”

“You're not the one with the shiner. Nor are you in the
hospital with broken ribs, a broken jaw and nose, and various
contusions.”

“Who is?”

“A fellow named Ben. Works the door at a place called Rudy's.”

“Are you following me?”

“I like you, Kelly. I've just been keeping an eye on you.”

“Why? Why do you like me? I don't remember ever saying I like
you. I don't recall asking to be followed or watched out for. I can
take care of myself. I don't need a freak with a mask following me
around.”

“I don't wear the mask when I'm following you.”

“Hah! You admit it.”

“You caught me. I think I already said that I was keeping an
eye on you. So, I've actually admitted it twice.”

“Yeah, guess you did. You suck.”

“Come on, Kelly. Admit it. You want what I have to offer.”

“I don't know what you have to offer. You haven't offered me
anything.”

“A life worth living, Kelly. A life of acting, not reacting.”

The truth stinks sometimes. I wasn't about to let him know that
though. I stood and stared at him instead.

“I need you to go up to Northern California for me on Sunday.”

“Sucks to need.”

“Kelly, stop fighting this.”

“Let me know what I'm fighting and I'll stop.”

He shook his head. I wanted to stick him into the trash compactor on
the detention level.

“I need you to go see someone for me. Make sure they're
alright.”

“Who? Your mom?”

“No. Her name is Tracey Middleton. She lives in Santa Rosa, an
hour north of San Francisco. I need you to deliver something to her,
and make sure she's OK.”

“Go yourself.”

“I can't.”

“I'm busy on Sunday. I have to mow the lawn.”

“Mow the lawn on Saturday. You're not working.”

“How do you know that? Seriously, do you have me mic’d
up or something?”

“Do this for me, Kelly. You might learn something.”

“I am not driving up to Santa Rosa on Sunday. You can forget
it, Mr. Trooper. It's not happening.” I crossed my arms to
emphasize my stance on this subject.

“There's a plane ticket on your desk, along with an envelope.
Directions to where you need to go are in the envelope. There's
something for Tracey, as well. Be sure to give it to her.”

I shook my head and said, “I'm not going.”

He reached out and patted my shoulder. “You'll do what's right,
Kelly. I know it.”

He turned and walked out of the kitchen. I heard the front door open
and click shut a moment later. I didn't bother following him. He
probably got beamed up to the Enterprise.

Great, now he had me mixing Star Wars and Star Trek.

I TRIED TO READ BUT my brain wouldn't stay focused on the task at
hand. I gave up, brushed my teeth, and climbed into bed with Kim. It
was nice. I rolled over on my side and she spooned me. I lay there
and savored the feel of her body. The way she breathed. When her hand
suddenly slipped down my shorts, I gasped a little.

“Just checking,” she whispered.

I fell asleep with her mouth pressed against the back of my neck and
her hand on my stomach. I had never slept with a woman in that
position before. It was always the other way round.

I dreamed of being a boy, fishing with my father, and three hundred
headless corpses staring into a giant hole in the ground.

I came up from sleep without really waking. Kim was there, her arm
still draped across me. She squeezed me tight, and I fell beneath the
waves of dreams once more.

I SMELLED BACON, EGGS, AND coffee when I awoke the next morning. I
heard the sound of laughter. Annette and Kim had met. I lay in bed
and listened to their muffled voices and decided that I couldn't read
Connolly before bed for a while. I knew it wasn't Connolly's fault.
The dream was my own. The trip to 129 Main Street had triggered it. I
always have weird dreams after carrying the Stefan swing. I never
actually saw those three hundred headless corpses. I only felt them
from a distance. My father and I both did. But I saw the town as we
drove through it. The empty gas station and diner that were normally
filled at that time of morning. The deserted lake where boats should
have been floating, men and their boys casting for lake trout. The
complete and utter absence of life, and the void left behind filled
with something else.

Something that I didn't care about as I sat snug in my bed many years
distant from that fishing trip.

I got up and sauntered into the kitchen. The two ladies were giggling
about something as I walked in. They glanced at me, stopped giggling,
then burst into gales of laughter. I walked right back out of the
kitchen. No way I was going to subject myself to that kind of unfair
situation first thing in the morning.

The L.A. Times, in all its depleted glory, was on the driveway. I
picked it up and turned to walk back in the house when I noticed my
motorcycle parked next to the Ranger. Odd. My memory of the previous
evening was clear, and I know I didn't give that kid my address. Yet,
there was my GSXR.

Back inside, I avoided the kitchen, and went straight to my room. On
my desk was a 8 x 11 yellow envelope. I sat down and bent the clasps
back, opened it, and slid the contents onto my desk. My motorcycle
key was the first thing that fell out. Curious. I picked it up.
Twirled it around in my fingers in an attempt to glean how it had
come to be here.

I got nothing. Psychic I'm not.

There was an airline ticket for the Sunday coming up. An 8:10 AM
Southwest flight from John Wayne to Oakland, with a return flight to
John Wayne at 8:45 PM. My name was on the ticket. A printout of a
Google Map, complete with driving directions to an address in Santa
Rosa. Drive time would be about an hour and fifteen according to the
folks at Google. The second page was another Google Map with
directions to a home in Lafayette from the address in Santa Rosa.
Another hour and twenty in the car would get me to Frankie's house.
Now how did Mr. Trooper know where Frankie lived? Well, I assumed
it was Frankie's residence. I don't actually know where she lives,
but I do know that Lafayette is the correct city. The third map was
directions from Frankie's back to Oakland International.

The last item was a letter sized envelope. This one was sealed, with
the name Tracey written on the front in neat printing.

The question was, of course, how in the hell did he get my motorcycle
back here last night? Seriously, that just disturbed me. An invasion
of my privacy is what it was.

Then I thought, Hey! Was that kid Mr. Trooper?

No way in hell, was my follow up thought. Kid was too young. Mr. Bat
was my age, if not older. At least, that's the vibe I was getting
from him. He must have paid the kid to intercede with my beating of
Ben, then taken the key and rode the motorcycle to my house and
dropped it off. Or something along those lines. I wanted to find that
kid.

There was a knock on the door, followed by Annette's voice.
“Breakfast is ready.”

“OK, be out in a sec.”

I crammed everything back in the envelope, minus the key, then went
to eat.

“Morning, Sunshine.”

“Morning, Annette.” I walked over and kissed her on the
cheek.

“Morning, Kelly.” The swelling had gone down, but Kim's
eye was well on the way to black.

“What's up, Rocky?” I walked over and kissed her on the
cheek too. “How'd you sleep?”

Her eyes widened in that way that made me glad I was on the receiving
end of her gaze. “Really good. You?”

“Good. What'd you ladies make?”

Kim answered, “We made skillets. Potatoes, eggs, bacon, and
cheese. I didn't want to wait for you, but Annette made me.”

“Thank you, Annette.”

“I figured you would need your strength if you're going to go
beat up some more unsavory villains today.”

“No villains today.”

“Check this out,” Kim said. She grabbed a pair of
Annette's sunglasses, the kind that people wear after Lasik surgery.
After she put them on, I couldn't see a trace of her black eye, or
half her face. “Sweet, huh?”

“Very stylish.”

“I thought so. Annette's going to let me borrow them until my
eye doesn't look so awful. I'm going to tell everyone I got Lasik.”

“Smart.”

We sat at the counter and ate breakfast. The food was really good,
and the conversation was . . . different.

“Kim told me what happened. You had a busy day yesterday.”

“And Annette told me what you did yesterday afternoon.”

I stuffed food in my mouth as way of an answer.

“Is this going to be a new hobby for you?” Annette
asked.

“Softball's my hobby.”

“You seem rather good at it,” observed Annette.

“What? I seemed to recall yesterday you weren't too pleased
with me.”

“That was before you explained the situation to me. After what
Kim told me, I have to say I'm proud of you.”

“I let Kim take a punch and I decked an idiot. How can you be
proud of me?”

“I stepped in front of that punch, thank you very much. You
didn't let me take anything.”

“Stupid. You could have really gotten hurt.”

“I'm OK, though. And Ben won't be bothering anybody for a
while. That's why we're proud of you.”