The Dead Man

Chapter Thirty

Lucy and I sat at the kitchen table, sipping coffee and picking at stale bagels. I looked out the window where barren trees, mud-streaked snow, and an iron skillet sky blended into a dull tintype. I was having a herky-jerky morning and felt as flat as the weather.

Ruby was dozing on the floor while Roxy scratched my leg, wagging her tail, which was code for will work for belly rub. I ruffled her beard and she dropped to the floor and rolled on her back, spreading her legs in a pose that mimicked Britney Spears at her most overexposed but for Roxy was charming. I rubbed and Roxy wagged, both of us agreeing that no one could ask for more from a relationship. Her unconditional enthusiasm gave the day hope.

Lucy had struck out at Delaney's apartment complex the night before. A few people knew who he was but none claimed him as a friend and no one had ever been in his apartment. She'd gone to the Kansas City Star's distribution center, found the night shift circulation manager, and gotten the same story. Delaney picked up his papers on time, delivered them on time, and didn't cause any trouble. The manager said he was quiet and kept to himself.

I played Walter Enoch's dream video for her. She drained her coffee and shoved her bagel aside.

"Okay. Now we know that Enoch let Corliss in his house for the video," she said. "It's not likely that he opened the door for anyone else. That puts Corliss at the top of the list of people he could have let in to kill him."

"There's more. I talked to Corliss about Enoch yesterday. He admitted knowing him and recruiting him for the dream project. He said that Enoch had been his mailman but he acted like he didn't know anything about the stolen mail until he read about it in the paper. He lied to me and I want to know why."

As I spoke, my head rotated hard left and down, my left ear meeting my raised left shoulder in a fighter's clinch while my right shoulder dropped and my torso pivoted to the right. The spasm held me for a three count then released and repeated. I let out a long breath.

"You should try that," I said. "Works the lats, the obliques, and the core."

"I'll keep that in mind. So, how worried should I be?" Lucy asked.

"About Corliss?"

"Right. That's exactly who I'm talking about, you moron." She reached across the table and thumped me on the arm. "I'm not going to keep putting you to bed unless you tell me what's going on."

I had awakened lying on top of my bedcovers, wearing yesterday's clothes. A night's sleep, a shower, and clean clothes were not enough to squelch my seismic activity.

"Hey, you didn't even tuck me in."

"You want turn down service, talk to Kate. Seriously, Jack. I'm worried about you. I want to know what's the matter with you. After all," she said, straightening and giving me a tongue-in-cheek glare, "I am your landlady. That gives me rights."

It was a fair request. We were living under the same roof and working on the same case. She'd not only taken risks for me, she had taken care of me. I hoped her concern wasn't over whether I could pay the rent; that I was filling some of the void in her life in the same way she was filling mine.

"I have a movement disorder called tics."

"What a lousy name," Lucy said. "The ones that are hard to pronounce have better telethons. Tics sounds like something you get walking in the woods."

"I'll give you that. It's a neurological disorder, cause and cure unknown. You've heard of Tourette's?"

"Sure."

"Well, it's similar to that. In my case, the more I do, the more I shake. Doesn't matter if it's work or working out, reading a book or going to the movies. There are medications that help some people but they didn't work for me, and the side effects were too intense. I have to manage it by regulating my activities and keeping a balance between what I do and how much I shake."

"Except you do more than shake. Cirque du Soleil would die for some of your contortions. Last night, you were walking around here like your legs were made of spaghetti. When I came home, you had a glazed look on your face like your brain was on a slow motion loop."

"My doctors can explain some parts of it better than others, like the problems with my legs. They tell me the weakness in my legs isn't caused by tics but they can't tell me what is causing it. All the MRIs, EEGs, and other tests come up negative. The good news is that, whatever it is, it won't kill me."

"As long as you spend your time taking walks in the park. I'm not so sure about chasing the dead man."

I shrugged. "I tried walking in the park and walking in the mall and just walking around. It's not enough. It's not who I am."

"I hear that. Changing who you are is harder than it looks. Trust me, I know."

"Besides, it's too late to walk away from this one even if I could."

"At least you've got backup. Simon strikes me as one of the good guys, cute in a nerdy way but smart and steady. Kate is smarter and she's in love with you even though she says you can be a pain in the butt, like I didn't know that after living with you for four days."

Kate didn't wear our relationship on her sleeve. She didn't carve initials in a desktop or tree trunk and I couldn't imagine her opening up like that to Lucy the first time they met.

"She told you that?"

Lucy grinned. "The pain in the butt part?"

"No, you moron." I returned her thump on the arm.

"Oh, the in love part. Not in so many words but my advice is don't piss her off too many times. You're not likely to do any better any time soon. Same goes for me."

"How's that?"

"I've got your back too. I may not have a fancy degree but I'm kick ass in the clutch. First killer puts you on a list, I'll shoot him."

"You're a convicted felon. Where are you going to get a gun?"

"Your closet. Lord knows you shouldn't carry. Last thing we need is for you to start shaking and shoot yourself."

"No way. You leave that gun where it is. You get caught with it and you'll go back to jail. Then who's going to put me to bed?"

She rose from the table and gave me a peck on the cheek. "Nice to know you'd miss me. Time to go to work."

Lucy pulled to the curb in the circle drive at the entrance to the institute. It had been a quiet ride, neither of us bothering with small talk.

"What will you do with the money if you find it?" she asked.

I had unbuckled my seat belt and was about to open the door. Her question stopped me. I hadn't thought about it because there was only one answer.

"Turn it in."

She nodded and took a breath, picking up speed as she spoke, gesturing like a manic conductor. "Why? I mean, I know why. The money isn't yours. It's dirty. The FBI already thinks you know where it is. If you find it and start spending it, they'll be all over you in a heartbeat. You could go to jail. I know all that. But, what if you could keep it without getting caught? Five million dollars is a lot of money. Don't you ever think about that?"

Her face was flush, her breath quick. I knew the look. It was the rush of the impossibly possible, the one in a million shot that breaks the rules that shouldn't apply just this one time and that will fix everything forever but never does and always makes things worse. In that moment, she was Wendy at her most maddening.

"No. Not now. Not ever."

"Well, hey, you're right. Me neither," she said, slapping the steering wheel. "You know what else I've been wondering. How did the mailman end up with Wendy's letter in the first place? If he was Corliss's mailman, was he yours too?"

"That's a question worth asking. Put it on your list after you talk to the construction crew. Finding someone at the post office who will talk to you may be a little tricky."

"Not with my charm. What are you going to do?"

"I've got a lot of ground to cover today but I'm going to start with Anthony Corliss, give him a chance to come to Jesus with me before Kent and Dolan find their way to his office. Once they see Enoch's dream video, they'll have a tough choice to make."

"What's that?"

"Who to arrest first, Corliss or me."