Wolf Hour

36 McDeath, October 2016

It was pouring down as Bob swung into the parking lot in front of the McDonald’s. He turned off the engine and peered out. Heard the distant rumble from the 35W, the freeway that passed directly above him and blocked out the view in the west. It wasn’t exactly an idyllic location and the cloud cover that swallowed up the daylight didn’t make it any more inviting. He saw Mike’s Chevrolet Caprice station wagon further ahead in the parking lot. He pulled out his phone and tapped in a name. The voice that answered sounded resigned:

‘What is it, Bob?’

‘Hi, Kari. My suspension’s been cancelled.’

‘It has? Because of the terrorist threat?’

‘Yes,’ said Bob, who had no idea what she was talking about. ‘What I need right now is to get a trace on a phone call. A Mike Lunde received a call about half an hour ago, I need to know where that call came from. Can you take down the number?’

Kari hesitated.

‘This is urgent,’ he said. ‘This terrorist threat...’

‘Go ahead,’ she said.

After hanging up Bob buttoned up his coat. Cashmere was showerproof, but if it got soaked through then the coat would stink like a wet dog for days afterward. He sprinted through the rain to the entrance and nodded to the security guard on the inside. Saw a waving Mike Lunde, who occupied one of the booths facing out onto the parking lot.

Bob bought two vanilla shakes to make it all look legit and then slid in opposite Mike, who had placed his cell phone on the table between them.

‘Thanks for coming, Mike. Vanilla shake?’

Mike shook his head with a sad smile. ‘Lactose intolerant.’

‘That’s a bastard. Can we get straight to it?’

Mike nodded. ‘So, when the recording starts, he’s said his name, I recognise the voice and I start recording.’

‘Got it.’

Mike tapped the play button. Bob heard heavy breathing. It stopped. Then the sound of Mike’s voice:

‘Yes, Tomás, what is it?’

More panting. Again it stopped.

‘I know it’s taken time, Tomás, but I’ve finally finished the Labrador and now I can start on your cat. I’m delivering the dog at twelve o’clock tomorrow, so if you could come by at two?’

The panting resumed. And stopped. Like a malfunctioning respirator, thought Bob.

‘Trust me, Tomás. Come in tomorrow and we’ll have a long chat. We’ll work this out.’

The panting came back. Gomez had clearly moved the receiver away from his mouth with the intention of hanging up but then changed his mind. Then came a click, and a long dialling tone.

‘He hung up,’ said Bob.

‘I think he heard it,’ said Mike.

‘Heard what?’

‘My betrayal. That I was lying. He won’t come.’

Bob put his lips around the red-striped straw. Sucked up the vanilla shake and looked into the other man’s worried face.

‘You know what I think, Mike?’

‘Yes, I believe I do.’

‘So then what?’

‘You think I acted worse than I had to. That I wanted him to realise it was a trap. That I found a way of warning him at the same time as I kept my word to you and fulfilled my responsibilities as a good citizen. On paper, at least.’

‘Is that what you did, Mike? Are you so calculating?’

‘I don’t know, Bob.’

‘You don’t know?’

Mike blew his nose on a paper serviette. ‘Sometimes we’re convinced that a particular action is exclusively the product of a reasoning process, don’t you agree? But then — could be a long time afterward — we start to doubt. That good testimonial you gave to a student taxidermist, was that justified? Or was it out of pity for someone whose talent you know is little more than mediocre? Or your teenage daughter’s boyfriend, the one you more or less implied to her you weren’t too crazy about — was it really like you said, because he seemed so gormless? Or was it out of the anxiety any father feels at the prospect of losing his daughter? It’s not easy to know the answer when you have contradictory emotions struggling inside you.’

Bob looked out the window. It had already grown darker in the short time they had been sitting there. Light from passing cars was reflected in the raindrops on the parked cars. With a loud slurping noise the last of the vanilla milkshake disappeared up the straw.

‘Know what the people round here call this McDonald’s?’

‘What?’ asked Bob, but never heard the answer because his phone rang. He saw it was from Kari.

‘Hi, sweetie, what’ve you got for me?’

‘The call to Mike Lunde’s cell phone was from a phone booth.’

Bob noted the address on a serviette beneath a paper cup. ‘You’re an angel, Kari.’

‘Such good news that your suspension’s been cancelled.’

‘Thanks.’ Bob ended the call and looked at the address he had written down. Visualised a map of the city centre. ‘Looks like Tomás Gomez called from a phone booth a block away from your store.’

Mike raised his eyebrows. It dawned on Bob.

‘You know what, Mike? He was on his way to the store. He saw me sitting waiting outside. He must’ve figured I was a cop and run off.’

‘You think so?’

‘Yeah. And then he called you just to get confirmation of what he already suspected. That you’ve been talking to us. Damn.’ Bob grabbed up the cardboard cup and crushed it in his hand. Drops of vanilla milkshake dripped down from the straw and onto the back of his hand. ‘I’m sorry, Mike.’

‘Sorry for what?’

‘That I pressured you into doing this, put you in the line of fire. Because you’re in danger now. You do get that, right?’

Mike shook his head.

‘No?’ Bob licked the back of his hand.

‘Tomás isn’t hunting for people who are hunting him. He understands they’re just doing what they have to do. He already knows who his targets are, and I’m not one of them, Bob.’

‘If you say so. What makes you so sure about that?’

‘McDeath.’

‘McDeath?’

‘That’s what they call this McDonald’s here. The crack gangs used to hang out here. This is where Tomás was eating that night, with his family.’

Bob stared at Mike a moment and then looked around the half-full diner. ‘So his family was killed here?’

‘He said they were sitting at the table nearest the door, so it must’ve been that one over there.’ Mike pointed. ‘He said he was happy that evening. It was his daughter’s birthday, she was the one who insisted they go to McDonald’s. He didn’t know this was a gang hangout, he’d just driven by a few times and noticed they had a parking lot. It was a perfect evening. There were balloons, the kids sang a song they’d been taught in elementary school, he and his wife Monica sat there dreaming about the future. Where they were going to live, if the kids should go to university, et cetera. About how lucky they were to live in a land that offered so many opportunities for anyone who was prepared to make an effort. A country that gives you a chance no matter whether you’re black, brown or white, if you sit in a wheelchair or you don’t come from a rich family. You could make it even if your immigration papers weren’t yet in order, because as long as you willed it hard enough, you knew things would work out. Tomás had what he thought was an unshakeable faith in the future. But as things turned out it only took thirty or forty seconds to shake it to its foundations. He used to say he wished I could have known the person he was back then. That I would have liked him. But that he no longer exists, that person no longer exists. He died here that day, along with his family. The man sitting in front of me was just his ghost.’

Bob looked at a couple sitting at a nearby table. Their daughter couldn’t have been much older than Frankie. ‘Is that why you picked this place for us to meet, Mike?’

‘It’s actually on my way home, but maybe. Probably.’

‘And what is it supposed to show me, this place?’

‘That it could’ve been you or me. It could have been you sitting here with your family that evening, Bob.’

Bob Oz pushed the crumpled cardboard cup to one side and buttoned up his coat. ‘I’ll be at your store at one thirty tomorrow, Mike. Maybe the guy will turn up after all.’

‘Why should he, when he knows he’d be walking straight into an ambush?’

‘I don’t know. There’s a certain kind of killer we call a moth.’

‘A moth?’

‘They seem attracted to the investigation into the murder they’ve committed. They turn up at the scene of the crime, or at the funeral. They make an effort to get close to the detectives involved. Frequent the bars where they hang out, close to the police station. They’re like moths that can’t help flying toward the flame, even though they know they might get their wings burned off.’

‘You think Tomás might be like that?’

‘I don’t know. I was talking to someone this morning who thinks that sometimes we want to get caught. Maybe Tomás knows the game is almost up. Maybe deep down he just wants to get it over with.’

After Bob had got into his car and watched Mike’s station wagon head out onto East Lake Street and disappear into the south-west, he pulled out his phone and made a call. Half expected to hear a pip and then the voicemail message telling him to stop calling her. Instead she picked up after just two rings.

‘Hi, Bob.’