Y Is for Yesterday

  “I heard you the first time. Quit being a pill.”

  There was silence. I thought she’d start counting like mothers do with children who misbehave. “One, two . . . I’m warning you . . . I’m going to swat your behind . . . three, four . . .” The strategy is weak unless the point is to teach kids to count.

  Fritz emerged, banging the door open. “Fine.”

  I wasn’t sure how he managed to cram so much rebellion and ill humor into one word. He was no longer the lean boy I’d seen on the tape. He’d filled out, adding the sort of weight that starchy food produces. This was the first time I’d laid eyes on the kid in person. I associated him with the four minutes of tape, complete with saucy weenie-wagging, an image I struggled to repress.

  “Why don’t you tell Kinsey what you told us?” she said.

  Fritz flung himself into a chair and crossed his arms. “Jeez, Mom. Why don’t we jump right in? We haven’t even been introduced.”

  “Kinsey, this is Fritz. Fritz, Kinsey. Now let’s not waste any more of her time.”

  “You’re happy enough wasting mine.”

  Lauren closed her eyes. “Fritz.”

  “What a bitch! If you don’t believe me, why should she?”

  Hollis crossed the distance between them in two steps, his fist cocked. “I’ll knock the shit out of you if you talk to your mother that way. Use that tone again and you’ll be picking your teeth off the floor.”

  The eruption caught me off guard. I’d assumed Hollis was a mild-mannered middle-aged man who favored the same ineffective parenting techniques his wife employed. Her method entailed wheedling, nagging, coaxing, and expressing her appreciation for any semblance of obedience. I couldn’t believe Hollis had threatened to deck his own kid in front of company. The threat made my nerves crackle, and the hair on my arms lifted as though from static electricity. My heart gave an uncharacteristic thump in case I was next.

  Fritz was apparently a past recipient of his father’s blows because he dropped the attitude. His manner was still sullen, but he wasn’t “acting out.” I was horrified by the exchange and sat still as stone, waiting for the tension to dissipate. Lauren didn’t bat an eye. Meanwhile, Hollis lowered his fist and picked up his drink again as he sat down. Conversation resumed without further reference to parental abuse.

  Lauren turned to me. “Fritz tells us it was a lark. He says the tape was made all in good fun.”

  I said, “I had a conversation with Iris yesterday and she said much the same thing.”

  “Because it’s true! We were just horsing around. We were laughing our asses off. It was Austin’s idea and Iris jumped on the plan. She loved the notion of a porno film, which she thought was a hoot. She faked everything, acting like she passed out when she was in on the joke, right?” he said, looking to me for confirmation.

  “She didn’t actually go that far. She referred to it as ‘messing around.’”

  “That’s what I’m talking about. A put-on.”

  Hollis said, “Why didn’t you say so in the first place?”

  “Because I knew you’d do this. I’m telling the truth and you’re calling me a liar.”

  Lauren said, “Your father’s asking why you’d offer such an explanation at this late date.”

  “You only told me about the blackmail yesterday.”

  “I’m talking about ten years ago when the tape first came to light.”

  “You said you didn’t see it, so how was I supposed to explain? You swore you didn’t watch it.”

  “Because you accused me of taking it,” she said. “What could I do except plead ignorance? I certainly wasn’t going to offer up the sordid details once this whole business went to trial. I was trying to protect you, not make matters worse.”

  Hollis said, “Let’s back up a bit. We didn’t see anything to indicate Iris was ‘horsing around,’ and what you and Troy did could hardly be classified as high jinks.”

  “The tape was edited. We stopped five or six times deciding what we’d do next. Those scenes were cut. There wasn’t a script. We were making it up as we went along.”

  Hollis said, “Look, Fritz. We’re willing to give you the benefit of the doubt, but just for the sake of argument, where is all of this edited material? Alleged edited material.”

  “There you go again. ‘Alleged edited material,’” he repeated in a mocking tone, his expression sour.

  “Just answer the question.”

  “How would I know? Bayard worked on the edits and then gave the tape to Austin for his review. When I got it back, the scenes were gone. You can see the jumps on the tape. There must be three or four. Austin must have kept the outtakes.”

  “Well, now we’re getting somewhere. He told you that?”

  “Not in so many words. I assumed he had the footage because he was the director and he had the final word. That’s how it’s done in Hollywood, is what he said.”

  “Oh, right. A Hollywood production. I can see your point,” Hollis said.

  “You’re doing it again. Being all pissy. Why don’t you ask Bayard? He’ll tell you the same thing.”

  “I’m sure he would. Otherwise, what we’re looking at is the vicious abuse of a young girl. What is she, fourteen?”

  “We didn’t force ourselves on her. It was consensual and it wasn’t even real sex. It was a game and she agreed. She wasn’t drunk and she didn’t pass out. In between the camera rolling, she was cracking up.”

  “Son, we’d like nothing better than to take your word for it. But the way things stand, if that tape reaches the DA, you’re in very deep shit.”

  “I know! God. You don’t have to repeat yourself. We’re in trouble. I get that. What do you want me to do?”

  Lauren spoke up, saying, “Providing us with proof would be nice. So far, that seems to be in short supply.”

  “I don’t have proof!”

  “Which leaves us in a precarious position, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “Shit, Mom. If you’d just pay the guy, this would all go away, so why don’t we talk about that for a change?”

  “Your mother told you before. We’re not going to pay.”

  “Why not? Twenty-five grand is nothing to you, so why not do what he says?”

  “Because we have no guarantee that would be the end of it. We pay and who’s to say the crook won’t come back and insist on more? We could live the rest of our lives with the same threat hanging over our heads.”

  “If Troy and I get nailed on this stuff, we’ll be tried as adults. You don’t pay, we could spend years behind bars. Is that what you want? Because if you ask me, that’s really fucked up.”

  Lauren turned to me. “Why don’t we hear what Kinsey has to say?”

  “Who cares about her opinion? You’re picking up the tab, so she’ll say anything you want.”

  Lauren said, “We’ll be picking up the tab regardless. At least give her the courtesy of listening.”

  “What for? Why not support me for a change? It’s my life on the line.”

  Hollis said, “Fritz—”

  I cut in, hoping to head off another verbal slugfest. “I understand your point, Fritz, but there’s more to their decision than you may be aware,” I said. “The first thing your parents did when this business came up was to consult a criminal attorney. He strongly advised them not to pay for the same reasons they’ve already given you. You have to draw the line somewhere and this is as good a place as any. The minute they pay, all they’ve done is open up a can of worms.”

  “Well, I disagree and I should have a say in this, don’t you think?”

  “Only if you have twenty-five thousand dollars to spare,” Hollis interjected.

  “Great. Put it all on me. I’ve already got my nuts in a vise, so pile it on.”

  “Darling, since you don’t respect our point of view, w
hat do you suggest?”

  “Quit farting around. Give the guy what he wants and tell him that’s the end of it. Say you won’t pay another cent and he can like it or lump it. I don’t understand why the idea is so hard to grasp.”

  Lauren leaned forward. “Do you know how much we’ve already shelled out for your legal bills? Half a million dollars. We had to sell the house to come up with it.”

  “You never bitched about the money before.”

  “Fine. You pay if you think it’s such a good idea,” she said.

  “How am I supposed to come up with money like that? News flash. I’m unemployed and I’m an ex-con, so no one’s going to hire me no matter what. Even if I had a job, I couldn’t earn dough like that in a million years.”

  Hollis said, “We don’t feel it’s our responsibility. You put us in this position. Yet again, I might add.”

  “Fuck you.”

  Hollis closed his eyes, working to control his temper. “You know, son, it’s this attitude that got you in trouble in the first place. You act without any thought to the consequences.”

  “You’ve told me that before, Dad! And what am I supposed to say? The past is the past. It’s over and done. I can’t change anything.”

  Lauren said, “Let’s deal with the here and now.”

  “There isn’t any here and now. I’m out,” Fritz snapped.

  He jumped up and headed for his room, his face suffused with fury. He turned back once, saying, “Do anything you want, but I’ll hang myself before I go back to prison, so factor that into the equation.” He banged into his room and that was the end of that.

  The door slamming was the perfect punctuation mark to a scene that already felt overplayed. One thing about uproar: it’s useful in diverting attention from issues you’re hoping to avoid.

  Hollis caught my eye. “You can see what we’re dealing with,” he said, sounding strangely satisfied.

  9

  I left the McCabes and drove home. When I turned onto my street, I realized one of my neighbors was having a party and parking was more problematic than usual. In the middle of the block, I saw a house lighted up and cars lining the driveway, which was only long enough to hold three. Every other space along the curb was filled. I had to circle the block twice and finally had no choice but to wedge my Honda into a semi-legal spot near the corner of Albanil and Cabana Boulevard. As I locked the car, I spotted a sole pedestrian: a man in a black raincoat who turned his face away from me as he crossed the street up ahead. He had his hands jammed in his pockets and the tap-tap of his heels broke the quiet of the night air. Something about his posture and the shape of his head sparked an image of Ned Lowe. I slowed my pace and stared into the shadows, my brain momentarily disconnected from my body. I’d seen Ned on very few occasions—maybe three or four times—which meant my ability to recognize him in the dark was far from certain. Given the weak pool of light cast by the street lamp, the likeness might have been an optical illusion, but the attempted break-in at the office had already generated uneasiness. My mouth filled with saliva like one of Pavlov’s dogs conditioned by a bell and I was yanked into the past as though by a shepherd’s crook.

  I could feel his weight, the pressure of his knee in the middle of my back. Once again, I was facedown on my office carpeting. I couldn’t turn. I couldn’t move. I had no way to buck his hold. I felt his hand over my mouth, his fingers pinching my nose shut. I was consumed with the need for oxygen, my lungs aflame. I was aware of the scent of his aftershave—musk and patchouli, suggestive of a fortune-teller’s waiting room. The scratchy nap of his unshaven cheek, the underlying oil on his skin. I could remember the sound of his breathing as he worked to prevent mine. He was a middle-aged man who looked tired and I remember equating this with ineffectiveness. Big mistake on my part in light of how closely he’d taken me to the brink of death.

  I shook my head. The panic faded as rapidly as it had enveloped me and my intellect reasserted control. If Ned was back, why would he risk appearing in my neighborhood unless he was on a scouting mission? And what the hell did he want?

  I scurried home. With the dark at my back, I was propelled by fear. As I opened the gate, I saw the glow from the downstairs bathroom light I’d left on for myself, but the coziness wouldn’t afford much comfort if Ned had been there, trying to pick his way in. I rounded the corner of the studio. Henry’s porch light was off and the backyard was thick with shadows. I stood still while my eyes adjusted to the dark. In the wash of ambient light from the street lamps out front, I could make out the small gray mountain of Pearl’s pup tent in the middle of the dirt. Ed, the cat, picked his way daintily across the yard like a wraith and disappeared into the bushes. Henry was going to have to find a way to keep that little guy inside. Pearl and Lucky were sitting in the Adirondack chairs, but all I could see of the pair were ghostly shapes and the tips of their cigarettes like red dots.

  “Hey, Lucky. Did you get your dog?”

  “Did, but Henry said we ought to take him to the vet in case he has worms. His shots ain’t up to date anyway, so the doc said he’d keep him overnight.”

  “Well, I’m glad you got him back.”

  “Me, too; man’s best friend and all.”

  Idly, Pearl said, “Speaking of which, you just missed your friend.”

  “What friend?”

  “Some guy was here looking for you. Couldn’t have been more than five minutes ago. I’m surprised you didn’t bump into him.”

  “I think I saw him and he’s not a friend. He kills women.”

  She laughed, but when she caught my tone, her grin faded. “He’s the asshole who killed those young girls?”

  “Ned Lowe,” I said.

  “What’s he want with you?”

  “He’s hoping to add me to the list.”

  “Well, sorry, babe. That’s for shit. I had no idea. He seemed like a regular dude to me. Not your type, but what do I know? How about you, Lucky? He seem threatening to you?”

  “Seemed sneaky. Might’ve been dark, but I could tell he wasn’t a regular sort.”

  Pearl said, “Really? How’d you come up with that?”

  “I could smell it on him.”

  “I wish you’d spoken up. I’m setting here chatting away with him, friendly as all get-out.”

  Lucky said, “You’re too trusting, Pearl. I told you that before. What if he had went for you?”

  “He can’t choke me. I got more neck than he can get his hands around. He shows up again, I’ll punch his lights out,” she said. “Which direction was he headed?”

  “Left on Cabana.”

  “Tell you what. Tomorrow, I’ll put the word out among my homies and have ’em keep an eye out. He might’ve checked into one of the cheap motels near the railroad tracks or be sleeping on the beach. Might even be holed up in that hobo camp the Bogarts was using before they got run off.”

  The Bogarts were a tight gang of vicious thugs who had staked out the off-ramp for their panhandling.

  “This guy is a nasty piece of work,” I said. “If you spot him, call the police. Don’t take anything on yourself.”

  “I wouldn’t mess with the likes of him. We’ll track him down, though. Don’t you worry. He’s anywhere around here, we’ll find him.”

  I let myself into the studio, where I did a perimeter search to make sure all the locks were secured. I took the stairs two at a time and retrieved my H&K VP9 from the locked trunk at the foot of my bed. While I’d brushed up on my shooting skills, I wasn’t convinced I’d have to protect myself, so I’d tucked the gun away for safekeeping. Now I checked the load and took out my holster and my shoulder harness, which I strapped into place, resting my semiautomatic in the shelter of my armpit. I pulled on a windbreaker over my turtleneck and studied myself in the mirror. What was my plan? I pictured spending my days toting an H&K VP9 under my left boob. I could jus
t see myself at the grocery store, reaching for a carton of milk, with the butt of the gun peeking out. If I locked it in the glove compartment of my car, the gun would be just as unavailable as it was locked in the trunk at the foot of my bed. The same was true of my desk at the office. If I wasn’t willing to carry it on my person, what good would it do? I grabbed my flashlight, which was sturdy enough to use as a weapon in a pinch, and then I sallied forth and double-timed it up to Rosie’s.

  Despite happy hour, the tavern was largely empty. On Monday and Tuesday nights, the crowd was usually light. Business picked up toward the middle of the week, Wednesday being hump night. By the weekend, the place would be jammed. Rosie was sitting at the bar, reading the local paper, which we all referred to as the “low-cal” Dispatch, for its paucity of coverage, most of it lifted from the wire services. I quizzed her to make sure my “friend” hadn’t been in earlier asking about me. She was well acquainted with the details of my encounter with Ned Lowe and assured me she’d be on the alert.

  Jonah had just gotten up from a table where Anna Dace was sitting and I watched him shrug into his jacket in preparation for the drive home.

  I crossed the room. “Ned Lowe’s back,” I said without preamble.

  He paused as he was turning down his collar. “Since when?”

  “I’m not sure. Yesterday afternoon my office alarm went off. Someone broke a kitchen window trying to get in. The alarm company called the cops and the officer who came out found the rock he used. A few minutes ago I saw a man in a raincoat turn the corner from Albanil onto Cabana. I can’t swear it was him, but it’s a good bet. He’d already stopped by my studio asking for me. Fortunately, Pearl and a pal of hers were there. She’s camping in Henry’s backyard, and for once I’m happy for the company.”

  “Let me talk to the watch commander and I’ll get back to you. He can step up patrols in the area. Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, but I’m not going to sleep well until you find him.”

  “Shouldn’t be that tough if he’s in the area. I’ll see that a BOLO goes out and maybe we can sweep him up,” he said. “You want me to walk you home?”