She's Not There (11 page)

Early Friday morning, TJ got a call from Jeff Denison asking if she’d mind if they scheduled their interviews for after lunch on Saturday. He told her that he’d finally called a friend he’d been avoiding since Jamie disappeared, and they were going to play a round of golf the next morning if the mild weather held.

“We could do some of them tonight if you have time,” he added.

TJ knew how devastated he’d been this week since they’d found his wife’s car. “I’ll see what I can get lined up and call you later.”

She spent the rest of the day checking with her sources at MPD, begging information on the domestic calls described by their interviewees. She managed to get two interviews scheduled for that night. It had taken a few calls to find someone to talk to about a missing woman named Shirley Moran. When she finally reached the woman’s brother, it turned out he lived in a building right across the street from her. Since he was nearly a neighbor, she decided to break the “rules” and trot over there by herself.

TJ felt like cruising on her own. Maybe drop in over at Vinnie’s and see what was happening after she met the brother, since he was right around the corner. The next appointment was on the south side in a popular Mexican restaurant off of Mitchell Street. She wouldn’t need a sidekick; there’d be a lot of people around.

That night when she crossed the street for her appointment—it was actually on the side street around the corner from Vinnie’s—TJ had that prickly neck feeling she got when she was being watched. She probably was—the come-get-me outfit she was wearing invited attention: tight black velveteen jeans with a black cammie, black ankle boots, and a new geranium-red sweater-jacket, knit of fluffy angora that made her look like she was wearing a tiny red cloud. The jacket had the added advantage of hiding the sleek, custom-made leather shoulder holster she wore.

The area, always busy, was even more so on weekends. She scanned the street, but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. The side street was dark and lined with broad oak trees, but an occasional car drove by slowly, looking for a parking place. Just when she found the apartment building, a big three-story, old brick affair, her cell phone buzzed. She checked the number. It was Jeff. Grumbling, she opened the phone. “Hey.”

“TJ, it’s Jeff. I thought we might be getting together tonight.”

Now she was on the spot. Damn, she hated the fucking rules. And how this guy always made her feel sorry for him. Finding out about his wife’s car had to be painful.

“Turned out one of the folks I found lives right across the street from me, so I’m there. Meeting him in a minute.”

“Tell me this isn’t one of the husbands.”

At least he hadn’t lectured her about going alone. “Nope, her brother. Listen, I thought I’d stop in at Vinnie’s when I’m done here. Do you want to meet me there? Got another appointment at 9:00.”
Maybe he’ll say no.

“I’ll be there in half an hour.”

TJ sighed and put the phone back in her pocket. She walked up the small flight of steps to the vestibule of the building. She had that feeling of being watched again and turned quickly to see if someone was behind her. A few buildings from where she stood, a young couple walked toward the busy street. Nothing.

Shirley Moran’s brother was a tall, thin, gawky guy in his late twenties, visibly put off by TJ. It was obvious she wasn’t what he’d been expecting.

The apartment was a typical single-guy place, short on furniture, but packed with the latest in video and sound equipment. She turned down his offer of a beer, and sat at the dining room table, which was piled with mail, old newspapers, and magazines.

When she asked about his sister, he said, “No one thought she had any reason to take off. And her husband’s a great guy. We still do stuff together, you know? We play on the same softball team, hang at the same bar.  We even go hunting sometimes.”

“If he’s such a great guy, how come the cops had to come out to their place?”

He shifted in his chair. “Hey, she wasn’t perfect. Shirley had a real bad temper, you know?”

“Yeah, so?”

“She liked to pick fights with him. Throw things. Sometimes, sharp things.”

TJ knew about such women. As a cop, she’d been on more than one call where the abuser turned out to be a female. It had nothing to do with size; most men shied away from hitting back.

“She was hurting him?”

“That night she came at him with his baseball bat. She was pissed because he went out drinking after a game.”

She asked for the husband’s phone number, names of his sister’s friends, and a photo he could part with. She gave him one of her cards and went out into the night.

Hurrying around the block to Vinnie’s, she was glad to be back on a busy street. She didn’t think she’d been followed but that feeling of being watched was still with her. Uneasy, she was glad that Jeff would be with her the rest of the night.

In Vinnie’s, the after-work crowd was starting to stagger home and the buffet table was picked clean. TJ took a seat at the bar. Minutes later, Jeff walked in looking engineer-like in jeans and a dark-brown leather jacket over a white shirt open at the neck.

He sat down beside her. “How did the interview go?”

“The guy said no way the husband did it. Turns out the wife went at him with his own baseball bat, which explains the 911 call. The brother said he still hangs with the husband. Says the guy hasn’t even had a date since the wife disappeared, cause he’s still waiting for her to come back. Chatted him up for a while and he seemed sincere enough. Should talk to the husband too, but he’s out of town now.”

Jeff turned to her. “For what it’s worth, I agree with Eric. You shouldn’t go on these interviews by yourself.”

“I hate it when someone starts out sayin’ for what it’s worth. Can always figure it’s gonna be something that’ll piss me off.”

“And did it?”

“Sorta. But right now I’m glad to see you.”

“Then I’ll try not to do it again.”

“Got the creeps walkin’ over to that apartment. Had a feeling someone was watching me.”

Jeff pondered that for a minute. “Let’s forget the drink and go for a walk. See if anyone follows us.”

“You crazy? I don’t go looking for trouble. We’ll see what happens when we leave.”

TJ and Jeff finished their drinks, talked a bit, and left for the Mexican restaurant. The restaurant, on a corner across from three other popular spots on the adjacent corners, was in a neighborhood that was seedy except for the trendy shops and restaurants dotting the main streets.

Jeff drove past the restaurant, the street in front of it lined with cars. “I don’t like the looks of this neighborhood. I’ll drop you off and look for a parking place on a side street.”

“You’re such a pussy,” TJ scoffed. “I should drop you off!”

Jeff found a spot about halfway down a side street. Except for the low light coming from some of the houses, the street was dark. Glad he knew TJ was carrying a gun, he thought maybe she was right—he was a pussy. At least he was if being cautious earned you that label. He avoided frequenting neighborhoods like this and had never understood the popularity of restaurants located on their fringes.

The place was jammed. They put their name on a waiting list for dinner and went to the bar, which was filled with people drinking margaritas while waiting for their meal. Jeff squeezed up to the bar and ordered their drinks, while TJ excused herself, heading for the ladies room.

He noticed a tiny table by a window had just been vacated. He quickly set the drinks down on it and sat, sipping the tart, icy drink, thinking how glad he was to be out of the house tonight. When Jamie’s car had turned up, he’d hit a new low. And that damn song was stuck in his brain.

“Let me tell you ‘bout the way she looked…”

TJ wound her way through the crowded restaurant and entered a long dark hallway leading to the back of the building. She could see there were two short hallways branching off about halfway to the exit, each with a sign directing patrons to one of the restrooms, Banditos on the left, Senoritas on the right.

It happened so fast TJ barely had time to react. A large figure came at her after bursting through the door to the alley. She thought she saw the glint of a knife before leaping to the side. She felt the blade meet its mark before she managed to give her assailant a sharp elbow jab to the diaphragm. In a heartbeat, she had her gun out, but he had dodged quickly, already at the exit to the alley.

Ignoring the searing pain in her side, TJ ran to the door, gun raised. She took a shot at his retreating shape as she stepped out into the alley. When she reached the side street she saw the rear lights of a car speeding away from the curb. He’d gotten away. Swearing to herself, she stumbled into a recessed doorway, where she put her hand to her side and felt a warm trickle of blood seeping from her body.

Above the sound of the salsa music and loud conversation, Jeff was certain he’d heard a scream. Panicked, he pushed his way through the crowd, looking for TJ. Across the dining room a cluster of women were gathered around the entrance to a hallway. They were looking into it, talking excitedly in Spanish.

When he reached the opening into the dim hallway leading to the restrooms, he forced his way through the group of women.

One of them cried, “She shot a guy!”

Jeff’s heart lurched as he ran out the exit door leading into an alley. He didn’t see TJ, but drops of blood on the pavement led toward the street. He found her in the doorway of a defunct appliance store. She was leaning over, gun in one hand, the other clutched to her side.
Was she shot?

When she saw him, she gasped, “Some fucker tried to grab me in the hallway. Got a knife in my side before I could get my gun out. Wanted to nail his ass, but he’s long gone.”

Jeff took out his phone. “I’ll call 911.”

“No fuckin’ way! Let’s get out of here before the cops come.” One arm clutching her side, she started walking toward the car.

Jeff stopped her. “You need a doctor. I’m taking you to an emergency room.”

“Not going to any ER. Ain’t as bad as it looks, I know about
these things—isn’t my first time getting stuck.” She glared at him. “And we know a doctor, don’t we?”

Supporting her as she moved, Jeff argued with her all the way to the car. Sure that she’d never agree to go to a hospital, he opened the trunk and pulled a towel out of his gym bag. He handed it to her. “If you won’t listen to reason, at least don’t bleed all over my car.”

When Eric got the call from Jeff, he was at a gourmet restaurant in Delafield with Danielle Ventura. She’d turned him down when he asked her out the first time, the day he’d brought Lisa to the showroom. The next time he’d asked she’d been coy about setting a date. With her finally, he found himself distracted.

As hard as he tried to change the subject from her divorce and all the things she did or did not receive in the settlement, she kept finding a way to pick up where she’d left off. They’d just finished their entrees when he felt his phone vibrate. He opened it and saw it was Jeff calling. He apologized to Danielle and took the call.

“Eric, TJ’s been stabbed. She won’t go to a hospital. We’re headed to Waukesha.”

“Give me a minute, I’ll call you right back.”

Eric looked over at Danielle. “Sorry, but I’m going to have to run. I have an emergency to deal with.”

Her mouth opened to protest.

“I’ll call you tomorrow and explain.” Eric tossed a few large bills on the table, another in front of her for cab fare and hurried to his car where he called Jeff. “Jeff, TJ knows where my house is and where I keep my spare key in case you get there before I do. I should be home in about the same time it’ll take you to get there.”

Eric heard TJ complaining in the background.
She can’t be hurt too badly if she still has the energy to gripe.

Eric arrived first, turned on the lights, and got out his medical supplies, glad he still had the things he’d need. He put on a pot of coffee, took out a bottle of brandy and an old bathrobe.

They came in minutes later, TJ leaning on Jeff, a towel clutched to her side.

Jeff said, “I tried to get her to go to the emergency room, but she insisted on calling you instead.”

Eric helped Jeff bring her into the room. “That was stupid. You should have been treated immediately. If the wound is too deep, I’m taking you to a hospital.” 

They put her down on a long leather couch in front of the fireplace. Eric brought over a bright lamp to work by.

TJ whined, “Can’t be too bad, he only got me a little. I moved pretty fast when I saw him. Hope I got one in him.”

Eric started. “You shot him?”

“Tried, but he was running too fast. Couldn’t go to the hospital. Didn’t want the cops nosin’ around yet. Wasn’t anything worth telling them, anyway. He was wearing dark clothes, a cap pulled low, and sunglasses. Go figure.”

Eric moved the towel and examined the wound, realizing she was right, it wasn’t very deep, the bleeding already diminishing. “Jeff, I put some coffee on. Would you go see if it’s ready? Give me a few minutes. Then bring us the coffee and that bottle of brandy.”

Jeff left the room.

Eric said, “You’re lucky as hell, you know. If this was deeper it could have punctured your liver. I’ll give you a local anesthetic, then I’m going to clean it out.”

He froze the area, then cut open TJ’s black silk camisole. She was naked underneath it.

“I knew you always wanted to see my tits.”

“Honey, I’ve seen more breasts in my lifetime than most men can even dream of. They’re just another pair. Nice, but just another pair.”

TJ laughed, then groaned in pain. Eric put a clean towel over her breasts and set up the things he’d need on the table next to the couch. He washed the wound, using antiseptic on and around it before stitching it up.

“I think you’re all right for now. But there’s always a chance of infection setting in so I’m going to give you an antibiotic shot.”

He helped her into the old robe he’d brought out. “Take off your jeans.

“Thought they didn’t do those butt-shots anymore.”

“They don’t, I just want a peek at your ass, too.”

She clutched her midsection. “Don’t make me laugh. It hurts.”

By the time she was done complaining, he’d given her the injection.

When Jeff came back, the three of them had coffee with brandy. After he saw her nodding off, Eric picked TJ up and carried her to the guest room.

He came back and poured himself another brandy.

Jeff asked, “Do you think we should call Detective Conlin?”

“No. She’s not seriously hurt. She can tell him herself if she wants to.”

“Don’t you think it’s time to get the police involved?”

Eric had mixed feelings. “This incident could have nothing to do with our interviews.” Jeff tried to object. “Let me finish. Do I think it’s related? Of course, but proving it would be impossible. All we’ll have to show for it is TJ’s wound. Neither of you saw anything. I’m worried about everyone’s safety. And we still aren’t free of that psycho, Fischer. I’d suspect him except he never met TJ.”

Jeff said, “That policewoman who’s trying to get something on him—you said she sounded sympathetic. Maybe Lisa she could have a talk with her.”

“That might be the best way to test the waters. We’ll have to talk about it.”

Later, Eric emptied the coffee pot and checked the fire before stepping out on the patio for his last cigar of the day. He never smoked in his house or his cars. When he’d finished, he looked in on TJ who was sleeping peacefully, the butt of her gun sticking out from under her pillow. It was the first time he’d seen her looking so serene.