The narrow wooden door facing the street was located between the Family Value and the San Salbo. Josie entered first, then Otto, and they walked up a dimly lit stairwell that led to two apartments at the top of the landing. Josie knocked on the door with the number two painted in black on it. There was no peephole. The trick was getting them to open the door and allow entrance.
Josie knocked a second time, louder and faster, and a few moments later she saw a thin strip of Josh Mooney’s face appear in the crack of the door.
“Yeah?” he said.
“Josh, this is Chief of Police Josie Gray. I’m here with Officer Otto Podowski. We’d like a minute of your time.”
The door remained cracked and the eyeball unblinking.
“No trouble for you. Just a couple questions and we’ll be on our way,” she said.
“About what?”
“It would be a lot easier to talk about this if we weren’t out here where your neighbors can hear everything that’s said.”
The eyeball flitted away for a moment, probably glancing around the room for paraphernalia, and then focused on her for another few seconds.
“Hang on. I have to get dressed.”
Otto shuddered.
Several minutes later a wide-eyed and panting Josh Mooney again opened the door a crack to look at them and then shut it. Josie and Otto looked at each other as they listened to voices from inside the apartment growing louder. They finally heard the fortunate sound of a chain being pulled against the latch, and the door swung open. Josh stepped back and Josie and Otto entered to find Macey standing closely beside Josh, their arms touching. Macey was clearly out of breath as well, probably from hiding their stash. She clutched her hands in front of her and pressed her lips together in a thin line.
Josh and Macey reminded Josie of the Who characters in the Grinch movie. They both stood about five feet tall, with big blue eyes and yellow hair and a perpetually shocked look in their eyes. Although they all clearly knew each other, Otto went through the formality of introductions while Josie scanned the apartment.
She’d been here less than two years ago when the former tenant had been murdered. The man was Mexican, working in the U.S. to send money back to his family. The apartment had been almost bare. Now every square inch appeared filled: photos, piles of magazines and mail, shoe boxes filled with who knew what stacked ten high in the corners of the room, bookshelves filled with knickknacks against the wall. The bookshelf to her right, just inside the entryway, was filled with snow globes and dozens of ceramic ashtrays. It smelled musty, with the underlying odor of stale pot smoke.
Macey wore a short dress with combat boots, and her hair was in pigtails.
“We’re reorganizing. That’s why it looks so bad,” she said, without any introduction. “We just need another week.”
“We’re not here about your apartment,” Josie said. She glanced at the couch and had no desire to sit on the cushions. She then saw that even though the kitchen table was piled high with papers, its chairs were empty. “Can we sit in your kitchen for a few minutes and talk?”
“Sure. We can do that,” Macey said. “We’re organizing. Gonna have a garage sale. Make some money. Give some to Mom. That kind of thing.” She spoke with a clipped manic rhythm to her words.
The four of them sat around the table, and Josie looked at Josh. “I hear you’ve been asking about me at the police department.”
His unbelievably big eyes opened farther and he peered at Josie over the stacks of junk mail. “What?”
“You called the police department, asking about me. Why’d you do that?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
Josie saw Josh glance at Otto, who was shaking his head as if disappointed in his answer.
“Here’s the deal. You just lied to me. Strike one. You tried to impersonate a police officer when you called to ask about my schedule. Strike two. You know what strike three is?”
He shook his head.
“We have your impersonation of a police officer all on tape. Strike three.”
He leaned back against his chair and looked to his sister as if she might know what to say.
“Why did you want to know my schedule?” Josie asked again.
“I was going to come talk to you.”
“About what?”
He shrugged. “I forget now.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I do!”
Josie looked at Otto. “I don’t have patience for this.”
Otto tipped his head toward Josh. “Let’s take him in. Arrest him for impersonating an officer. Give him some jail time so he can remember what he wanted to talk to you about.”
“I am not going back to jail! That place is a hellhole filled with a bunch of gagbags.”
Macey seemed as if she was going to start crying.
“Why did you tell the dispatcher you were a police officer?”
He considered her for a second, like he wasn’t sure if the truth was a good idea or not. “I didn’t think she’d tell me your schedule if I said I was me.”
“You needed to talk to me so bad that you pretended to be a cop, and now you can’t remember why?”
“That was a long time ago.”