“I doubt it. No one who’d put him up, at any rate. There’s nothing warm and fuzzy about our Ned. He’s a robot who’s learned to mimic human behavior with no emotional underpinnings. That’s what makes him so good at manipulation. He has an uncanny radar for your innermost needs and he feeds you malarkey so good you’re convinced you’ve found your soul mate. I fell for it myself and I always thought I was one smart cookie.”
“You know where Celeste is these days?”
“You already asked me that.”
“I’m keenly aware of it, Phyllis, which is why I asked you again.”
“Look, she changed her name and relocated. Even with an alias, her number’s unlisted. She’s not taking any chances.”
“She must have been in touch or you wouldn’t know that much.”
“She called once to let me know she was okay. I have the name and address around here someplace. I made a note on a piece of paper I stuck in a box. I moved six weeks ago and I still have unopened U-Haul cartons stacked up in the back bedroom.”
“When you find it, why don’t you call her and let her know what’s going on? That way you won’t betray a confidence.”
I heard a phone ringing on her end. “You want to get that?”
“The machine will pick up,” she said. “I got an idea. Why don’t you come down for a glass of wine and a bite of supper? We can talk about Ned and maybe brainstorm ideas.”
“I’d love that. When?”
“I’m tied up tonight. What about tomorrow night?”
“No good. I’m going to a birthday party in the neighborhood.”
“How about Saturday?”
“Sounds good. I can bring the wine if you like.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ve got plenty. I just bought a condominium in a gated community. I’ll leave your name with the security guard and he’ll direct you from there. The units look like row houses. You’ll think they’re all connected, but they’re set up in pairs, so there are actually two of us, A and B, at this street number. Once you get to my building, you’ll enter the vestibule and press the call button under my name. That will ring me upstairs and I’ll send the elevator down for you. Or, if the elevator’s down, you can press the call button just inside the door, identify yourself, and I’ll bring you up. Come around five and we can sit out on the balcony and watch the sun set. I’ll do us up a little something. I’m not much of a cook, so don’t get your hopes up.”
“I don’t cook at all, so anything you do will be a treat.”
“Let me give you my new address.”
I made a note of it and told her I’d be there at five on Saturday.
We hung up and I continued to sit, contemplating the question of Ned’s whereabouts. I was already having doubts about Phyllis’s suggestion regarding mobile home and RV parks. A quick check of the phone book showed ten mobile home parks in the area: two close to downtown and the remaining eight in Colgate. While it had sounded like a dandy suggestion, I couldn’t picture him buying or renting a mobile home. In truth, mobile homes aren’t mobile at all. A mobile home functions as a fixed base of operations in a park with permanent water and electric hookups, a street address, and monthly rent due on the lot where it’s moored. Ned was the last person in the world who’d settle down in a community where he was wanted for murder.
As for RV parks, there were two: one fifteen miles north of the city and the other one forty miles north. I ruled those out on the premise that Ned wouldn’t want to place himself at such a geographical remove. To all appearances, he’d been on foot when he checked out of the Sand Bar, and he was certainly on foot when I caught sight of him on Albanil Tuesday night. With a backpack and sleeping bag, he was most likely camping somewhere close by. I couldn’t rule out the possibility that he had a car at his disposal (owned, rented, or stolen) but it would put him at risk for parking tickets, moving violations, and equipment infractions that might expose him to notice by traffic enforcement officers.
I armed and locked the office and went home. Ed, the cat, was sitting on the sidewalk, just outside the gate.
“What are you doing out here?”
Ed wasn’t feeling chatty, so I reached down, picked him up, and carried him around to the backyard. I deposited him inside Henry’s kitchen door and returned to my place. I changed into my sweats and running shoes and used the run as a moving meditation on Ned Lowe. What was his thinking process? He had to have shelter; at the very least, a place where he could hole up out of the public eye. He’d have to eat, which meant fast-food places, coffee shops, bars, or restaurants; more likely a local market where he could stockpile supplies. He needed access to a toilet, which suggested service stations, the public bathrooms at the marina, or the use of the men’s room in a city park, which might also provide cover. Wherever he was, I needed to run him to ground soon, for my safety as well as the safety of others. Though I didn’t know it at the time, this was a thought that would come back to haunt me later.
18
IRIS AND JOEY
Thursday, September 21, 1989
Iris and Joey parked in the public lot behind the Clockworks and walked through the passageway to State Street where the front door was located. For years, the place had been a teen hangout, the bulk of the business devoted to soft drinks and cheap snacks, creating the illusion of a bar without the alcohol. They did sell two off-brands of beer and generic red and white wines if you could provide tangible proof you were of age. Most of the patrons in those days were the under-eighteen crowd feigning maturity with none of the responsibilities.
Joey opened the door and held it for Iris. The two paused in the entrance, scanning the crowd for some sign of Fritz. The place was smoky and dark, the walls painted charcoal gray, with lighting that consisted primarily of green and purple neon tubing. Suspended from the high ceiling were oversize black gears, abstract suggestions of the interior of a clock: the anchor, the escapement wheel, with oscillating wheels and springs. Two years before, the owners had upgraded the establishment, which was now a full bar. They’d bought the storefront next door and had broken through the connecting wall. The expansion allowed them to double their space, which now included a second room with a jukebox, six pool tables, and six pinball machines. It was Thursday night and the place was jammed. The crowd was restless and noisy, which created an odd intimacy. Iris spotted Fritz sitting alone in a booth to their left.
“There.”
“Got him,” Joey murmured.
Fritz spotted them and smiled, vigorously waving his hand like they might not otherwise notice him.
Iris kept her eyes pinned on Fritz, her smile in place. Under her breath she said, “I hate that guy. Look at the stupid smirk on his face. Bet he’s still proud of himself for what he did to me.”
Joey put a hand in the middle of her back, gently steering her toward Fritz’s table. “Don’t go down that road, Iris. This is all sweetness and light. As far as he’s concerned, we’re best buds. Happy to have him back in our midst.”
“Don’t you dare leave me alone with him.”