Missing Boy Read online

  “To where?”

  “South side.”

  He nodded slowly, pursed his lips, and lost a bit of the attitude. “Mr. Manning, we have enough problems here without trying to keep track of workers when they leave. I do have to admit, a lot of our problems are lost kids. Parents look away for a second and the kid’s gone, but they show up sooner or later. I sympathize with you, but this sounds like a police matter.”

  “It may be,” I agreed. “But could you at least look into it? Find out who he worked with and ask if they saw him on Monday?”

  He folded his hands on the edge of his shiny wooden desk. “Mr. Manning, I will definitely ask some questions, but most of our workers are transient. We hire new workers constantly and we don’t ask many questions. I doubt this kid had any friends.”

  “I’m guessing your non-transient employees know who they work with. Wouldn’t hurt to ask and see if he had any friends.”

  “It would not. But kids come and go almost daily. The part-time employees don’t get time to make friends.”

  I took a deep breath and sighed. “Would you tell me where he worked?”

  “No clue. I’m not in charge of that, Mr. Manning.”

  “Who is?”

  He pushed back from his desk. “Probably the personnel department. It strikes me that if this was anything serious, the cops would be asking the questions, not some private dick.”

  I resisted the urge to tell him there was a cop in his outer office, gave him a card with my new phone number, and asked him to call if he discovered anything.

  He nodded. It was a nod of agreement—and dismissal. He didn’t offer his hand and didn’t say goodbye. He just suggested that I wouldn’t want to bother the employees with questions. I wasn’t surprised. I left the splendor of his fancy office in a wooden shack and glanced at Belva on my way to the door. I was thinking about the name. She didn’t look up from the file on her desk. Rosie followed me out.

  I was glad to be back out in the sunshine and felt like I had escaped one of the levels of Hades. Rosie took my arm.

  “That went well, don’t ya think?” she said with a smirk.

  “I think so,” I replied without sarcasm and led her to a beer garden about fifty feet away.

  “You certainly have a way with police chiefs, Mr. Manning.”

  We sat at a two-person wrought iron table. “How so?”

  “I seem to remember a certain chief up in Door County. Not exactly a drinking buddy.”

  I really wanted to correct her. Maybe someday I’d be able to tell her the whole story. For now I only agreed and sighed.

  “What do you mean, you think it went well?” Rosie asked. “Cuz it didn’t sound so good to me.”

  “Well, in the past when I’ve stirred a pot something has crawled out.”

  “You have a plan just in case something crawls out?”

  “Yup. Seeing as I just happen to have a plain-clothes Chicago cop with me, who Walters did not see because the troll at the gate wouldn’t let her pass, I figured you could follow if he comes out and meet me back at the car.”

  “Easy enough. And something else. Belva and Walters seem to be cut from the same cloth. I wonder who really runs the office.”

  “Good point. I was wondering that myself. Any good boss will tell you that the secretary is the one who handles everything.”

  “What a strange name. Who would name their kid Belva?”

  “Maybe someone with a twisted sense of humor, and history.”

  “Huh?”

  I thought for a moment. “I don’t remember her last name but back during Prohibition, Chicago had several famous murderesses. One of them was named Belva. She shot her boyfriend in the head.”

  “Lovely. The good old days.”

  “For some. Booze and jazz and gangsters. Belva was divorced from a rich society man. I believe it came out during the divorce that she whipped him as part of their love-making.”

  Rosie just gaped at me. “Bet he was glad to get rid of her.”

  “You would think. But I think she divorced him. He hired the best lawyers in town when she was arrested and said he’d take her back.”

  Rosie whistled. “Go figure. From society to jail. What a come down.”

  “Yes, but the ladies of Murderess Row thrived on it. They vied for the most press. Belva apologized to the reporters and said something like, ‘Jails are such horrid places to receive guests’.”

  “Chicago, what a place.”

  “And if I recall correctly, she had a good voice—was in the jail choir.”

  She looked at me with dismay. “The jail had a choir?”

  “Yup.”

  “Wow. A bunch of murderesses who can sing. They should do a musical.”

  I laughed. “Yeah, right. Who’d want to go see that? But if I remember correctly, they did do a play many years ago that made it to Broadway.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope. I remember Stosh talking about it when I was a kid. I was fascinated. Seems a woman reporter for the Tribune had been covering the ladies on the row and she wrote a play that made it big.”

  “What was her name?”

  I shook my head. “Stosh is the expert on Chicago crime.”

  “What did they call it?”

  “What do you think?”

  She laughed. “Chicago?”

  “Yup. Nice publicity.”

  “And did you notice the jewelry?”

  “Hard not to,” I said with envy.

  “Do you think it’s real?”

  “It’s either real or a very good fake.”

  A mom went by with a kid whining that he didn’t want to go home.

  “Seem strange to you?” Rosie asked.

  “No, I didn’t want to leave when I was a kid either.”

  “I meant the bracelet, smartass.”

  I chuckled. “Not exactly the venue for it. Seems like she’s trying to make a statement.”

  “About what?”

  With a shrug, I replied, “Beats me. Someone whose ego needs a boost, or a sign of power, or who the hell knows what else.” I thought for a few seconds. “Whatever it is, putting diamonds on Belva is like trying to get Cinderella’s ugly sisters ready for the ball.”

  We watched the crowd and listened to the ride noises. Lots of kids were having lots of fun. I knew of at least one kid who wasn’t and wondered about Martin.

  Twenty minutes later, Chief Walters came out of the office and walked away from where we were sitting. Rosie followed him. I waited until they had disappeared and then headed back to the car. A half hour later, Rosie opened the passenger door.

  “I followed Walters to the ball toss booth—the game where you throw at milk bottles. He nodded to a big burly guy running it who didn’t respond. But five minutes later the guy left the booth when a kid showed up. He joined Walters and they talked while they walked. Halfway down the Midway, they split up and the burly guy went back toward the booth. I followed Walters who disappeared into Aladdin’s Castle.”

  “Hmm. What’s the burly guy look like?”

  “About your height, but a lot more of him, most of it muscle. Grey sweatshirt with the arms cut off. Tattoos on both arms and a scar on his left cheek. Crewcut. About thirty-five.”

  I started the car and turned on the air. “Sounds like something that might have crawled out of a barrel.” And now I was pretty sure where Martin worked. I shake the trees and Walters goes right to the ball throw booth.

  ***

  I dropped Rosie at home and headed back to the office. I was eager to see how Samantha was doing. All of the boxes were empty and the desk tops were clear. I wondered what she’d do tomorrow.

  “So, the phone been ringing off the hook?”

  She laughed. “No calls, sorry.”

  “None?”

  She shook her head.

  There had been at least one. But maybe she had made the call… maybe to her father.

  “How’s your father doing? Did
you check on him?”

  “No. He was fine when I left this morning. I left him lunch and I’ll be home in time for dinner.”

  So she hadn’t called her father and she didn’t know anyone else in town. Little things rouse my curiosity, but I had bigger things to worry about, like a missing kid and why I rub police chiefs the wrong way.

  “How was your trip to the park?” she asked as she collected her things.

  “Not very helpful, but you’ve got to start somewhere.”

  “Too bad. Do you want me to keep a daily journal?”

  “No thanks. I tend to keep things in my head.”

  “Well, if you don’t need me…”

  “Nope. Have a good night.”

  “Will you be here in the morning?”

  “Don’t know. Probably not.”

  “I finished unpacking. What do you want me to do?”

  That was a great question and I told her so.

  “Let’s just play it by ear. Feel free to bring a book or knitting or whatever you do to pass some time.”

  She looked puzzled. “I’d feel guilty doing that while you’re paying me to work.”

  “I’m sure you’ll handle the work if some pops up. If it doesn’t, do whatever you like to do to get through the day.”

  She shrugged. “Okay. This is the strangest job I’ve ever had.”

  “Me too. You get used to it,” I said with a smile.

  She left by the front door and I locked it behind her. I called Stosh and invited myself to dinner.

  Chapter 6

  Stosh was turning the steaks when I pulled in the drive.

  “Grab a beer kid, and go see if the corn is done.”

  We ate on the deck while I told him about my afternoon. The sun was just dipping behind the house and a light breeze kept mosquitoes away.

  “Sounds like Walters has let his ego run away with him,” Stosh said between bites. “He always was a pompous blowhard, but he didn’t have the title to back it up.”

  “Well, I’d argue he still doesn’t.”

  Stosh nodded as he picked up the corn. “In his mind, Chief of Police is Chief of Police. And he wasn’t a bad cop, just a pain in the ass. He had his opinions and didn’t mind sharing them. He pushed it too far and was offered a severance rather than a hearing.”

  “Great. Seems to be enjoying the new job. And he has a secretary who follows his lead on the pain in the ass part.”

  After adding more butter to his corn, Stosh said, “Rosie tells me you have a secretary. Coming up in the world.”

  “Yup. Name on the window and everything. Only one problem.”

  Stosh kept eating and asked a muffled, “Which is?”

  “She wants to know what she’s supposed to do to fill up eight hours a day. I have no idea.”

  “Tough being a big shot. What’s your plan with the nephew?”

  “Well, unless you guys turn up something else, I’m sticking with Riverview.” I told him about the chat Walters had with the burly employee.

  “I’m going back tomorrow to have a chat with the bottle guy. And I’ll ask around about Walters. Something not right there. But now I think I know where the kid worked. I stir things up and Walters heads for the ball throw booth.”

  Stosh put down the stripped ear of corn. “As I said, he got things done. I’m betting you got the ball rolling and he was asking all the right questions. Maybe you’ll get a call from him.”

  “I doubt it. He didn’t seem too anxious to help.”

  “No. I imagine not. But he knows he’ll get a visit from Missing Persons at some point and he’d rather we didn’t poke into his affairs. So, he’s likely to give answers before the questions are asked.”

  “And what do you think those answers are?”

  “Probably that he looked around and came up empty. He’s right about the other things that could have happened after the kid left the park.”

  “You get many missing kids?”

  “Yeah. But one is too many.”

  “How many are found?”

  He shrugged. “Some are, some aren’t. A lot leave on their own and some meet with foul play. Do you know what the family situation was like?”

  I shrugged and laid my napkin on the table. “Tough, money-wise. Martin’s brother died a few years back. I only met them all once and they seemed like a tight family. Lots of love and respect. I don’t think Martin left on his own.”

  “Well, hopefully he’ll show up soon. Let’s play some gin.”

  I cleaned up the dishes while Stosh closed the grill and got out the card table. By ten he had won back half of the twelve bucks he had lost.

  Chapter 7

  I wanted to have a chat with the bottle guy before the park got crowded so I got there at ten when it opened. Three buses were pulling into the lot as I paid. It was a beautiful early June morning. A skinny kid was setting up bottles when I got to the booth across from the Freak Show. I asked where his boss was.

  “He went for money. Be right back.” He looked at me curiously. “Don’t ya wanna play, mister?”

  I shook my head. The odds of winning were with the house. “Nope, just want to chat with your boss. What’s his name?”

  The kid shrugged.

  “You don’t know his name?”

  “Not his real name.” He balanced the last bottle on top of the pyramid. “Everybody calls him Meatstick.”

  “Meatstick.”

  The kid nodded.

  “Odd name. You know why?”

  “I guess it’s because he usually has one in his mouth. He won’t share, but I took one once. Tasted like pepperoni.” He came over to the counter. “You sure you don’t want to play, mister? I’ve never run the game by myself.”

  The kid looked hopeful—probably would feel like a big shot. I agreed and he set three balls on the counter.

  As I picked them up, I asked if he knew Martin Lisk. He didn’t. I asked how long he had worked there.

  “Just since yesterday. Meatstick said the last kid quit.”

  “What’s your name, kid?”

  “Anthony.”

  “Nice to meet you, Anthony.”

  I took aim and knocked down three bottles. The second ball got two more and the last one missed.

  “Sorry, mister. Wanna try again?”

  I could spare the quarter but I declined. “I’m just gonna wait for Meatstick.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  The barker at the Freak Show got my attention as a crowd started to gather. He stood on the stage in front of the painted backdrop along with a lady with snakes in her hair and the tattooed lady. There wasn’t a square inch of bare skin visible. He lured people to the ticket window with promises of even stranger wonders inside.

  ***

  Meatstick showed up ten minutes later carrying a canvas bag. He had on shiny black pants and a sleeveless grey sweatshirt. Riverview was a step above a carnival, but most of the employees had the transient look that went with carny workers. Meatstick was no different. Short and stocky with tattoos on both arms, he looked like he would fight first and talk later, or not bother to talk at all. As I walked back to the booth my pager vibrated with my office number. I had set up a system with Samantha—the same as with Stosh and Rosie. If it was an emergency that needed an immediate call, she would put a 9 after the number. There was no 9.

  As I walked back to the booth the kid said, “That’s the guy I was telling you about,” and Meatstick shuffled up to the counter. He didn’t say a word—just stared through me with indifference. Between him and Walters I was hard pressed to decide who was more annoying. I didn’t offer my hand.

  “They call you Meatstick?”

  He folded his arms on his stocky chest. “You got somethin’ to say, say it.”

  I took a deep breath. “I’m looking for Martin Lisk. I understand he worked here.”

  “Lots of kids work here, if you call it that. Amazing they get paid.”

  “So how about Martin Lisk?”
/>
  “Doesn’t ring a bell. What’s it to you?”

  “He’s missing.”

  “Too bad. Hey kid… wipe off the counter and straighten the balls.”

  “So you’re telling me you never heard that name?”

  “Yup. I got enough trouble here without trying to keep track of damned kids. They go through here like water down that river out back. This ain’t the best paying job in the world. Kids find something better to do and we get a new kid. It’s like a revolving door.” He nodded to the new kid.

  A dad and his son stepped up to the counter, and the kid set three balls down and took his quarter. The man’s face was confident and his son’s eyes were wide open.

  I turned back to Meatstick. “Do you…?”

  “You wanna play, put down a quarter.” He turned away.

  The father knocked off the top bottle with his first ball and the two end bottles on the left with the second. He got the rest with the third and won a pencil with a rubber monkey stuck on the eraser. The kid didn’t look at all happy.

  A teenage boy with his girlfriend put down his quarter. Meatstick watched the kid set up the bottles. The barker at the Freak Show was hawking the next show in ten minutes.

  I don’t know why I did it because I knew what he’d do with it, but I put my card on the counter and asked Meatstick to call if he heard anything about Martin.

  He didn’t respond.

  The teenager got all the bottles in two tries. The girlfriend picked out a small stuffed lion.

  Meatstick was less than helpful but I wasn’t surprised. I was betting he wasn’t all that well paid either. Why should he care?

  I found a spot down the Midway where I could sit and watch the bottle booth. I watched for twenty minutes but Meatstick didn’t do anything other than his job. This time nothing fell out of the trees when I shook them.

  ***

  I decided to head back to the office, but first I wanted to walk through Aladdin’s Castle. It had been a long time since I dared the bizarre world inside.

  I made it through the maze of screen doors with no handles, but it took a while. You didn’t know whether they opened from the left or the right, or in or out. I was ready to get out my pocket knife and start cutting some screens. There were no laughs or screams—I was the only one in the place. The next room was full of mirrors that changed your shape to fat or thin or tall or short. I didn’t care about that when I was a kid and I still didn’t. As I turned the corner at the end of the hall the lights went out. Air jets blew from the sides and scary faces lit up with ghastly grins. As I bumped into a wall and tried to make out which way to turn, I heard a voice from behind me.