Between the Plums Page 14

  “I should probably run some film of Blackie’s leg, but I don’t have an assistant until ten,” Martin said.

  “I can help,” Charlene said. “I’ve got four kids, three cats, two dogs, a rabbit, and twelve hamsters. I’ve taped up split lips, delivered kittens, breast-fed four boys, and once we raised chickens from eggs for Ernie’s science project.”

  “The chickens pooped all over the house,” Ralph said.

  Martin unwrapped the cat enough to look at its tail. “The tail doesn’t look too bad,” he said. “Mostly he’s lost hair, and he’s singed the tip. Why is he so sticky?”

  “Diesel put the fire out with orange juice,” Ralph told him. “It was awesome.”

  “I need someone to take the cat to the big sink in the back room and very gently wash the orange juice off him,” Martin said. “And I need someone to hold Blackie while I run film.”

  “I can hold Blackie,” Russell said. “This is pretty cool. I might want to be a vet someday. I bet you meet a lot of girls.”

  “I suppose,” Martin said. “I’m not exactly the girl expert. I’m better with animals. Animals think I’m cute. Girls just think I’m bald.”

  “I think you’re cute,” Charlene said. “You’re cuddly . . . like Fluffy.”

  “Who’s Fluffy?” Martin asked.

  “Our rabbit,” Ralph said. “He weighs a thousand pounds.”

  “Everything in our house is overweight,” Charlene said. “Except the kids.”

  Martin exchanged his jacket for a blue lab coat. “Maybe I could take a look at Fluffy someday and suggest a better diet.”

  “It’s not just Fluffy,” Ralph said. “We practically have a zoo. Mom takes all the rejects.”

  Gary Martin and Charlene Klinger were perfect for each other. He wanted kids, and she had a pack of them. They were the same age. They were both animal lovers. And he could doctor up Charlene’s menagerie when they set themselves on fire. Plus, Charlene Klinger and Gary Martin looked like they belonged together. They were a matched set. Far better than Gary Martin and Loretta What’s-Her-Face.

  “Do you make house calls?” I asked Martin. “I was thinking it might be better for you to go to Charlene’s house to see her animals since she has so many. And since you’d be doing her a favor she could make dinner for you. I bet you hate to eat alone all the time . . . now that you’re alone.”

  “Are you sure I’m alone?” Martin asked.

  “Trust me, you’re alone.”

  “I’d love to have you look at my animals,” Charlene said, “but I don’t know if you want to eat at my house. It gets real hectic at dinnertime.”

  “I had three sisters and two brothers,” Martin said. “I’m good with hectic.”

  “Can you fix a toilet?” I asked him. “Can you cook?”

  “Sure. You don’t grow up in a house with three sisters and two brothers and one bathroom and not know something about toilets.” Martin took Blackie from Diesel and headed for x-ray. “And I make a killer pork tenderloin. And I can make brownies.”

  I took Charlene aside. “Did you hear that? He makes brownies.”

  “What the hell, I shave my legs anyway,” Charlene said. “And he reminds me of Fluffy. I guess I could give it a shot. Do you think he’s interested?”

  “Of course he’s interested,” I said. “You’re a domestic goddess. Just what he wants.”

  An hour later, Kitty had the end of his tail wrapped in white gauze, and Blackie had a cast on his front leg.

  “It was really nice of you to come in early like this,” Charlene said to Martin.

  “Happy to be able to help,” Martin said. “You have great kids. Russell was a terrific assistant.”

  “Maybe you could come over and check on Blackie and Kitty and Fluffy sometime,” Charlene said.

  “Sure,” Martin said.

  We all stood around, waiting. Gary Martin was slow picking up social cues.

  After a long moment, Diesel slung an arm around Martin’s shoulders. “Maybe you want to check out Charlene’s rabbit tonight.”

  The lightbulb went on in Martin’s head. “Tonight would be wonderful! I see my last patient at five o’clock, so I could come over around six.”

  “We’re having pot roast tonight if you’d like to take a chance on dinner with us,” Charlene said.

  “Boy, that would be fantastic. I’ll bring dessert. I won’t have time to make my brownies, but I’ll stop at the bakery.”

  We got Charlene and her kids and animals back to their house, waved good-bye, and angled ourselves into my car.

  Diesel gave me a playful punch in the shoulder. “Are we good, or what?” he said. “Cross two names off our list.”

  I answered my cell phone.

  “Your sister is coming over for dinner tonight,” my mother said. “I’m making lasagna, and I’ve got an ice-cream cake for dessert. I thought you would want to come.”

  “I think I might be working tonight.”

  “What, you can’t take time out to eat? Everybody has to eat.”

  “Yes, but I have a partner—”

  “There’s always extra. Bring your partner. Is it Lula?”

  “No.”

  “Is it Ranger?”

  “No.”

  “Who is it?”

  “Diesel.”

  Silence.

  “From that Christmas where our tree burned up?” my mother finally asked.

  “Yeah.”

  I imagined her making the sign of the cross.

  “What are you doing with Diesel?” she asked. “No, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”

  5

  It was midmorning and clouds were creeping in above us. We were in front of Jeanine Chan’s house, and we were reading her file.

  “Not much here,” Diesel said. “She’s thirty-five. Single. Never been married. No kids. She works at the button factory. File says she has a problem.”

  Jeanine lived in a single-story, low-rent row house about a quarter mile from my parents’ house in the Burg. There were twenty-one units to a block. They were all redbrick. Front doors opened to small stoops that were directly on the sidewalk. Back doors opened to tiny yards that bordered an alley. Two bedrooms, one bath, small eat-in kitchen. No garages. All the units were identical.

  I rang the bell twice, the door opened a crack, and Jeanine looked out. “Yes?” she asked.

  “We’re looking for Jeanine Chan,” I said.

  “I’m Jeanine.”

  She was maybe an inch shorter than me. She had brown almond-shaped eyes and shoulder-length dark brown hair. She was slim and dressed in a gray shapeless sweatshirt and matching sweatpants.

  I introduced myself, and then I introduced Diesel.

  Jeanine’s eyes sort of glazed over when she saw Diesel.

  “Annie suggested you might have a problem,” I said to Jeanine.

  “Who, me?” Jeanine said. “Nope. Not me. Everything’s just fine. Hope this wasn’t too inconvenient. I have to go now.” And she slammed and locked the door.

  “That was easy,” Diesel said.

  “We didn’t solve her problem.”

  “So?”

  “So you’re paying me to close the deal, and that wasn’t closing the deal. Besides, I’m starting to like this matchmaker thing. It’s a challenge.”

  I rang the bell again. And again.

  “Now what?” Jeanine said, opening the door, sticking her head out.

  “I thought you might want to reconsider. Are you sure you don’t have a problem?”

  Jeanine’s eyes locked onto Diesel.

  “Excuse me a minute while I confer with my associate,” I said to Jeanine.

  I took Diesel by the arm and walked him down the sidewalk to the car.

  “It’s you,” I said to Diesel. “You’re making her nervous.”

  “I have that effect on women,” Diesel said, smiling. “It’s my animal magnetism.”

  “No doubt. Wait in the car. I’m going to talk to Je
anine, and I’ll be right back.”

  “Okay, what’s the problem?” I said to Jeanine when I closed her front door. “I know there’s a problem.”

  “Annie didn’t tell you? Gosh, this is so embarrassing. I don’t know how to say this.” She sucked in some air and scrunched her eyes closed.

  “Hello? Anybody home?” I said after a minute of Jeanine with her eyes closed tight.

  “I’m working myself up to it,” Jeanine said.

  “Boy, this must really be bad.”

  “It’s the worst.”

  “Murder? Cancer? Chocolate allergy?”

  Jeanine blew out a sigh. “I can’t get laid.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s not so bad,” I said. “I think I can handle that. I just have to find a guy to have sex with you?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Do you have requirements?” I asked her.

  “I used to, but I’m getting desperate. I guess I’d like him to have at least some teeth. And it would be good if he wasn’t so fat he smothered me. That’s about it. I got all panicked when I opened the door because I thought maybe Annie sent that Diesel guy over to get the job done. I mean, I wouldn’t mind doing it with him, but I might have to work my way up. He doesn’t look like something a beginner would want to tackle. Which brings me to the real problem.” Jeanine cracked her knuckles. “I’m a virgin.”

  “Get out!”

  “I don’t know how this happened. At first I was being careful. I didn’t want to do it with just anyone, right? And then all of a sudden I was in my twenties, and it got embarrassing. I mean, how do you explain being twenty-five years old and never once finding a man who was good enough? And the older I got, the worse it became. It turns out virgins are only popular in high school and harems. No one wants to take responsibility for deflowering a thirty-five-year-old woman.”

  “Jeez, who would have thought?”

  “Yeah, knock me over with a feather. I’m telling you, I’ve really been trying lately, but I can’t get anyone to do it. And now, I’ve found a man I really like. He’s funny and he’s kind and he’s affectionate. I really think this could turn into something. He might even be the love of my life. Problem is, I have to keep finding excuses not to invite him in . . . like, my cat is sick, or my mother is visiting, or there’s a gas leak.”

  “All because you can’t tell him you’re a virgin?”

  “Exactly. He’ll run for the hills. They always do! God, I hate this stupid virginity. What a dumb idea, anyway. I mean, how the heck am I supposed to get rid of it?”

  “Maybe a doctor could help you.”

  “I thought of that, but that’s only part of it.” She cracked her knuckles. “I don’t know how to do it. I mean, I know where it goes and all, but I don’t know the process. Like, do I just lay there? Or am I supposed to do something?”

  “Usually you do what feels good.”

  “What if it doesn’t feel good? I’m thirty-five. I’m old to be starting out. What if it was use it or lose it? I need some instruction. Nothing fancy. I’d be happy with the basics. For instance, am I supposed to moan?”

  “Men like it, but I find it distracting.”

  Jeanine was gnawing on her bottom lip. “I don’t think I can moan.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to just talk this out with the guy you’re dating?”

  “I’d rather stick a fork in my eye.”

  “Okay, hang in there, and I’ll figure something out.”

  I left Jeanine and trotted back to Diesel.

  “You were in there long enough,” Diesel said. “What’s her big problem?”

  “She’s a virgin.”

  “No kidding?”

  “Turns out after a certain age it’s not that easy to get rid of your virginity. She said men head for the hills when they find out she’s a virgin. Don’t want the responsibility of being the first.”

  “I could see that,” Diesel said.

  “She thought maybe Annie sent you to do the job.”

  Diesel grinned. “I could take a crack at it.”

  I raised an eyebrow.

  “What?” Diesel said.

  “Men.”

  Diesel grinned wider and ruffled my hair, and I slapped his hand away.

  “Just trying to be helpful,” Diesel said.

  “Jeanine has a boyfriend. She likes him a lot and doesn’t want to lose him, but she’s afraid he’ll split when she tells him she’s a virgin.”

  “So don’t tell him,” Diesel said. “Let him figure it out for himself after the deed is done.”

  “That’s sort of sneaky.”

  “You have a problem with sneaky?”

  “There’s another issue. She feels like she’s sort of dumb about the whole thing. Like at thirty-five she should have some technique behind her.”

  “I imagine you could help her with that one,” Diesel said.

  “I guess, but I’m not sure I’m all that expert.”

  “I could test you out and let you know how you score,” Diesel said, the grin back in place. “Rate you on a scale of one to ten.”

  “Now there’s an offer every girl dreams about.”

  Diesel’s phone rang, and he took the call.

  “Yeah,” he said into the phone. “How bad is it?” He listened for a full minute, disconnected, cranked the car over and put it into gear.

  “Where are we going?”

  “We’re going to look for Beaner. He attacked a woman in a diner two blocks from Ernie’s Bar. My source said Beaner went in for breakfast, saw this woman, and went nuts on her because she resembled his wife.”

  “Jeez. What did he do to her? Is she going to be all right?”

  “She’ll recover, but it won’t be fun.” Diesel headed for the center of the city. “I know Beaner is living in the neighborhood around Ernie’s. I placed him there a week ago, but I can’t get a fix on him. I thought we’d go over and walk around. See if I get a vibe.”

  I looked back at Bob. “It’s freezing. I can’t leave Bob sitting in the cold SUV all afternoon.”

  Diesel hooked a left at the intersection. “We’ll drop him off at your apartment. Lock him in your bathroom, so he doesn’t eat your couch. Your bathroom is nice and big. He’ll be okay.”

  The neighborhood around Ernie’s is a residential and commercial mix. There are office buildings, condo buildings, brownstones, and small businesses like Ernie’s Bar all in a jumble. Diesel parked in a lot, and we set out on foot with our collars turned up against the wind and our hands in our pockets to keep warm. We covered a grid of blocks a half-mile square, but Beaner didn’t register on Diesel’s radar.

  We ducked into a deli and got sandwiches and coffee for lunch, happy to be out of the cold.

  “This isn’t working,” I said to Diesel. “I vote we do it my human way and canvass the street, asking questions.”

  “I’m human,” Diesel said. “I just have a few extra skills.”

  I finished my sandwich and coffee and stood. “You go north and I’ll go south, and we’ll meet back here at three o’clock.”

  I started with the girl at the register in the deli, asking if she’d seen a guy with a raspberry birthmark on his face. Her answer was no. I went to the florist next door, the drugstore, the dry cleaner. No one had seen Beaner. I spoke to the doorman at a condo building and the receptionist at a high-rise office building. No Beaner. I went four blocks south, stopping people on the street. I crossed the street and worked my way back to the deli. No luck at all.

  By the time I met up with Diesel, wind-driven snow was angling down, stinging my face. Snow is picturesque in Vermont. In New Jersey, it’s a pain in the ass. It slows traffic and makes walking treacherous. Dogs turn the snow yellow, and cars churn it into brown sludge.

  “Any luck?” Diesel asked.

  “None. How about you?”

  “Zip.”

  I felt my cell phone buzz. It was Larry Burlew, and
I could barely understand what he was saying. He was talking at warp speed and stuttering.

  “It’s n-n-not working,” he said. “I don’t know what to s-s-say to her. She comes over with coffee whenever I wave, but I don’t know what to say. What should I say? I just s-s-say thank you. I thought I could talk to her, but nothing comes out. I d-d-don’t think I can drink much more coffee, but I can’t stop myself from waving.”

  “How many cups have you had?”

  “I d-d-don’t know. I lost count. Twelve or fifteen, I think.”

  “We’re on our way,” I told him. “Try to hang in there, and for God’s sake, don’t drink any more coffee.”

  6

  Larry Burlew was pacing when we walked into the shop.

  “I don’t feel good,” he said. “I think I’m having a heart attack. My heart is racing. And my eye is twitching. I hate when my eye twitches like this. Maybe I need a cup of coffee to settle my nerves.”

  “Put a coat on him and walk him around outside in the cold,” I told Diesel. “See if you can get some of the caffeine out of his system.”

  “Who’ll take care of the shop?” Burlew asked. “I can’t walk out on the shop.”

  “I’ll take care of the shop,” I told him. “No one comes in at this time of the day. Don’t worry about it.”

  Five minutes later, a woman walked in and wanted a pork roast deboned and rolled.

  “I’m just the assistant butcher,” I told her. “I’m not allowed to debone. The real butcher will be back in an hour, but I’m not sure he’ll be fit to use sharp tools. How about a nice roasting chicken?”

  “I don’t want a chicken,” she said. “I need a pork roast.”

  “Okay, how about this. I’ll give it to you for free if you’ll take it with the bone in. It’s a special promotional deal.”

  “I guess that would be okay,” the woman said.

  I took a roast out of the display case, wrapped it in white butcher paper, and gave it to the woman.

  “Have a nice day,” I told her.

  Twenty minutes later, Diesel returned with Burlew.

  “How’s he doing?” I asked Diesel.

  “He’s stopped stuttering, and his eye has almost completely stopped twitching. I had to bring him back because I think his nose is frostbitten. This weather sucks. I’m putting in for an assignment in the Bahamas after this.”