Chapter Twenty-Six

Ed was getting ready to leave for headquarters when the phone rang. His hair was slicked back with water, and he wore a fresh-pressed white shirt, khakis, and a pair of loafers. There was electricity in the air, a sort of static tang he knew was brought on by fear. He had assembled enough information over the past few weeks, he thought, to get his old boss to take him seriously. The jangling of the phone in the living room added to his tension, making him more nervous than he knew he should have been. As he hurried to the phone, he thought the added adrenaline in his system might just be an aid to him when he pleaded his case. It would make him sharp and more persuasive.

Or so he hoped.

“Hello?”

“Ed? Ed, is that you?”

“Of course it’s me, Mother.” Ed rolled his eyes. “It’s good to hear your voice. To what do I owe the honor?”

“What are you talking about? A mother calling her son is an honor now, is it? Well, I guess as frequently as you call, it is something special.”

“Sorry it’s been so long.”

“Well, you should be. Word has it that you’ve been canned. Lots of time on your hands, so don’t give me the runaround about how busy you’ve been.”

This was the last thing Ed needed, yet another morning moment to ruin his composure. He wondered how his mother, in Peoria, had heard of his termination. “Who told you about that?”

“I have my spies.” Mrs. Comparetto laughed. “So what did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything, Mother. It’s all a big mix-up.” Was it really? Ed was no longer sure of anything. “I’m working right now on getting reinstated.”

“Come crawling back, huh? Begging for your job? Your father…”

“Ma! I think that’s enough.” His mother had been blessed—and the rest of the world cursed—with a tongue that knew no censoring. Phyllis Comparetto always said exactly what she thought. When Ed left Peoria, he had thought God help them. “Did you call for any particular reason?” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Ed knew he had said the wrong thing.

“Oh, now I have to have good cause to call my son? Well, that’s about what I expected.”

“You know that’s not what I meant. I just wondered… Oh, never mind. How are you?”

“You mean other than the arthritis and the loneliness? Fine, I guess. Your Uncle Dominic is in the hospital. He had some trouble walking at your cousin Jeff’s wedding. When they opened him up, they found he was filled with cancer. They just closed him back up. They’re sending him home today. I thought you might want to drive down and see him. They say he’s only got a couple weeks. Sent him home to die. Poor man.”

“That’s really a shame, Ma. Yeah, yeah, I’ll come down. Maybe this weekend. I have a new friend I’d like you to meet, anyway.”

“One of those faggots?”

Ed sucked in some air. “Yes, as a matter of fact, he is. Just like me.”

“Oh, don’t give me that! Boys pass through this phase. I’ve been lighting a candle down at St. Nick’s every week, so God will take this thing away from you.”

“Mother, I’m not a boy. I don’t want anyone taking this thing away from me. It’s who I am. It’s who you love, whether you like it or not.” Ed thought of adding something particularly vicious, like telling her how he wouldn’t want to stop sucking cock for all the sequins in his many ball gowns but thought better of it. He would be the one to really suffer from such a remark.

“Well, you come on down. Let me get a load of this little friend of yours. He’s probably part of the reason you are what you are.”

“I thought that was Dan’s job.”

“Don’t get smart with me, boy. I’ll knock your teeth down your throat.”

“See you this weekend, Ma.” Ed replaced the receiver in its cradle. When the phone rang again, Ed hurried out the door. With trembling hands, he locked the deadbolt as the phone rang in the background, making his hands shake, his heart pound, and his blood pressure spike.

In the car, Ed thought he couldn’t imagine how a morning could have started off worse. Just when he needed to be calm, to have all his ducks in a row, whatever the hell that meant, everything broke loose in his life.

Today the telephone was the medium of bad news. He wished he’d had it disconnected a long time ago. First there was the call for Peter, around 7:30 a.m., from his friend at the library, Ellie. Mark, the guy who had been in the accident on Lake Shore, had died.

Peter had come back into the bedroom, his face white, lips turned down in a frown that foretold tears.

“What happened?”

“It’s Mark. He passed away last night. They say he had a hemorrhage in his brain.”

Ed sat up and reached out for Peter, who continued to stand still at the door to the bedroom. “I’m really sorry.”

Peter shook his head. “I suppose you’re still going to go and talk to your old boss this morning.”

Ed had been shocked at his question. What was the connection?

“Well, of course I am. What’s that got to do with anything?”

Peter burst into tears then, and Ed sat still on the bed, uncertain if his embrace would be welcome. Ed got up anyway and started toward him. Peter put out an arm, not to welcome him but to stop him. “No.” Peter slid into a robe and sat on the bed, his head in his hands. “When is this going to stop? Why can’t you just leave it alone? Don’t you see? Don’t you see? This is only going to end when this maniac succeeds in killing you too.”

“This is my life, Peter. This is what I’ve always wanted. It’s all I know. I don’t want to forget it. If I can help apprehend this guy, I could get my job back.”

“Your job? We’re talking about your life here!”

“I’ll be all right. I can take care of myself.”

“Oh sure, big macho man. Well, what about the time when you came home with your head split open?”

“What do you want me to do, Peter?” With all he had on his mind for today, this was the last thing he needed. He should have known it was coming. Other cops he had known had experienced the same thing with their wives. People outside the force just didn’t understand.

“I want you to forget about all this! I want you to find something else to do with your life. I want you to concentrate on us, instead of some sick character out there who’s killing people. You keep bringing yourself in his sights, again and again. You’ll never be satisfied until he gets you too.”

“No, I’ll never be satisfied until I get him. And I will. And then everything will be all right. And then we can get on with us.”

“Bullshit.”

Ed moved close to Peter so he could look him in the eye. “Look, you wanted to be with me, right? This is who I am. I’m not a doctor, not a lawyer, not an architect. I don’t want to be anything else.”

“Maybe what you are is not what I want.” Peter slumped back on the bed, turned toward the wall.

Ed sighed. “I know you don’t mean that.”

“I wish I could be so certain.”

“Will you be here when I get home?”

“No. I think I need some time to think.”

“Do what you have to do. I need to get in the shower. I have an appointment in an hour, and I don’t want to be late.”

Peter mumbled, “We wouldn’t want that.”

*

Ed pulled his car into a guest parking spot at the station. It felt strange to be a guest in a place he had always considered a second home.

Roy O’Farrell was waiting for him. As soon as he came into the office, Ed could feel the man’s discomfort. When O’Farrell looked up from the report he was reading, his smile was false and his face looked strained. He looked, Ed thought, like someone who didn’t want to be in the situation he was in.

“How you doin’, Roy?”

“Could be better. This gay killer thing has got everyone on edge.”

Ed sat down in one of the two chairs across from his old boss’s desk. “That’s what I’m here about.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I think I might have some information that could help. A lot.”

“Well, shoot,” Roy said. And Ed could just feel him thinking, Humor him.

And so Ed began, spilling out the whole story: the phone calls, the grave at Rosehill, the incident in the forest preserve, the sex line, Mark Dietrich, everything he could think of. Even as he was telling it, Ed was beginning to wish he hadn’t come. It all sounded so insane.

And as Roy O’Farrell listened, his face threw up a wall. Ed could tell he was trying to think of a way to get rid of him.

When he was finished, Ed placed his hand on the supervisor’s desk. “So what do you think?”

Roy shook his head. And then he smiled. The smile was falsely bright. “That’s quite a tale you’ve got there, partner. And it certainly bears some checking out.” Roy wrote something on a piece of paper. “I’ll put this with the other leads we’ve gotten, and you can be sure we’ll check this out. I’ll pass it along to the task force. What did you say that aunt’s name was again? Helen?”

“Helene.” Ed paused. “I was thinking maybe I could come back and track this down for you.”

“I don’t think the mood here would permit that, Ed. I’m sorry.”

“But—”

Roy put up a hand to halt him. “Ed, I’m sorry. We’ll check things out. Okay?”

Ed stared at the floor. “Of course. Handle it the way you see fit.” He glanced up at his former boss. “You know best, Roy.”