Vida Nocturna Part 12

He was very heavy.

"So this is dead weight," Sara said. Alexander said nothing.

The bags rolled up at each end as they carried him into the living room, revealing Joe's entire torso. Sara undid Joe's belt and removed it, then wrapped it around the outside of the two bags, cinching it as tightly as she could. It seemed to hold.

They did a few more lines. The c.o.ke bugs did their little dance along her bones. Alexander stuffed all eleven ounces into the big square pockets on the front of his jacket and tucked his gun back under his belt. Sara put her own stash back into her purse.

Alexander went out the door by himself first, looking all around for any potential witnesses. When he returned, he took Joe's shoulders and headed out the door, leaving Sara to grab the feet. With Alexander leading the way backwards down the outdoor stairs, they shuffled one step at a time. Black windows stared down as they made their way across the parking lot. Sara squatted down to support the weight of Joe's legs on her thighs as she fumbled in her purse for her keys. She had to adjust her position a little to fit the key into the hole, but at last the trunk popped open. Straightening up, she pushed the feet inside. Alexander followed her action by trying to put the shoulders in, but Joe had stiffened into a position that didn't fit inside easily.

They struggled and pushed and twisted but nothing was working. Alexander shoved his flat palm against the belt buckle at the middle of the bundle, pounding over and over until there was a strange, wet-sounding snap. The garbage bag with Joe's head disappeared into the trunk.

"Now what?" Sara asked. She had already pulled out of the parking lot.

"Just keep going straight," he said. "We'll take a left in a little while. There's an industrial park near here; I'm sure we'll find a way to deal with this there."

"That's it? That's the plan? We'll drive to an industrial park and see what we can do?"

"You got a better idea?"

Tension cramped her arms and shoulders. She clutched the wheel and tried to control the trembling that had taken over her body.

"What if there's somebody there?" Suddenly Sara was sure there would be.

"Then we'll find someplace else."

"You're awfully calm about this!"

He lit a cigarette. She gestured with two fingers, and he placed it between them. He started to get another for himself, but she shook her head. "Don't," she said, taking a drag. "I can't hold it and drive right now." She took two more drags and handed it back.

"This is a problem," he said. "But we can solve it. We're going to solve this problem, and then we'll go back. It's just what we have to do."

"I don't see any industrial park."

"We've still got a little ways to go. It shouldn't be too much farther."

The rear-view mirror exploded into red and blue flashes. Sara pulled the car to the side of the road, looking over her shoulder at the police car that had stopped them.

CHAPTER 9.

Wallet and Key THE POLICE OFFICER was still sitting in his car, apparently running her license plate. Or calling for backup? What if Joe's sleeve or pant leg was sticking out of the trunk?

The cop would know. He'd know she was c.o.ked up, just by looking. And her dress still smelled like booze.

Something clicked inside her head, pus.h.i.+ng out the old, weak Sara. "Slump against the window and act like you're pa.s.sed out," she told Alexander. He surprised her by complying right away, slowly crus.h.i.+ng his cigarette with his heel on the floor mat. Sara watched in the rear-view mirror as the cop got out of his car and approached her window.

She reached into her purse and her fingers brushed against the baggie with her c.o.ke. She caressed it briefly before pus.h.i.+ng it to the bottom of the purse and coming up with her billfold as the officer s.h.i.+ned his light through the window. She pushed the b.u.t.ton and it lowered smoothly.

"Can I see your license and registration, miss?"

She held up the billfold, showing him the license in its little clear plastic window as she reached over Alexander to retrieve the registration from the glove compartment.

"Please take it out of the wallet, ma'am." The cop's irritation showed in his voice. The flashlight s.h.i.+ning in through her window was painfully bright, but it allowed her to remove the license and hand it over. Alexander stayed motionless, which must have been exceedingly hard to do. Sara's own hand shook like an EKG needle as she pa.s.sed the license to the cop.

She smiled and tried to look convincing, wis.h.i.+ng she could soften the fierce intensity her eyes shared with Alexander's these days. "Boy am I glad to see you, officer," she said. "I'm really lost. Can you tell me how to get back to the North Sh.o.r.e?

The cop was a youngish black man with a moustache. He stood silently for a moment, reading her license. She reminded herself to just tell him she lived at the address he saw there - her mother's house in Glencoe. It would be one less thing to try and explain.

The officer s.h.i.+ned the light back down into the car, bending to look at Alexander. "Do you know why I stopped you, ma'am?"

She hoped her nervous exhalation sounded like a polite chuckle. "Probably because I've been driving around in circles, right?" She smiled again and raised both of her palms toward her face in a kind of shrug. "I'm really lost." She looked through the windows of the Benz at her surroundings, then forced herself to glance up at his face. "I ... I've never been in a neighborhood like this before. I'm scared."

His expression did not change. "I stopped you because you were going fifty miles an hour in a thirty-five zone," he said. He s.h.i.+ned the flashlight at Alexander. "What's the matter with your friend, there?"

"We went to a party and he had too much to drink." Sara stared at the dashboard. "I want to get him home before he throws up in my car."

"Did you drink at all tonight, ma'am?"

"Just a little," she said.

"Please blow into my face, ma'am. I need to check your breath." She did, and he nodded slowly. "Wait here, ma'am." He returned to his car.

They sat like that forever. Alexander was twitching every part of his body that could not be seen through the rear window. Sara's legs bounced up and down like she was working a sewing machine.

The cop appeared at her window again, handing her a speeding ticket. After briefly giving directions for her to get back to the northbound part of I-94, he warned her about watching her speed and then told her they could go.

Sara took the Skokie exit, remembering some warehouses and other industrial-looking buildings there.

Wary of her speed, Sara kept an eye out for any opportunity to dump Joe's body. Next to her, Alexander managed to keep his movements down to a kind of reptilian squirm as he scanned the right side of the road for dump sites. She turned blindly into a dark alley behind some large buildings - jackpot! An isolated Dumpster. She turned off the lights and they sat quietly with the engine idling for a bit, watching for anything that might indicate a possible witness.

"We can never be totally sure," he said. "The sky's starting to get light. There's no more time to wait."

Both of them hopped out of the car and ran to the trunk. They had to fight harder than when they'd put the body in but they finally managed to pry it loose. Alexander reached behind him to throw open the Dumpster lids, and together they heaved to toss in their load.

Alexander put his foot onto the Benz's back b.u.mper and climbed up into the Dumpster, making sure Joe's body was covered with its contents. After rearranging a few cardboard boxes and bags of trash, he climbed back out again and got into the car. Sara was already back behind the wheel.

They headed back into Chicago.

The sun would rise in less than an hour. The brightening sky was already making both of them squint. Neither had spoken since they'd dumped the body.

The thought hit Sara so hard she had to struggle to keep from slamming on the brakes. "Did Joe carry a wallet?" she asked.

"I guess so."

"Could it still be in his pocket?"

Alexander exhaled hard. "s.h.i.+t."

They were coming up on an exit. "Should we go back?" she asked.

"No. More risk in that." He watched the exit pa.s.s by his side of the car, staying silent until it was completely behind them. "He might not have had our place listed on his I.D. anyway, right?"

She nodded.

He turned his attention back to the road and shrugged. "Besides, a lot of those Dumpsters get emptied into the top of the truck anymore. The driver never even has to get out from behind the wheel. There's a good chance n.o.body will ever see anything unusual."

"But a lot of them are still the other style, too, right? Where the guy has to get out and push it to the back? And then watch it spill out into the truck?"

"What're you trying to say? You want to go back?"

She said nothing. They continued on until they were almost at the exit for the Lincoln Park area. "Should we go to my place?" she asked.

"Yes."

Sara found a parking place close to her apartment. They each scooped up a few quick fingernails of blow before getting out of the car.

The bright orange sticker on her apartment door clashed so badly with the surrounding off-white walls and pastel blue carpet that it was impossible to miss, even from this far down the hall.

"EVICTED."

Scrawled in black ink at the bottom were the words: "Last check returned for insufficient funds. Contact Timothy Smart, Building Manager immediately. Failure to pay all debts owed will result in forfeiture of contents."

Sara tried her key while Alexander stood shaking his head, but the locks had been changed. It went in but wouldn't turn. This night was too much. It was just too much.

A strange shock-induced numbness threatened to take over, intensifying and spreading through her torso and making it impossible to swallow or breathe. She stood frozen until suffocation jump-started her nervous system. Somehow she forced air into her lungs in a kind of panic, then collapsed onto the floor with a mournful wail that echoed up and down the hallway. The sound kept erupting from her as she rolled over onto her knees in the hope of lifting herself back up but she couldn't manage to force her weight off the ground again. A door opened somewhere down the hall, and through her peripheral vision Sara saw a head emerge to stare at her for a while before it disappeared back inside. Her face fell to the carpet and her nose filled with its little blue fibers as she rolled her forehead back and forth.

Finally drained too much to keep it up, she flopped over into a fetal position, staring up at her keys as they dangled from the lock. It was quiet in the hall now; she realized she must have stopped screaming. Alexander's hand closed around the key that was still in the door, twisting to break it off in the lock.

Sara's father deposited her on top of her bed without a word. Her Christmas dress had spots of throw-up on it. Mummy would be mad.

Daddy stood over her. He was like the Mad Hatter in Alice in Wonderland. His face didn't look mad, but he was mad.

"I'm sorry, Daddy," Sara said, curling up into a ball and hugging her knees. "I tried to show them how I could do it. But I couldn't remember all the words, and they were all looking, and then I got sick."

Daddy turned to go. Sara felt empty inside again, like he had taken back all that warm, good feeling he had given her that morning in the kitchen. Her elbow throbbed.

Her mother's voice echoed down the hall, probably from the top of the stairs. "Oh, I know. The poor dear. I'll be right back after I check on her. That was quite a fall she took- all the way from the top of the stairs! But her dad says she's okay."

Sara's stomach turned around inside her. Mummy appeared in the doorway.

"Well, you got your way," Daddy said. His voice was calm but somehow it was hard, too. "You made her screw it all up, and now you can be the belle of the ball. It's just like the last time we dared to have a party and you threw a drink in my face because you thought I wasn't paying enough attention to you. You're pathetic."

Path et tick. The little Sara squirmed somewhere in the dark s.p.a.ce of her head, hiding from the word, as the rest of her watched Daddy push past Mummy.

Mummy's face turned horrible as she stared after him. Then that horrible face turned to Sara as she stepped inside, closing the door behind her. Mummy's face looked like a shouting face. But she didn't shout. She whispered through her mashed-together teeth.

"Well, at least your father doesn't feel sorry for you. But you probably did fool most of the party guests." Sara cupped her elbow with her palm. Mummy stared, shaking her head. "Rolling down the stairs like it's a G.o.dd.a.m.ned circus!"

"I was going to sing, Mummy." Sara's voice was just a whisper, too. "I tried. But then I couldn't see. And I threw up. And then when I could see again I was down at the bottom-"

"I'm sure they were all very convinced by your little performance!" Mummy said. "And you made sure your father hates me, too, didn't you! You want him all to yourself? Want to push me out of the picture? Is that it?"

Mummy was panting now like a dog that had just run a long ways. She sniffled wetly. "I'll get you for this. I'll get you. I swear."

She turned away, stooping to look into Sara's mirror. Sara hugged her knees tighter against her chest, watching as her mother's face changed back into the serene expression she wore for her guests. It was like the part of Snow White where the mirror told the queen that Snow White was the fairest of them all, only backwards. The angry look vanished so fast from Mummy's face that watching it made Sara's back tickle.

Then without a glance backward, Mummy strode from the room, flicking off the light and closing the door, leaving Sara alone in the dark.

CHAPTER 10.

Into the Darkness "I CAN'T BELIEVE you don't have any light bulbs," Sara said. "It's creepy having just the red light in here."

"So buy some bulbs," Alexander said. "Least you got a pet, now."

"Yeah," she said, peering at the lizard. "Hi, Renfield." The lizard c.o.c.ked its head, peering at her with one eye as it lounged under its heat lamp. "Oh, and check this out." She gestured to the top of the dresser. "So far the count is eight booze bottles Joe had scattered around in here."

But no wallet. No I.D. Those nuclear warheads are still waiting to detonate.

"Sounds about right. Musta stole 'em from his job." He turned, moving back toward the living room. "We gotta get going."

She followed him out. "I'll drive and meet you there. Got a little more treasure hunting to do first. Oh, and can I borrow your scale?"

He stopped and turned his head, staring with narrowed eyes. "Why?"