We parked Mia’s crappy Honda as close to Crabby Bill’s as she could get and went looking for the old cop. We found him at the same back table with two beers parked in front of him. He didn’t stand to greet us.
“So you decided to show up after all,” he rumbled as he picked up the beer he had been working on and took a big pull. “You think you have something to make me get involved in this little mystery game you want to play?”
I thought Langdon was doing a little bit of acting as I sat down. Good cops often have that skill. From what I could see of Langdon’s outfit on this day, he would still be made as a cop in a flash. The suit was shabby silver gray over the same button down white shirt or its brother. I wondered briefly what Langdon had thought of the garb worn by the two guys who were supposed to be cops on the old television show—Miami Vice. He had probably laughed himself silly. Mia smiled warmly at him. She pulled out the chair across the table from where he was just starting on his second beer and sat down. I didn’t bother with the smile; I just sat. I was curious about how he was going to choreograph this meeting.
The very efficient waitress, who had served us last time, hurried over and took our orders. Each of us had the same meal as last time. I wondered if the waitress was being so attentive because of the tip that I left two days earlier. She might be surprised today. Mia was paying. I could not help wondering if we would get the same service next time.
“So what have you got?” Langdon asked getting right into it.
As we had agreed earlier, I let Mia take him through our theory about Vickie’s body being dropped off by someone coming into the field rather than leaving the field. She explained the significance of that fact perfectly. As she carefully presented our supposition, her leg was shaking crazily under the table. I knew that she was incredibly nervous. A lot was riding on how well she did. Within a few seconds, I could tell that she had Langdon’s complete attention. We were correct in guessing that the cops, for whatever reason, had quickly dismissed the notion that the body was dropped on the way in. They had conducted their investigation almost entirely on the premise that Vickie had been killed in the field and dropped by the killer on the way out. When Mia told Langdon about our visit to her mom and mentioned Sammy, she barely drew any reaction. But when she dropped Eddie Ralston’s name, Langdon, who must have been assessing the plausibility of what was being said, suddenly lurched forward and drilled Mia with a force ten glare. The poker game was over. There was enough energy in his face to force her to pause. I knew that she had pushed the old man’s magic button.
“What do you two know about Eddie Ralston?” Langdon demanded gruffly.
“Well,” Mia said before I cut her off.
“We know a fair bit. Most of it we got from Eliza Bullock. Why?” I asked.
Langdon ignored my question. In fact, for the present, he seemed intent on ignoring me completely. He wasn’t going to give up anything on Ralston, but the name had very clearly piqued his interest. I wasn’t going to give him anymore until he loosened up.
“Okay,” he said reluctantly. “It sounds as if you two have been pretty busy. But you do know that even if your ideas are exactly dead on here, it’s still just guess work—and make no mistake, that’s all this is, guess work. There is an even greater chance that this whole deal was simply a thrill grab of some dumb little girl by a total fuckin’ whacked out psycho looking to getting his perverted rocks off.” Langdon was about as sensitive as a public toilet seat.
“It opens some other possibilities too, yeah?” I said to give Mia time to re-group. Her leg was pumping again.
“I wondered if you were going to say anything more today,” he said switching his attention to me. “I did a bit of checking up on you during the past day or so, Mr. Joseph Holiday aka Doc. The name, Hank Nolan, ring any bells with you Sunshine?”
In fact the name, Hank Nolan, rang quite a few bells—only a few of them were pleasant. He had been an early partner of mine at Metro when I’d started on the force. We had both been young uniformed cops working the tough working class district near Toronto’s Don Jail. The area took in the Broadview, Queen and Dundas Streets of east downtown Toronto. I hadn’t seen or heard from him since the day I was retired. I gave the standard close-lipped response I always gave about any cop that I knew on the job—even if it wasn’t true. “Yeah, he’s a good cop. I partnered with him years ago for a little while.”
“Did you know that he’s now an inspector with the Metropolitan Toronto Police Services?” He said the name of the force slowly, pronouncing every word carefully as if it had taken him some time to memorize it.
“Nope—I haven’t seen the guy in years.” I guess Hank realized that he was better suited to administration. Good for him though, he earned it.
“He tells me that you and him were something close to being local heroes early in his career.”
“Yeah—well, hyperbole was always Hank’s strong suit. That’s probably why he’s in admin now.” Local heroes—more like outright falsehood than hyperbole.
Mia looked over me. She had regained her composure. Her leg had momentarily stopped beating. “You were a hero Joey?”
“Nah, all the heroes I know about are either dead or in the movies,” I said. “So, Langdon are you going to give us the help we need or not?” I wanted to change the topic. “Mia has to get to work soon. I can talk with you about my good old days, but can you give us a clue about where you stand in this thing?”
“Yeah, I’ll do what I can. What time do you got to be at work there Missy?”
She had left her little gold-banded watch in the bag with her IHOP outfit. I held my wristwatch out for her to see the time. “Right now,” she said as she hurriedly pushed back from her chair and leaned over to give the old cop a kiss on the forehead.
Langdon hadn’t expected her move and recoiled away from her. I smiled as he realized what she had been trying to do. He seemed embarrassed.
“Too late—your loss partner,” I said with a smile.
“Not if it’s true what her T-shirt says,” Langdon actually smiled at his own quip. “I can’t imagine how I’d explain bite marks to Babe. She’s my old lady.” Then he broke out into an incredibly goofy laugh which even surprised him. I wondered when he had last laughed like that.
“I’m never wearing this damn shirt again,” Mia muttered. “Men—short for mentally challenged.” She quickly took off in a very cute huff.
We both watched Mia as she made her hasty escape.
“That’s quite an attractive little fireball you got there mister—but damaged goods. You want to take care of her,” Langdon mused.
I thought back to the almost identical description my landlady, Phyllis Reilly, had used to describe Mia.