Steve Hamilton - Misery Bay

“His father gave me three names to look up-his girlfriend and two of his other friends.”

“You got the phone numbers?”

“I do, yes.”

“Then give them a call. On a Wednesday, this time of year, there’s not a whole lot to do besides going to class or hanging out in a bar somewhere.”

“Sounds familiar,” I said. “Except for the going-to-class part.”

“This is a terrible thought,” he said, his voice lowered, his head leaning toward me. “But sometimes in the dead of winter up here… as I get older, I mean, I start to wonder why we don’t see even more suicides.”

There wasn’t much I could say to that. So I thanked the man and left him to his pile of papers and his morbid thoughts.

Before I could even get to my truck, it started to snow again.

I checked into a hotel on Shelden Avenue, down in the center of town, close to the water. From my window, I could see the lift bridge and the light stream of traffic crossing in either direction, headlights on as the snow came down harder and dimmed the late afternoon light.

I took out the list of names and numbers Raz had given me. There were only three names-Bradley, Wayne, and Charlie’s girlfriend Rebecca. That was it. I started with Rebecca’s number and got her voice mail. I left a message, told her who I was and that I just wanted to ask her a couple of quick questions about Charlie. I asked her to call me as soon as she got the chance.

I called Bradley, got his voice mail, and left a similar message. As I called Wayne, I wondered if I was about to get shut out completely. It’s quite possible that nobody will talk to you, I said to myself. If they don’t want to deal with this, they’ll just avoid you.

But Wayne answered the phone. I went down the same path with him, who I was, why I was here in Houghton. When I was done, the line was silent for a few seconds.

“I understand,” he finally said. “I don’t know what I can do to help you, but… I mean, I’ll do whatever I can.”

“I called his girlfriend, and this other friend of his. Bradley? Do you know him?”

“Yeah, Bradley. We’re two of Charlie’s apartment-mates. We were, I mean. Anyway, I’ll see him in a few minutes. But did you say his girlfriend? You mean Rebecca?”

“Yes, that’s the name I have here.”

“Your information’s a little out of date,” he said. “I guess his father didn’t know.”

“They weren’t together anymore?”

“No, not for a while.”

“Would it be possible to meet with you for a few minutes? Just to ask you some questions?”

I could hear him letting out a long breath. “Yeah, why not? We’re gonna be at the Downtowner tonight. It’s right on the end of the main drag, next to the bridge.”

“That sounds good. And hey, if you happen to think of anyone else who might have known him well…”

“I’ll see if I can round up some people,” he said. “Say about eight o’clock?”

“That would be fantastic, yes. You’ll see if Rebecca can come, too?”

“Yes. Of course. She’ll be there.”

I hadn’t even met the kid yet, but I could tell he was feeling funny about something. It was right there in his voice.

“You and Rebecca…” I said, taking a shot.

“Yeah, we’re kinda together now. But she and Charlie were broken up since last fall, I swear.”

“You don’t have to explain.” I thanked him and I told him I’d see the whole gang at the Downtowner at eight.

I hung up the phone and looked out at the snow. Okay, that’s one possible reason to kill yourself, I thought. As old as mankind.

I left the hotel around 6:30, figuring I’d get something to eat before talking to Charlie’s friends. It was still snowing. The sun was going down and it was getting even colder. I walked down Shelden, feeling my face go numb and the snow collecting in my hair. There were bars and restaurants on either side of the street, each one glowing with warm light and looking more inviting than the last. I saw the Downtowner at the very end of the street, just as Wayne had told me. I stepped inside and saw that it was doing good business that night. Mostly college kids, all hanging around the high tables, drinking beer and talking over the music. There were televisions over the bar, a basketball game on some, a hockey game on the others. The whole place was loud and smoky and basically everything that the Glasgow Inn would never be in a thousand years.

There was a back room with big windows overlooking the bridge. It was a little less noisy and there was room to sit down, so I grabbed a table. When the waitress came over-another college kid, of course-I ordered a hamburger and a beer. She didn’t have to card me.

I looked out the window as I ate. There were a million little lights sparkling on the bridge. Funny how it could be so ugly in the daytime and then a few hours later look like a giant piece of art glowing in the darkness. I thought about what I was going to ask Charlie’s friends when they got here. I wasn’t so sure about having them all come at once. Normally, when you’re interviewing several people, you want to keep them separate as much as possible. There’s a group mentality that takes hold when one person gets talking and the others are listening and they each start to chime in and tell the same story. You get each one alone and you usually get a different take on the story from each person telling the tale.

Of course that’s the way you play it when you’re taking statements. When a crime has been committed and you’re trying to sort out the bad guys from the innocent victims. This was nothing like that, so I knew I’d just have to try to ask the right questions, and listen as carefully as I could. Even though at that moment I still had no idea what anyone could say that would make a father feel any better.

At five before eight, a young man and a young woman came into the room. They were obviously looking for someone. And I was obviously the only man in the place more than thirty years old. They spotted me and walked over.

“You must be Mr. McKnight,” the young man said. He had long black hair tied in a ponytail. Not exactly what I’d expect at Michigan Tech, but what the hell did I know? “I’m Wayne. We spoke on the phone.”

“Please, call me Alex.”

“This is Rebecca,” he said, indicating the young woman standing next to him. She was pretty in a slightly plain Midwestern way, with blond hair and green eyes. She was already looking a little nervous, and we hadn’t even gotten down to business yet.

“It’s good to meet you,” I said.

She nodded and pursed her lips, but didn’t say a word.

“Have a seat,” I said. “Can I order you some drinks?”

“Um, I’m afraid I’m not legal yet,” Wayne said as they both sat down across from me. “I turn twenty-one next month.”

That’s when I looked him over and realized how truly young he looked. Rebecca even more so. Hell, I thought, I am sitting in a bar filled with children who have run away from home and are pretending to be college students. They shouldn’t be here alone on a cold winter night and I shouldn’t be here talking to these two about yet another child who hanged himself from a tree.

“You’ll have to excuse me,” I said. “I’m not quite sure how to begin here. So why don’t you just tell me about Charlie, okay?”

That seemed to put him at ease a little bit. Rebecca still looked a little anxious, but as soon as Wayne started talking, she relaxed and even found a few words of her own. The picture they painted for me was of a young man who truly didn’t have an enemy in the world. One of those kids who light up a room the moment they walk in. It might have been a little bit of exaggeration-as-eulogy, but I got the impression that Charlie Razniewski Jr. would be missed by a lot of people.