Michael Connelly - The Poet

He went to the window and looked out at the cars slowly moving along Sunset. It was an endless moving parking lot. All that smoking steel, he thought. All that flesh. Where was it going? He wondered how many of them in those cars were like himself. How many had the urges and how many felt the razors? How many had the courage to follow through? Again the anger pushed through his thoughts. It was something palpable inside him now, a black flower spreading its petals in his throat, choking him.

He went to the phone and dialed the number Krasner had given him. Sweetzer picked up after four rings.

"Busy, Sweetzer?"

"Who's this?"

"It's me. How are the kids?"

"What-who is this?"

His instincts told Gladden to hang up right then. Don't deal with their kind. But he was so curious.

"You have my camera," he said.

There was a short moment of silence.

"Mr. Brisbane, and how are you?"

"Fine, Detective, thank you."

"Yes, we have your camera and you are entitled to have that back since you require it to make a living. Do you want to make an appointment to pick it up?"

Gladden closed his eyes and squeezed the phone until he thought he would crush it. They knew. If they didn't they would have told him to forget the camera. But they knew something. And they wanted him to come in. The question was how much did they know? Gladden wanted to scream but a higher thought was to keep cool with Sweetzer. No false moves, he told himself.

"I'll have to think about that."

"Well, it looks like a nice camera. I'm not sure how it works but I wouldn't mind having it. It's here if you want-"

"Fuck you, Sweetzer."

The anger overtook him. Gladden spoke the words through a clenched jaw.

"Look, Brisbane, I was doing my job. If you got a problem with that come see me and we'll do something about that. If you want your fucking camera then you can come and get that, too. But I'm not going to stay on the line while you-"

"You got kids, Sweetzer?"

The line was silent for a long moment but Gladden knew the detective was there.

"What did you say?"

"You heard me."

"Are you threatening my family, you motherfucking son of a bitch?"

Now Gladden was silent for a moment. Then a low sound started deep in his throat and grew into a maniacal laugh. He let it out uncontrolled until it was all he could hear and think about. Then, suddenly, he slammed the receiver down on the phone and cut the laughter off like a knife in the throat. He had an ugly grimace across his face and he shouted to the empty room through clenched teeth.

"Fuck you!"

Gladden opened his laptop again and accessed the photo directory. The computer's screen was state of the art for a laptop model but the graphics chip still wasn't nearly the quality he'd have on a stationary PC. But the images were clear enough and he was able to make do. He went through the file photo by photo. It was a macabre collection of the dead and the living. Somehow, he was able to find solace in the photos, a sense that he had control over things in his life.

Still, he was saddened by what he saw before him and what he had done. These little sacrifices. Offered up so that he could salve his wounds. He knew how selfish it was, how grotesquely warped it was. And the fact that he turned these sacrifices into money tore away his comfort, turned it into the self-loathing and disgust that always came. Sweetzer and the others were right. He deserved to be hunted.

He rolled onto his back and looked at the water-stained ceiling. Tears filled his eyes. He closed them and tried to sleep, tried to forget. But his Best Pal was there in the darkness behind his eyelids. As always, he was there. His face set, a horrible slash for lips.

Gladden opened his eyes and looked at the door. There had been a knock. He quickly sat up as he heard the metal scrape of a key going into the outside knob. He realized his mistake. Sweetzer had had a trace on the line. They knew he would call!

The door to the room swung open. A small black woman in a white uniform stood in the doorway with two towels draped over her arm.

"Housekeeping," she said. "I am sorry I'm so late today but it's been a busy day. Tomorrow I'll do your room first."

Gladden exhaled and noticed that he had neglected to put the DO NOT DISTURB sign on the outside knob.

"It's okay," he said, quickly getting up to stop her entrance into the room. "Just the towels today, anyway."

As he took the towels he noticed embroidered on her uniform the name Evangeline. She had a lovely face and he immediately felt sorry that this was her job, cleaning up after others.

"Thank you, Evangeline."

He noticed her eyes go past him into the room and fall down to the bed. It was still made. He hadn't pulled the covers down the night before. Then she looked back at him and nodded with what he guessed was a smile.

"That'd be all you need?"

"Yes, Evangeline."

"Have a nice day."

Gladden closed the door and turned around. There on the bed was the open laptop computer. On the screen was one of the photographs. He moved back to the door, opened it and stood under the door frame where she had been. He looked at the computer. He could tell. The boy on the ground and what else could that be against the perfect white canvas of snow but blood.

He quickly went to the computer and hit the emergency kill button he had programmed himself. The door was still open. Gladden tried to think. Jesus, he thought, what a mistake.

He walked to the door and stepped out. Evangeline was down the walkway standing next to a housekeeping cart.

She looked back at him, her face revealing nothing. But Gladden knew he had to be sure. He could not risk everything on reading this woman's face.

"Evangeline," he said. "I changed my mind. The room could probably use a going-over. I need toilet paper and soap, anyway."

She put down the clipboard she had been writing on and stooped to get toilet paper and soap out of the cart. As Gladden watched he put his hands in his pockets. He noticed she was chewing gum and clicking it. An insulting thing to do in front of someone else. It was like he was invisible. He was nothing.

When Evangeline approached him with the items from the cart, he made no move to take his hands from his pockets. He took a step back to allow her to go into the room. After she stepped in, Gladden walked down to the cart and looked at the clipboard she had placed on top. After room 112 was the notation "Just Towels."

Gladden looked around as he headed back to the room.

The motel was a courtyard design with two floors of about twenty-four rooms each. He saw another housekeeping cart on the upper floor across the way. It was parked in front of an open door but there was no sign of the maid. The pool at the center of the courtyard was empty of guests. Too cold.

He saw no one else anywhere.

He stepped into the room and closed the door as Evangeline came out of the bathroom holding the bag from the trash can.

"Sir, we have to keep the door open when we're working inside a room. Those are the rules."

He blocked her way to the door.

"Did you see the photograph?"

"What? Sir, I have to open the-"

"Did you see the photo on the computer? On the bed?"

He pointed to the laptop and watched her eyes. She looked confused but didn't turn.

"What photo?"

She turned to look at the sagging bed and then back to him with a look of confusion and growing annoyance on her face.

"I didn't take anything. You call Mr. Barrs right now if you think I took somethin'. I'm an honest lady. He can have one of the other girls search me. I don't got your photo. I don't even know what picture you mean."

Gladden looked at her a moment and then smiled.

"You know, Evangeline, I think maybe you are an honest lady. But I have to be sure. You understand."