The smile dropped immediately from Hank's face as he walked into Ray Perry's property and looked around. He spied the side door that probably served as the entrance to Deanna's on again off again fuck toy to the left. The house was dilapidated, grimy shingles and flaked paint. It had once been sky blue with large sash windows. An ornate set of trees and shrubbery decorated the outside. Overall, it had the makings to be cozy. Now, half of the visible windows had been boarded up giving the appearance of scars. The landscaping had long been abandoned. Overgrown weeds and grass were unkempt. Hank lifted his boots, stepped over a pile of dog feces, glided past an old bicycle, its front tire missing, handlebars a crooked smile.
What am I doing here? He thought.
He approached the side door, gave it three knocks. His grated nerves chafed and aching, he stretched his back, willed his teeth to unclench.
"Yeah!" He heard from the inside.
"Hi, I'm looking for Ray!" He called out hoarsely.
"What about?" The voice snapped.
"It's about Stephanie Montgomery. I'm working a case."
"You a cop?"
"No."
"Then get the fuck off my property."
"Look Ray, Deanna sent me." Hank lied.
A full minute passed before Hank heard the click and clang of a dead bolt being unlocked. When the door opened, Hank put on a plastic smile, held out his hand.
"Hi. I'm Hank Dolan. I'm a private investigator hired by Deanna Montgomery. Can we talk?"
Ray Perry was exactly what Hank expected. He had a lanky, sloven appearance, suspicious eyes, sloppy except for carefully maintained facial hair. Hank spread out his hands as the door opened and stepped inside. He was led to the kitchen, sat down at the head of the table.
"You want some water?" Ray asked, not turning from the sink.
"I'm fine, thanks."
Hank smelled something burnt, turned his attention away from the rat traps set up behind the front door and near the fridge. He forced his lids onto Ray who stared clumsily, a smile that said nothing on his face.
"I don't know where she is."
Hank took out his notebook. "I'm trying to piece together Stephanie's last moves before she went missing. When was the last time you saw her?"
"The last time? Oh, I wager it was a few days before. Me and her mom had a row I remember. Always accusing me of this or that."
Hank felt a cold breeze coming from a vent above the refrigerator. Did he just turn on the air in November? "You guys argue a lot?"
"Me and Deanna? Oh, no more than most I suppose."
"What were you arguing about?"
"I thought you wanted to talk about Stephie. You interested in me or her?"
"Yes, of course." Hank said drily. "Do you have any idea where Stephanie may have gone? Are there friends, a boyfriend maybe, that Deanna doesn't know about?"
"I know most of her friends. Including that one who claims to be Descended. But Stephanie don't date, so's far as I can tell."
A tight smile crossed Hank's face. "Yes, I know of Hecate. So Stephanie doesn't date at all? She's pretty. I'm surprised by that."
Ray shrugged. "She's a piece of work though, just like her mother. Got an ass on her."
"What? How do you mean?"
"Oh, you know. Got that tight little pretty ass and attitude to match. Ain't surprised no man wants nothin but a quick tap then move on."
Hank wiped at his eyes, noticed a definite chill in the room. He looked back at the vent near the ceiling. Ray had turned on the air conditioner. It was clear that he didn't want guests and would freeze them out if he could.
"So you've never seen a guy over there?"
"Nah, not really. She shows the interest I guess. I don't know a boy who's seeing her."
Hank felt uneasy. He was unsure how far he could continue this line of questioning. "Well, she is what seventeen?"
"She turns eighteen next month." Ray finished.
Hank accepted this with a nod. "So you two close at all?"
"Me and Stephie?"
"Yeah."
"Oh, I don't know. I party with her sometimes. Me and Deanna both."
"How do you mean?"
"The girls can't buy liquor yet so every once in a while we'll spring for a case of beer, let the girls join in."
"Uh-huh."
Hank turned away, feeling something cold in the pit of his stomach. He had interrogated many sexual deviants on his time with the force. Most often they showed lack of empathy, emotional maladaption, and hostility. Ray Perry certainly was giving off the creeper vibe.
"You know what though?" Ray leaned in close. "I wouldn't be surprised if pretty Stephie just up and gone."
Hank weighed his words. "Pretty Stephie?"
"That's what I used to call her."
Past tense? Hank mind cataloged everything Ray was saying for later.
"-You know, cause it rhymes. She thought it was cute."
But it doesn't rhyme idiot. Hank thought.
"Right,-"
As he said this, Ray's left arm shot to the kitchen counter and grabbed a half full coffee pot. In one long arc he brought it down smashing into Hank's skull. Hank crumpled onto the floor, blood pouring from a shard of glass on the base of his head.
Ray was running now. He fled the kitchen, stumbling over a bag of trash near the door. On the floor, Hank picked himself up, checked the damp spot and blood that was flowing from his head. Everything was fuzzy, a hazy gray. He stood in foggy shock. When the screen door banged shut, he felt the apartment rock and tumbled outside. He smeared his forehead, coughed hard just as Ray turned left at the base of the house and disappeared.
Goddammit. Hank climbed to his knees then feet and burst into a sprint. He made a left, whipped past crippled siding, an old dog house. He sped past the side of the house and spotted Ray leaping over a back fence. He shot through the back yard, noticed the gate had been left open. He followed Ray onto another property, noticed the cold burn on the top of his head. I'm gonna need stitches.
Hank stopped at a shed, its rusty metal thudded then banged. Catching his breath, he moved to the side. Again, something clanked inside. Oh Ray, you complete dipshit. He picked up a tire iron that off to the side and tapped the shed twice.
"Come out asshole."
Nothing.
Hank stood back and waited. The throbbing in his head was like blue fire and he wondered vaguely if he had a concussion.
"Get the fuck out here now!"
The shed door squeaked open. Ray slowly stepped outside, his eyes wide and glassy.
"That's not how I take my coffee Ray."
Hank turned toward him, smearing more blood across his cheek and forehead. He brought his hand down and gripped the tire iron like a baseball bat.
"You're gonna answer me." He said.
"I don't know shit!" Ray screamed shrilly.
"Who would want to disappear that girl Ray? Was it you?"
Ray stepped back, fear visible on his face. Hank looked squarely at him, took a deep breath.
"Shit, it was probably her Mom!"
Hank noted the bitterness in Ray's tone. He sounded like a jaded lover, somebody thrown to the side. A discarded piece of garbage.
"What are you talking about?"
"I mean they fight all the time!" Ray gasped. "Deanna probably did her herself."
Hank side stepped past the shed, holding the iron up and in Ray's field of vision. He swung it cautiously, observing Ray's wild eyes and stilted pose. "Let me get this straight. You think Deanna caused Stephanie to disappear? That's you on the record."
"I'm just saying they bicker constantly. And Deanna has a drug issue. On the wrong day..."
He let the words trail off. Even without a coffee pot to the head, Hank would have thought Ray the equivalent of human sewage. He emitted a short, sarcastic scoff.
"I think you're full of shit." He muttered.
"Whatever. But you don't know those bitches like I do."
"What does that mean?"
"I lived with her! Seen them in all their bullshit!"
Hank forced a smile. He dropped the tire iron, letting it clang at his feet. As he walked off, he heard Ray cursing. It sounded panicked. Had Ray and Stephanie been fucking? He asked himself. He could sense that something was wrong in that household. Had Deanna found out and made her daughter disappear? Or Ray?
Hank walked back to his car in fading daylight. He noticed the buzzing of a streetlamp overhead. As he started up the Sedan, he took another long look at Ray Perry's shack and wondered if Stephanie was somewhere between the walls. He could almost hear screaming.
What am I doing here? He thought.
He approached the side door, gave it three knocks. His grated nerves chafed and aching, he stretched his back, willed his teeth to unclench.
"Yeah!" He heard from the inside.
"Hi, I'm looking for Ray!" He called out hoarsely.
"What about?" The voice snapped.
"It's about Stephanie Montgomery. I'm working a case."
"You a cop?"
"No."
"Then get the fuck off my property."
"Look Ray, Deanna sent me." Hank lied.
A full minute passed before Hank heard the click and clang of a dead bolt being unlocked. When the door opened, Hank put on a plastic smile, held out his hand.
"Hi. I'm Hank Dolan. I'm a private investigator hired by Deanna Montgomery. Can we talk?"
Ray Perry was exactly what Hank expected. He had a lanky, sloven appearance, suspicious eyes, sloppy except for carefully maintained facial hair. Hank spread out his hands as the door opened and stepped inside. He was led to the kitchen, sat down at the head of the table.
"You want some water?" Ray asked, not turning from the sink.
"I'm fine, thanks."
Hank smelled something burnt, turned his attention away from the rat traps set up behind the front door and near the fridge. He forced his lids onto Ray who stared clumsily, a smile that said nothing on his face.
"I don't know where she is."
Hank took out his notebook. "I'm trying to piece together Stephanie's last moves before she went missing. When was the last time you saw her?"
"The last time? Oh, I wager it was a few days before. Me and her mom had a row I remember. Always accusing me of this or that."
Hank felt a cold breeze coming from a vent above the refrigerator. Did he just turn on the air in November? "You guys argue a lot?"
"Me and Deanna? Oh, no more than most I suppose."
"What were you arguing about?"
"I thought you wanted to talk about Stephie. You interested in me or her?"
"Yes, of course." Hank said drily. "Do you have any idea where Stephanie may have gone? Are there friends, a boyfriend maybe, that Deanna doesn't know about?"
"I know most of her friends. Including that one who claims to be Descended. But Stephanie don't date, so's far as I can tell."
A tight smile crossed Hank's face. "Yes, I know of Hecate. So Stephanie doesn't date at all? She's pretty. I'm surprised by that."
Ray shrugged. "She's a piece of work though, just like her mother. Got an ass on her."
"What? How do you mean?"
"Oh, you know. Got that tight little pretty ass and attitude to match. Ain't surprised no man wants nothin but a quick tap then move on."
Hank wiped at his eyes, noticed a definite chill in the room. He looked back at the vent near the ceiling. Ray had turned on the air conditioner. It was clear that he didn't want guests and would freeze them out if he could.
"So you've never seen a guy over there?"
"Nah, not really. She shows the interest I guess. I don't know a boy who's seeing her."
Hank felt uneasy. He was unsure how far he could continue this line of questioning. "Well, she is what seventeen?"
"She turns eighteen next month." Ray finished.
Hank accepted this with a nod. "So you two close at all?"
"Me and Stephie?"
"Yeah."
"Oh, I don't know. I party with her sometimes. Me and Deanna both."
"How do you mean?"
"The girls can't buy liquor yet so every once in a while we'll spring for a case of beer, let the girls join in."
"Uh-huh."
Hank turned away, feeling something cold in the pit of his stomach. He had interrogated many sexual deviants on his time with the force. Most often they showed lack of empathy, emotional maladaption, and hostility. Ray Perry certainly was giving off the creeper vibe.
"You know what though?" Ray leaned in close. "I wouldn't be surprised if pretty Stephie just up and gone."
Hank weighed his words. "Pretty Stephie?"
"That's what I used to call her."
Past tense? Hank mind cataloged everything Ray was saying for later.
"-You know, cause it rhymes. She thought it was cute."
But it doesn't rhyme idiot. Hank thought.
"Right,-"
As he said this, Ray's left arm shot to the kitchen counter and grabbed a half full coffee pot. In one long arc he brought it down smashing into Hank's skull. Hank crumpled onto the floor, blood pouring from a shard of glass on the base of his head.
Ray was running now. He fled the kitchen, stumbling over a bag of trash near the door. On the floor, Hank picked himself up, checked the damp spot and blood that was flowing from his head. Everything was fuzzy, a hazy gray. He stood in foggy shock. When the screen door banged shut, he felt the apartment rock and tumbled outside. He smeared his forehead, coughed hard just as Ray turned left at the base of the house and disappeared.
Goddammit. Hank climbed to his knees then feet and burst into a sprint. He made a left, whipped past crippled siding, an old dog house. He sped past the side of the house and spotted Ray leaping over a back fence. He shot through the back yard, noticed the gate had been left open. He followed Ray onto another property, noticed the cold burn on the top of his head. I'm gonna need stitches.
Hank stopped at a shed, its rusty metal thudded then banged. Catching his breath, he moved to the side. Again, something clanked inside. Oh Ray, you complete dipshit. He picked up a tire iron that off to the side and tapped the shed twice.
"Come out asshole."
Nothing.
Hank stood back and waited. The throbbing in his head was like blue fire and he wondered vaguely if he had a concussion.
"Get the fuck out here now!"
The shed door squeaked open. Ray slowly stepped outside, his eyes wide and glassy.
"That's not how I take my coffee Ray."
Hank turned toward him, smearing more blood across his cheek and forehead. He brought his hand down and gripped the tire iron like a baseball bat.
"You're gonna answer me." He said.
"I don't know shit!" Ray screamed shrilly.
"Who would want to disappear that girl Ray? Was it you?"
Ray stepped back, fear visible on his face. Hank looked squarely at him, took a deep breath.
"Shit, it was probably her Mom!"
Hank noted the bitterness in Ray's tone. He sounded like a jaded lover, somebody thrown to the side. A discarded piece of garbage.
"What are you talking about?"
"I mean they fight all the time!" Ray gasped. "Deanna probably did her herself."
Hank side stepped past the shed, holding the iron up and in Ray's field of vision. He swung it cautiously, observing Ray's wild eyes and stilted pose. "Let me get this straight. You think Deanna caused Stephanie to disappear? That's you on the record."
"I'm just saying they bicker constantly. And Deanna has a drug issue. On the wrong day..."
He let the words trail off. Even without a coffee pot to the head, Hank would have thought Ray the equivalent of human sewage. He emitted a short, sarcastic scoff.
"I think you're full of shit." He muttered.
"Whatever. But you don't know those bitches like I do."
"What does that mean?"
"I lived with her! Seen them in all their bullshit!"
Hank forced a smile. He dropped the tire iron, letting it clang at his feet. As he walked off, he heard Ray cursing. It sounded panicked. Had Ray and Stephanie been fucking? He asked himself. He could sense that something was wrong in that household. Had Deanna found out and made her daughter disappear? Or Ray?
Hank walked back to his car in fading daylight. He noticed the buzzing of a streetlamp overhead. As he started up the Sedan, he took another long look at Ray Perry's shack and wondered if Stephanie was somewhere between the walls. He could almost hear screaming.
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