Creep - Jennifer Hillier [108]
“Aw fuck,” Jerry said, his hand at his face. “You ass. I can’t believe you hit me.”
Morris stared at Jerry in horror, the knuckles on his right hand aching from where he’d struck hard orbital bone. He staggered down the porch steps and reached out a hand. “Jesus Christ, man. I’m sorry.”
Jerry touched his eye gingerly with one finger and ignored him. Even in the dim light, Morris could see the man’s face scrunched up in pain. Morris felt a wave of shame roll over him.
The sound of a door opening caught the attention of both men.
An elderly lady stepped out onto the front porch of the house next door. She was dressed in a long flannel nightgown, her hair in rollers and tucked under some kind of net cap. Bony arms crossed defiantly over her chest, and her eyes darted back and forth between Jerry and Morris. “What’s going on out here?” Her voice was shrill. “I’ve called security!”
As if on cue, a small, white car with a familiar green logo pulled up. Henry the security guard stepped out. He shone his flashlight at Wolfe’s house.
“What’s going on, guys?” Henry kept his voice low, but another light flickered on from a house across the street. “I’ve received a noise complaint.”
Jerry got to his feet. His jeans were dark where the wet grass had soaked them. “Everything’s fine, Henry.”
The security guard stared at the PI’s swelling face. “Everything doesn’t look fine.”
Jerry waved a hand. “Just a misunderstanding.”
Henry looked at the two men. “Did something happen with Mr. Wolfe?” he stage-whispered.
“Nothing to be concerned about.” Jerry used his best cop’s voice. “We’re leaving. Sorry for the disturbance, ma’am,” he called to the elderly lady, still watching them with birdlike intensity. “Please go back to sleep. Didn’t mean to wake you.”
The woman ignored his apologies. “Everything okay, Henry?” she asked.
“Everything’s fine, Mrs. Hoffer.” The guard tried to smile, but it was clear he was as rattled as she was. “It’s under control, ma’am.”
“I told my son and his floozy wife not to move to this ghetto neighborhood. If it weren’t for my grandchildren, I wouldn’t step foot here.” Grumbling, the old woman started back inside. “But no, he says, the East Side’s too expensive. Too uppity, too crowded . . .” Her voice trailed off as she went back into the house. The door slammed behind her.
Henry looked uncomfortable. “Did you guys get what you needed? Because you should get going now. If you’re not visiting anyone here . . .” He nodded toward Wolfe’s house.
“We’re done,” Jerry said, more to Morris than the security guard.
It was a long ride back to Seattle. Morris tried to apologize several more times, but each attempt was met with icy silence. When Jerry pulled into the empty parking lot where Morris had left his car earlier, he gave it one more shot.
“I’m really sorry.”
Jerry’s eye had swollen considerably since they’d left Lake Stevens. Morris knew his words were probably meaningless, but he forged ahead anyway. “I went a little nuts. You didn’t deserve it, God knows.”
Jerry cut the engine. “I’d say it’s okay, but you know what, man? It’s not. I was trying to help you back there, trying to stop you from doing something that might get you arrested, not to mention embarrass you and push Sheila away, but—”
“I was too pigheaded to listen. I know. I can be a total ass.”
Jerry shook his head. “I can’t stop you from going back there if that’s what you’re gonna do. You’re as stubborn as a bull, Morris.” Jerry touched his face and winced. “But I hope you don’t. You hired me to find Sheila and I finally have a solid lead. But she’s not found yet. Do you want me to keep doing my job or not?”
“I do.” Morris felt terrible about hitting Jerry. The goddamned alcohol was making him crazy and paranoid and stupid.
“From now on you stay out of it. I’ll call you if I learn anything, but I work by myself. As I always have.”
Morris tried to think of a polite way to say what he needed to say. He chose his words carefully.