Chapter Five
Josef watched in barely disguised disgust as the kid heartily devoured another triangular slice of the gooey concoction of cheese, sauce and dough.
It wasn't just the food itself that Josef found so repulsive. It was that the kid had at least half as much as he was eating spread across his face and dripping greasily from his chin and leaving a trail down his arm. And worse yet......the kid was oblivious to the spectacle he was making of himself, as well as to the mess he making in Josef's pristine parlor.
Josef was astounded that a creature so small could make a mess so big simply from the act of eating. He didn't want to watch, but he couldn't quite look away.
And then there was there was that grotesque slurping of whatever beverage was in the plastic cup that had come with the pizza. That was a whole other issue of it's own.
“Aren't you gonna eat?” the kid asked with his mouth full of half chewed food.
Josef's lip curled up involuntarily in further revulsion at the display. “No,” he answered simply.
“How come? You ain't hungry?”
“I don't eat. Pizza, that is,” he tacked on quickly. “Don't open your mouth with food in it, kid. It's nauseating.”
“Sorry,” was the response- still with food in it. “That's what Mama says, too.”
“Really?” Josef asked, a little surprised. He just hadn't wanted to be treated to the sight any further, but apparently he'd said something the kid had heard before. Just a few hours and he was getting good at this kid stuff already.
He still hoped Mick wouldn't take too long, though. He could only take so much of this babysitting gig.
The kid took one last prolonged slurp of his drink and set it down with a thump on the cherry wood table next to him.......leaving an unsightly water ring, not doubt, Josef surmised.
But Josef had other priorities at the moment. He couldn't stand to look at the kid in that condition a moment longer.
“Are you about finished?” Josef asked impatiently.
The kid just nodded, chewing the last of his food.
At least he'd made the effort to keep his mouth closed that time.
“Good. Clean yourself up, will ya? Have some dignity.”
The kid stared up at him uncertainly, maybe a little expectantly.
“What?” Josef snapped. What did he want now?
“I need a wash cloth. Mama always gives me a wash cloth.”
Was this a needy kid or what?
Josef reached for his inside breast pocked and withdrew a silk handkerchief, then tossed it to the kid. “Here. Use this.”
The kid stared at the satiny square of cloth for a moment, then back up at Josef.
“It's not wet.”
Wet? Now he wanted wet?
Josef snatched the handkerchief back with the air of one being seriously put-out, left the kid alone long enough to go to the bar and he sprayed the silk liberally with soda water. He returned it to the kid, who began to blot it around on his face ineffectively.
Josef settled into an armchair and picked up his cell phone with the intention of calling Mick and lighting a fire under him to get back and reclaim the messy, demanding intruder, but he was halted as he watched the kid miss pretty much every greasy, saucy spot on his face with the wet silk.
“You missed a spot, kid,” Josef said as he watched.
“Where?” came the muffled voice behind the make-shift face cloth.
“Everywhere. Wipe right there- no,you missed it. There.....No, right there.....Oh, for Pete's sake,” Josef finally said, exasperated, as he tired of the child's vain attempts and his own misdirections. It was driving him to distraction. You'd think cleaning themselves up would be one of the first things parents would train their little creatures to do.
“You're killing me, kid.” Josef took the wet handkerchief from Michael and roughly wiped the greasy mess from his chin and around the mouth. He almost tossed the handkerchief back to him and told him clean his arm and hands, but Josef reconsidered, not wanting a repeat of the absurd performance. Instead he took care of it himself.
Something about the way the kid stood still so trustingly, looking up at Josef as he performed the simple act (albeit a bit inelegantly and rougher than necessary) tugged at Josef, just a little, somewhere deep inside his chest. Josef caught himself manipulating the little hands within the silken handkerchief a little longer than necessary, just in novelty at the guileless look in the kid's eyes as he looked up at Josef, just waiting for him finish.
If Josef had ever seen such a trusting and endearing look sent his way before, it had been so long ago that his memory no longer held it.
When Josef finally released the little hands a bit self-consciously, he stood up and stepped back. The kid had been returned, more or less, to the same state of cleanliness he'd been in before the pizza.
Okay. Feeding time was done. Check.
What next? What did kids do between feedings? Josef had vague memories of his own childhood days, but the memories- and the century in which the memories had taken place- were so far removed from the present moment that he could bring nothing to the surface that would be acceptable or adequate.
“Mr. Josef, I'm bored. Wanna play a game with me? I have my X box three sixty. Momma let me put it in my back pack so I could play it in the motels.”
Mr. Josef?!
Josef knew he hadn't told the kid his name so that had to be Mick's doing. And the kid's mother let him bring a box to play with? Either the kid was remarkable easy to entertain, or Josef was missing something. Josef had never professed to know much at all about children, or ever cared to, but things were undeniably different than his own childhood days.
“What the hell is an ex box?” Josef couldn't help asking. That was the one thing about what the kid had said that Josef latched onto.....it perplexed him.
“That's a bad word,” the kid accused indignantly. “You said a bad word!”
Josef's brow furrowed for a moment until he realized what, exactly, the kid was talking about. Then he got indignant himself?
“What the hell is so wrong with the word hell? It's not really a bad word, you know.”
“Mama says it is.”
“Well I say it's not. There are a lot worse ones, you know. Did your mama tell you that?”
“No,” the kid shook his head uncertainly as he looked up at Josef.
“Didn't think so.” Josef was oddly triumphant at the imaginary point won over his pint-sized contender.
“But Mamas don't lie. Cuz that's wrong, too.”
“Whatever you say, kid. But sometimes life doesn't leave you much of a choice. And your mama's not here. If you want to say hell, say it. Or don't. But don't whine when I say it. My mama never said a damn word about cursing.”
The kid said nothing, but his staring eyes were wider than before. Josef wondered if he'd just ended his lucky streak at saying the right thing. Well, he'd known it wouldn't last forever. But why bother telling a kid not to do something as a child that they'd learn to do as an adult anyway? If all parents did that- as he was sure they still did- it showed that modern parenting wasn't as forward thinking as society believed it to be. He was no expert, but Josef knew what made sense to him and what didn't.
Then he decided he was thinking too much.
“So what's this box you're so hyped about?” Josef asked, just to try to erase the slightly shocked look on the kid's face. Josef guessed the kids wasn't used to hearing an adult be honest with him.
He kind of hoped he hadn't scarred the kid for life with his inexperienced techniques.
“It's a game,” the kid finally told him.
“Hm. Sorry, kid. I don't really do games.”
“Oh.” The kid looked slightly disappointed. He heaved a sigh of obvious boredom and began to wander aimlessly around the room.
“Don't touch anything,” Josef ordered to the kid's back as he stopped to look at a particular piece of art on a table.
Josef returned to his armchair and settled back. With any luck, the kid would leave him alone for a while now. Maybe he could get a few necessary business calls taken care of. With one eye on the kid just in case he decided to turn destructive, Josef picked up the mobile headset he'd discarded earlier and put it on.
Game, indeed, he snorted to himself.€
Josef Kostan did business. He didn't do games.
Mick arched against the back of his desk chair and stretched to work out the kinks in his back and shoulders. He gloried in the fact that any aches would fade with vampiric quickness once the reason for the ache was removed, but unfortunately, even being a vampire didn't prevent the possibility of stressed muscles in the first place. And sitting in a chair in his slumped position for as many hours as he just had was a prime reason for his muscles to become stiff and sore, and for his bones to pop and crack as he stretched his spine.
By the time he stood up he felt as good as new, but was ready for some refreshment. He mused over his case as he walked to his hidden stores of packaged blood and prepared himself a liquid meal.
The Internet was a wonderful thing. He'd discovered a few interesting things. First off, of course, the necessary- and this time, correct- basics about the woman in question.
Jane Smith she was not. Her true name was Christina Nelson, and she was, in fact, twenty-seven as her son had divulged.
The office in question- the previously unknown workplace- was interesting. It just so happened that Mick was well acquainted with the man that ultimately paid her salary, as well as that of her husband. Both were low pier employees of Kostan Industries.
Mick could ask Josef a few questions about them, but he'd quickly discarded that route. Josef's position was as high as could be attained within his own company, and Christina's and her husband's were well below what would register on Josef's radar. They worked within the cogs of Kostan Industries, in necessary but unappreciated and unnoticed positions in such a large company. They were two of many in the accounting department, and they actually worked in payroll, only one aspect of the many things accounting was responsible for. I
t was unlikely that Josef had ever even met them personally, not in such a large and many faceted company as Kostan Industries. There were many middlemen between Josef and those employees that worked below him, many different levels of management and entry level positions. Hiring his accounting staff would very well be a task to be delegated by the busy Josef Kostan, Mick knew that much about his friend. The company was simply too large for the man at the top to be personally connected with every offshoot, every employee. Especially those that were mortal, which Josef only grudgingly tolerated.
It seemed that Mike Nelson, Christina's husband, had failed to report to work a little about a month ago.
Mick found the story about the search for the missing man that one of the local papers had done about it soon after Christina had filed the missing persons report with the police.
He had to see that report. The paper covered very few actual details......the story was more about the progress the authorities were (or rather, weren't) making in the search. No clues, no leads, the man simply seemed to have disappeared. The police suggested that perhaps Mike Nelson was not missing, so much having just left. It had happened before.
Even at the insistence of his wife that her husband would not desert his wife and child, that he loved his family, his job, his life.
One thing Mick had learned in his years as a private investigator was that it wasn't as hard as some believed it to be to fool those you loved.
Then there was the second story, almost a week later, in the same paper. The second story was given the front page, and more sensationalized, than the first because of it's connections and the mystery of it all.
The second story was of the seemingly sudden disappearance of Christina and Michael Nelson, wife and child of a local man that had gone missing less than a week before.
It was time to do some footwork, Mick decided. He needed to get those police reports for the details, maybe talk to a few of the investigating officers about whatever they were willing to share.
He also needed to speak to possible witnesses or anyone that might know anything. According to Christina's claims in the first story, her husband had disappeared at work, or soon after, because he never returned home that evening. She'd had the afternoon off and they were supposed to have met at the zoo as soon as his workday was finished to celebrated Michael's sixth birthday. But he'd never showed.
That meant it could be work related, or that someone at work had seen or heard something. Which meant that Mick needed to talk to Christina and Mike Nelson's coworkers.
However, Mick was not about to go snooping within his best friends company without talking to him about it first. Josef would have to be made aware that Mick would possibly be asking around and talking to some people.
It's too late now, Mick decided after a glance at his watch. The nine to five office workday, which would surely apply to an accounting/payroll office, was long over. But maybe he could get a look at those police reports, if he hurried. He hadn't realized just how long he'd been at his computer, just how late it was, until he'd glanced at his watch, and he couldn't help but wonder how Josef was getting along with Michael. Or vice versa.
Actually, Mick mused to himself, I'm surprised Josef hasn't been bugging me with phone calls to get me over there to pick up Michael.
Suddenly suspicious that perhaps he'd simply been too engrossed in his research to hear the phone calls, Mick set his glass down and strode back over to his desk, where he'd left his cell phone after Josef's pizza call. Mick knew the possibility of missing a call was more likely than Josef suddenly developing a generous and accepting nature, and Mick also knew Josef would give him no end of hell if he'd been trying to reach him and couldn't.
There were no missed calls displayed on the screen because the screen was dark. Mick's phone had gone dead while he'd been immersed in his research. He groaned inwardly as he gathered his keys, his phone, and the papers he'd printed from the computer, then headed for the door.
He'd better get to Josef's.
When he got into the car, he plugged his phone into his car charger immediately, then tried Josef's cell several times. Each time it went to voice mail. Mick wasn't sure what to think. Josef was, undoubtedly, a busy man, but he almost always answered a call from Mick. Besides which, he still had Michael with him. Mick would have thought that Josef would jump on the phone if he saw Mick's name displayed, because he couldn't imagine that Josef hadn't been trying valiantly to get through to Mick.
Mick spent the entire drive through mid-evening traffic imagining the various disasters that probably awaited him at Josef's mansion.
It wasn't just the food itself that Josef found so repulsive. It was that the kid had at least half as much as he was eating spread across his face and dripping greasily from his chin and leaving a trail down his arm. And worse yet......the kid was oblivious to the spectacle he was making of himself, as well as to the mess he making in Josef's pristine parlor.
Josef was astounded that a creature so small could make a mess so big simply from the act of eating. He didn't want to watch, but he couldn't quite look away.
And then there was there was that grotesque slurping of whatever beverage was in the plastic cup that had come with the pizza. That was a whole other issue of it's own.
“Aren't you gonna eat?” the kid asked with his mouth full of half chewed food.
Josef's lip curled up involuntarily in further revulsion at the display. “No,” he answered simply.
“How come? You ain't hungry?”
“I don't eat. Pizza, that is,” he tacked on quickly. “Don't open your mouth with food in it, kid. It's nauseating.”
“Sorry,” was the response- still with food in it. “That's what Mama says, too.”
“Really?” Josef asked, a little surprised. He just hadn't wanted to be treated to the sight any further, but apparently he'd said something the kid had heard before. Just a few hours and he was getting good at this kid stuff already.
He still hoped Mick wouldn't take too long, though. He could only take so much of this babysitting gig.
The kid took one last prolonged slurp of his drink and set it down with a thump on the cherry wood table next to him.......leaving an unsightly water ring, not doubt, Josef surmised.
But Josef had other priorities at the moment. He couldn't stand to look at the kid in that condition a moment longer.
“Are you about finished?” Josef asked impatiently.
The kid just nodded, chewing the last of his food.
At least he'd made the effort to keep his mouth closed that time.
“Good. Clean yourself up, will ya? Have some dignity.”
The kid stared up at him uncertainly, maybe a little expectantly.
“What?” Josef snapped. What did he want now?
“I need a wash cloth. Mama always gives me a wash cloth.”
Was this a needy kid or what?
Josef reached for his inside breast pocked and withdrew a silk handkerchief, then tossed it to the kid. “Here. Use this.”
The kid stared at the satiny square of cloth for a moment, then back up at Josef.
“It's not wet.”
Wet? Now he wanted wet?
Josef snatched the handkerchief back with the air of one being seriously put-out, left the kid alone long enough to go to the bar and he sprayed the silk liberally with soda water. He returned it to the kid, who began to blot it around on his face ineffectively.
Josef settled into an armchair and picked up his cell phone with the intention of calling Mick and lighting a fire under him to get back and reclaim the messy, demanding intruder, but he was halted as he watched the kid miss pretty much every greasy, saucy spot on his face with the wet silk.
“You missed a spot, kid,” Josef said as he watched.
“Where?” came the muffled voice behind the make-shift face cloth.
“Everywhere. Wipe right there- no,you missed it. There.....No, right there.....Oh, for Pete's sake,” Josef finally said, exasperated, as he tired of the child's vain attempts and his own misdirections. It was driving him to distraction. You'd think cleaning themselves up would be one of the first things parents would train their little creatures to do.
“You're killing me, kid.” Josef took the wet handkerchief from Michael and roughly wiped the greasy mess from his chin and around the mouth. He almost tossed the handkerchief back to him and told him clean his arm and hands, but Josef reconsidered, not wanting a repeat of the absurd performance. Instead he took care of it himself.
Something about the way the kid stood still so trustingly, looking up at Josef as he performed the simple act (albeit a bit inelegantly and rougher than necessary) tugged at Josef, just a little, somewhere deep inside his chest. Josef caught himself manipulating the little hands within the silken handkerchief a little longer than necessary, just in novelty at the guileless look in the kid's eyes as he looked up at Josef, just waiting for him finish.
If Josef had ever seen such a trusting and endearing look sent his way before, it had been so long ago that his memory no longer held it.
When Josef finally released the little hands a bit self-consciously, he stood up and stepped back. The kid had been returned, more or less, to the same state of cleanliness he'd been in before the pizza.
Okay. Feeding time was done. Check.
What next? What did kids do between feedings? Josef had vague memories of his own childhood days, but the memories- and the century in which the memories had taken place- were so far removed from the present moment that he could bring nothing to the surface that would be acceptable or adequate.
“Mr. Josef, I'm bored. Wanna play a game with me? I have my X box three sixty. Momma let me put it in my back pack so I could play it in the motels.”
Mr. Josef?!
Josef knew he hadn't told the kid his name so that had to be Mick's doing. And the kid's mother let him bring a box to play with? Either the kid was remarkable easy to entertain, or Josef was missing something. Josef had never professed to know much at all about children, or ever cared to, but things were undeniably different than his own childhood days.
“What the hell is an ex box?” Josef couldn't help asking. That was the one thing about what the kid had said that Josef latched onto.....it perplexed him.
“That's a bad word,” the kid accused indignantly. “You said a bad word!”
Josef's brow furrowed for a moment until he realized what, exactly, the kid was talking about. Then he got indignant himself?
“What the hell is so wrong with the word hell? It's not really a bad word, you know.”
“Mama says it is.”
“Well I say it's not. There are a lot worse ones, you know. Did your mama tell you that?”
“No,” the kid shook his head uncertainly as he looked up at Josef.
“Didn't think so.” Josef was oddly triumphant at the imaginary point won over his pint-sized contender.
“But Mamas don't lie. Cuz that's wrong, too.”
“Whatever you say, kid. But sometimes life doesn't leave you much of a choice. And your mama's not here. If you want to say hell, say it. Or don't. But don't whine when I say it. My mama never said a damn word about cursing.”
The kid said nothing, but his staring eyes were wider than before. Josef wondered if he'd just ended his lucky streak at saying the right thing. Well, he'd known it wouldn't last forever. But why bother telling a kid not to do something as a child that they'd learn to do as an adult anyway? If all parents did that- as he was sure they still did- it showed that modern parenting wasn't as forward thinking as society believed it to be. He was no expert, but Josef knew what made sense to him and what didn't.
Then he decided he was thinking too much.
“So what's this box you're so hyped about?” Josef asked, just to try to erase the slightly shocked look on the kid's face. Josef guessed the kids wasn't used to hearing an adult be honest with him.
He kind of hoped he hadn't scarred the kid for life with his inexperienced techniques.
“It's a game,” the kid finally told him.
“Hm. Sorry, kid. I don't really do games.”
“Oh.” The kid looked slightly disappointed. He heaved a sigh of obvious boredom and began to wander aimlessly around the room.
“Don't touch anything,” Josef ordered to the kid's back as he stopped to look at a particular piece of art on a table.
Josef returned to his armchair and settled back. With any luck, the kid would leave him alone for a while now. Maybe he could get a few necessary business calls taken care of. With one eye on the kid just in case he decided to turn destructive, Josef picked up the mobile headset he'd discarded earlier and put it on.
Game, indeed, he snorted to himself.€
Josef Kostan did business. He didn't do games.
Mick arched against the back of his desk chair and stretched to work out the kinks in his back and shoulders. He gloried in the fact that any aches would fade with vampiric quickness once the reason for the ache was removed, but unfortunately, even being a vampire didn't prevent the possibility of stressed muscles in the first place. And sitting in a chair in his slumped position for as many hours as he just had was a prime reason for his muscles to become stiff and sore, and for his bones to pop and crack as he stretched his spine.
By the time he stood up he felt as good as new, but was ready for some refreshment. He mused over his case as he walked to his hidden stores of packaged blood and prepared himself a liquid meal.
The Internet was a wonderful thing. He'd discovered a few interesting things. First off, of course, the necessary- and this time, correct- basics about the woman in question.
Jane Smith she was not. Her true name was Christina Nelson, and she was, in fact, twenty-seven as her son had divulged.
The office in question- the previously unknown workplace- was interesting. It just so happened that Mick was well acquainted with the man that ultimately paid her salary, as well as that of her husband. Both were low pier employees of Kostan Industries.
Mick could ask Josef a few questions about them, but he'd quickly discarded that route. Josef's position was as high as could be attained within his own company, and Christina's and her husband's were well below what would register on Josef's radar. They worked within the cogs of Kostan Industries, in necessary but unappreciated and unnoticed positions in such a large company. They were two of many in the accounting department, and they actually worked in payroll, only one aspect of the many things accounting was responsible for. I
t was unlikely that Josef had ever even met them personally, not in such a large and many faceted company as Kostan Industries. There were many middlemen between Josef and those employees that worked below him, many different levels of management and entry level positions. Hiring his accounting staff would very well be a task to be delegated by the busy Josef Kostan, Mick knew that much about his friend. The company was simply too large for the man at the top to be personally connected with every offshoot, every employee. Especially those that were mortal, which Josef only grudgingly tolerated.
It seemed that Mike Nelson, Christina's husband, had failed to report to work a little about a month ago.
Mick found the story about the search for the missing man that one of the local papers had done about it soon after Christina had filed the missing persons report with the police.
He had to see that report. The paper covered very few actual details......the story was more about the progress the authorities were (or rather, weren't) making in the search. No clues, no leads, the man simply seemed to have disappeared. The police suggested that perhaps Mike Nelson was not missing, so much having just left. It had happened before.
Even at the insistence of his wife that her husband would not desert his wife and child, that he loved his family, his job, his life.
One thing Mick had learned in his years as a private investigator was that it wasn't as hard as some believed it to be to fool those you loved.
Then there was the second story, almost a week later, in the same paper. The second story was given the front page, and more sensationalized, than the first because of it's connections and the mystery of it all.
The second story was of the seemingly sudden disappearance of Christina and Michael Nelson, wife and child of a local man that had gone missing less than a week before.
It was time to do some footwork, Mick decided. He needed to get those police reports for the details, maybe talk to a few of the investigating officers about whatever they were willing to share.
He also needed to speak to possible witnesses or anyone that might know anything. According to Christina's claims in the first story, her husband had disappeared at work, or soon after, because he never returned home that evening. She'd had the afternoon off and they were supposed to have met at the zoo as soon as his workday was finished to celebrated Michael's sixth birthday. But he'd never showed.
That meant it could be work related, or that someone at work had seen or heard something. Which meant that Mick needed to talk to Christina and Mike Nelson's coworkers.
However, Mick was not about to go snooping within his best friends company without talking to him about it first. Josef would have to be made aware that Mick would possibly be asking around and talking to some people.
It's too late now, Mick decided after a glance at his watch. The nine to five office workday, which would surely apply to an accounting/payroll office, was long over. But maybe he could get a look at those police reports, if he hurried. He hadn't realized just how long he'd been at his computer, just how late it was, until he'd glanced at his watch, and he couldn't help but wonder how Josef was getting along with Michael. Or vice versa.
Actually, Mick mused to himself, I'm surprised Josef hasn't been bugging me with phone calls to get me over there to pick up Michael.
Suddenly suspicious that perhaps he'd simply been too engrossed in his research to hear the phone calls, Mick set his glass down and strode back over to his desk, where he'd left his cell phone after Josef's pizza call. Mick knew the possibility of missing a call was more likely than Josef suddenly developing a generous and accepting nature, and Mick also knew Josef would give him no end of hell if he'd been trying to reach him and couldn't.
There were no missed calls displayed on the screen because the screen was dark. Mick's phone had gone dead while he'd been immersed in his research. He groaned inwardly as he gathered his keys, his phone, and the papers he'd printed from the computer, then headed for the door.
He'd better get to Josef's.
When he got into the car, he plugged his phone into his car charger immediately, then tried Josef's cell several times. Each time it went to voice mail. Mick wasn't sure what to think. Josef was, undoubtedly, a busy man, but he almost always answered a call from Mick. Besides which, he still had Michael with him. Mick would have thought that Josef would jump on the phone if he saw Mick's name displayed, because he couldn't imagine that Josef hadn't been trying valiantly to get through to Mick.
Mick spent the entire drive through mid-evening traffic imagining the various disasters that probably awaited him at Josef's mansion.