CHAPTER SIX
Don Draper was the first interview of the day. He was really a Donald Duck stuffed animal, and he waddled in just like a duck would. He wore a paper bag over his head, on which a smiling face had been drawn in black marker. Joey had done that, but no one knew exactly why. Donald Duck suffered a mental split at the time and decided, inexplicably, that he was Don Draper from TV’s Mad Men.
“Don,” Nightbeat said.
“This had better be good,” Don said. “I have a meeting with Pete Campbell. We have a very important client on the line, and if this makes me late—”
“Don’t worry about it,” Nightbeat said. “This shouldn’t take long.”
“It better not. Pete can’t handle this on his own.”
Nightbeat ignored that last part. “Where were you when Joey was murdered.”
“Murdered?” Don asked. “From what I hear, he had an accident. Happens all the time to kids.”
Nightbeat rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Just answer the question.”
“Fine.” Don tugged at his bowtie, the one that Donald Duck was supposed to have. “I was at work. Just ask Roger Sterling. We had a few drinks after quitting time.”
Goddammit. Nightbeat rubbed his eyes. None of the toys had a Roger Sterling personality. How the fuck could he corroborate an alibi with someone who didn’t exist? “I don’t buy it. Try something else on me.”
“Come on, Nightbeat. Cut me some slack. Okay, maybe I wasn’t with Roger Sterling. Maybe I was somewhere else. I promise you that I wasn’t killing Joey. I just can’t tell you where I was.”
“Getting some strange on the side?” Nightbeat asked.
Don sighed, biting his lip. He still didn’t want to talk, but he knew Nightbeat had his number. “Yes. I was. You can’t tell my wife. She’ll kill me.”
“One condition,” Nightbeat said. “Tell me who you were with, and mum’s the word.”
“Dammit, Nightbeat. A lady’s honor is at stake, here.”
Nightbeat stared him down, not giving any quarter.
“Fine. I was with one of Felix’s ex-wives.”
“Which one?”
“Fucked if I know. They all look alike.”
Interesting. This was the second time one of Felix’s ex-wives came up. “Was there anyone else with you?”
Don opened his mouth to say something, but he hesitated. After a half-second, he shook his head. “No one.”
“Lie number two,” Nightbeat said. “You’re just not good at this kind of thing, are you?”
“There was no one else.”
“Bullshit. There was someone else, wasn’t there? Someone with two big floppy ears? Except maybe his ears were slicked back?”
“Fuck,” Don said. “How did you know that?”
“Just a hunch. I suppose Jack Bunnyson was covering for you. Didn’t want word getting out what a cad you were. He’s a good friend, probably.”
“You absolutely can’t talk to my wife about this,” Don said. “It’d be worse than death. She’d divorce me and take me to the cleaners. I can’t have that, not when things are going so well at work.”
“Relax,” Nightbeat said. “I’ll keep quiet. Think of it as payment for helping me clear the two of you.”
“So . . . I can go?”
Nightbeat nodded. “Try laying off the coke, Don. It gives you a superiority complex.”
Don laughed. “Why do you think I do it?” And he waddled out of the closet.
Spike came in next, pitching his smoke. “’Hello, mate.” Leaning against the wall instead of sitting down.
“Spike. You know the drill.”
“Funny ol’ world, innit. Still can’t get me head around it, Joey bein’ dead. Poor blighter.”
“Where were you when Joey was murdered?” Nightbeat asked.
“I hate to say it, but I was with long, tall and stupid. We were havin’ a discussion on the morality of whatever he was whinging about. I barely paid him any mind.”
“You mean Angel?”
“Ding ding ding! You win a kewpie doll. Huh. Do they still have those? Bloody ‘ell, I’m gettin’ old.”
“You and Angel don’t get along. Why is that?”
“Long story, mate.”
“Indulge me.”
“Well, it’s bad enough that he’s an Irish cunt, but that’s the least’ve it. He did the whole vampire-with-a-soul business and fucked an underage vampire slayer. The usual. Oh yeah, and he tried to kill me loads’ve times. Well, I guess it’s not that long of a story. Took centuries to live, though, lemme tell you.”
“But you were friendly enough to have this discussion?”
Spike shrugged. “Not much else to do around here, I guess. Too bad they never turned Buffy to plush. The things I’d do. Oh.” He uttered a laugh, shaking his head.
Nightbeat ignored the sex talk. “So despite this enmity, you would both supply each other’s alibis?”
“Enmity? You gotta stop readin’ the dictionary, mate. Short answer: begrudgingly we would.”
This struck all the right chords for Nightbeat. He nodded. “You can go. Send in Angel, would you?”
Spike grunted and left. Shortly thereafter Angel stepped in. “You wanted to see me?”
“Have a seat.” Nightbeat indicated the carpet next to him.
Angel sat. “I hope you’re not trying to enlist my help. It’s not going to happen.”
“Why are you so dead set against helping me?” Nightbeat asked. “Joey was our kid. We have to help each other solve his murder.”
“There’s no ‘have to’ in this,” Angel said. “I left that life behind me. There’s no use opening up old scars.”
“So that’s what this is about. You’re selfish.”
“Fuck you,” Angel said.
“Joey is worth more than our personal scars,” Nightbeat said. “He was our kid. Without him, we don’t stand a chance. How long do you think it will be before we end up in a garage sale? We owe Joey. So what if it brings back bad memories? Joey was murdered.”
Angel paused and nodded. “I’ll give you that. Okay, fine, maybe I am a bit self-absorbed—”
“A bit?!” Spike shouted from outside.
“Shut the fuck up, Spike!” Angel yelled. “God, I hate that guy.”
“Speaking of hate,” Nightbeat said, “what’s going on between you and Spike? Why do you hate each other so much?”
“I won’t hold him being English against him,” Angel said. “I’m over that. But he’s a prick of the first order.”
“And proud of it!” Spike said.
“One more word, Spike!” Angel shouted. “Say one more word! I dare you!”
“Stop this,” Nightbeat said. “Just—”
Spike said, “One. More. Word.”
Angel growled and sprang out of the closet, tackling Spike at the waist. Both puppets went down and rolled on the floor. Cat swept in from above. “Ooh! A fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!” The others took up the chant, too.
“Kick his ass, Angel!” Felix said.
The toys gathered around the warring plush dolls, chanting for their favored friend. Spike brought both his fists down on Angel’s back, and Angel responded by a couple of blows to Spike’s belly. He grabbed Angel’s head under one arm and fell backwards. The blow didn’t do much good, as the floor was carpeted, so Spike continued to follow through by flipping Angel over him.
Angel rolled with it and got up on his feet, plush fangs bared. Spike bared his own, and they grappled with each other. Angel tried to slip a hand up to push Spike’s head back, but Spike pinched Angel’s tricep under his armpit and hammered him in the face with his fist. Angel stumbled back, and without fanfare leaped, aiming a kick at Spike’s face. This one landed, and Spike flew backward into the wall. He flipped to his feet, and the two plush vampires circled each other.
“Break it up!” Nightbeat shouted.
“I’m taking bets!” Felix said. “Come on! Put your money where your mouth is!” He had a little black book and a golf pencil, ready to take some action.
Nightbeat tried to get between the combatants, but they easily slipped him. In a fury they clashed against each other, making it impossible for Nightbeat to separate them.
“Guys! Stop!” This from Bunny. “Someone’s coming!”
Everyone paused except for Angel and Spike. It took a moment for it to register with them. The toys scattered and dropped down, playing dead.
The door opened, and Wally and Mimi stepped in, glancing around. Both of them looked slightly inebriated. Nightbeat guessed that Wally had a new bottle, and Mimi had her pills.
“I could have sworn I heard something in here,” Wally said.
“I didn’t hear anything,” Mimi said.
Wally sighed and sat down on Joey’s bed, burying his face into his hands. “I still can’t believe this is happening. Why us? Did we do something wrong?”
Mimi sat next to him, but at a distance. “I don’t know. I think it’s just one of those senseless things that happens in a random universe.”
“God, is that all there is?” Wally’s eyes shone, the beginnings of tears welling up.
“I don’t know.”
Silence for a moment. Then: “Do you think maybe this room is . . . I don’t know . . . haunted?”
Mimi shook her head. “I don’t believe in that kind of thing.”
“But I heard something in here.”
“Maybe it was the house settling.”
Wally looked like he wanted to say something, but he kept his mouth shut.
“I think these toys are kind of creepy,” Mimi said.
“Oh?”
“You might laugh at this, but last night I could have sworn I saw one of them moving in the hallway.”
Wally didn’t laugh. “Which one?”
“I don’t know. I think . . . that’s the one.” She pointed at Nightbeat.
Wally stooped to pick up the Transformer. He turned Nightbeat over in his hands, looking for anything aberrant.
“It was probably the pills,” Mimi said. “You know how those things knock me out. For all I know it was a dream.”
“Probably.” Wally placed Nightbeat back down.
The husband and wife sat on their dead son’s bed for a while longer. They said nothing to one another, staring off in opposite directions, lost in their memories. The toys felt uneasy, considering the strife they were involved in when these two entered. Spike chanced a look over at Angel. He mouthed the words, “This isn’t over.”
Angel gave an almost imperceptible nod.
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