Skinless

Chapter 6

"It be a doctor. Or maybe a butcher," the old woman said. She was wrapped in a thick brown coat that had seen better days and sported more than a few stains. Her hair was a graying nest that flared out uncombed from the yellow bandana that tied it back from her face. She nodded her head and took another large scoop of potatoes into her mouth.

"Sure as stink, it be someone rich," the woman's tall companion returned. His beard was missing parts about the chin as if someone had arbitrarily ripped out chunks. "None of ours would waste a day and leave the boots or coat."

"Not with winter coming," the woman added, nodding in agreement and pointing her fork at her friend as if she was putting a period on his statement.

"A doctor?" I asked, trying to slip myself into the conversation. Chris and I were seated next to the couple having some breakfast as the two talked. It had been a long time since I had had pancakes. I found myself enjoying them, and the company that Chris provided. Overhearing the discussion had returned my mind to work.

"Have to be," the woman said, "someone who knows how to skin a man." She flipped her wrist, demonstrating a cutting motion with her fork.

"Or one of those animal guys," the old man jumped in, "what they call them that mount heads and stuff. Taxi, taxi, something."

"Taxidermist," Chris said. The man smiled at Chris, then looked more closely at us. His demeanor changed, and I watched him retreat from eye contact after a quick look at the old woman. She took the glare as a sign and returned her attention to her food. We weren't dressed for a soup kitchen.

"Did you see something?" I asked the woman. She shook her head and pulled her plate farther from me, allowing her shoulder to come between us. The man followed suit, visibly scooting down the table. Chris looked at me and shrugged. I pulled my badge off my belt and put it on the table and slide it out so the woman could see it. "We need help. Your help." For a moment, the woman didn't acknowledge the badge. The man looked up at her, and they traded a slight nod.

"I'm Maddy, but I not tell you my whole name," the woman said with determination as she turned her head toward me. "I not be tricked into going with you."

"We don't need to go anywhere," I said, forcing a smile to my face.

"I have rights," Maddy added. I nodded in agreement, wondering what had made her think I would do anything to her. After a brief pause, she said, "I saw."

"Saw what?"

Maddy leaned in close and whispered, "a man without skin. Just lying there in all his clothes."

"What else did you see?" Chris asked.

"Nothing else," Maddy said as she straightened again. "Willy cried, but not me. It was a bad way to go for sure, but no different in the end. I been on the street long enough to see most ways to die. Though I must say that was a new one."

"Are you Willy?" I asked the old man.

"I not cry," the man answered as if I had slapped him. "You got no need of my name. I didn't see nothing."

"Who's Willy?"

"A crier," Maddy said with a misplaced chuckle, "he's fresh, never saw a winter out here. He won't be crying next year. Nothing like bad weather to make a person figure out the real bad." The old man chuckled with her, acknowledging something I would probably never understand.

"Does Willy wear a green coat with a 'G' on the front?" Chris asked. I raised my eyebrows as my mind caught up to this thinking. He would have made a good detective.

"You know him?" Maddy asked, surprised. She looked at Chris and then at me. "It not be him you know. He was shaking and crying when I came up on it. I didn't see no knife or no blood on him." She shook her head. "He was too scared."

"We don't think he did it." I said, though the fact he may have seen three made me question the words, "we think he may have seen something. You didn't see anything out of the ordinary."

"You mean besides someone with no skin?" Both Maddy and her friend started laughing as if I were a fool. It was their world, and unless I wanted no cooperation, I had to concede that the question was ill-worded.

"Yes, besides that," I said, forcing a chuckle.

"Naw, I walked up like I said and found Willy praying and crying like a baby."

"Praying?"

"Yay, all down on his knees and crying. I told him it don't help, but some people need it, I figure," Maddy said. She leaned in closer with concern, "don't tell Sister Agnes I say that." I smiled at her and winked my agreement. It pleased Maddy that I would keep her confidence.

"Where did this happen?" Chris said, spreading his Google map printout on the table. Maddy turned it around a few times, orienting it in her mind, then pointed at one to the red circles.

"Two, no three days ago, right there," Maddy said, proud of herself.

"Do you know where we can find Willy?"

"Hiding in one of them old factories I guess," Maddy replied. "When it gets cold, he'll learn and be back here on the streets. One winter and he'll know." The old man nodded along with Maddy.

Chris insisted on buying Maddy lunch, handing her a twenty. He worded it as payment for her being so helpful and for disturbing her breakfast. She accepted it as I do my paycheck, like it was expected.

Sister Agnes verified that Wally was Willy and that he was last seen in the old factory district last night. She made us promise to send him to her after we talk with him. It was obvious that he had poor judgment on how to be homeless and Sister Agnes was going to set him straight. We agreed before we headed out to the red-circled scenes.