Wall of Silence
By
Gabrielle Goldsby
(AKA GabGold)
~ Chapter 27 ~
Special Disclaimer: Part 7 has been broken into two smaller parts for easier editing. Subsequently there will be one more part after this one.
See part 1 for normal disclaimers:
I sighed in frustration, picked up Riley's phone and began to dial. Riley put her hand on my thigh and squeezed it before returning it to the steering wheel. How the hell does she do that? It's like she knows when I need her. I rested my hand on her leg and started blinking.
"You okay?"
"Yup, I got something in my eye." Not wanting to remove my hand from her leg I dialed Chandra's number with my thumb, my head still stubbornly turned away from Riley.
"Hey, Chandra, it's me. Did you find anything?"
"Yeah, hang on a sec. Let me transfer you into Marcus' office." I heard the rapid-fire pulsing of buttons and then quiet. My eyes roved the streets like they used to do when I was on patrol. I watched a kid of about thirteen or fourteen walk across the street holding on to pants that were already hanging past his hips.Trendy name-brand boxer shorts hung out over brand new jeans that probably cost more than my whole outfit. Something about the way the boy swaggered down the street caused me to follow him with my eyes. Something about him was familiar.
"Okay, I'm back," Chandra breathed loudly into my ear.
The boy turned around and watched two college-aged girls who were wearing little to nothing. I could tell by his body language that he appreciated what he saw. He flipped the bottom of his ribbed t-shirt up exposing flat abs and a happy trail hairy enough to make any self-respecting lesbian gag. My mouth was already twisted in disgust when he flipped the shirt up again exposing a familiar tattoo on the lower part of his belly. Kid my ass. This was a twenty-two year-old man.
"Foster, you there?" Chandra said in my ear just before I dropped the phone and opened my door. Riley slammed on the brakes forcing the car behind us to do the same. A loud horn sounded causing Popeye to look up just as I came barreling out of the car and across the street.
"Foster!" I kept running, trying to ignore the fear in Riley's voice as she yelled after me. I didn't have time to explain.
As I expected, Popeye took off in his familiar sideways gait.Popeye Jenkins has the oddest run I've ever seen. Not only was he pigeon-toed, but he also tended to run sideways, as if he was expecting to have to make a sharp turn at any moment.
I had chased him at least three times before and caught him each time. I was bound and determined to catch him today as well. Popeye hopped onto a chain-linked fence, easily scaling it before grabbing the other side with one hand, and somersaulting over the top. His feet hit the ground just as I reached the fence. Going up was easy coming down was a bitch. I pushed myself into second gear just as Popeye ran through the doorway of a parking garage and up some stairs, taking them two at a time.
"Goddamn it, Popeye"
I was already huffing. When I was a patrol cop I used to do this sort of thing all the time. Now I just felt old, tired and mad as shit that Popeye made me run after him. I had started up another flight of stairs when something told me to back track and check the level below. I spotted Popeye trying to hide beside the tire of a tan Yukon SUV. I grinned widely. "Gotcha."
I pulled the penlight from my pocket and as quickly and silently as I could, I approached the Yukon. I went around the back and squatted down, easing my head around slowly. Though Popeye's back was to me I could tell that he was breathing harder than I was. I silently walked up behind him and pressed the penlight into his back causing him to jump up.
"I wouldn't if I were you," I said, grinning as he went rigid, his small but muscular back tense.
"I'm not packing," he said fearfully, his hands going up automatically.
"You made me run, you fucker. You know I hate that," I grumbled.
"Officer Everett?" he said, relief evident in his voice.
"Hey, Popeye. Long time no see."
"Shit." Popeye dropped the hands and turned around.
"Ah, ah, ah, I didn't tell you to put your arms down." I grinned and flashed the penlight at him. "I should really shoot your ass for making me run."
Popeye grinned saucily; his long lashes dropping down over warm, doe-brown eyes. "Yeah, well you say that shit every time you chase me and you haven't shot me yet. What the hell'd you do to your hair?"
I pushed my hand through my hair and shrugged. "I needed a new look."
"I know that's right." He nodded in approval. "You look good."
I checked him out. "So do you?" I let the question hang in the air. Popeye was about 5'3 and had always been a real small kid. He had compensated for his stature by being wild and fearless, something that had gotten him into trouble probably more times than I probably knew about.
I had always found him to be intelligent, even charming, when he wasn't drugged out on something. Unfortunately, Popeye's real troubles didn't begin until he started serving adult time. He got turned on to crystal meth in prison and by the time he was released, he had become a different person.
"I been clean for more than six months."
"Yeah, right." I laughed at him still trying to catch my breath.
"Nah, I'm being straight. Check it out." He held out a balled-up short-sleeved shirt with stripes on it similar to the ones that referees wear at basketball games. "Here's my uniform. I was on my way in to work when you started chasing?hey, what did you chase me for?I ain't did shit."
"Then why the hell did you run?"
"I don't know," he said still frowning, and then sort of chuckled. "Habit I guess."
"Foster?" Riley came barreling around a corner. Her face looked like a storm front and a cold front all wrapped up into one huge environmental disaster.
"I am so screwed."
"Oh shit. Who the fuck is that?" Popeye looked like he was about to take off running again. I grabbed his wrist and held on to him.
"If I die, I'm taking your ass with me," I said as Riley approached, her eyes looking purposeful.
When she reached us I was bitten by the gab bug and started to introduce Popeye like he was a long lost relative. "Uh, Riley, this is Popeye?Popeye, Riley. He and I go way back, baby."
"How do, Ms. Riley," Popeye said quite nicely, his neck craning as he looked up at her.
"Popeye," Riley said, doing a moderate to fair imitation of Caroline Stein.
"Uh, I was just trying to catch up with Popeye. I thought we could see if he's heard anything on the street about ?that situation we were looking into." Riley nodded and folded her arms in front of her.
"M? maybe we should all go over here where we aren't so noticeable." I pulled Popeye along with me like I was his older sister headed for the park. Surprisingly enough he followed me.
"Daaaamnnnn, is that you?" he whispered to me as if Riley wasn't right behind us.
"Uh, yeah. At least it was before I leaped out of the car to run after your ass without telling her where I was going. Why'd you have to run anyway?" I whined.
Popeye shrugged as we reached the stairwell. "Cause I been trained by the criminal justice system to run at the sight of any and all authority figures."
I snickered. "They make you see a psychologist too?"
"Hell yeah they did." We plopped down in the pissy stairwell.
"So what's up with this, Popeye? You're clean? Shit you haven't been clean since you were fourteen." I looked over at him expecting to hear that he'd found Jesus in jail or some such shit that wouldn't last another month.
Popeye's smile lost some of its glow for a moment. "Mama died, Officer Everett."
"Shit!" I breathed in regret. Mrs. Jenkins was one of the finest women I had ever met. She had single-handedly raised three boys. If I remembered correctly, she lost one in the late 80's to gang violence and another was in jail for murder one. Popeye was the youngest and on the fast track to follow in his brothers' footsteps last I had heard. He was Mrs. Jenkins last hope. I can still remember every time I had to go tell her that Popeye was in trouble for something or other. Even after so many years, after losing so many sons to crime, she never failed to look hurt and confused. As if she hadn't expected it from her baby boy Popeye. "I'm sorry, Popeye."
"Me too." He leaned forward under the pretense of retying his shoelaces.
Like I said, Popeye has always been small. But I don't think he really knew that he was, at least he didn't act like he knew. He looked small and awkward now. His clothes were three sizes too big and though I knew it was the style, I wondered for the first time if it was something else. He was like a child trying to find comfort in his daddy's clothes. Only Popeye never knew his daddy.
"Anyway, I been trying to do good. You know, stay out of trouble. My parole officer is helping me as much as he can, but it's hard. I see the same people I knew when I was on the shit and it's like they don't want to see you do better. It's like I make them look bad by trying to straighten up. But?I promised my mama, you know."
Damn. I never thought I would see the day when I would be sitting there talking to Popeye Jenkins like I was. Hell, who would of thought I would be seeking out Big Sherm either. I suddenly began to wonder if some of these people were good deep down all along. Was I so blind that I simply saw them as good or bad with no in-between? I looked over at Popeye and remembered him as a miserable little fourteen-year-old boy incapable, even then, of holding up his pants. Popeye Jenkins, no matter how you looked at it, was a felon. He was a druggie and a thief. But Popeye Jenkins, unlike me, had never killed anybody.
Popeye suddenly looked about as weirded out by our newfound friendship as I was. So I cut to the chase. "Popeye, I don't want to keep you waiting. I just need to ask you some questions."
"All right, ask. But I ain't out there like I used to be."
"Do you know someone named Marcus? Marcus Vansant?"
"Marcus Vansant?" He genuinely seemed to turn the name over in his head before shaking it definitively. "I don't think so, what he do?"
"He didn't do anything, he was murdered." I tried not to cringe when I heard my own emotionless voice saying my friend was murdered. Death has a way of becoming second nature. But murder? there was nothing natural about it and I didn't want to start thinking about it like it was. "The police are trying to say a group of street thugs attacked him because he was ?gay."
"Nah, I ain't heard nothin' about that." I sighed and got to my feet noting that Riley had stayed a few steps away from the stairwell to give Popeye and I some privacy.
"If you hear anything can you give me a call?" I felt around in my pocket for something to write with and turned to ask Riley if she had a pen. She wordlessly handed me a card with her cell phone number written on it.
"Uh, thanks." I gave her a smile, which was not returned, and handed the card to Popeye.
"Officer Everett, if you need somewhere to crash after she kicks your ass out, I'm living at my mama's house. You remember where that is, right?"
He stuck the card in his pants pocket and I rolled my eyes. "Uh, thanks, Popeye, but I think I'll be all right. If you could just let me know if you hear anything that would help."
"I will. I better get to work before they fire my ass."
As I watched Popeye walk toward the mall a not so distant memory came back to me. "That mot-her-fuc-ker, Popeye Jenkins, stole my pipe!"
"Popeye, wait. Hang on." He looked at me his head slightly tilted as I approached.
"What's up?"
"You said you're clean, right?" I said trying hard not to let anger seep into the question.For some reason I was taking it personally that he would lie to me.
"Yeah, I'm clean. Why?" he said, looking at his Nike watch.
"My partner and I were at a house looking for information on a case a few months back. The woman that lived there said you stole her pipe."
"Looking for information? I'm a beat that bitches ass if she got my son in some of her shit. I told her?" He took a sudden step backward.
"What?" He didn't need to answer. I could feel Riley's presence behind me. She had probably followed me when I ran after Popeye.
"You, uh, must be talking about Alicia, my baby's momma. I tell her I want to use her bathroom so I can go through her shit. I always go through her stuff because she be lyin' and shit. Sayin' she ain't seein' nobody else when she got a big ass supply of birth control and KY jelly up in her medicine cabinet."
"So what, Popeye? She has two kids already and she can't be much more than your age. Maybe she doesn't want to get pregnant again."
"Nah, it ain't even like that. She wants to get back together with me. I told her no ?cause she still messing with that stuff and I'm not. I can't be around it, you know. I told her I would give it a shot if she quit.She said she did but she was lyin'. She said she had stopped but I found a pipe in her medicine cabinet so I took that shit."
"I thought you were supposed to be clean. Why the hell would you need a pipe?"
"I am clean. I smashed that shit on the ground. I told her before not to use that shit around my son."
"Then why leave out the window?"
He scratched his head and looked embarrassed. "Well, Alicia can get to talking at you? mo-ther- fuck-er this, mo-ther- fuck-er that. I didn't want to hear it. So, I just went out the window." I stared hard at him to see if I believed him. Something in me did. I can't explain it, but it was important to me that Popeye really was telling the truth. I wanted to believe that he could make it. Maybe I was fooling myself.
"Wait, doesn't she have a little girl?"
"Yeah, Fee Fee. She ain't mine though." I remembered the tired crying from the back room of the house. I wanted to tell Popeye that I hoped he got his shit together for his son's sake. "My boy's name is Paul, just like me. "
"PJ," I remembered out loud and Popeye nodded his head proudly.
"Fee Fee's daddy is some fool named Michael Albert."
The air left my lungs in one huge soundless exhale. "Did you say Albert? I thought it was Stratford?" I said in shock.
"Nah, Michael Albert is Fee Fee's daddy. Her last name is Albert just like his. He some stuck up mother fucker, think he better than everyone else because he done got saved and shit." I tuned out Popeye's voice as I remembered Alicia saying the same thing about Michael Stratford."Shit, Fee Fee called me Daddy cause I saw her more than his ass did. That's with jail time and all."
"Do you know where he is?" I asked, feeling dizzy by all the new questions that were scrambling through my head.
"No, why would I know where that fool is? Alicia mentioned something about he ain't been paying child support even though he living large now. But I don't know what's up."
"You think you could ask around?"
"Yeah, I guess." Popeye frowned. "What's this shit all about anyway? I don't want him bringing no shit on my boy."
"I don't know, Popeye, but I'm going to find out."
He looked at me for a moment and then nodded "I'll give you a call if I find anything, all right?"
"All right thanks." I pondered what he had just told me. Michael Albert and Michael Stratford were the same person? And what the hell did it have to do with Marcus' death?
"Foster, what's wrong?" Riley asked in a worried voice.
"I don't know. I need to call Chandra"
Riley led me back to the car. In her distress she had parked with one tire on the curb and as a result, received two parking tickets. She snatched them out of the windshield wipers and tossed them in the glove compartment.
"You can push redial to call Chandra back." I did so on autopilot.
"Chandra?"
"What the hell just happened, Foster?"
"Sorry. I saw a guy I needed to speak to."
"Okay, well I got to make this fast but I got those files you asked for and I got a cross on one of your aliases. You never handled him because he was arrested down in San Diego. His file was one of the last ones Smitty pulled. I'm not sure why since it wasn't one of your cases."
"Let me guess, Michael Albert is actually an alias for Michael Stratford."
"Shit yeah. How did you know?" I shook my head impatiently, ignoring her question.
"How did you figure it out? Because whatever you did is probably what Marcus did."
"I got to thinking. Albert sounds like a first name so I switched them. You know, started running Albert Michael and then I started looking into files with Michael Albert as first and middle name. Stratford was the only one that popped up." She said excitedly, as if she had just worked out a particularly difficult puzzle.
"That's good work, Chandra. My head is too close to this thing. Thank you," I said sincerely.
"You're welcome," she said primly. "But how did you figure it out if you didn't think of that?" I filled her in on what I had just learned from Popeye. "Damn, it's a small world isn't it?"
"See Chandra, that's what worries me. That's nothing but a big clich?. The world really isn't that small." I grabbed the bridge of my nose and closed my burning eyes. "Hey, can you pull Stratford's records? I need everything you have on him. I don't know anything about this guy."
"Sure, I can do that. You okay? You don't sound right."
"Yeah, I'm good."
I wasn't though. I felt like I was getting more questions than answers.
After we said our goodbyes I leaned back against the seat. The hand on my thigh told me I had been forgiven for my hasty flight from the car.
"What did Chandra say?"
"Chandra just confirmed something that Popeye told me. Michael Albert and Michael Stratford are the same person."
"Michael Stratford?"
"The name came up as a possible source of info on a kidnapping case that Smitty and I were working a few months back. Thing is, we could never find the guy to interview him."
"So you think he's involved?"
"Yeah, I think he is. The question is, how?" I inhaled deeply. Nothing was adding up. Where did Michael Albert fit into this and how did Marcus come up with his name?
Almost as if Riley had heard what I was thinking, she said quietly, "You will figure this out."
"But what if I don't?"
Riley's nightmare was starting to bug me. I swallowed bile that left a taste, like a cooper penny, in the back of my throat. Anxiety hovered in the cab of the Blazer, silent, like a scavenger waiting patiently for a meal.
~ Chapter 28 ~
The following day I decided we would pay Popeye and Michael's ex-girlfriend, Alicia, another call. I was positive that she knew more than she had told me on my initial visit. Now that I knew that Michael Stratford and Michael Albert were the same person, I had a bargaining chip in my favor.
"Alicia Alexander?"
"Yeah?" she looked blankly at my badge then back at me. As I had hoped, there was no spark of recognition on her face
"We're here about Michael Stratford."
She sighed and rolled her eyes. "For the last time. I don't know where Michael is. Ya'll keep sending more people over here if ya'll want, but I'm going to keep telling you that I ain't seen him."
I nodded. "Would you mind if we come in, ma'am?" She reluctantly opened the door and Riley and I stepped into her domestic chaos. I didn't see Fee Fee and I was tempted to ask about the health of her toilet, but she didn't look like she recognized me and I was determined to keep it that way.
"So what ya'll want? I was just about to feed my son."
Alicia expertly moved a nude doll, a t-cup and a coloring book before she plopped down on her couch. I realized too late that once I allowed her to remove her eyes from mine and focus on the TV, I would lose her attention and probably all hope of getting any new information from her.
"Hey, what happened with that cat fight the other day between the blond and the brunette?" I asked pleasantly in order to break the ice. I hadn't really noticed much about the fight except that Sherm had been pretty into it until we had come in.
"Oooh giiirrrlll,"Alicia said, her eyes not leaving the TV. "It turned out that Anna, that's the blond, and Natalie, that's the brunette, were actually college roommates who uh, got a little too close back then. That's what she was holding over her head. Anna has pictures and Natalie wants them back because that guy Brock, who she is going to marry, would never understand their ?special friendship'."
I looked back at Riley who was now staring at the TV riveted. I gave her a slight nudge with my elbow. She mouthed an annoyed ?what' and I gave her the eyebrow in lieu of asking her what the hell she was doing. She shook her head and had the nerve to look irritated. I jerked my head to the rear of the home and looked at Alicia and back at Riley.
Her mouth circled into an ?o' before she cleared her throat. "Ma'am, may I please use your phone?" Probably Riley's politeness caused Alicia to look up. She stared at Riley for a minute as if she was trying to remember why the hell she was in her house.
"Uh yeah, but you can't make no long distance. I only got basic."
"That's fine, thank you." Alicia nodded and pointed toward the kitchen.
Once Riley had disappeared through the kitchen door, I got down to business. I figured I would sit down on the couch, you know; invade her space a little so that she would have to pay attention. "Alicia, could you?son of a?" I jumped up and looked at the doll that grinned maniacally up at me. I rubbed my ass and looked at Alicia as if she had purposely placed the little hell spawn doll so that I would sit on its head.
"Sorry about that. Fee Fee is always leaving her toys laying around," Alicia said without even bothering to look up and see which toy had caused the damage.
"Ahhh, I see," I said as I picked up the doll and sat it gingerly aside. A clattering noise inside its body told me that old Betsy Wetsy probably hadn't faired too well after having her face sat on. I carefully sat back down and pretended to be enthralled by the soap for a few minutes. Finally, I couldn't wait any longer. "Alicia, are you aware that Michael Stratford also uses the name Michael Albert?" I asked casually.
"What?" I had her full attention now.
"Michael uses the name Michael Albert, too."
"Nah, I didn't know that."
"Hmm that's interesting, because I checked your daughter's birth records and her last name is Albert," I lied. "You wanna tell me what's going on or am I going to have to haul you down to the station?"
She seemed to make a decision quickly and I hoped Riley stayed in the kitchen. I had a feeling that if she returned, Alicia would clam up.
"Look, Michael is a good guy." I arched my brow in disbelief. In our last meeting she had called him a motherfucker several times. Now, all of a sudden, he's a good guy?
"Okay, so what's your point? Why the alias?"
"He couldn't find work as Michael Stratford. He was a con, you know. People don't want to hire no con. So he got hisself an ID using his middle name, and was able to find work after that.He had me give Fee Fee the fake last name and I figured it was a good idea since Michael Stratford couldn't find a job, but Michael Albert worked plenty. Hell, I figured as long as he was working I could go to the state to get my child support if he ever decided to stop sending it."
A nicer person would have pointed out the errors in Alicia's logic. But if you've read this far you already know that I'm not the nicest person in the world. So I let it go. "I take it you lied about the last time you saw him then."
Alicia looked uncomfortable. "Uh, yeah. Well me and him, you know, sometimes we get together. No big deal, just a mutual sort of thing."
So Popeye was right. I felt sorry for him. She must have seen the look on my face because she immediately started to backpedal.
"Nah nah, it ain't even like that, see. He's my daughter's father, so we have history."
"I understand. When did you see him last?"
At that moment Alicia seemed eager to redeem herself. Either that, or she wanted me out of her place so she could get back to her show. "Look, I lied to those other four cops, but I'll tell you the truth. I saw Michael about a month ago. He brought Fee Fee this new doll." She held up the doll with the inflexible face. It looked like it was about two years old, not a month.
"Our records show that Michael had just quit his job and started another one. Do you know where?"
"No, I told the truth about that there. I don't know where he worked. He was scared I was going to start calling him there. I told him that was kiddy shit I used to do a long time ago." I nodded thinking she probably used to do it last year.
"Anyway, he was stupid. He leaves that good job with Stereo World and ends up getting suckered in to some racket."
I would have hollered "bingo" but I was afraid that it would interrupt Alicia's flow. "What kind of racket?"
"I don't know and that's the God's honest truth. He wouldn't tell me, said he didn't want me involved."
"What did he do for Stereo World?"
"He was a driver. You know, delivering equipment and stuff. I think he quit because he was scared they might find out about his record and fire him anyway."
I nodded hoping that it would encourage her to continue. "So Michael never told you anything about what he did for these new people?"
"Nah, he wouldn't tell me about it. All he would say is that the guy he was working for was a crazy motherfucker. He said he wanted out but he was afraid. He wasn't going to leave until he got some shit on them, you know, for protection. The funny thing is, Michael had to lie about having a clean background to even get that whack ass job. That guy was scared of cops sniffing around if he hired any ex-cons." She looked at me as if she had swallowed something distasteful. "Ya'll never let people get on with their lives. Just like how you're doggin' him now. Michael is a decent man"
" So decent that he doesn't want his daughter to have his real last name?
"He did that because he didn't want Fee Fee to know she had an ex-con for a daddy."
But it's ok for her to have a crack head for a mother?
Alicia must have sensed my disbelief because she continued with her defense of Michael. "He even called in about that missing little white boy."
Should I tell her that she's white too? I shook my head "Wait. What missing little white boy?"
"The one on the news bulletins."
"Okay, you're going to have to help me a little bit here. There are a lot of little white boys on news bulletins. When was this," I asked. But I already knew the answer. This had to be connected to the cold case Smitty and I were working the first time I came in contact with Alicia.
"When was what? When did he call? I don't remember."
"Well how did he get that information?"
"I don't know. He wouldn't say much about it, just that he saw the kid in a video."
"A video? Where did he see this video?"
"Like I said, I don't know. He wouldn't tell me anymore about it just that it was some bad shit."
"And you aren't worried that you haven't heard from him lately?"
"Nah, Michael can take care of himself. I told him if there was trouble he better not be bringin' it over here to my kids and me.I just figured he'd finally found a way out of that job and is somewhere layin' low."
"Do you have any idea where he would be?"
"Well his grandpa used to live down in Barstow before they put him in a home. Last I heard they hadn't sold his house yet, I figure he might have gone out there, but I'm sure if he did he ain't their no more."
"Why not?"
"?Cause," she shrugged. "You ever been to Barstow?"
"Yeah, I've been through there."
"Then you know what I mean. Ain't no young person going to go stay down there for no month its just too?boring.
"Would you happen to have a current picture of Michael that I could keep?" I could tell Alicia was going to balk so I decided to be honest with her. "Look, I'm not after him. If I find him you have my word that I won't arrest him. I just want to ask him a few questions. Besides I think he could be in trouble." Alicia seemed to make a decision then because she pulled a photo album from under her coffee table, turned a few pages and finally pulled out a small wallet-sized picture of Michael and Fee Fee.
"That's the only one I can spare. Fee Fee got the other one in her room and I ain't bothering it."
I nodded, glad just to be able to put a face to a name now. "Thank you, this should help. The two cops you talked to?Did you get their names or a card?" I already knew who the two cops were, but I just wanted to confirm my suspicions.
"First it was a woman and a man. And then it was two guys. They gave me their cards but ?I think Fee Fee drew on them or something."
"Can you describe the two guys?" I nodded, as she described what could be no one other than Wilson and McClowski. Then she described Smitty and myself.
"And what did they ask you?"
She shrugged "They asked me if I knew where Michael was, and I told them no."
"That's all?"
"Yeah they didn't even ask me about his other name."
"Good. So you didn't tell them about it?"
"Now why would I do that? You guys haven't even told me what you want him for. Shit, I ain't took no oath."
"Look, if I were you I wouldn't tell them anything different if they come back. My partner and I don't care about shit like that, but those others are hardasses. So if they come back I would keep to the same story."Okay, so add obstruction of justice to my litany of crimes committed since this all began.
"Yeah, that's what I figured too."
Riley came out of the kitchen and gave me a nod as if her fictional phone call had been successful. "One last thing and we'll leave you alone. Do you happen to know Michael's grandfather's address?"
"Nah, sorry. Wait a minute; Michael had an old phone book here. Hold on." She stood, looked around her chaotic house, then went into what I assumed was her bedroom.
* * *
I was grinning like a maniac because things were finally starting to fit together. I still didn't know what the hell was going on, but I had the sneaking suspicion that there was a new pawn in the game. His name was Michael Albert Stratford and he just might have all the answers that I needed. "I think I may have just found Michael Albert," I said as we drove away from Alicia's house.
"Where?"
"Right here." I held up the torn piece of paper that Alicia had given me."This is Michael's grandfather's address in Barstow. Alicia said the family still owns it even though he is in a convalescent home."
"Barstow? You think he's in Barstow?" Riley wrinkled up her forehead as if she too thought that no young person would ever willingly stay in Barstow.
"Yeah. It's about two hours away depending on traffic. We'd better get going."
The ride to Barstow was a hot one. Riley and I talked a little, mostly about things we would like to do once this was all over. I had a feeling she was still a little upset about her dream, so I wanted to ease her fears. "I would love to go to Disneyland one day," I admitted.
"You've never been to Disneyland?"
"No, never. Have you?"
She nodded her head vigorously but the smile on her face was so sad it made my heart heavy. "My father took me when I was a kid."
"Would you like to go with me one day?"
"Of course." Riley said without hesitation.
I busied myself looking out the window. I felt like I was asking her to marry me, and in a way, maybe I was. One day was such an obscure thing, not like saying a week from Tuesday or something. It was acknowledgment that there was no need to set more than a vague plan because we would be together no matter what. I found the thought comforting.
"Do we ask someone how to find the address?"
"Nah, we should be able to find it easy. Barstow is a small place, I'm sure the numbered streets run concurrent."
We found Michael's grandfather's house with no problem. I stepped out of the car and onto an empty Doritos bag, the loudness of it causing me to jump. The area looked dry and desolate. Alicia was right; even I couldn't stay out here for longer than a few days without going crazy.
Riley and I knocked on the door for a few minutes and received no answer. I peered in a window, but couldn't see anything. A loud humming noise kicked in from somewhere near the back of the house.
"Air conditioner?" Riley asked.
"Mmm," I agreed with her. "If he isn't here he'll probably be back soon. I don't think he would leave that thing on if he were planning on leaving for good." Riley and I circled around to the back of the house. A heavy, old, air conditioner filled a widow just to the left of the back door. A rusty looking substance leaked from it and dried in the heat of the scorching sun, leaving an orange stain on the ground where a large puddle had once been.
I pulled one of the 9's from my holster. Riley looked startled. "Riley," I whispered. "If this guy is in here it's because he's hiding from something. He may be armed and I don't want to get caught without protection." Riley nodded even though I could tell she wasn't pleased with my explanation. I pulled the lock picks out and approached the back door.I twisted the knob and to my surprise, it turned easily. I continued to turn it expecting to come up against some kind of obstruction, a dead bolt or something. But the door swung open easily, almost as if its hinges had just been oiled. The lack of sound was more eerie than a loud dramatic creak.
A blast of cold air hit me in the face. I shrugged and mouthed, "It was open." She nodded, her worry causing her thick eyebrows to draw together giving her that fiercely concerned look I had come to expect from her. I peered inside. All of the blinds had been pulled so the area looked dim. My face started getting numb and my body quaked as I stepped from the oppressively stuffy heat outside and into the icy frigidity of the house.
I turned on my penlight and entered the house carefully with Riley right behind me. The eerie feeling I had when I first opened the door didn't dissipate when I walked in. If anything, it got worse. Who in the hell would crank up their AC this high? I thought. The one comfort I had was that no one could sit in this kind of cold comfortably, leaving me fairly sure we weren't walking into an ambush.
It was immediately obvious that the house had been searched. The sofa cushions looked as if someone had removed them and made a half assed attempt at putting them back. A large over stuffed recliner was pushed up against a wall. Who the hell would put their recliner against a wall? You can't even lean it back if it's against the wall. I shined my penlight on the floor and found long tracks in the carpet indicating that the furniture had been recently moved.
Since all the curtains were closed, I went ahead and started searching the place I opened the refrigerator and found four packages of hotdogs, six packages of dry salami, a loaf of wonder bread, a big ass bottle of ketchup and at least a case of beer.
Closing the refrigerator door I turned to find Riley standing less then a foot away "Find anything?"
"Hmm? Oh yeah well except for the beer his refrigerator looks like mine. I think he was planning to stay for a while."
"Do you think he's coming back?"
"Not if he thinks someone's been here looking for him." I shivered and grabbed Riley's hand and pulled her toward the hallway. Come on let's check the rest of the house and then get the hell out of here. It's cold."
The first door that we came to was a linen closet, stuffed with threadbare towels, and sheets as old as me. Further down the hall the bedroom door stood open. Heavy curtains covered the windows allowing only a small crack of light to filter through. The bed, though sloppily made, was empty. I peered behind the door then, gun raised, stepped into the room
I shined the penlight into the small bathroom. Not seeing any obvious danger, I focused my attention on the closet. I checked to make sure that Riley was still standing in the hall, conceivably out of harm's way as I had instructed her. With my gun raised I slid the closet door back quickly and waited. There was no sound or movement and I felt my heart start to slow to its normal beat. "Shit," I yelled and steadied myself as a large heavy object brushed past me and hit the floor with a hollow thump. I pointed my gun down at it and yelled, "Hands out at your sides. Now."
"Foster?."
"Riley, stay back goddamn it." Suddenly the room was flooded with light.
"Um, the lights work," she said quietly.
My gun shook as I stared incredulously at the large roll of carpet. "Why in the hell would someone hide a big ass piece of carpet in their closet?"
"F?for repairs."
"Huh?"
"Repairs its hard to match carpet so if you get a stain and you have extra?" I glared at Riley and she closed her mouth with an audible click. She gave me a nervous apologetic smile.
"You okay?" she had picked an interesting time to get all chatty.
"Yeah, sorry."
"It's alright just give me a minute." I shined the thin beam into the empty closet and on top of the shelves before pushing the heavy carpet back inside and sliding the door closed. "I want to check the bathroom and then we can get out of here."
The only personal object readily apparent in the bathroom was a yellow toothbrush whose bristles looked as if someone had shoved it in their back pocket and sat on it a few times. The toothbrush was a small clue, but one I didn't take lightly. Michael had either left of his own free will or someone had taken him by force. I was leaning towards the latter. Even if he were careless enough to leave an expensive AC running, he wouldn't forget his toothbrush if he were conscientious enough to bring it in the first place.
The next thing I noticed was that the shower curtain in the bathroom was closed and on the outside of the tub.Most people who take showers leave the curtains inside the tub and people who take baths leave them out and usually open. Either way, I didn't like the idea of that shower curtain being closed. In retrospect, I suppose I knew what I would find before I pushed that curtain back but it was still a shock when I saw him.
"Oh God." I said softly.
The two footsteps that Riley took were enough to break me from my trance. "Riley goddamn it stay back." I snapped. I would have to apologize for yelling at her later, but right then I had deeper worries. Like the fact that the man I was assuming was Michael Albert Stratford had not moved since I opened the curtain and a thick nauseating stench that had been slowed by the freezing cold house and the plastic shower curtain was now wafting freely up to my nose.
"Foster, what's going on. Please?" Worry made her voice thick and the "please" was almost a sob.
"Baby he's dead. Just don't come in here, okay?" I softened my tone even as I forced myself to bend closer to the body.
"Okay." I heard her answer.
"Shit, shit, shit!" I whispered as I shined the light over the body and back up again. He was dressed in blue jeans and a white t-shirt, his hair closely clipped. Dried blood trailed from his mouth and the small bullet hole on his forehead was so neat it looked as though it had been painted on. Small caliber, I thought, maybe a .22. I stared at the spatter pattern for a minute; I had never seen anything like it. The front of his shirt looked like someone had blown red paint on it through a straw.
"You okay, Foster?" Riley asked causing me to jump.
"Uh yeah, I think so," I said, unwilling to let her know how shaken I was. "He's been shot in the head baby. It doesn't look so good that's why I want you to stay back."
"How long you think he's been in there?" Riley's voice was tight with concern.
"Hard to say with the AC being cranked up like that, but not too long. I think we may need to talk to Alicia again because it looks like this may have been some kind of revenge thing."
"Why?"
I grabbed the toothbrush from the sink and used it to pry open his lips, no easy task because he was still in full rigor.Whoever killed him had hit him so hard that several of his teeth had been knocked out, giving me a clear view of what I already suspected. I shined the penlight into his mouth and muttered "son of a bitch".
"His tongue is missing," Riley said from somewhere right behind me. I released Michel's lip and stood up quickly I thought about chastising her for walking up behind me but I figured she was already shaken up enough.
"Yeah," I said as I gently pushed her back into the bedroom. "Whoever did this was very angry at him for something."
"Where is it?" Riley's voice was calm so calm in fact that it bothered me.
"Where's what?" I asked, frowning as I got a better look at Riley's ashen complexion.
"His tongue." She said carefully as if she where afraid I wouldn't understand her.
"A better question is probably where's all the bl?"
I watched Riley sway slightly as she waited for me to answer. I was shivering but Riley wasn't. Not unusual considering her body temperature was naturally warm, but she looked like she was in the early stages of shock and I hadn't even noticed.
"Ah shit. Sweetie?" I quickly hustled her out of the room.
" I'm okay." She mumbled but even then I could see she was having trouble keeping her speech clear. I got her to the couch in the living room and settled her down.
I quickly turned off the air conditioning unit."Do you want to go wait in the car, Riley?" I asked as I knelt in front of her.
She shook her head. "No, I want to stay with you."
I looked around the room. It was too cold and the heat from the car might keep her from going into further shock. But if the person who had done that to Michael came back, I didn't want her out there alone. I quickly grabbed an afghan from the floor and wrapped it tightly around her. She protested, but I gripped the edge of the blanket and pulled her close. "Riley, listen to me. I'm afraid you might be going into shock. Just wait here for two minutes, okay? Then I'll get you out of here." I pulled one of the 9 mm's out of the holster, and laid it on the couch next to her.She started to shake her head, which was a good sign. If she was coherent enough to argue with me she would probably be ok.
"Shhhh, it's just in case. Okay, sweetheart? You'd see someone coming through either of the doors before I would. You don't have to touch it?just leave it there."
Riley shivered and I wondered if I should just forget searching the place and instead take her home and hold her.
"Go on, I'll be fine," she said, as if she could hear my thoughts.
"You sure?"
"Positive."
"I'll be right in the other room. If you see anything?"
"I'll yell."
I noted with approval that some of the color was coming back to her skin and lips and she had started to shiver a little. "You scared me," I said softly and leaned in and kissed her lips. They parted slightly and I pressed harder before stepping back.
"You sure you're going to be okay?" I asked her again to reassure myself and she nodded and smiled at me.I walked back into the bathroom determined to make it quick and get Riley home safely.
I decided to leave Michael's body for last. I did my best to ignore the corpse behind me as I went through the cabinets and drawers looking for something I would know was important when I saw it. I found the answer to Riley's question almost instantly.
"Nice." My mouth twisted in disgust as I stared down into the toilet. The bloody mass floating there begged me to flush it. I shook my head and lowered the lid with the penlight. I was being very careful not to touch anything that could leave a print, using the penlight to open and shut drawers and rifle through cabinets. I had checked the toilet only because the lid was down. I had no real expectation of finding anything.
The tongue made me sick for two reasons. One, the sheer cruelty of the act and the amount of blood present in the toilet told me that Michael was probably alive when his tongue was removed. The neat little hole in his head was no doubt the thing that finally killed him. And two, it confirmed what I already knew. Michael had been silenced because he knew something he shouldn't have. His tongue being removed was a warning to someone that they should keep their mouth shut?was it for me?
After I was satisfied that I missed nothing in the bathroom, I quickly moved into the bedroom. The only thing keeping me moving was the fact that I knew I needed to get Riley out of there soon or she could go into shock.
I found the answer to my earlier half formed question when I pulled back the covers of the queen size bed. It looked like someone had dropped a side of raw beef into the bed and left it to bleed all over the otherwise clean sheets. I grimaced and tossed the blankets back over the mess. This was obviously where they had removed Michael's tongue. I wondered if he had told them what they wanted to know before they had cut it out.
I sank to my knees and checked under the bed. There had been no car out front when Riley and I had come up and now I couldn't find a bag or anything else belonging to Michael. If he had come here to hide he would have brought a bag of clothes or something and aside from the toothbrush, there was nothing. So unless I was to believe that Michael had come here on foot with nothing but his toothbrush and had somehow gotten into the house without a key, it stood to reason that whoever killed him had taken all of his belongings in a effort to make sure that there were no clues left behind. Whoever was responsible for this was good?almost too good. I was certain when the police finally did show up there would be no helpful fingerprints or forensic evidence to lead them to the killer.
I had walked around his body long enough. I would need to check him and I wasn't going to be able to do that with just the use of a penlight. I grimaced as I was forced to first reach into his t-shirt pocket and then the two front pockets of his jeans. I pushed the body over as far as I could and felt the back pockets. I tried to think of anything other than the fact that I was now literally groping the rigor hardened ass cheek of a man I didn't know, looking for clues that I was sure had long since been removed.
I repeated the process on the other side and with a grateful sigh let the body settle back into the tub.I went into the kitchen and grabbed a dishtowel that was neatly draped over the handle of the oven. I wiped down the places I knew Riley had been and hoped like hell I wasn't covering for the asshole that had murdered Michael. I peeked out into the living room and noted, with some concern, that Riley had leaned back on the couch and appeared to be sound asleep.
"Shit." As I walked towards Riley I saw, out of the corner of my eye, three videocassette cases that had either fallen or been thrown behind the TV cart. I'm not sure what caused me to look at their spines, but the minute I saw the name of the video store, my pulse started to race.
"Reel Family Videos? What the fuck??" Surely that store isn't a chain? I thought. Almost as soon as I asked myself the question, I knew the answer. It made perfect sense that the video store would somehow be related to all of this. Was someone trying to get revenge for Canniff's death? Was I actually the cause of all this?the real target? And what of Stein and the others on the list? I hadn't known any of them before, I was sure of it. The only connection was that Smitty had arrested Stein a few years before I became his partner. And Michel had known something about a kidnapping case that Smitty and I had been working. Now Michael was dead, Stein had disappeared and Smitty had committed suicide. What was the connection? All of these thoughts thundered through my mind in seconds and ended with the fact that I had to get Riley and I out of there. I had to think, had to regain my composer otherwise I could be putting us both in even more danger.
"Riley sweetheart?" Riley blinked at me as if I had just roused her from a deep sleep. Riley wasn't the type of person that would be able to go to sleep with a dead body in the next room regardless of how little sleep she got the night before. She was definitely going into shock.
"Sweetie, can you stand up for me?" She nodded and stood up and I wrapped my arms around her waist. "We're going to get you home."
Holding her tightly around the waist, I used the towel to wipe off the doorknob just in case we had inadvertently left any prints, and shut the door behind me. Alarming questions clamored around in my head.What had Marcus stumbled onto and was it somehow the cause of Smitty's suicide? Did the person who killed Marcus also kill Michael? And what about the still missing Stein? Was he somehow responsible for this or was he also dead somewhere? I hadn't bothered to turn the AC back on, figuring the smell would alert the neighbors to the body in the house. I didn't want to risk an anonymous phone call, I just wanted out of there. I closed the gate behind us and half carried half dragged Riley to the car. I buckled the seatbelt around her body and quickly got in on the driver's side. I would like to say that I left Barstow at a decent speed, but it would be a lie. I drove like I was in a race with death himself, and in truth, perhaps I was.
* * *
I sat at the small kitchen table and stared blindly at three pieces of paper. On them I had drawn several boxes linked by common elements. I was now certain that Marcus' death had to be linked to the fact that I killed Harrison Canniff in that video store. But what I couldn't figure out was how. What was the common denominator that linked the two? What had Marcus found that I was obviously missing and what, if anything, had Smitty known about it? I turned to look at Riley for the fourth time that night noting the even rise and fall of her chest and that the color had returned to her face. She had barely been able to stay awake for more than a few minutes after we got back and I had to practically force her to eat some warm soup before I let her lay down. I looked up at the clock and saw that I had been sitting there for hours. It was now morning and I was still no closer to finding the answers.
I closed my eyes and lay my head down on the table to rest them for a moment. I was roused by the buzzing of Riley's cell phone and answered it, quickly looking over at her to make sure that she didn't wake up.
"Hello?"
"Officer Everett?"
"Detective?who is this?"
"This Popeye."
"Oh hey, Popeye. What's up?"
"Look, I may have some info for you."
I put my hand up to my head wondering if I should tell him about Michael so that he could break the news to Alicia about Fee Fee's daddy.
"Okay, what is it?"
"Uh look, I'm the only one here until ten and a customer just walked in. Can you come over to the mall? It won't take a minute but I can't stay on the phone much longer."
I looked over at Riley and sighed. "Yeah, yeah I'll be there as soon as I can. Thanks."
I walked over to the bed and squatted down next to Riley. I felt like I was on autopilot, like nothing I did could stop me from walking right in to some kind of impending doom.
"Riley?"
She opened her eyes and I couldn't help but smile when she did. "How are you, baby?"
"I'm fine. That was just?"
I nodded. "I know. I'm sorry you had to see that. Popeye just called. He wants me to meet him over at the mall. He has some info that he didn't want to tell me over the phone." Riley started to sit up and I gently pushed her down. " Sweetie, no. I'm just going to talk to Popeye. You need to rest. I'll be fine. I want you feeling better by the time I get back. Okay?"
Riley nodded, her eyelids already dropping. I pushed her hair back from her forehead and, after grabbing the keys to the Blazer and the cell phone, I left the theater.
~Chapter 29~
I had to wait a few minutes before Popeye was able to see me. As early as it was, there were about four other people in the store waiting to get shoes when I walked in. Popeye kept holding up his finger and saying things like, " I'll be right with you, ma'am", as he ran to the back to get yet another pair of shoes while holding on to his pants to keep them from falling off. Finally, he sat in the chair next to me and stuck his feet out in front of him. I stared at the ugly ass basketball shoes he was wearing for a moment before I remembered why I was there.
"What's up, Popeye? You said you had something for me?"
"I think so, but it ain't about your friend."
"No, then what's it about?" I asked trying my hardest not to jump down his throat for pulling me away from Riley.
"Okay, but if you could, I want to make sure my name ain't brought up in this, you know. I don't want people thinking I'm no snitch or nothing."
"Popeye, would you get on with it? Riley isn't feeling well and I'm worried about her."
"Yeah, yeah. Check this out. I got this here girlfriend that lives over near Englewood. She said that her cousin Goody was bragging about how him and his friend got out of some jail time by doing a favor for a couple cops."
I frowned. "What kind of favor?"
"Supposedly these two cops wanted them to beat the shit out of some red-haired Charlie's Angel. They said they left her on the ground in some alley. They got some cash and they got to keep their stash too." Popeye looked at me for a minute. "That was you, right? You don't look like they beat you too bad. You still livin'."
"No thanks to them. You get names?" I asked tight-lipped even though I knew without a shadow of a doubt who had put them up to it.
"Nah, but they said one of them was a Miami vice looking motherfucker and the other had like this real bad sunburn."
Suspicions confirmed, I felt the overwhelming need to hit something. I stood up. "Thanks, Popeye," I said through clenched teeth.
"Welcome. Officer Everett, don't do nothing crazy. It ain't worth it, you know?"
I looked back at him and for a minute the anger abated. "Yeah, I know," I said and started to turn away. "Hey Popeye, what made you tell me that stuff?"
Popeye's eyebrow went up and he shrugged. "I don't know. My momma liked you, Officer Everett. Even when you was dragging my ass downtown she was sayin' that I shouldn't give you no trouble. She said you was a good person, just doin' your job. And I could trust that you wouldn't do me wrong or nothin'." Popeye grinned and went back behind the counter. "She was always right, you know?"
"Yeah, I know." I walked away from Popeye remembering the last time I had hauled his ass off to jail. Tears had been in his mother's eyes when she grabbed my arm and said, almost pleadingly, that her son was really a good person just caught up in a bad situation. It made me feel sad that she'd had to die to get Popeye on the right road. But maybe she'd been right about both Popeye and me. Maybe he would turn out okay. Maybe we both would.
* * *
It was evident to me that Wilson and McClowski held the key to what was going on. One way or another, they were responsible for the things that had been happening. Now all I had to do was figure out how.
I felt like I owed it to Pete to let him know that he could be in danger. So as much as I wanted to get back to Riley, instead I headed back to the covered parking lot and went in search of Pete. I found him much as I had the day before, except he now had three empty wine bottles lying on their sides next to where he lay. I hoped he had gotten something to eat too.
"Hey, Pete." I kicked at his foot and he woke instantly.
"What? What? Can't a man get some sleep without you women wanting to see it at all hours?" I kicked Pete's foot again and whipped out the fake badge.
"Pete, don't you dare," I said holding my fake badge out in front of me as if it would shield me from seeing what he was two seconds from pulling out of his pants.
"Oh, it's you. Uh, thank you for the tip," he said and picked up one of the empty bottles and turned it up to his lips before dropping it in disappointment.
"Look Pete, do you have anywhere else you can go? I mean to hide." I looked around the garage then back at Pete. "I'm not sure you're safe here anymore."
Pete looked around too. He opened his mouth and closed it again. "Why not?"
"Because there are two cops out there looking for you and I think they're bad news. You got somewhere to go just until everything blows over?"
Pete shrugged. "Yeah, I guess I got someplace. What do they want me for anyway? I haven't done anything," he whined as he tried to get to his feet. I reached out to help and then thought better of it.
"I know you didn't, Pete, but I think they think you might know more about those videos."
"But I told them everything I know. That guy hired me to move those boxes. I took four of them, but you guys took them back." Pete began to sniff and I rolled my eyes. All I needed was an emotional drunk to make my day complete.
"I know, Pete. I know you told us everything you remembered?."
I trailed off and Pete began nodding his head. Pete hadn't remembered much when Smitty and I had talked to him the first time but?
I reached into my back pocket, pulled a picture out and handed it over to Pete. "Hey Pete, this guy look familiar to you?"
Pete studied it for a moment, his face completely blank and his lower lip slack. As I reached out to take the picture back, his mouth closed suddenly and he moved the picture until it was almost on his nose.
"Heeeey, that's him?that's the guy that paid me to move the boxes."
"You sure, Pete?"
I stared at Pete's face as he nodded his head vigorously. "Positive."
"You told me that the owner of the store paid you to move the boxes."
"Yeah, he did."
I pointed to the picture. "But, he's not the owner."
" He's not? He was driving a big white van that had the name of the store printed on the side."
"A big white van, huh?"
A slow smile spread across my face as I imagined I heard a small click, like two pieces of a gigantic puzzle sliding together.
* * *
The antique knocker slammed against the door with a satisfying thwack. I was taking great pleasure in the fact that Caroline Stein was probably in the house having a conniption fit. A quick detour to see Mr. Dooley had already confirmed my suspicions. Michael Albert Stratford was indeed the driver of the late night delivery truck but I was still no closer to figuring out who killed him or why. It was on the fifth release of the doorknocker that I heard the deadbolt turn as Terry the pool boy/ physical trainer cautiously opened the door.
"Hi, may I help you?"
Oh and he's polite too. Good. "I sure hope so." I stuck my foot inside the entryway and hoped like hell he didn't slam the door on it. "I need to speak with Mrs. Stein again. There are a few more questions I was hoping she could answer for me."
"Um, she isn't here?"
"She isn't? Well perhaps you and I could?"
"Uh no, I was just about to leave."
"I see. Well that's too bad. Question? Does she often leave you in her house alone while she's out?" The panicked look on his face made me go in for the kill. "Or do you live here? I had assumed that you only came to work Mrs. Stein out."
"Uh yeah, I stay here now. Caroline, Mrs. Stein, was afraid to be here alone after her husband's disappearance."
"Interesting. I had no idea. As I was saying, I really would like to talk to you, it should only take a few minutes." Terry must have gotten a backbone because he narrowed his eyes and asked almost triumphantly, "Do you have a warrant?"
Now I had two options. I could either wallop old Terry over the head with my 9 or I could sweet-talk my way into the house. I was already reaching for the gun when a voice from inside the house saved his ass. "Let her in."
Caroline Stein walked up behind Terry, looked at me for a brief moment, then turned away dismissively. "Let her in I said." This time Terry jerked as if she had hit him and quickly moved aside. I walked into the house. Everything looked pretty much as I had remembered it. Carolyn Stein was standing in the living room with her arm on the fireplace mantel and wearing black nylon sweat pants with a stripe up the side and an extremely tight T-shirt.
"Caroline, I don't think?" Terry started to speak as soon as he had shut the door behind me.
"You don't think what, Terry? You don't think I should have allowed Officer?I'm sorry, what was your name again?" Caroline shook her head back and forth in a superb imitation of me. I panicked because for half a second I couldn't remember the fake name I had given her before.
"Jones." I said with a smile that to my surprise was returned.
"Ahhh that's right. Officer Jones, what can I do for you?"
"Well, I have a few more questions about your husband."
"I see and what exactly would those questions be?" Normally, I would have launched right into it but Caroline Stein was looking a bit too amused by my presence. I was expecting cynicism even outright anger but not this amused self-assurance that seemed to pour from the woman like water from a pitcher.
I carefully watched her as I asked my first question. "You said before that your husband had many business interests. We received information that one of those interests might be a video store. Reel Family Video to be exact."
"And so what if it is?"
"His name isn't on the ownership papers." I was bluffing. I didn't know if it was or not.
"So, perhaps he was a silent partner. Many of my husband's parishioners don't believe in attending movies or even renting them. They feel that it is giving money to the devil so to speak."
"But even as a silent partner his name would be on the paperwork. If he was making money on this store or hell even losing money, it stands to reason that the IRS would have to know about it." Caroline Stein smiled again and this time I really felt nervous.
"I'm afraid you're going to have to ask him about that. Oh, but for that I suppose you would have to find him first."
"That's exactly what I'm trying to do, ma'am."
"Are you now? Well, that's odd because it seems to me that about the only thing you have been doing is wasting my time, Officer Jones."
This woman was really starting to get on my nerves and it was time to play a bit of hardball. "Your neighbors claim that on several different occasions a white van from Reel Family Video came to your home during the night, loaded some boxes and left. Now are you trying to tell me that you know nothing about what it was carrying?" The condescending smile froze on Caroline's lips. Terry's doleful blue eyes begged me to stop pushing her buttons.
"Why don't you answer a question for me, Officer Jones," she said through the tight lips that I will forever associate with her name.
"Detective," I corrected from long-standing habit and then could have kicked myself.The triumph on her face was enough to tell me that the jig was up.
"I made some phone calls, one of which was to the two detectives that you seemed so interested in the last time you were here. They informed me that there was no Officer Jones working my husband's case. So I figure you're either out of your jurisdiction or you're impersonating a cop, which is it?
"Did you tell them I was here?"
"Why should I?"
"If I had someone at my front door that I thought was impersonating a cop, I would call the real thing in a heart beat."
"Well, maybe I'll do just that if you ever come around here again. Terry, Officer Jones was just leaving."
I relaxed instantly. She was hiding something and for once that was a good thing. "Why didn't you do it already? I was out there banging on that door for at least two minutes. I saw the curtains twitch when I walked up. You knew it was me. Why didn't you call the cops right then?" Terry reached out a hand as if to grab my arm to escort me to the door.
"Tell me, Terry, you were the personal trainer yesterday and before that the pool boy. Now you're the butler?" He stared at me then opened his mouth as if to say something.We both turned to Caroline, who wisely chose to ignore the question. "I didn't call the police because I was curious."
"Curious about what?"
"Curious about what you wanted."
" If I was curious I would ask a lot more questions than you have."
Terry took another step forward and Caroline held out her hand as if signaling to a dog. Terry folded his arms in front of him like a small child glaring at a sibling across the dinner table.
"All right fine, I want to know who you are and why you're looking to speak to my husband."
"Who I am isn't important. I'm trying to investigate the murder of a close friend. I think your husband may have information that's useful."
Caroline relaxed. "Is that what this is about? You think my husband had something to do with your friend's death?" It didn't escape my notice that she had changed the context of what I said. Having information about a murder and having something to do with a murder are two different things. She pondered that and then nodded her head as if deciding she would believe me. "You know up until recently I would have laughed in your face."
"What changed that?"
"That would be between my husband and I."
"Look I don't really care what goes on between you and your husband. I really just want some information and then I'll get out of your hair. Someone killed my friend. Your husband's name was on a list found among his private things. I just want to know why."
"I'm afraid I can't help you."
"Can't or won't?"
"Can't. I don't involve myself in my husband's other ventures. I'm too busy dealing with the needs of our congregation."
"I thought you said that the church was destroyed after the abuse allegations and the raid."
"As long as one person wants ministering there will always be a church."
I didn't miss the ring of piousness in her words nor could I keep myself from looking dubiously at her designer clothing and her hair. "You said you help with the church? What does that entail?"
"I'm his wife." She looked at me as if that should explain everything. I looked back at her schooling my features into what I hoped was a look of interest.
"I take it you're not a religious woman?" I could tell by the look on her face that she was adding my name to the list of people that would be "left behind".
"It's been a long time since I've been to church. I was raised Catholic." Caroline looked me up and down as if she could tell by my outfit that I hadn't seen the inside of a confessional in years.
"I was born and raised in the church. Southern Baptist." A small accent snuck in when she said Southern and I had to stifle a snicker that threatened to escape. "My parents were always poor and when my mother got sick it just got worse."
Why is she telling me this?
"But you know what? The preacher's wife always made sure that we had something to eat, that our clothes were cleaned and mended. She organized shifts of the other wives so that me and my older sister could go to school and not have to worry about my momma."
"What does that have to do with your duties in the church?"
Caroline smiled, "I decided that was what I wanted to be when I grew up.A preacher's wife. The preacher of our church had two boys. Every young girl in that church wanted to be chosen to wed one of them. But I knew with my buckteeth and my hand-me-down clothes they wouldn't show me any interest. And you know what, I was right. They both ended up marrying two little rich girls with pretty clothes and pretty white teeth. It didn't make any difference that I knew my bible back and forth and never missed a day at church. The only thing that mattered was that I wasn't pretty enough or a part of the right social groups."
"So when did you meet Stein?"
"My daddy always drank too much but things started getting worse once momma got better. He even stopped going to church," she said as if not going to church was the true sign of being possessed by the devil. "One day he just never came home. Momma moved all us kids to Mississippi to stay with relatives. They were already members of a church so naturally we joined too. Nathan was the preacher and it was love at first sight. He was so charismatic, so intent on saving us all that he would sometimes give himself migraines and have to be carried off." Caroline stopped, a small frown appearing on her face as if she was considering something for the first time. She shook her head. "Anyway, I was surprised when he asked my momma if he could marry me. And when he told me he was coming out West to start his own church I was delighted. I was going to be what those pretty little girls had a chance to be. I was going to be serving the Lord at my husband's side."
"But things changed when you got to California, right? Your husband was accused of assault on a minor?" Caroline laughed and looked at Terry. Terry smiled tentatively and I started to feel sorry for him and very worried about her.
"Of course it didn't change. My husband was a religious man. The leader of our church," not one iota of mirth reached her eyes as she laughed derisively. "He would never do something as distasteful as beat or molest a child. At least that's what I thought back then. You know I really do believe that I hated that girl for going to the police. I know she didn't pull the trigger, but I really did believe that it was a ploy for attention or a prank that went horribly wrong." Caroline picked up the picture from the mantel. "My son was killed in a raid on the barn where we had most of our services. We weren't even having service then," she said softly. "Only the childcare center was open. I never blamed Nathan, never believed he was responsible. I blamed that girl. I blamed her and the police for my son's death. I never once blamed Nathan," she said softly to nobody in particular.
"I hate to tell you this, but she probably wasn't to blame either. I think she was telling the truth."
"I know. Terry found the videos," she said, the smile on her lips died a slow death and I felt my stomach churn. Something was going on here that I couldn't put my finger on. The woman who always looked so calm and collected seemed to be coming apart at the seams.
I looked at Terry. "You found videos? Where?"
Terry looked at Caroline and she nodded as if giving him permission to tell his story."I do odd jobs to make extra money for school. I lost my father when I was three and my mother when I was eighteen. I was trying to get the net to clean out the pool. Reverend Stein wasn't home and well, Caroline told me to break the lock. Inside, there were all these videos and recording equipment. It was like someone had a little mini recording studio inside."
"And you never noticed this stuff in there before?"
"It wasn't there the one time I had been inside and only Reverend Stein had a key to the pool house. Whenever I came to clean the pool everything was already sitting at the door."
"Did you happen to see a tape that might have been smaller than the rest?"
"Smaller? No, I don't think so. But I didn't go through all of them and most of it was already boxed up."
"So did you watch these tapes?"
Terry nodded and swallowed.
"What was on them?"
"You know what was on them." Caroline Stein's voice dripped venom and disgust. "That girl was telling the truth. And if it wasn't the truth it was a lie based on truth. Because of him, because of my husband, the police raided our land. They raided our land, shots were fired and my child was killed. Do you understand me? He was responsible for killing my child and he lay down with me every night.He lay down with me and he never said a goddamn word." The last two words cut through the air like shards of glass.
"Shhh, Caroline." I watched as Terry tried to console Caroline. This was real, not a show put on for my benefit. The composed woman I had talked to before was gone and in her place was a mother, distraught over the senseless death of her child.
"When I found out what he was doing, what he was storing in our home, on our property, I told him to get it out of here or I would go to the police myself. That's why that van was here, they were moving every remnant of that garbage from my home."
"Where is your husband now, Caroline?"
"In hell where he belongs."
"Shhh shh." Terry shushed Caroline and settled her on the couch, her face contorting into a mask of anger and hurt for the loss of her child.
I took a step back as Terry finally turned, the glare on his face doing nothing to dissuade me from my questioning.
"I think you should leave now," he said.
"I'm not done?"
"You're not a cop and even if you were, she wouldn't talk to you without a lawyer." He put his hand on my shoulder and I thought about causing a scene but one look at Caroline's vacant face was enough to tell me that I wasn't going to get anywhere else with her. So I allowed Terry to escort me to the door.
"Answer one more question for me. All of that happened years ago and it's between Caroline and her husband. Why are you involved?If it were me, I wouldn't want any part of it."
"I've always been a part of it. I lost my mother in that raid."
I looked him hard in the eye. "Do you know where Nathan Stein is, Terry?"
"Yes," he said with out hesitation.
"Where is he?"
"He's in hell just like Caroline said." I stood there blinking as the door was shut softly after his words.
* * *
I couldn't wait to see Riley, to fill her in on what I had found. I drove into the lot of the theater, glass protesting under the tires of the Blazer as I parked next to Riley's Land Cruiser. I walked up to the door and tugged, unsuccessfully, at the unmoving handle.
"Shit," I grumbled as the sun tried to burn through the hair on top of my head. I stood back and looked around the building. I could hammer all I wanted, there was no way that Riley would hear me even if she were awake.I could have kicked myself in the ass for not taking Riley's keys.
"Use the lock picks stupid," I said out loud after staring at the door angrily for a few seconds. I pulled them out, dropped to my knee and went to work. It took me a bit, but finally I got into the theater. It was much cooler inside and I pulled my t-shirt away from my chest and grimaced. I needed a shower. I took the narrow stairs two at a time suddenly unable to wait a minute longer to tell Riley my news.
I pushed through the apartment door, already pulling my damp t-shirt over my head as I walked in. "Hey baby, it's just me. How are you feeling? You're not going to believe this, but I think Caro?" Chills swept across the fine sheen of sweat on my back and stomach leaving goose flesh in its wake. I stared at the rumpled bed and overturned chair. I stood frozen, my T-shirt imprisoning my wrist, my breath echoing in the emptiness.
Somewhere in the background a faucet dripped.
"Baby?" I called out, though I knew she wouldn't answer. Riley would never leave a chair turned over; it wasn't in her nature to be untidy. She also, would never leave a faucet dripping of her own accord. I walked in slowly, dropping the shirt back down over my head. My eyes would not allow me to turn away from the bed.
"Riley?" I called out again my voice hoarse and emotionless.
"Riley? Sweetheart, please. If you're here, please answer me," I yelled as I ran to the room that used to hold Riley's weights. It was completely empty. Even though I knew she had taken her weights with us to the cabin, the bareness of the room almost doubled me over. I ran through the rest of the theater calling her name and losing hope with each step.
Maybe she's out front. Maybe she got tired of being inside and she went for a walk. I burst through the door sending it crashing back against the wall. I scanned the parking lot and what I could see of the street beyond. My heart started a low deep thumping.She's not gone. She's not gone. How could anyone find her here?
I approached Riley's car, the window was still down from the last time we were in it. She's just lying down on the seat I told myself irrationally. As I reached the car my hands curled around the partially raised window for support.
The water bottle that she had been drinking from still lay on the seat. The door was unlocked. I looked around the parking lot frantically. The only movement I saw was the glint from the broken glass that littered the asphalt. Maybe she needed some air. Maybe she needed to walk or she saw something. I backed away from the Cruiser and started to run. I opened my mouth to call out her name, but there was nothing.
I ran to the end of the parking lot and looked first one way and then the other. My first thought was to bang on doors. But there were no doors to pound on, no neighbors to question, no one who could help me find her. Riley had said that her place was quiet and she was right. There was nothing, just the theater for a half-mile in any direction. Someone could have taken her in broad daylight and no one would have seen a fucking thing.
I stopped in the middle of the lot and stared hard at Riley's Cruiser. If I stared long enough maybe I would see something. Some clue, something, because I couldn't seem to think straight.
"Riley?" I yelled turning in a slow circle. "Riley?" Nothing moved. Not a single bird chirped, no breeze to soothe my frazzled nerves.
I walked back to her Cruiser with the sun beating down on my head and my heart contorting painfully in my chest. I squatted down next to the passenger side door unable to keep myself upright. The burning heat of its metal seared through my t-shirt and clawed at my back. I put my hands over my head and shivered violently in the ninety-nine degree heat. Suddenly I was seven years old crouching in the corner of the bathroom, my hands over my head as my father tried to tell me through the door that it wasn't my fault my mother left.
I did that to you too, didn't I baby?Every time things got tough or I got scared I hid in the bathroom. It's been over twenty years and I'm still hiding in the bathroom, making promises to God that if I could just have her back I would be a good girl.
I started to rock as more chills passed through my body and the sun ripped mercilessly at my scalp.
You ever wonder if, before you die, you get an early warning sign?
(c) 2002 Gabrielle Goldsby