Make, Take, Murder (21 page)

Well, good. She was
alive.

“Hold on, help is coming,” I said, patting her shoulder with my free hand. I would have stroked her hair, but there was so much blood I couldn’t be sure I wasn’t touching split skin. “I called nine-one-one when we came in.”

Hadcho talked on his cell phone, with a voice both even and authoritative. I heard something about units en route, and a bus was coming, and something about the front door being unlocked. He also explained they’d be transporting one of us to the emergency room, and he wanted a domestic violence team to meet Bama there.

He said all this as he rested one foot on the back of the attacker. Hadcho now had the attacker on the floor, face down, and the detective was using the sole of one elegant loafer to keep the man prone.

“I’ll be out of jail tomorrow,” the man on the floor lifted his head and screamed. “I’ll find Althea and finish the job! She can’t hide from me! That witch took our kids! She stole my boys from me! And my girl! I’ll kill her, I tell you. I’ll kill her.”

Hadcho squatted low, put one hand between the man’s shoulder blades and talked in his ear, “Forget about it, buddy. You are down for the count. You aren’t going anywhere. Your social calendar is completely full. Except maybe for a trip or two to solitary confinement and back. I’m going to have you locked up like the sick animal you are. You assaulted a cop, you realize that? You’re on the ropes, pal. Beyond the violence you did to that poor woman, you choked Mrs. Lowenstein. You pulled a gun on me. That’s not cricket. You’re doing major time, pal, major time. See, I know a judge who just hates wife abusers, because she used to be married to one herself. She’ll see to it you never see the light of day. Never as in not ever. Look around, pal, because this is the last time for a long time that you’re on the outside.”

_____

“I’ve got a jacket in my locker. I’ll get it for you.” Hadcho helped me remove my once-gorgeous poncho and hand it over for the clerk to book into evidence.

I shivered as I stared at my wrap. Bama’s blood had dried on the fabric and turned the once soft knit stiff and smelly. I signed the personal property form, musing how weird this was. A few hours ago, the poncho brought me a measure of happiness. Now, I never wanted to see it again. Things are things, and the joy they bring is incredibly fleeting. What adds to our happiness is the imprint of lovely memories. What blots out our happiness is the lasting stain of tragedy.

“Will she be okay?” I flicked away tears with the back of my sleeve. Bama’s ex-husband, Jerald McCallister, had already been processed.

Hadcho’s hand was deep in his pockets, turning over his coins, playing his own loose-change version of Jingle Bells. I knew he’d been in contact with the ambulance drivers.

He shrugged. “Depends on what you mean by okay. She’ll live through this. I’m pretty sure. The EMTs had her stabilized. The docs are working on her. As for her face, well, who knows? If there’s a good plastic surgeon on call, he might be able to patch her up good as new. But, that’s no biggie. Not compared to what that creep planned for her. She’s got you to thank for being alive. That’s all that counts. You did a good job of tossing him to the floor.”

“But it’s my fault the guy found her!”

Hadcho shook his head, raised an eyebrow, and gave me a gruff, “Huh?”

I explained about the man approaching me in the parking lot a few days earlier. “Then, tonight, I told him the door was unlocked.”

“Do you know for sure that it was unlocked?”

“No-oo,” I admitted.

“Did you know he was her ex and that he wanted to beat her up?”

“No.”

“Did you know she was running from him?”

I shook my head.

He gave a disgusted little “harrumph.”

“Look here. First thing I learned as a young cop, perps do what they do because they are bad. They’re always looking for an angle, see? A way to cheat? Always. They are predators. They lie in wait while the rest of the world plays by the rules. You can’t be blamed because you don’t think like Mr. McCallister. Normal people don’t. Heck, sometimes we cops don’t, either. Remember, I was standing right next to you tonight when this creep asked about her. If I hadn’t been so nervous about taking you on a date, maybe I’d have realized there was something hinky going on.”

He was nervous? About taking me out?

I rubbed my eyes hard. This was too much for me to absorb. I slumped against the hallway of the jail processing area while he grabbed the jacket for me. He helped me slide my arms into it. “How about we go get that drink? I think we both need it.”

The detective and I chatted more on the drive to the casino than on our initial journey. He was upset with himself that he’d given up his gun. “They drill us on this stuff all the time. Never let a bad guy get your weapon, even if he has an innocent in custody.”

I noticed his hands were shaking.

“But he had a knife to my throat.”

“Right. I made a judgment call. I figured I could get the gun back or use my backup piece, but I had to get that blade away from your skin. All I could think of was Detweiler.”

I absorbed this with a bit of shock. “Detweiler?”

“Yeah. He would have killed me if anything happened to you. As it is, he’s going to be really ticked.”

At Lumière we had one quick drink along with a couple of thick burgers. I asked for a Seven and Seven. I hadn’t had one in years. Hadcho downed two glasses of Jack Daniels, but he showed no signs of being inebriated.

When the waitress came for our food order, I wasn’t ready. I usually avoid meat. I wish it didn’t come from animals. (I know how silly that sounds, but it’s true.) I hate the look of flesh in a skillet. (After Bama’s beating, it might be a long, long time before I could see raw hamburger without getting queasy.) I’m not much of a carnivore in the best of times. No matter how I rationalize the act of eating another living creature, it still upsets me. But, at this particular moment I really craved the burger, and at certain times of the month, my body needs the iron.

Hadcho saw me dithering. “You need a decent meal. You look wiped out. Get some protein. Besides, you lost a little blood with that cut on your throat.”

I fingered the plastic bandage and gave in. When the food came, I was glad I had. I inhaled the rich aroma of the burger, the heft of it in my hands and relished every morsel. I also enjoyed the surroundings, especially the people watching, although I admit, I could have appreciated it more had not a blanket of exhaustion crept over me. Between the adrenaline fade and the alcohol fog, I was definitely winding down.

Hadcho called the hospital. Bama was in stable condition. They would be moving her into a regular room tomorrow. Relief swept through me. I’d worried through our meal, but hadn’t realized it until the tension fell away from my body.

On the way back to my car, which was still at Time in a Bottle’s parking lot, Hadcho turned absolutely chatty. He mused aloud about why any man would beat up on a woman. “Of course,” he sighed. “It’s no excuse but there are times when a spouse really pushes your button. There’s no misery like family misery, my dad used to say. Funny how a family member can get under your skin.”

I nodded. I thought of my mother and my sister. They both knew exactly how to hurt me, how to turn the tiniest pinprick into a stab wound. “I guess we’re the most vulnerable to the people we love. I always think about Star Trek and how they’d lower the shields on the
USS Enterprise
. Once they did, pow!—they could be attacked. Maybe that’s how it works with family. We lower our shields. Offer no resistance. They zoom in and …” I didn’t finish the sentence because I was lost to bad memories, nightmares I worked hard to suppress.

Hadcho was quiet for a minute. “I’ve been thinking about telling you something, something that’s probably none of my business. Certainly not in my best interest.”

This piqued my interest. I roused a bit from my stupor. “What?”

“It’s about Detweiler.”

I snapped to attention, but I tried not to show it. “Okay.”

“Not exactly about him, more like about Brenda. See, he was my first partner. Did you know that? I figured you didn’t. So he and I have been like this,” and he held up two crossed fingers. “I’ve known Brenda from the start of their relationship. They met when she was an ER nurse.”

I said nothing. I figured he was about to lecture me about staying out of their lives, about how I was making trouble in their marriage. To compensate for what I knew was coming, I stared resolutely out the side window. I didn’t want him to be able to see my face. I wanted to keep a bit of composure, if I could, and certainly I hoped to hang onto my pride.

What was left of it.

“I still can’t figure out why he married her. I think it was because they got thrown together the way people do in our line of work. When she started having trouble with drugs—”

“Drugs?” I was so tired that I had trouble following.

“Right. Brenda’s into drugs. Has been for quite a while. She turned herself in once, and the nursing union has this program where if you turn yourself in, they will help you get straightened out. No harm, no foul. But druggies usually take several tries at rehab to get it right.”

The night was so dark, the lights so sparse. A world of shadows, of hidden intent and obscured shapes, was right outside my window. How indistinct. How unknowable. Hadcho shed a light on one portion of this puzzle. One portion of my own corner of the world, a place formerly occluded from my vision. I thought I knew what motivated her. I thought I understand why Chad Detweiler had been so concerned about his wife abusing me.

Maybe Brenda Detweiler had been high when she shook me. I hadn’t exaggerated the situation. In fact, I’d minimalized it. She could have killed me or any other patient in the hospital. She hadn’t been in her right mind! She shouldn’t have been walking around, seemingly giving us care. Having access to more drugs! No wonder Detweiler had told me I shouldn’t have covered for her.

I hadn’t done anyone any favors.

Not myself. Not Brenda. And certainly not Detweiler.

Saturday, December 19
3rd Day of Hanukkah

Monroe and I definitely
were falling in love. The big-eyed donkey nickered appreciatively when he saw me coming. In turn, I always took the time to scratch him around his long ears. This morning, I’d visited him before the sun was up. He pressed his forehead into my hand and snorted. I took that for a “Glad to see you. How’s tricks?” I told him all about Bama and the horror of the night before. I lay awake most of the night rehashing the fight. The effect of the alcohol wore off quickly, leaving me despondent and headachy.

Hadcho had lingered at my doorstep. Not willing to encourage him, I hurried inside after mumbling a “thank you.” Only after his car roared away did I remember I was wearing the man’s coat.

Stupid, Kiki, I told myself. Here you were thinking he was angling for a kiss and all he wanted was his jacket.

I arrived at Time in a Bottle early. After I got the dogs settled, I cracked a can of Diet Dr Pepper and tackled the bloodstains in the backroom. I had to stop a couple of times and splash cold water on my face so I didn’t upchuck. I was there on the floor on my hands and knees when Horace walked in. He studied what was left of the stain, covered his eyes, pinched his nose, and said, “Cleaning up after Bama, right? I told Dodie she needed to tell you of her situation. We argued about it. My darling won, but now Dodie’s embarrassed to face you.”

“Tell me what?” I rocked back on my heels. With scrub brush in hand, the scene brought to mind that one from Snow White. All I needed to do was burst into that “ah-ha-ha-haaaaaa” aria, and I’d be mimicking one of the most disastrous heroines of all time. I mean, really, she’s the heir to a throne and instead of hiring a good lawyer, she scrubs and sings in the courtyard. Foolish, foolish girl. I have a hunch she encouraged a whole generation of women to act like victims.

Horace pulled up the stock stool and perched on it. “Dodie is part of a network called WAR, which stands for the Women’s Aboveground Railroad. These volunteers help abused women find new lives.”

“Bama was one of their, um, projects?”

“Oy, vey.” His tears were wet. “This monster has pursued her throughout five states. Threatening their children. Beating her and leaving her for dead.”

So I was right. RJ, Harley, and Virginia were Bama’s kids, not Katie’s.

“Dodie gave her a job and helped her settle here?”

“Yes. My darling did all this. I told her that you deserved to know. She felt it was risky.”

“She worried that I’d let it slip. That I’d blab about Bama.”

He turned his gaze away, and he twiddled his thumbs, rotating them rapidly one around the other.

I started to get angry. I could see where this was going. “Or worse. Dodie thought that because I didn’t like Bama, I’d be careless. That I’d tell others about her fix. Isn’t that it, Horace? Dodie didn’t trust me!”

He spread his fingers wide. “She took the situation very seriously. They all take a vow not to share details, because a leak could be fatal. These are women in flight, women whose lives are overshadowed by relentless pursuit. Families at risk. Endangered by the very men who are supposed to cherish and care for them!”

The implication was clear: I couldn’t be trusted to keep my mouth shut. Heat spread around my collar. I pulled at it with my fingers, parting my blouse where today’s collar rubbed against the abrasion from the night before.

“What happened to you?” Horace said. “Your neck, it is hurt?”

“What happened to me was Bama’s husband.”

Horace muttered in Yiddish. I didn’t understand most of it, but I caught
meshugana
and a few other words. “Tell me what happened last night. All we know is that Mr. McCallister attacked his wife again. That a detective happened upon the scene. You were here? Involved?”

As calmly as I could, I rewound and replayed the scenario. With each word, Horace’s shoulders drooped more heavily. Finally, he covered his eyes and shook his head. “A nightmare. A catastrophe. Kiki, I am so sorry that you were involved.”

“If I had known, I might have prevented it. I might have called the cops the first time he came by. Horace, if I hadn’t left behind my wallet, Bama would be dead today. This mess? You can’t tell it now, but there was a lot of blood. All over. And the situation could have been even worse. Her husband turned Detective Hadcho’s gun on him!

“Yes, my neck is hurt. He tried to slice my throat. I guess you two didn’t hear about that, did you? Well, that was what happened before Jerald McCallister tried to load us in his van and take us goodness knows where. Great plan Dodie had. You can tell her I said so. We could have all been killed. But trusting me was a problem? Let’s recap here: I can be trusted with your business, I can trust you with my money as a minor partner, but I’m not to be trusted about Bama’s past. Nice!”

He stood to apologize, his hands waving in the air, but I couldn’t take any more. “Please go,” I said. “I have to finish cleaning up this mess, and I’m responsible for the store today, of course. I appreciate that you are trying to be kind to me, Horace, but I’m pretty upset and I’d like some time alone.”

Two years ago when my husband died, I would have never had the courage to ask someone else to leave. I guess I’ve learned a bit about taking care of myself. I’ve learned that it’s my duty to say when I’ve had enough, when I can’t go on. It was smarter and better for me to ask Horace to leave than for me to struggle any longer.

I kept my head down and concentrated on the stained linoleum. When I stood up again, Horace was gone.