Steeled for Murder (25 page)

Greg relieved me for lunch. Grabbing my lunchbox, I went back to the table where we ate. Someone was sitting there already, back to me.

Kelly.

I hesitated but saw no good reason not to go sit down with her. I walked around to the other side of the table, put my lunchbox down, and slid onto the bench.

“Hi,” I said.

Kelly narrowed her eyes and stared at me. She said nothing.

“How was your Christmas?” I opened my lunch box.

Kelly glared at me and started shoveling the remains of her lunch into her lunchbox.

“Don’t you speak to me,” she hissed.

I wasn’t sure what I expected, but this wasn’t it. My mouth open, I stared at her.

“How do you think my Christmas was?” She swept her trash into the waste bin. “After what you did to us?”

I blinked a few times. This couldn’t be over the sandwiches I’d taken, could it? There’d been plenty of other food in the house. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” I said.

“Right.” She slammed the lid down on her lunchbox. “I guess I deserved whatever you did to me. I was really drunk and all. My fault. But I still didn’t expect it of you. Stupid me; I didn’t believe what everybody was saying about you.”

“What’s everybody saying?”

“That Mitch was right; that you’re some kind of pervert.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond to that. I said, “I covered you up is all. It was cold. And I took the wrapped stuff down and put it under the tree for the kids.”

“Yeah. And what did you do to me before you covered me up?”

I thought back. “Rolled you over so you wouldn’t choke if you threw up. And straightened you out so your feet weren’t hanging off the bed.”

“And took off most of my clothes.”

“That’s the way I found you. I didn’t take off any of your clothes.”

“Oh, no. I usually get half-undressed and leave my bra unhooked. Not to mention leaving my panties pulled partway down. Or were you trying to get them back up, so I wouldn’t realize what you’d been doing?”

I sat speechless. What could I say to convince her I hadn’t messed with her? I couldn’t think of anything.

“That was bad enough.” She reached back and tightened her ponytail. “But what you did to Brianna was unforgiveable.”

“Brianna? I just read her a story and took her up to bed.” Poor choice of words, I realized too late.

“She told me. And kissed her all over.” Tears were gathering in Kelly’s eyes.

“It wasn’t like that,” I protested. “I only kissed her where she told me to.”

“That’s right. Typical child molester. Not only can’t admit you did anything wrong, you try to make it out like it was her fault. What, for being a little girl? She’s six years old. You’re despicable.”

I sat in stunned disbelief.

“Don’t think I wasn’t tempted to call the cops.” Kelly got to her feet. “People like you should be locked up. Forever. But Fred’s looking for any excuse to have me declared an unfit parent. If it weren’t for that, I’d make sure you were locked up where you can’t hurt any more little girls. As it is, if I ever catch you even looking at a child, I’ll call your PO. I might anyhow. So stay away from me and my kids, and don’t let me hear about you hanging around any schools or anything.”

She grabbed her lunchbox. “If you get locked up again, you’d better hope you don’t end up back where my daddy’s doing his time. He’ll make sure you pay for what you did to his granddaughter.” She stomped off.

At the exit, she turned and cast one more hateful glance back at me. “I should say, when you get locked up again. Not if.”

I sat and stared at my tuna sandwiches. A few minutes ago, I’d been looking forward to them. Now they looked like so much cardboard filled with slime. Smelly slime.

I wasn’t too worried about getting beaten up in prison. I was confident I could hold my own if I ended up back there. Yeah, I might get knocked around some. Been there, done that. I’d probably survive it and give as good as I got. Make sure anybody would think twice about trying it again.

I thought I’d been prepared for facing the world with a murder conviction under my belt. A lot of people wouldn’t want to have anything to do with me. What did I expect most people would think about me when they knew? Wasn’t pretty.

But I had to admit I cared what some people thought about me. The Colemans. Hank. John. Maybe Mandy. Kelly. Especially Kelly.

Nothing had prepared me for the burning hole I had in my gut right now. Pervert. Child molester.

Couldn’t waste the sandwiches. I choked them down and went back to work.

The shift couldn’t end too soon. I concentrated on taking the wire pieces off the line, arranging them carefully in their rows and keeping the count correct. I felt my stomach knot up every time I heard the lift approach; I couldn’t even look up at Kelly.

Finally, the whistle blew. Was I imagining the disgusted looks and sneers? Had Kelly told everyone? I hung back until everyone else had punched out and only then slid my timecard into the clock and left, alone.

Hunched into my jacket, looking down at the sidewalk, I quickened my pace and headed toward home.

I heard footsteps crunching on the salt and ice behind me. I moved closer to the wall of the building I was passing so it would be at my back if I had to turn to confront someone.

“Jesse.” I didn’t recognize the voice. For sure not Montgomery. Too nasal for Belkins. “Please stop. I really need to talk to you.”

I edged against the wall and glanced behind me.

A skinny male was struggling to catch up with me. Aaron. The kid with acne who worked on the packing line.

Who hadn’t been working last night. At least on the packing line. In fact, I’d probably taken his place. What did he want?

I stopped and turned to face him. He half-ran the last few steps and raised a hand toward my head.

I clenched my fists and ducked away from him, keeping the wall close behind my back. If a fight came to Mr. Ramirez’s attention and I had gotten in the first blow, I could hardly claim self-defense. I waited to see what Aaron would do.

But he was just reaching out a hand to steady himself. He leaned an arm on the wall, gasping to catch his breath. He didn’t seem to notice how close I had come to belting him one.

“What do you want?” I asked.

Aaron shook his head and kept gulping for air. How could a young man like him who earned his money doing physical work be so out of shape? “I got to talk to you,” he managed to wheeze out.

“You said that.”

“Can we go someplace to talk?” he whined. “Get a cup of coffee or something. It’s cold out here.”

I didn’t want to go anywhere with him. I didn’t want to waste the money on a cup of coffee. And I wasn’t about to let him pay for me. The less I had to do with him, the better off I’d be. I shoved my hands deeper into my pockets. “Anything you got to say, you can say it here.”

“Look, dude.” Aaron’s breath was coming a little easier now. “I’m getting desperate. I mean, I got the money, I can do whatever you want, but I need the contacts. You know what I mean?”

I had a pretty good idea, but I said, “What kind of contacts?”

“You know. I need to score. Bad.”

I looked at his bloodshot eyes, his dripping nose. “Score what?”

“Oh, dude.” He wiped his nose with his sleeve. “Don’t do me like this. Ice. Or anything.”

“Crystal meth?” I prodded.

“Yeah. I used up all I got from Mitch.”

“And look what happened to Mitch.”

Aaron shook his head. “Didn’t have nothing to do with the meth.”

I let that statement sink in. “So what did it have to do with?”

“Oh, man. I don’t know.” Aaron wiped his nose with his sleeve.

“What do you know about Mitch being killed?”

“How would I know? I just know he was doing good with the meth. Wouldn’t none of us who was using would’ve offed him or nothing. I mean, look at the mess it got me into. I got no source now. You must have some somewhere. Or know where to get it.”

“Don’t have none of that. Or anything else. I don’t use. And I don’t deal.”

Aaron drew a ragged breath. “Look, dude. I know you got no reason to trust me. But didn’t Mitch tell you I did whatever he said? Slipped stuff into the shipments, passed it to the truckers, put the marks on the shipping tags. I never said nothing to nobody.”

Except me. “Why are you telling me this?”

“You got to know where to get stuff. I mean, you got the connections, don’t you? I never gave Mitch any money—just helped him out. But I got money. If that’s what you need.”

“I don’t need no money,” I said. At least not from Aaron. And certainly not for any controlled dangerous substances.

“I got to score, dude.” Aaron’s eyes were wild. “If I got to, I’ll run down to Park Heights in Baltimore. But I don’t know nobody down there who’s selling.”

“You don’t know nobody here who’s selling, either,” I said.

“Dude. What do you want me to do?”

“Check into rehab. Or call Narcotics Anonymous. They’ll help you out.” Not likely he’d actually do it, but definitely his best bet.

“Oh, man. You got to be kidding. How about a quick hit? Just one. Then I can think straight and figure out what I got to do. I’m not so strung out I can’t get it back together.”

“What happened to you at work last night?” I asked. “Didn’t see you there.”

Aaron bowed his head. “No, dude. I been having trouble sleeping. I fell asleep, and it was real late when I woke up. I wasn’t in shape to work anyhow.”

I’d seen lots of guys like him. Probably not a bad kid. But until he got his habit under control, all he’d ever be was a druggie. Maybe I should report his requests to Montgomery. Getting locked up for a while might be the best thing that could happen to him. Get the drugs out of his system and let him make a decision about whether he wanted to stay clean or not. Probably not, but at least it would be a choice, not a drug-craving driven reaction.

I was sure that everyone on the shift had been questioned. Montgomery should know Aaron was a druggie and away from his job at the crucial time. Of course, if they took that seriously, they’d realize I couldn’t’ve had anything to do with Mitch’s death.

Since Aaron was so convinced that I was involved in the drug trade, he’d sound very sincere when he talked about it with Montgomery.

A marked patrol car cruised by on the street. It slowed up as it passed us and then turned the corner.

I had the uneasy thought that maybe I was being set up. Had Aaron been picked up on drug charges and was playing informant to cut his sentence?

Aaron grew impatient with my silence. “Well?” he said. “You gonna help me out here?”

“Nothing I can do.” I turned to walk away.

“Dude. Can you at least tell me where I can go to find somebody who can do something?” Aaron grabbed at my sleeve.

“Let go of me. Call Narcotics Anonymous. I’m not kidding.” I kept walking.

The patrol car passed us again. Must have circled the block. It pulled over to the curb ahead of us. The doors opened, and the cops got out, one leaning on each side of the car.

“Get out of here,” I hissed at Aaron. “Unless you want to get both of us locked up. Then you’ll get your chance to kick the habit. Cold turkey in a detox cell.”

Aaron peeled away and headed off unsteadily in the opposite direction. I ducked my head and walked on. Kept my eyes straight ahead.

“Good morning, Damon,” one of the cops said. He was tall and muscular, with a thin, blond mustache. His gloved right hand held handcuffs.

I glanced over at him. “Good morning, officer.”

“Any problems here, Damon?” he asked.

“No, sir.”

“Where are you headed?” He tapped the cuffs on the leather-clad palm of his left hand.

“Home, sir. Got to check in.”

He nodded. “Sounds like a plan to me.” He got back in the car.

It was just a few more blocks to my apartment. I didn’t look back, but I was conscious of the patrol car creeping along behind me.

First thing I did when I got inside was call Mr. Ramirez. Of course it was too early. I got voice mail. I left a message about being switched to day shift and then lay down on the bed, trying to read and waiting for him to call me back.

After about an hour, the phone rang. Only one thing it could be. I’d never gotten a call here that wasn’t related to parole.

I picked up the receiver. “Hello.”

“Jesse Damon? This is Filipe Ramirez, your parole officer.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m returning your call.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And I’ve been looking at the entries that were made in your file while I was out. You’ve been busy.”

I shifted uncomfortably. “Not really, sir.”

“No? But you were picked up for questioning. What, twice?”

“Yes, sir.” Apparently the conversation with Montgomery outside the hospital hadn’t made the file. I wasn’t about to volunteer that bit of information.