Superbia 2 (10 page)

“Get that fucking flashlight out of my face, you little shit!”

Frank grabbed the door handle and yanked it open.  Osric screamed and dove across the seat, but Frank reached in and grabbed him by the pant legs.  He gave Osric a good yank and dragged him out of the car, sending him flat to the asphalt in one move.  Osric whimpered on the ground as Frank bent over and handcuffed him behind his back.  Frank caught his breath and pointed at Reynaldo, “Go into the glove box and get Mr. Osric’s registration and insurance card, okay?  Then call for a duty tow.”

Frank patted Osric on the leg and told him, “Okay, time to stand up.  Here you go.”

“You don’t know what you’re doing, O’Ryan.  You’re making a huge mistake.  I can have your Chief fired with one fucking phone call.  What’s he gonna say when he hears about this?”

“Mr. Osric?” Reynaldo said.  “Mr. Osric, sir?”

Frank stopped him and Osric said, “What is it?”

“I have your envelope sir.  Would you like me to leave it in the backseat with you?”

Frank shook his head as he opened the rear door and lowered Osric into the seat. 

***

“We have to call someone, Frank.”

“Why?”

“To let them know what we did.”

“We did our job, Ray.  We arrested a drunk driver.  What are they going to say?”

Reynaldo bit his thumbnail and looked out the car window without speaking. 

“What’s bothering you?  Say what you have to say.”

“You arrested a very important person who knows the Chief.  Now, he is going to blame us.  I am still on probation, Frank.  I could lose this job.”

Frank held up his thumb, “A, nobody is going to fire you for doing your job.  They might be mad, sure, but what can they really do?  B, nobody gets a free pass around here just because of who they are or who they know.  That’s bullshit.  Fair application of the law, Reynaldo.  That’s what we do around here.  Not staying away from somebody’s house at two AM just because Jim fucking Iolaus is a pussy.”

“…sucks,” Reynaldo whispered. 

“What did you say?”

“Nothing.”

“It’s okay,” Frank said.  “Say it again.”

“I said being your partner sucks, big time.”

Frank laughed out loud and said, “Buddy, you just made my night.”

Erinnyes pulled on his t-shirt and said, “I’m doing exactly what you told me to do.  The damn medicine is binding me up.”

“You gained four pounds since your last visit.  Are you sticking to the diet?  Have you cut out the coffee and alcohol?”

“Yes.  Absolutely.  Well, for the most part,” Erinnyes said.  “Listen, I have obligations that I can’t just excuse myself from.  Part of my job is meeting with people from all over for lunch and dinner.  Do you have any idea how hard it is to eat plain grilled chicken and lettuce when someone is forcing fries and onion rings down your throat?”

“I’ve told you over and over what you have to do.”

“So schedule me for the damn gastric bypass surgery and I’ll lose weight.”

“Your heart can’t take it, Claude.  Your blood pressure is through the roof, your blood sugar is out of control, and your heart is in
serious jeopardy.”

“Then give me a pill or something.”

“You’re on enough pills, Claude.  Listen, I’m going to be as blunt with you as I can.  You are almost sixty years old.  You’ve been a police officer for thirty-five years.  It is time to retire.  Relax.  All this stress is killing you.  Ever since you became Chief, your health has deteriorated to levels that are truly frightening.”

“That’s your recommendation?  That I retire?  Just when I’m finally beginning to enjoy the fruits of all those years I suffered under one imbecile after another?  Just when I can finally see my life’s work fulfilled?  You want me to just walk away and hand it over to someone else?”

“Yes,” the doctor said.  “That is what I think you should do.  Let it go, Claude.  Before it kills you.”

“That’s enough.  I’m done here.  If you cannot provide me with the proper treatment for my condition, I will find someone else who can.”

“If that’s how you feel, then it’s up to you.  My prognosis stays the same though.  You need to make a complete lifestyle change.”

Erinnyes buttoned his pants and said, “I like my lifestyle, boy.”

***

The next evening, Frank
passed Reynaldo the car keys and said, “You’re on your own tonight.  I feel like shit because I had to stay up all night with you.  I don’t care what you do before three AM, but after that, if you make a peep on the radio I will kill you.  Understood?”

Reynaldo picked up the car keys and said, “Did you get a call from the Chief today?”

“No.  He was off, I think.  Probably doesn’t even know about it yet.”

“Are you nervous?”

“Nope.”

“I’m nervous.”

“Why?”

“I feel like I’m going to get in trouble for it.”

“You probably will.  Don’t sweat it.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“When you stop giving a shit, it becomes a lot better around here.” 

***

“Seventeen-cars, burglary-in-progress.”

Reynaldo reached for the radio mic, having to take several breaths before he felt confident enough to answer without his voice shaking.  “Go ahead, County.”

“Homeowner just returned to find her front door kicked in.  Unknown if occupants are still on scene.”

Frank’s voice crackled over the radio, “Seventeen-Eight to County. See who has a K-9 in the area.”

“Closest one is in the city.  They have a K-9 enroute to your location.”

“10-4,” Frank said.  “Seventeen-Eight to seventeen-ten?  Step it up.”

“Yes, sir!” Reynaldo said.  He jammed the gas pedal to the floor and flipped as many switches as he could on the emergency light console.  The car sparkled from every angle.  Lights on the roof, lights on the front and rear end, lights on the door frame, all of them blinking and strobing and flickering.  A symphony of red, white and blue.  His siren roared out through the car’s speakers, telling people to get out of his way, get somewhere safe because Officer Reynaldo Miguel Javier Francisco was on his way to protect and serve. 

He came screaming around the bend, laying rubber on the asphalt as he slammed on the brakes.  Frank was already there, running out of the car so fast he forgot to turn off his overhead lights. 

Reynaldo parked his car and shut everything off.  He locked the door and drew his weapon, hurrying after Frank, who shouted, “Take the back.”  

He hurried into the back yard, keeping his gun trained at the large glass doors on the deck.  One of them was open.  “Seventeen-ten to seventeen-Eight.  The rear door is open as well.  Do you want me to check the backyard for the suspect?”

“Negative.  Stand by for the dog.”

Reynaldo crouched down against the wall, keeping his gun aimed toward the backyard.  There were garages and fences and swing sets all crammed into the area by a dozen houses that backed up to one another.  Minutes later, another siren. 

The dog barked and snarled and snapped at everyone and everything as his handler walked him toward Reynaldo.  The officer was tall and dark-skinned, bigger than a football linebacker.  He smiled at Reynaldo and said, “You better back up so he don’t think you’re the bad guy.  He chase Mexican people all day.”  Reynaldo backed up and holstered his weapon as the K-9 officer led his dog up the deck’s steps to inspect the open door.  The dog picked up the scent and hurried back down the steps, flying past Reynaldo as the handler shouted, “Come on!  He’s got the scent!”

They ran through the yards, turning in every direction as the K-9 cop shouted, “You got something, boy?  You got something?  Where he at?  Find him, Lucy.  Find him!”

The dog bolted for an overturned canoe in one of the yards, ferociously digging and scratching at the boat’s blue fiberglass surface.  “You got him?  Is that where he at?”  The K-9 officer drew his gun and leaned forward to kick the boat over with the toe of his boot. 

A young, skinny white kid, no more than twenty years old, held up his hands and screamed, “
Get away from me!  Get away!”

The dog went crazy, snapping at the kid’s face.  The K-9 handler gave the dog an inch and the dog latched onto the kid’s arm, bearing down on it with his teeth.  “Get some, Lucy!  Get some!  There’s your treat, boy.  Get it!”

The kid screamed and screamed and tried to get his arm away from the dog as it ripped his shirt to shreds and blood started to trickle out of the animal’s jaws.  Finally, the K-9 officer shouted, “That’s enough” and the dog detached itself and sat down.  “Put your hands behind your back and don’t move or I let him go again.”

The kid laid down on the ground face first and put his hands behind his back, whimpering as Reynaldo moved in to handcuff him.  “Careful you don’t get his blood on you,” the K-9 cop said.  “Junkies got all sorts of diseases.” 

Reynaldo yanked the kid to his feet and picked up the microphone on his lapel and said, “Seventeen-ten to County.  One in custody.”

A chorus of radio clicks followed as all the other cops on the zone signaled their congratulations.  Reynaldo called out to the K-9 officer, “Why is your dog named Lucy?”

“His name is Lucifer.  I call him Lucy to make him sound nicer.”

“He’s not real fucking nice,” the kid whined.  “He bit
a chunk out of my arm!”

The K-9 officer chuckled and said, “Bet you don’t do that shit again though.”  
  

***

The next afternoon, Frank’s police departmental phone rang. 

He’d known that it would.  He left it on the nightstand waiting for it to ring.  The only surprise was that it took so long. 

“Hello?”

“It’s Jim.  You awake?”

“I am now.  What’s up?”

“The Chief needs you to come in.”

“What for?”

“Something happened.”

Frank paused, trying to understand what was being said.  Something in the tone of Iolaus’ voice bothered him.  “What do you mean something happened?  Did one of our guys get hurt?” 
Again,
he almost said. 
Please, God.  Not again.

“Not one of us.  A family
.  This girl…It’s real fucking bad, Frankie.”

There
it was again.  Despair.  Frank said, “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” and got up. 

***

News vans crowded the small street from behind a line of yellow tape that stretched from sidewalk to sidewalk.  People stood on the hoods of their cars, chairs on their front lawns, and leaned out of their windows, all trying to get a better look at the small house where police officers and medical personnel crowded. 

Frank parked his car and excused himself past the news cameras, keeping low to avoid his face being seen.  He dropped his badge around his neck and walked over to the group of people all gathered around Erinnyes.  Men in suits taking notes, men in tactical gear with assault weapons slung over their shoulder, women in EMT outfits, all of them talking at once.  The Chief looked at Frank and said, “They’re inside.  Take Macariah with you.  She’ll fill you in.”

Frank saw two EMTs standing by the back of an open ambulance.  Jim Iolaus was sitting on the back bumper with an oxygen mask over his face, his face sheet-white.  “You all right?” Frank said. 

Iolaus did not respond. 

Aprille was standing by the open garage door holding a clipboard.  “Nobody’s been inside since we did the initial sweep.  The Chief wanted us to wait.”

Frank
pulled on a pair of rubber gloves and glanced around the garage, seeing only a blue van inside the garage with handicapped plates.  “Was the garage open when you got here?”

“No, but there’s evidence on the inside of the front door and I wanted to leave it closed.”

“Okay.”  She was excited, talking quick, bouncing up and down.  He imagined her heart was going a mile a minute.  “You want to stay out here?”

“No. Let’s just get started, okay?”

“Lead the way.”

They walked up the ramp to the garage entrance to the kitchen and Aprille pointed at the bloody footprints in front of the refrigerator.  “Careful where you walk.  Our doer grabbed a drink when he was done.”
  She pointed at a brick sitting on the kitchen island and said, “There’s your murder weapon.” 

Frank walked around the footprints
and bent down to look at the brick.  It was covered in blood with long strands of brown hair stuck to it.  Aprille pointed down the hallway and said, “There’s victim number two.” 

He saw her feet first.  Bare.  Dirty. 
She was facedown, her nightdress pulled up to her hips.  Her thick, veiny legs were hairy and pale.  Large green underpants, soiled in the middle, post mortem.  Both of her arms were outstretched toward the door.  More bloody footprints by the door, and blood covering the door handle.  The back and right side of the woman’s head was caved in.  The bones of her skull were pulverized and chunks of brain tissue spiraling out of the wounds like bouncy snakes in a can from a child’s toy. 

There was a
long smear of blood connecting the woman to the first step on the staircase that lead down from the second floor, going several feet across the floor to where she laid, her tangled brown hair soaking in the red gore.   

Frank walked around the woman,
heading for the stairs.  There was a fan of blood spattered on the wall at head level.  “Here’s where she took the first hit.”  He walked beside the smear on the floor and saw two bloody footprints on either side of the top of the woman’s head, partially covered by her arms.  “Tough lady.  She was still going after him.  Looks like he stood over her right here and finished her off.”   

“She had a reason,” Aprille said quietly. 

Frank looked upstairs and said, “You want to stay down here?”

Aprille shook her head. 

There was a long metal rail along the bottom of the steps that lead up to a handicapped chair lift mounted at the top.  Frank grabbed the handrail and vaulted over the first four steps to avoid stepping in the blood.  He reached his hand down to Aprille and said, “Come on, I’ll pull you up.”

“We already walked through all this when we first got here.  We thought the guy was still in the house.” 

Frank headed up the staircase toward the upstairs hallway and stopped.

There was an open doorway to the first bedroom on the right.  It was dark except for a Mickey Mouse nightlight.  There were balloons and stickers covering the door. 
Kayla’s Room
was written on the middle of a heart-shaped plaque on the door. 

Frank pushed the door open slowly, seeing the motionless figure sitting in a wheelchair in the center of the room, her head covered by a
red-soaked Disney Fairy Princess pillowcase. 

Her legs and arms were atrophied from never being used.  There were straps around the arms and legs
, holding her in place.  Her head was slumped forward against her chest and blood dripped out of the bottom of the pillowcase.  Frank stared at the body without moving.  “Did you already…”

“Photograph it?” Aprille said.  “Yeah.  Before you got here.”