The Hitman: Dirty Rotters (9 page)

I stopped myself short of entertaining
the dark clouds of ideas storming my mind then, and I sat upright
and forced myself to think on something else. I put aside my anger
and my lust for vengeance. I would talk to Angelo and find out what
really happened. I would get him to admit that it all was a
mistake. They would have to let him go then. They would have to
continue to search for the real killer.

The tall grandfather clock facing me
said it was nearly six o’clock. I got out of bed and listened to
the silence engulfing the house. I figured Sally was still out,
maybe at work, maybe in a field bench-pressing a tractor. I stepped
out of the guest room to an empty house.

On the kitchen table there was a box.
It had my name on it. I opened it. Inside there was a note, a pair
of dark jeans, a pair of white socks, a black T-shirt, and a pair
of boxer-briefs. All my size. The note said for me to shower and
change. She had guessed at the sizes and based on my appearance she
had picked out similar clothes. I was impressed.

After I showered and changed into the
new clothes, I heard the Hummer pull into the driveway and park
beside the house again. Sally was home. I left her spotless
bathroom to greet her at the door. She entered wearing dark jeans
and a grey sweatshirt. She stopped just inside the door, staring at
me. She smiled slightly.

“
I took a guess on what you
would like. Hope you don’t mind.”

“
No. Not at all. Everything
fit. Thank you.” I sat on the sofa.

“
Want a beer?”

“
I don’t drink
anymore.”

She took her shoes off, went to the
kitchen and brought back a beer, sat down next to me this time and
took a long pull from the glass bottle. There was the Sally I had
been expecting.

“
I know this whole case is
very sensitive. I remember all the time we spent looking for Pamela
together.” She paused in reflection. “But I do have to warn you,
the word is that this will be an open and closed case. The district
attorney is going to be moving ahead quickly. The press is already
having a field day. It’s a circus. Do not read the
newspaper.”

“
She’s dead, right?” I
forced the words out.

Sally nodded. “Do you want
details?”

“
No. I don’t think I could
handle it.” I tried not to think about her dead. “What else can you
tell me?”

“
Only that Angelo Garboni
was found in the van with five bodies inside it. He confessed right
away to killing all those women. He’ll stand trial, soon I imagine,
and be sentenced to life without parole. No bond. Lawyer wants no
visitors either.”

I leaned towards her and looked her
dead in the eyes. “I am going to see him.”

“
I know. I have it set up
already. Frank’s on duty until eight.” She guzzled the rest of her
beer and set the bottle down gently next to the sofa, then stared
back at me. “Do me a favor though. Don’t get your hopes up. The
last time I saw you, you were a complete mess. Understandable. But
I don’t want to see you going down that road. I know that look in
your eyes. I see it every day. And every one of them will tell you
that it’s not worth it.”

“
Let’s go.”

We sat in silence.

The Hummer H3 was a smooth ride,
sitting high off the ground. It made me realize how low the El
Camino sat. I liked the view up here better. I felt like I was in
an army tank. I thought that maybe someday I would get something
big and gaudy like this.

We were at the police station by 6:30
p.m. I followed Sally closely, getting strange looks from everyone
we met and passed bye. Mostly Russians. Most said something in
passing, but Sally wasn’t a woman known for a big conversation.
Which at the moment I was grateful for.

I felt small and vulnerable. The place
had a helpless feeling to it. We rounded a corner and headed for a
set of double doors. Well-guarded. Well-locked. Cameras were
visible everywhere. Through the doors the jail began. Once past
those doors, chances were you were never getting back
out.

Sally stopped at the doors and looked
dead into a camera just above her head. A second later the doors
opened with a thunderous boom as the locks released and there stood
the biggest man I had ever saw. He was black, well over six feet,
and about two hundred and fifty pounds of pure muscle. His biceps
were nearly ripping through the threads on his blue uniform. His
neck alone was like a tree trunk. His hands were massive with
brat-like fingers shuffling a tiny set of keys back onto his belt.
He had no gun like the other guards. He did have a baton though,
which in his case probably worked just as well.

Sally introduced us. “Frank Beull this
is Michael Lynch.”

Frank extended his right hand and it
swallowed mine. I felt like my hand was an infant’s. “Frank, nice
to meet you.”

Frank said nothing. He wore a hard
look. I guessed it came with the uniform. He turned to Sally and
gave a half-nod before venturing past the doors, motioning with his
head for me to follow. I looked at Sally, but her eyes said she was
staying behind. I didn’t waste time then. Frank was already moving
away.

“
Remember what I said,”
Sally said.

The door slid shut, locking instantly
with a loud click that seemed to echo through the corridor. Frank
began walking forward, I joined at his side, slightly a step
behind. The corridor held doors to either side, narrow and locked.
The walls were brick, painted white. The floor was concrete. Ahead
of us was a room, guarded and presumably locked from within. It had
large windows that were in all probability bullet proof. I could
see a few more armed guards inside. Some were looking at monitors.
Others were looking at me. I looked away.

Frank made a gesture to one of the
guards inside the control room and down the hall to the right we
went, heading for a single door. Once we were there, the lock
released, the door opened and we went through. It closed and locked
again the second I was past. All done by computers, I
knew.

This part of the jail had cells with
barred walls instead of a single door. I could see right into the
cells and look at the inmates. Most were lying around doing
nothing. Some were exercising. I saw one reading a book. But each
time they looked up to see me, I quickly looked away. It was an odd
feeling. I felt guilty for being a free man.

“
You a cop?” Frank
asked.

“
No.”

“
You look like a cop to
me.” Frank gave me a look. “Why not be a cop?”

“
I don’t make good
decisions and I’m not that smart.” I really wasn’t. Or tough. Or
orderly. Or brave. Or a bunch of things that I’d rather not tell
the giant.

Frank said nothing. He gave me the
once over look, then a smirk like he was thinking how easy it would
be to snap me in half. We continued on quietly then.

Frank turned to the left at a cell
door and waited. A moment later the lock clicked and the door was
opened. Frank stepped aside and there I saw my old friend, clinging
to the shadows of the bottom bunk, sitting with his knees against
his chest and his arms wrapped about them. An innocent man draped
in a guilty orange jumpsuit.

“
You got ten minutes,”
Frank said. His voice was like a volcano’s eruption.

I stepped inside. Angelo squirmed
back, tight to the wall. He buried his face into his arms. He was
shivering with fear.

“
Angelo, it’s me. It’s
Michael. Look.” I stayed back at the end of the bed. I didn’t want
to scare him further. “I’m your friend, Angelo.”

Angelo’s head slowly lifted. His eyes
found mine. For a moment nothing happened. I wasn’t sure he even
recognized me. Then all of a sudden his mouth began
shooting.

“
Michael is my friend. Best
friend. Gives me all his finds. Buys me hotdogs sometimes.
Sometimes pop.”

I moved in closer, slowly. “Yeah, it’s
me. It’s Michael.”

“
No finds in here. Walls
only. Bars too. Cold bars. Not like bars with music. There’s no
music here.”

“
Angelo, listen to me, I am
here to help you.” I stayed a few feet away, squatting down so I
wasn’t higher than he was. “But I need your help first.”

Angelo unwrapped himself and sat
closer. “I can help. I can help my friend. You said me and you were
friends. I can help friends.”

“
Yes you can, Angelo.” I
smiled to him. “Do you know why you are here?”

His smile disappeared. He looked down
to the cement floor. “Bad things happened. Real bad. People got
hurt. Girls did. Pretty girls.”

“
Can you tell me how they
got hurt?”

“
I can’t say. I can’t talk.
My other friend says no talking. But it was bad. There was blood.
Lotta blood.”

“
Is your other friend a
cop? Or does he wear a nice suit?”

“
Oh no. Notta cop. Talks to
cops. They listen. They listen to him. He’s nice. He has fancy
pants and shirts.”

His
lawyer
.

“
But you can talk to me,
right? He didn’t say you couldn’t talk to your friend.” I pressed
on. I didn’t want him to think too much on it. “So tell me what
happened to those girls.”

“
Very bad
things.”

“
Did you see what happened
to them? Or did someone tell you what happened to them?”

Angelo stared at me like he didn’t
understand. He said nothing.

“
Angelo, do you know why
you are in here? This is jail. This is where all the bad people go.
And right now it looks like you are one of the bad
people.”

His head shook. “No, I not bad. Only
bad things happen to girls.”

“
Did you hurt the
girls?”

He gave me a look then, like a spark
of light in the dark, like it was finally making sense to him. “I
saw the van. The girls were in the back. They were hurt bad. I saw
them. Real bad. Not like movies. Not fake blood. The guy told me
they were,” he paused to spell it out slowly, “d-e-a-d.”

“
Who told you?”

“
I never hurt. I go in the
van. The cops find me. They take me here. The girls don’t come
here. Not hurt like that.” He looked sad. “Hurt like
d-e-a-d.”

“
Who told you?”

Angelo was getting worked up now. I
was pressing him hard. But I knew he had the answers. He was
rocking back and forth. His fingers were rubbing his thumbs like he
was trying to remove sticky dough. He was thinking back. He was
trying so hard to remember.

“
What did he look
like?”

“
Tall. Very tall. Very long
hair. He showed me. He talked to me. He wanted to be my friend. He
tell me stay in the van. Stay with the girls. My friend calls cops.
My friend say I help him. I’m good friend.”

“
Angelo, he is not your
friend. I think he told the cops that you hurt the
girls.”

Angelo laughed. “Cops all day. Walk
by. Look in. No talking. Walking slow. Not fast like me. They don’t
find cans. No pop in here. Only milk. No hotdogs.”

“
Angelo, the man with the
long hair, what is his name?”

“
I eat bologna here. No
hotdogs.”

“
I need to find him. I need
to talk to him. Maybe me and him can be friends. Maybe we can help
our friend Angelo.” I watched him smile. He looked proud to have
friends. Too bad one of them didn’t care if he died. “Listen, where
can I find him? Where did you see him?”

“
Drives white car. The fast
car. Loud. Tires burn smoke!” He loved it. He smiled happily. “Long
hair. Maybe he likes cowboy movies. Maybe drinks Coke only. Not
green pop. Fancy pop.”

“
Where did you see him?
Where was his car?”

He began rocking gently. He had no
idea where he was or how much trouble he was in. He was happy.
Happy just to be talking to a friend. One that is going to save his
life.

“
He was in the park. By
your house. Not your house any more. It’s red now. Strangers live
there. They like cats.”

“
What else can you tell me?
Did he tell you to confess? Did he tell the cops that you hurt the
girls?” I was frantic now. I wanted answers quicker. I wanted
Angelo to realize what was happening.

The cell door opened suddenly. We both
turned to look. A big Russian guard said, “No more time for
you.”

Angelo scampered back into the corner,
trembling and mumbling something to himself over and over, gone
into whatever world he used for an escape. The Russian guard gave
me a hard look.

I stood upright. I knew it was over.
Angelo wasn’t going to talk again, but I knew I wasn’t going to
have the time for it anyway. “Where’s Frank?”

The big Russian shook his head. “My
time now.”

He stepped back and motioned for me to
exit. I turned back to Angelo and whispered, “I am going to help
you, Angelo. I am your friend.”

I exited, the door locked, the Russian
guard led me back out, past the control station, and out through
the double doors to where Sally stood waiting. The Russian stared
her down hard, then walked back in the corridor and the doors shut
tight.