Chapter 23
Barstow Memorial
The next day, Candy's condition had not changed. She was still in a coma, and the doctors didn't have any idea when or if she would come out of it. Fred wanted to stay with her at the hospital, but he knew if he didn’t go to work, it would look suspicious. He assumed Harper wasn't lying on the television when he said the FBI didn't have enough evidence to pin the robbery on anyone yet.
As Fred was leaving the hospital, he suddenly realized his car was still in Kelso, so he took a cab to the Greyhound station and got on the bus to Las Vegas. When the bus went through Baker, California, he got off and hitched a ride to Kelso. It was well after midnight when he finally got back to his apartment in Santa Monica.
The next day, he slept through all of his classes and went straight to work. As he walked into the motor pool, he felt everyone's eyes on him, although he knew it was probably his imagination. Jim had a clipboard in his hand and was writing intently.
"Afternoon, Jim," Fred said.
Jim looked up and replied, "Afternoon, mate. What in the hell are you doing here?"
"What do you mean? Shouldn't I be here? I’m scheduled to work, right?"
"I don't know. I thought maybe you'd be, uh, vacationing by now."
"Right. Well, maybe I like to live on the edge."
"I hope you don't slip off, mate."
"Me too. So, what's going on?"
"You tell me. The FBI has been snooping around here all morning asking about you."
"What did they want to know?"
"If anyone knows you very well, where you hang out, if any of us know where you were this weekend—that kind of stuff."
"Well, I don't know why they're so interested in me. I've already talked to them and told them I don't know anything."
"They are so bloody frustrated over this robbery. They don't have any clue as how it could have happened or who was responsible. The fancy bank security system was a bloody failure, and now the brass at Bank USA are worried about their other branches."
"There must be other suspects besides me," Fred complained.
"Sam Stewart is a suspect, but they don't really think he did it."
"I don’t understand that,” Fred protested. “He quit right after the heist and he’s not a suspect? What do they want, an engraved confession?”
“I’m just reporting what I hear, Fred. I can’t say I understand their logic.”
Fred shook his head. “I know. It’s just frustrating that I've got to take all the heat."
"So, where did you go this weekend after you lost your escort? You’re looking kind of tired."
"Candy and I went on a camping trip in the desert. What a mistake. She was bitten by a rattlesnake."
"No! Don’t be kiddin’ me, lad."
"I wish I were. We went swimming in this secluded pond that I discovered many years ago. As we were leaving, a rattlesnake slithered up behind Candy. When I saw it, I told her not to move, but she panicked, and the snake attacked her."
"Oh, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! What a cruel twist of fate. I’m so sorry, Fred."
"Yeah, so I've been at the hospital all night with her."
"How is she?"
"Not good. She’s still in a coma and was in intensive care when I left. I pray to God she pulls through."
"I am surprised you're not taking today off, considering her condition."
"Well, I knew the FBI was pissed off that I lost their tail. I figured if didn't show up today, they would be sure I was their bank robber. As you said, they're desperate to solve this case. Besides, I am going right back to the hospital right after my route, so Candy won't even know I was gone."
"Well, I hope she gets better."
"Thanks. I better get going."
As Fred turned to go pick up his keys, he spotted Agent Harper walking out of Sinclair's office. He hesitated momentarily and then walked straight at him, poker faced. As he approached, he smiled and said, "Agent Harper, I saw you last night on the ten o'clock news."
"Oh. The interview, right?"
"Yeah. How's the investigation going?"
"Oh, we've got a few leads," he said as he looked at Fred suspiciously. "Did you have a nice weekend?"
"Not really. I spent last night in the hospital, if you can believe that. My girlfriend was bitten by a rattlesnake."
"A rattlesnake? My God! Is she going to be okay?"
"We don't know yet. She's still in a coma."
"Well, I hope she recovers. What a horrible thing to happen."
"I know. I still can’t believe it."
"So, what hospital is she at? I'd like to send flowers."
"I'm sure she would love that, but she's in intensive care and can't receive flowers yet," Fred answered, wisely avoiding the agent’s prying question.
"Oh, is that right?"
"Yes, I am afraid so. Listen, it was nice seeing you, but I've got to get on the road. Good luck with your investigation."
Fred knew Agent Harper would alert his team that he had showed up for work and the FBI would resume following him as he left the motor pool. So after he checked in he wasn't planning on doing anything out of the ordinary. While he was at the Palm Springs branch, he advised the branch cashier of Candy's hospitalization and asked him if he had her mother’s or father's address. According to her personnel file, her mother and father were dead, and the only person listed as an emergency contact was a friend named Jenny Madeira. The cashier gave Fred Jenny’s address and telephone number, and he left. Immediately after completing his route, Fred returned to Barstow and arrived there about midnight.
The hospital was quiet at that deserted hour. Fred went to the intensive care unit and asked the charge nurse how Candy was doing. She said he needed to talk to Dr. Winston, who was in the emergency room at the moment treating an accident victim. She offered to go find him, so Fred took a seat and waited.
About thirty minutes later, Dr. Winston strolled into the waiting room and went up to him. "You came in with Candy Clisby, right?" he asked.
"Yes, sir," Fred replied.
"Were you related to her?"
"She’s my girlfriend."
"I am sorry to have to tell you this, but . . . well, she didn't make it."
His words hit Fred like a sledgehammer. "What!" he gasped.
"She died a few hours ago. I’m very sorry."
Fred shook his head in disbelief. "No! No, that’s not possible. She was breathing fine when I left her."
"She could have probably survived one bite, but the toxin from three bites was too much."
Fred rubbed his forehead and tried to breathe. "She can't be dead. Don’t tell me she’s dead. Please! Didn't you give her anti-venom?"
"We did, but it was too late. Again, we did all we could, and I’m very sorry."
Tears began streaming down Fred’s cheeks. "But I sucked the poison out of her immediately after she got bitten. I didn’t wait a second."
"You may have sucked a lot of it out, but enough managed to spread throughout her system to kill her."
Fred shook his head. "She can't be dead. . . . she just can't be!” he moaned. “She was a strong girl. Not Candy. No way! She can’t be dead."
"Are you going to be alright, sir? Would you like me to prescribe something to help you sleep tonight?" Dr. Winston asked.
"I can't believe she's dead. It's just not possible," Fred moaned.
"I'll prescribe something to help you sleep."
Fred shook his head angrily. "No. . . I'll be alright. Just leave me alone!"
As Dr. Winston was leaving the room, Fred tried to pull himself together, but he just couldn't manage it. "She can't be dead!” he bellowed. “We were on our way to Canada to start a new life. Oh God, this can't be happening. What am I going to do without her? Couldn't you do anything to keep her alive? Damn you! Why did you let her die?"
Fred collapsed on the sofa and began crying uncontrollably. Dr. Winston called one of the nu
rses and told her to watch him and make sure he was okay before he left the hospital. He reiterated how sorry he was and then excused himself. The nurse was very sympathetic and concerned about Fred. She came by the waiting room every few minutes to make sure he was okay. She confided in him that she’d lost her mother several months earlier and knew how he felt. Finally, Fred regained his composure, thanked the nurse, and left the hospital. As he was leaving he looked at his watch and saw it was after 2:03 a.m.
He drove around aimlessly for a while, wanting to talk to someone—someone who knew Candy. The only person he could think of was Candy's friend, Jenny Madeira. It was the middle of the night, but he figured she would want to know her friend was dead. He found a pay phone and gave her call.
"Hello?" a sleepy voice whispered.
"Hi. Is this Jenny Madeira?"
"Yes. Who is this?"
"Jenny, this is Fred Fuller. I am sorry to call you at this hour, but—"
"Oh, Fred, that's okay. What's wrong?"
"I don't know how to tell you this, but . . . but—"
"What's wrong?"
"Candy is dead."
"Huh?”
“Candy died a few hours ago.”
“Oh my God! What happened?"
"She was bitten by a rattlesnake."
"What? A rattlesnake?"
"I tried to save her, but we were so far from the hospital by the time I got her there, it was too late."
"Oh no," Jenny said, choking up.
"I'm so sorry this happened," Fred said. “It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have taken her out there.”
"Where are you?"
"I am in Barstow at a pay phone."
"What are you going to do tonight?"
"I don't know. I’ll go back to LA, I guess."
"Why don't you come to my place? I don't want to be alone tonight, and you shouldn't be either."
"Where do you live?"
"Just a few doors away from where Candy lived, Apartment 131."
"Okay. I am on my way. It will probably be a few hours before I get there."
"I'll have a pot of coffee on."
About 4:00 a.m. on Tuesday morning, Fred arrived at Jenny's apartment. She invited him in and poured him a cup of coffee. "I was dying to meet you after Candy talked about you. . . . but not under these circumstances, of course," Jenny said.
"This whole thing was a total shock to me. Yesterday, Candy and I were so happy, and we had made so many plans. It's just not fair."
"I know. I’m so sorry.”
“So, how did you and Candy meet anyway?" Fred asked.
"We lived for several years in the same foster home together. Candy was like my sister, and we were very close."
"So, you and Candy have no relatives?"
"No known relatives."
"That must have been very lonely for you."
"That's why we were such good friends. We both felt alone without a real family. We needed each other."
"What do you do for living?"
"I am a secretary by day and student by night."
"What are you studying?"
"I want to be a paralegal."
"Oh really? I am going to be lawyer."
"So I heard."
"I guess you know about the mistress thing too?"
She rolled her eyes. "Yes. Candy is. . . . er, was a piece of work sometimes. She told me about it the night you paid her the $2,000."
"I thought she was just teasing me at first, but she persisted, so I decided to call her bluff."
"You know, I think she really loved you, but she was so obsessed with becoming an actress that she convinced herself she didn’t have time for love. You could only be in her life if there were no strings attached and you would help her attain her dream.”
“Well, I was prepared to live with that. I believe women are entitled to the fulfillment of their dreams just as much as men are.”
“That’s what I thought when she described you to me. She told me the other day—when she called and asked me to feed her cat—that you told her you would give up Maria for her.”
“Oh, she told you that?”
“Yes. That made her realize how much you did love her and, for the first time, how much she loved you. I don't think she knew what love was before you came along."
"I did love her. I would have done anything just to be with her."
Up until then, Fred had maintained his composure, but at that point, he broke down and began to sob. "God, why did this happen to Candy—to us? It's not fair."
Jenny put her arms around him and held him tightly. Before long, his tears had become contagious, and Jenny was likewise weeping.
"I still can't believe she’s dead,” Fred said. “I'm going to miss her so much."
After a time, they both succumbed to their exhaustion and fell asleep. At sunrise, Fred woke up and discovered Jenny in his arms. He carefully untangled himself from her embrace and laid her down gently on the sofa. Then he went into the kitchen to make some fresh coffee.
After a few minutes, Jenny woke up and wandered into the kitchen. "I am hungry,” she said. “Let’s go get some breakfast. I don’t feel like cooking.”
"Yeah, that sounds good," Fred replied. "It's been a long time since I’ve eaten."
"Let me take a quick shower, and then we can go."
"Okay. I think I heard your newspaper arrive, so if you don't mind, I'd like to read it."
"Help yourself."
Opening the front door, Fred was startled to see an FBI agent standing at the end of the walkway. He had momentarily forgotten that he was now living in a fish bowl with God-only-knew how many people watching every move he made. He gave the agent a disgusted look and slammed the door.
At breakfast, Fred told Jenny about the FBI following him, but he didn't go into the details of the situation. He just explained that he was an innocent suspect that had to put up with the FBI investigation until the real criminal was apprehended. Jenny offered to arrange to have the body picked up. They agreed to an inexpensive funeral for Candy since there was virtually no family. To help defray the expenses, Fred gave Jenny the remainder of the $2,000, and they agreed to stay in touch.
Uncommon Thief Page 23