Bone Deep jb-5

by David Wiltse

  When he reached the safety of his own house, Luv's wife was sleeping. He stood for a moment in the darkness of his bedroom, beaming triumphantly.

  He grabbed his wrist and took his own pulse. It was rock-solid, as calm as sleep. I love it, he thought. I love it!

  20

  "There been one hell of a lot of women in that car," said Andreassi, head of forensics for the Bureau in the Stamford/ Bridgeport area. His team of specialists had swarmed over the Caprice for the better part of a day searching for prints, collecting fibers, hairs, lint, and debris of all kinds. "The passenger side has got enough hair samples to make a wig. Most of them are long, or longish, and all different colors, some of them dyed, sprayed with fixatives of one kind or another. Those little babies cling to upholstery, work their way into cracks, get under the seat. You'll never get all of them out with a vacuum, and believe me, he's tried. That is one clean car, at least to the naked eye. We'll check these hairs against the ones we have from the Appleseed girls and see if we can get a match. Funny thing, though. He hasn't had them in the back seat. None of them, I'd guess. There doesn't seem to have been anybody in the back seat, ever. Johnny wasn't balling them in the back, he was just driving them somewhere."

  "We don't know that this is Johnny's car. How about prints?" Becker asked. He took the briefing in Tee's office, the afternoon following the fruitless chase of the Caprice.

  "Not as many as you'd expect with all those passengers," said Andreassi.

  "Some, but almost all of them from the passenger side. He cleans that car, and I mean cleans it. He knows how to wipe it down."

  "Nothing from the steering wheel, the gearshift?"

  "Oh, sure, something. We're pretty good at this, you know, John. We've got a few partials, he's not as clever as he thinks-but pretty close.

  Either he wears gloves when he drives or he knew that somebody would be checking out the car someday. Of course, some of the prints from the passenger side might be his too, who knows? There's nothing around the trunk. I mean nothing in the way of prints. I'd say he worked that area over real good. There's some threads caught in the key slot, probably from the rag he used to wipe it down. There are fibers in the trunk, but nothing that's very exciting at first glance, nothing to get me jumping up and down."

  "What would get you jumping up and down?" Tee asked.

  "Something to work with. If this guy wore linen shirts, maybe you would have something to look for. But it's all cotton or a cotton and synthetic mix. The same shirts everyone else wears, in other words.

  There is one area with plenty of prints though."

  "Where's that?"

  "The gas tank. There are latents all over the surface surrounding the tank opening, on the tank door, on the screwtop. "The sonofabitch,"

  Becker said.

  "That's what I figured," said Andreassi, nodding agreement.

  "What are you talking about?" Tee demanded.

  "You can bet money he doesn't pump his own gas," Andreassi said. "We'll check them all out, but I'd be willing to bet that all of those prints belong to gas station attendants. "Lot of different attendants too,"

  Becker said. "So we waste time checking all of them out. A little diversion from Johnny."

  "What makes you so sure?" Tee asked.

  "This is a guy who doesn't want to be identified with this car. Thus the tinted windows, which certainly don't come as standard equipment.

  The last thing he wants to do is be seen standing next to the car for five minutes while he fills up. So he sits in there behind the tinted glass and pays extra for someone else to do the work. And I'll bet he goes to many different stations to further reduce the chance that anyone will connect him with the car. Then he leaves the prints there, the only place he leaves prints, so we can find him and get a hard-on about finding a clue. You did get a hard-on, didn't you, Andreassi?"

  "For about a minute, until I figured it out. It was fun."

  "They usually are. How long before you can give me a final report?"

  "A few days," said Andreassi. "I'll try to push it through for you as fast as I can."

  After Andreassi left, Tee asked, "Can't Karen get them to make this top priority?"

  "She could. But it's not. If the Caprice were top priority you'd have so many agents here you wouldn't be able to get into the men's room without a half-hour wait. But Karen's got other cases and other issues.

  This is my top priority. And yours. Not the Bureau's.":,I saw him. You did too, didn't you?",Saw who?"

  The driver of the Caprice. When he passed through our headlights, just for a second there, not very clear but you could make him out. I could."

  "Why didn't you say so?"

  "I wanted to be sure. I wanted to hear it from you, too, so I'd be sure it wasn't my imagination."

  "Who did you see, Tee?"

  "Who did you see, John?"

  "I saw a shape, a suggestion of a man, nothing more."

  "I saw him. I'm sure of it."

  "Who?"

  "You really didn't see him?"

  "Who, — goddamnit?"

  "McNeil."

  "Oh shit, Tee. You wanted to see McNeil."

  "You didn't see him?"

  "No."

  "Are you sure it wasn't him?"

  "I can't be sure of who I saw."

  "And then I called him. While you were chasing the Caprice I called McNeil's house. The phone rang four times before an answering machine picked up."

  "He was asleep."

  "Or he wasn't there. What kind of cop puts on the answering machine?"

  "A Clamden cop? A tired cop?"

  "How about a cop who's out running through the woods to get away from John Becker?"

  "Maybe. Arrest him if you're so sure."

  "With me as the only witness? He wouldn't even need a lawyer to walk on that one. You're sure you can't identify him?"

  "That's not who I saw, Tee."

  "You did see someone, then. Who did you see?"

  "A shadow, a shape. A leap of my imagination. No one, nothing. Forget it. Have you done anything about your domestic problem yet?"

  "Are we officially changing the subject then?"

  "If I start chasing shadows, they're going to be my own, not yours," said Becker. "Until then, let's try for some evidence."

  "You did see someone," Tee said accusingly. "Who?"

  "I didn't see anyone, Tee. All right? I didn't see any recognizable face in the car. Neither did you."

  "I saw what I saw."

  "No, you saw what I saw and you want it to be McNeil and it's easy to make it McNeil because you hate him, you're fixated on him, and you didn't see a face clearly enough to be certain that it wasn't him."

  "Piss on that whole train of thought, if I may speak to a federal agent in those terms."

  "I wish you would… Have you left her yet?"

  "Not yet," Tee said. He rubbed his face with his hands. "I'm not sure I can. Jesus Christ, John."

  "It won't be easy. I know that."

  "Have you ever been in this situation?" Becker hesitated. "No," he said at last. "Not really."

  "Then what do you know about it? Let me rephrase that. What the fuck do you know about it?"

  "Not a goddamned thing."

  "All right then."

  "Sorry, I didn't mean to sound sympathetic or anything. "

  "It's going to kill me to do this. I mean, it's going to kill me."

  "Are you sure you have to do it?"

  "What else can I do?"

  "I don't know."

  "I wasn't asking. There is nothing else I can do. I have to leave her … and it's going to kill me."

  Tee heaved himself to his feet and walked out of his office. He looked to Becker like a wounded animal going off in search of a place to lie down and suffer in silence.

  Becker wondered if he looked like that himself. He knew he felt like it. Tovah's words had thrust a spear of doubt into his side and everything since then had driven it in farther. He
was sure that was what accounted for the fact that the face he had seen through the tinted glass of the Caprice was Stanley Kom's.

  21

  Tee was resolved and feeling strong about what he had to do until he saw her eyes, those incredible wolflike pale blue eyes peering at him from under the red headband.

  "You're looking awfully glum, General," she said, putting her hands on her hips and swaggering slightly, mocking him. The day was brutally hot, even in early morning, and sweat coursed down her bare arms.

  Tee started to speak, but she ducked as if anticipating a blow and stepped forward, grabbing his belt. "Don't," she said. "Not yet. I had the most horrible fight with my husband this morning-let me just hold on to you for a minute." She wrapped her arms around him and pressed her face against his chest. He could smell the grapy scent of her hair.

  "You're so dependable," she said, her lips against the cloth of his shirt. "So uncomplicated. Tommy is like a nest of snakes. Some days you just can't step anywhere without stirring him up. He's so sensitive-that's his 'artistic' termperament, you know. I don't care how much women are carrying on these days about wanting a sensitive man, I'm here to tell you that you can have too much of a good thing. Give me your typical American male who doesn't necessarily know when he's being wounded because he's too busy being stoic. They're a whole lot easier to live with, believe me. All these women swooning over sensitivity, they just make me sick. Let them spend a week with Tommy Leigh and see how they like it. That'll cure them real quick."

  "Is that how you see me?" Tee asked. "Some kind of insensitive brute?"

  She unbuttoned his shirt and pressed her cheek to the skin of his chest.

  "You're so cool," she said. "How can you be so cool on such a hot day?"

  Her hands fluttered across the skin of his back and Tee sighed with pleasure.

  "I've been here long enough to cool down," he said. He had been atop the rock a half hour earlier than usual, rehearsing what he intended to say. "There's a nice breeze."

  "Well, Lord, give it to me," she cried, releasing him and standing by the edge of the cliff. She pulled her arms from her sleeves and the Lycra top fell to her waist. She stood on the rocks, her arms outstretched, half naked, her back to Tee. The wind came up and ruffled her hair.

  "Oh Lord, that's so good," she said. "It's like standing in front of the refrigerator. Take off your clothes and see."

  Tee had planned to tell her before they had sex, but when she turned to him, her arms still outstretched but now beckoning him, her nipples as taut and puckered as if they had been touched with ice, he pulled at his shirt and kicked off his shoes.

  They made love standing up, her legs wrapped around the backs of his thighs, her hands grasping his shoulders. Even as he worried about his balance and his strengt an the possibility that his back might go into spasm or that he might lurch and send them both tumbling down the hill, Tee reveled in the giddy daring of standing naked atop the highest point in town and fucking. He felt at once both exposed and invulnerable, bold and alarmed by the lunacy that possessed him when he was with her.

  Young, he thought, she makes me feel still young enough to fuck the whole world.

  She rubbed against him frantically, impassioned by their audacity. Tee was all but immobilized by a lack of leverage but she was free to move and thrust wildly. For the first time ever she came before he did, her head thrown back, her mouth open as grunt after grunt burst forth in a rising crescendo of entreaty until she concluded at last with a snarl and grinding teeth. Tee came almost immediately from the excitement of watching her. When she pulled away from him he sank to his knees, laughing.

  "My God," he cried. "My God." His body was racked with laughter and he fell to all fours. She sat on his back. He could feel her pubic hair slide across his skin, which was now soaked with sweat.

  "Was that just me?" she asked.

  "No." Tee swung his head back and forth. "No, no."

  "Because…"

  "I never… I don't think I've ever..

  She stretched out and lay atop his back as if he were a horse, her arms wrapped around his chest, her legs bent so that her feet faced the sky.

  "I've never done that with Tommy. He would be scandalized."

  He started to say that doing it that way with Marge would break his back, but he stopped out of loyalty. "I know," he said.

  "You're so good for me, Tee, you really are. I don't know how I'd make it through the week without you."

  It was more of a confession of feeling than he had ever heard from her and it was as uncomfortable for her as it was surprising to him.

  "I feel that way too," he said. "I've said too much already," she said, sliding off him.

  "No, tell me," Tee said.

  "It's better not to talk about these things." She reached for her clothes.

  "I need to know," he said.

  "Oh, you know," she replied. "Tell me," he said. "Tell me what you feel."

  "The-se things are better left unsaid," she said. She pulled on her jogging outfit, dancing slightly to get it into place. "We have to go on living our lives, you know. There's no point in making it any harder." He knew she would not change her mind, she was unbendable when she decided something. He wanted to pick her up again and shake her until her teeth rattled.

  "You're so awfully white," she said, studying him as if noticing his body for the first time. "You ought to get some sunlight, General."

  There was an unexpected bite to her tone, a whiff of disgust.

  The euphoria and the affection were gone as swiftly and easily as a cloud masks the sun. He felt like strangling her.

  "I can't see you anymore," he said flatly. She stared at him in silence.

  "It's no good. It's hurting my marriage." He paused, waiting for a reply, something to respond to. She said nothing but continued to stare at him as if he were something inexplicable that happened to be in her way. Tee suddenly felt very self-conscious in his nakedness. He scrambled into his underwear, unable to cover himself fast enough.

  "I'm sorry," he said, when it was clear that she would not answer. "I didn't want to just say it like this, but-"

  "No," she said, her voice so low that he was not sure he heard her at first.

  "I'm sorry."

  "It's not up to you," she said.

  "What?"

  "You can't stop," she said, her voice now loud and angry. "Not until I say so."

  "Well, I'm sorry..

  "Stop saying that. Stop being sorry."

  There was a wildness to her tone that frightened him. Tee continued to dress in a hurry.

  "I'm not through with you," she said.

  "I've thought it all through," he said, yanking on his pants and forcing his feet into his shoes. "We knew it had to end sometime..

  She launched herself at him, screaming something that he did not understand. Tee was standing close to the edge and he caught her in his arms, teetering backward perilously close to the edge. She struck at him, pounding his chest, and he was powerless to do anything but press her to him while trying to compensate his balance against her motions.

  For a moment he thought he would surely fall, but he managed to lean to the side and then to drag them both away from the edge.

  "I'll tell her! I'll tell your wife about us," Mrs. Leigh said.

  Tee reacted as if she had slapped him. "No you won't," he said.

  "You don't leave me," she spit. "You don't leave me. I'll tell you when it's over."

  "You won't say a fucking word to my wife. Not now. Not ever."

  "I will if I have to," she said. "First I'll tell your wife, then I'll tell the rest of the town."

  'No."

  "Oh, yes, oh, yes."

  He stared at her, his arms trembling at his sides. Her face was twisted and ugly with vengeful triumph.

  'No," he repeated, looking away from her, down at her feet, then out over the cliff to the glistening water of the reservoir. Once again a hawk was riding the morning thermals, up
and up in its search for prey.

  "We don't have to get to that," she said, her tone changing. But it was too late to mollify him. Tee grabbed her under the armpits. The adrenaline that coursed through his body turned to rage. He held her at arm's length and thought of hurling her over the cliff. It would be a solution of sorts. -He knew it would bring him a kind of peace, at least in one area of his life. Tee shook her hard, feeling her body quiver as her feet dangled over the void.

  It took him a moment to comprehend that she was whimpering, pleading with him now, promising him whatever he wanted and begging for her life.

  He realized with amazement what he was doing and snatched her back, pulling her into him.

  "Oh God," he moaned, "I would never, I would never…" But in his heart he knew that he could, that he almost had. He held her fast to his body, not wanting her to see the confusion in his eyes, the fear mixed with a strange elation. It had been so close, he had but to open his fingers and she was gone. Tee was not certain if the significant fact was that he had come so close to killing her, or that he had not done it.

  "I can't let you hurt my wife," he said at last, as if that explained his actions.

  "I wouldn't," she said quickly. "I never would do that, Tee. I was just so hurt, I didn't know what I was saying. I didn't want to lose you."

  Tee heard the same fulsome sincerity that came from every apprehended felon. Frightened, desperate people did not lie convincingly.

  When he released her she hurried away from him, scampering down the hillside path like a frightened deer. Tee sat for a long time alone, shaken by the experience. He did not think that he had been that angry.

  He was annoyed by her attitude, and still shaken, still frightened, as a result of nearly toppling over the edge himself, but neither of those factors accounted for what he had done. I must have been bluffing, he thought, I must have known all along that I wouldn't do it. But he had no visceral memory of anything like that. He could recall only the spontaneous impulse to grab her, to thrust her over the void, and then the nearly irresistible urge to let her fall. Nearly irresistible, for he had ultimately resisted. And that was the difference, he told himself. That was the difference between himself and Johnny Appleseed.