Blind Vigil

by Matt Coyle

  “What did you mean about not having time to take my feelings into consideration?” Weary. The bluster of his guard dog growl blocking the door already drained away. As if he had to summon it to brace against the outside world and felt it ebb away with each step back inside his dark reality.

  “Have you talked to Elk Fenton since last week at police headquarters?”

  “He left me a couple messages, but I didn’t return them. I’ll call him if the police arrest me. Otherwise, what’s the point?”

  “So, you don’t know about the tie?”

  “What tie?”

  Turk was literally and figuratively living in the dark. Sooner or later a spotlight was going to blast him in the eyes. I chose sooner.

  “The one the police found in the hedges outside of Shay’s house that was used to strangle her and belongs to you.”

  “What?” Turk shot straight up. “My tie? I don’t even own a tie.”

  “You sure about that?” I stayed seated and calm. “What about the one you wore to the Water 4 Life Global Casino Night?”

  “The what?” He sounded genuinely confused. “You mean that charity event Shay talked me into being a part of?”

  “Yes. How you became involved doesn’t matter. What does matter is that there are photos of you online at the event wearing a suit and a tie that looks exactly like the one the police found outside of Shay’s apartment that they contend is the murder weapon.”

  Turk collapsed down onto a chair with a thump.

  “I wore my old man’s blazer. The same one I wear to weddings and funerals. And a pair of slacks I bought just for the charity deal.” Soft voice, like he was recounting the wardrobe in his head. “Shay bought me a tie to wear for the thing. I only wore it that one night. I don’t even know where it is now.”

  “I do. In LJPD’s evidence room.”

  “This is why you came over? To tell me about some tie I wore once that the police think is a murder weapon?” He was gaining momentum, life back in his voice. I was happy to hear it even though it was through anger directed at me. “How could they even know that this tie was the murder weapon? How many thousands of other ties are there in San Diego? And why would I put the tie in the hedge if I just used it to kill Shay? This is all bullshit.”

  I’d thought a lot about that last question on my own. The LJPD theory must have been that Turk ran out of the apartment after strangling Shay and dropped the tie in the hedge without realizing it. But what if the killer put it there on purpose to frame Turk? Maybe he thought leaving it around Shay’s neck was too obvious so he put it in the hedge, visible to anyone searching for evidence outside the apartment. He had to be pretty sure Turk’s DNA would be on it and he knew Shay’s was because he’d just used it to strangle her.

  A well thought out plan by someone who’d been watching. The Invisible Man? Was he real or was I grasping at theories to convince myself that the most logical theory wasn’t true? That Turk murdered Shay in a fit of rage.

  I needed indisputable proof or a Turk confession to believe that.

  “It probably is bullshit, but you need to know what you’re up against.” I let go my own long breath. “And I want you to face the fact that the tie LJPD found is probably the murder weapon and will have Shay’s DNA on it. And yours, too. Even if you only wore it once, your DNA will be on it.”

  “Okay,” Turk’s form seemed to expand. “So what’s your point, Rick? If you came over here to cheer me up, you failed miserably.”

  “You have to be ready when LJPD knocks on that door.” I pointed to the only thing emitting light in the house he’d turned into a dungeon. The frustration of being a bystander in the dark boiled out of me. “Call Elk Fenton back. He’s the one guy who can help you. He’s defended people on trial for murder and gotten most of them off. Start reengaging in your own fucking life or you’re going to lose control of it.”

  Turk’s bulk shifted backwards and the chair creaked. His arms went up to his head like he was running his hands through his hair.

  “I’ve been dealing with Shay’s death and pretending the rest of this stuff doesn’t matter.”

  “Everything matters.” My voice calm now that I’d made Turk understand the shitstorm coming his way. “But that’s not the only reason I came over.”

  I told him what Kris told me about Shay’s dinner with Keenan Powell at Nine-Ten and her story that he’d been a friend of her father’s.

  “Shit.”

  “From what you told Moira and me, Shay hadn’t seen her father since he abandoned her and her mother when she was a child. Right?”

  “Yeah. None of this makes any sense.” His head slowly moved from side to side. “I was such a fool.”

  “No, you weren’t. You were in love.”

  “She lied. Right to my face. That’s why I got so mad.”

  “You had a right to get mad.”

  Silence. I let it settle into the dark, desperate room.

  Finally, “I’m yelling at her and the whole time I can feel the ring box in my pocket pressing against my leg.”

  “Ring box?”

  “Engagement ring. I bought it before I suspected she was cheating on me.” He laughed. The saddest laugh I’d ever heard. “The jeweler gave me a month to put it on her finger or return it for a full refund. I’d spent the first couple weeks trying to come up with a romantic idea for the proposal. Then I saw her sneaking down to La Valencia those two nights and I had to rethink everything.”

  “Why did you take the ring with you to Shay’s that night?”

  “Because the end of the month deadline with the jeweler was the next day. I went over to her apartment hoping she’d tell me about meeting the guy at La Valencia and have an innocent explanation for it. If she did, I was going to propose to her right then.”

  I didn’t say anything. There wasn’t anything I or anyone could say to make everything all right.

  “I realize now what a desperate idea it was. I just needed any reasonable explanation that I could believe if I didn’t examine it too hard. Anything slightly believable so I could put a ring on her finger and convince myself I’d let my imagination run wild with bad scenarios. If she accepted the ring, I’d know she loved me and everything else would work out. Stupid.”

  “No. Human.”

  Pounding rocked the front door and echoed in the living room. Turk’s mass bolted forward off the couch. I stood up. More loud knocks.

  “Who the hell is that?”

  I didn’t answer. I didn’t want to be right.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  I FOLLOWED TURK to the side of the front door and saw shadows through the multi-pane window.

  “Shit.” Turk’s voice. A blast of air.

  Two more loud knocks. Turk stayed in front of me but didn’t answer the door.

  “Thomas Muldoon, this is the La Jolla Police Department and we have a warrant for your arrest!” A command that penetrated the door and filled the room. “Open the door now!”

  Turk stepped back and bumped into me. He spun away, and I grabbed his arm. Something hard came down on my hand and knocked it away.

  “Police! Open the door!”

  Turk bolted, three-legged, toward the kitchen where there was a door to the backyard, then a fence and overgrown open space. Running would only make things worse, and he couldn’t outrun the police on three legs. Best-case scenario was a hard takedown. Worst case, a bullet.

  Two burst strides and I dove at his outline.

  “Battering ram!” From outside.

  My arms wrapped around Turk’s legs and we both went down hard. Two canes rattled along the wooden floor.

  “Get the fuck off!” Turk wrested a leg free from my grasp and kicked me in the nose. A crack. My sunglasses flew off my face. Shooting stars burst inside my head. But I held onto the one leg.

  The door exploded open, thwacked the wall, and shook the house. Multiple footsteps thundered across the open living room into the kitchen.

  “Police! Stay o
n the ground! Arms and legs out wide! Now!”

  I let go of Turk and slid off his leg flat on the floor. My head twisted toward the shouts. Four or five shapes with triangle tops like they were holding guns in two handed shooting platforms. Hopefully with their trigger fingers on trigger guards.

  “On your stomach! Now!” The cop outline nearest me shouting at Turk. I was already belly down. Unmoving, except for the blood flowing from my broken nose.

  A splot ahead of me. Must have been Turk rolling onto his stomach.

  Shadows flashed across my eyes and someone snapped a cuff around my right wrist and wrenched my arm from my side and yanked it behind me at the same time something hard and round pressed into the small of my back. Probably a knee. Left arm next. Then the snap of the twin cuff on my left wrist. Hands patted me down, removing my wallet, phone, and keys from my pockets.

  Scuttling sounds beyond my view.

  “Stay down!” A hard thump vibrated along the floor.

  “Thomas Muldoon, we have a warrant for your arrest for the murder of Shay Louise Sommers.” A different voice than the ones that had shouted.

  “This is bullshit!” Turk. A wail.

  A rustle and a couple groans. A giant outline loomed above me. Turk bordered by two cops holding his arms.

  The mass shuttled from the kitchen into the family room toward the front door. The thump of Turk’s damaged leg vibrated along the floor with each step.

  “I’ll call Fenton and get him down to the police station!” I yelled at the receding shadow.

  “Fuck you, Rick.” And then the shadow was gone.

  “Mr. Cahill, we’re going to stand you up. Okay?” The voice that declared Turk under arrest.

  He must have looked at my driver’s license from my wallet.

  “Okay.”

  Shadows. Two sets of hands grabbed my arms and helped me up to a standing position.

  “Whoa!” A voice I hadn’t heard yet.

  “Officer Horn!” The voice in charge, angry.

  Then I realized why the reaction. Turk had broken my sunglasses along with my nose. They’d fallen to the floor. Blood dripped over my lip into my mouth. The coppery tang I’d tasted too often in my life. This time because a friend thought I’d betrayed him.

  But the blood and my broken nose weren’t what shocked Officer Horn. It was the divot in my face beneath my left eye.

  “I’m going to remove your cuffs, Mr. Cahill.” The outline in front of me. The man in charge. Probably the sergeant of the takedown team. Detectives Denton and Sheets would be waiting for Turk back at the Brick House. “Are you going to behave yourself?”

  “Yes.”

  The outline stepped behind me and took the cuffs off my wrist, then appeared back in front of me.

  “What just happened in here?”

  “Who am I speaking with?” I stared at the dark outline and could make out the oval of a head, but not its features. “I can’t read your badge, so I’d like to know who you are.”

  “So, it’s true. You really are blind.” Surprise more than mock in his voice, which suddenly sounded somewhat familiar, though I didn’t know from when. Definitely before my blindness.

  “Yep.” I let the disgust fill my voice. “I’m still waiting to learn who I’m speaking to.”

  “We’ve actually met before. I’m Sergeant Ives, LJPD.”

  Ives had been promoted since he and his partner harassed me for their old corrupt boss who was now long gone. Nice to know LJPD hadn’t changed its stripes with Sergeant Ives and Detective Denton still around. I feared for Turk and the railroad job rolling his way.

  I stuck my hand out in front of me, but not for a handshake.

  “I’d like my property back.”

  “A couple questions, first.”

  “Am I under arrest?” My hand still out, palm up.

  “Not presently.”

  “Then please give me back my property.”

  Movement from the shadow in front of me, then the weight of my phone rested in my hand and the thump and chink of my wallet and keys on top of it. I stuffed the wallet and keys in pockets then commanded my phone to call Elk Fenton.

  “Hang up the phone, Cahill. I have a couple questions to ask you.”

  I pressed the phone against my ear, wiped blood from my throbbing nose, and smeared it on my jeans.

  “Rick?” Elk.

  “They arrested Turk. He’s on his way to the Brick House.” I hung up and commanded my phone to contact Uber.

  “Hold on, Cahill.” Ives. “I didn’t say you could leave.”

  “Unless you’re arresting me, you have seven minutes to ask questions before my ride gets here.”

  “Cancel Uber. I’ll give you a ride home.”

  I thought back to the last time I was in a car with Sergeant Ives. In the back of a police cruiser going to the Brick House, not my home. Handcuffed on trumped-up charges.

  “I’ll pass, thanks.” I put the phone in my pocket and realized I was missing something much more vital than a phone, wallet, or keys. “Can someone hand me my cane?”

  “Your cane?”

  “Yeah. It’s what I use to see when I walk.” The cane had to be visible to Ives. I dropped it in the kitchen right near where we were now standing when I tackled Turk. “Could you hand it to me or would you rather watch me crawl around on the floor looking for it.”

  Ives didn’t say anything or move. Possibly considering if he’d prefer me crawling around in my own blood over an act of human decency. Finally, the mass in front of me twisted one way then the other, then centered back in front of me.

  “Horn, retrieve Mr. Cahill’s cane.”

  Movement from another shadow.

  “Which one? They’re two.” Horn.

  “The white one,” I said. I’d forgotten that I’d knocked Turk’s cane out of his hand when I tackled him. The cops took him to jail without his third leg. “The other one’s Thomas Muldoon’s. Is anyone going to take it to him at the holding cell at the Brick House?”

  “It’s potential evidence. We have a search warrant for the house.” Ives.

  Turk would feel vulnerable and more isolated without his cane.

  “Here you go, sir.” Officer Horn.

  I stuck out my hand and the shadow put my cane in it.

  “Thanks.”

  “What happened in here just now?” Ives.

  “You busted in the door and arrested an innocent man for murder.”

  “Still a tough guy. Even when he can’t see.” Ives chuckled. Not derisively. Admiration hidden under the laugh? “When we entered the house, you and Mr. Muldoon were wrestling on the floor. You appear to have a broken nose. Did Mr. Muldoon assault you when he attempted to evade arrest? Do you want to press charges?”

  “You seem to have the facts wrong, Sergeant. Again.” I stared at the dark outline in front of me. “Mr. Muldoon and I were wrestling, but it was a self-defense workout routine we put ourselves through. We have to be ready for the worst as disabled citizens.”

  “We saw Muldoon through the window in the door. We know he was trying to flee.”

  “Turk hasn’t fled anywhere since he took a bullet in his back saving my life.”

  “Do your workouts usually end with a broken nose?” His outline shifted, like he put his hands on his hips.

  “No. Today was an exception.”

  “You’re sticking to that story?”

  “Yep. And I’d better head outside or I’ll miss my ride.” I tapped my cane around Sergeant Ives and walked toward the front door.

  “Your friend’s a violent killer, Cahill. Your broken nose is nothing compared to what he did to that poor girl.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  I GOT INTO the back seat when my Uber arrived. That way, the hole under my left eye would be at a distance and require the driver to peek in the rearview mirror to look at. I didn’t want to frighten the driver. I just wanted to go home.

  There wasn’t anything more I could do for Turk
. Elk Fenton was already on his way to the Brick House where Turk would be deposited into LJPD’s holding cell before he was transferred to the San Diego County Jail. He’d be arraigned the next day and, unless he made bail, would have to spend upwards of a year in jail before his case went to trial.

  “Are you all right?” A female voice pulled me out of my head. The driver.

  “Yes, I’m fine.” I graded on a curve.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you to the hospital instead of the address on Cadden Drive?”

  My nose. The blood had dried but I didn’t have anything to use to wipe it off. I was worried about an old scar and forgot about my fresh wound. I couldn’t hide either.

  “No, I’m fine. Thanks.” Once again, even in the violent whirlwind of my life, I was reminded there was still goodness in the world. Strangers willing to help the injured, the helpless, and the innocent. There’d been times in my life when I’d been all three. Even innocent.

  The driver dropped me in front of my house. I got out of the car, but something wasn’t right. There was a large rectangular form in the driveway. A car. The car I still owned and never used was in the garage collecting dust. Maybe the driver dropped me at the wrong address. I knew I was on the right street because the last three months of being driven in the dark in my hometown had carved the turns and sequences into my memory. But the car in the driveway made me reshuffle. The shapes seemed right for my house. My front yard had a lawn and the house I stood in front of was flat in front. Both my neighbors had succulents in their yards making for greater variety of shapes. No, I was at my house.

  I tapped my cane along the driveway and bounced it off the wheels and undercarriage on the vehicle. Some kind of SUV, I guessed. I knocked on the front-seat passenger-side window. No noise inside. Leah drove an SUV, but she wasn’t due home for four more days. Plus, I’d talked to her last night and she hadn’t said anything about coming home early.

  I made my way up the walk and was about to put my key in the lock when the door opened. Citrus and sandalwood scent. A willowy shadow.

  Leah.