by Jerry Brown
"Hello, is this Mr. Bowman?"
"Yes, this is John Bowman."
"This is Earline."
"Well, hello. I'm sorry we haven't..."
"Baby's hurt."
"Where is he?"
"He at Charity Hospital."
"In the emergency ward?"
"Yes, he got attacked in the park."
Bowman took a deep breath as he massaged his forehead, not wanting to ask the next question. "How bad was he hurt?"
"I don' know, doctor's in dere wid 'im now."
"I'll be there just as quick as I can get there." Bowman said and quickly dialed Flint's home number. He relayed through Flint's wife that Powell had been injured and where he would be. Then he rushed down the stairs to his car and was at the emergency room entrance within a matter of minutes.
Expecting to find Emrick in a comma or worse, Bowman was angry, then relieved, to see his friend smiling at an attractive black woman who was sitting on the side of the bed holding his hand while wiping his forehead with a cloth. He had light bandages across his upper chest.
Bowman said as he walked up: "Em, I expected to find you at death's door."
"Take more'n dat dude to take out E. T. Powell," Em said with a grin and much bravado. "This is my girlfriend, Earline."
"Hi, Earline, I'm John Bowman," he said with a smile.
"Din't take you long to get here, Mr. Bowman. How bout you wait here wid 'im while I go get my neighbor's car."
"You mean they're goin' to let him go?"
"Mr. Bowman, it's Saturday. They gone need ev'ry bed in de place tonight. Dey wudn't keep him unless they jes' had to."
When Earline left, Bowman pulled a chair alongside the bed. "Em, was it the same guy?"
"Yeah, it was 'im. I saw de dude sneakin' roun' under my tree while I was playin'. You know I don' like nobody sneakin' around listenin' to my playin' sos I jumped down aside him to tell him what for. I wouldn't a done 'at if I'd been thinkin', but you know I gets mad. When I lit down behind 'im, he jumped and jes' lashed out with his big ole fist and got me on my shoulder. He's strong. Quick too."
"You say you surprised him. Do you think he didn't know you were up in the tree?" He wuz s'prised for sho'."
"Do you remember anythin' more about him now than you told me the other day?"
"I can tell you everythin' 'bout 'im now. When I first lit, he jumped and turned. When he hit me and knocked me outta de way, his faced turned to de meanes' look I ever evah seed in my life. 'at dude hated me -- I don' know what de devil look like but da's the kinda look he had in he face. And stink -- I ain't nevah smelt nothin' like 'at. Even old Crazy Nat back home. He don' nevah bathe, and he don' smell like 'at."
"Did he have on the same clothes as the other day?"
"Yeah, but bein' so close I could tell how dirty they wuz. And his hair, it was all matted up and filthy. He don' nevah comb it. And he had sort of a beard. Not really a beard. It's like he jes' don' shave and can't grow no mo'."
"Okay, a light beard. Was he as tall as he was the other day?"
"Taller, now he's tall. A giant. Not only dat, but everythin' 'bout his face was long and thin. Long nose and long ears, long arms, long legs. Great big ole hands and big feet, too."
"Did you notice what color his eyes were?"
"Now Boss, I wadn't lookin' at his eyes and I still don' know what kind'a shoes he wuz wearin'."
"What about scars? Do you remember any scars on his face or birthmarks?"
"Boss, he wuz dirty. It'a hadda be a bad scar fo' me to see it."
"Did he have his bag with him?"
"Yeah, I forgot 'bout dat. It was fulla stuff. Made a racket when he dropped it."
"Em, how in the world did you get away?"
"When he hit me, I wuz s'prised. Fore I could blink my eyes he had a big ole dirk stobbin' at me." "Em, what are you talkin' about? What's a dirk?" "You know a big ole knife." "I never heard it called that before. I guess what you you mean by stobbin' is stabbin'. "Sho'. Anyway, he couldn' get me wid de stobbin cause I wuz jumpin back from 'im. Then he s'prised me wid a slash and it cut me cross de top of my ches'. "Hed'a prolly had me den, but he look an' saw a bunch a dose folks playin' dat game comin' at us in dem lil cars. They wuz comin' ahollerin'. When he started movin' away, I lit a shuck. Once my feet got to movin', wadn't nobody gon' catch me, not even one of dem Saints. I din't feel nuthin' or hear nuthin' but my feet poppin' dat ground. Some of 'em folks finally stopped me."
"Em, do you mean the golfers?" "Yeah."
"I wonder what got their attention. I'd expect people livin' here to look the other way when two grown men are fightin'." Emrick looked over at the door, as if to be sure he wouldn't be overheard. "Boss," he said, 'I wuz bleedin' like a stuck hog 'n squealin' like one, too. Dem mens dey took me to the buildin' an' tied some towels together 'n boun' my ches'. Dey tried to call you and one of 'em carried me over to Earline's house. She borrowed a car an' here we are."
"Did you see any kind of weapon other than the dirk? Did he show a gun?"
"He din't show nuthin' but de blade. Din't have time."
"Now Em, think hard. This is important. Did he say anything to you at all? A word, a sound, anythin'."
"Nothin' but gruntin', 'cept wi' he eyes. Dey said all dey wuz to say. I'm gone kill yo' lil black ass, and he would'uv, too."
Emrick paused a minute and looked down at his feet. "Boss, I don' wanna quit on ya', but I don' wanna go back to dat tree no mo'."
"Absolutely not, I don't want you to do anythin'. Just rest. It is over for you. Em, you've done a wonderful job. Do you plan to go on back home with Earline?"
"Yeah, I thought I'd let her nurse me," Em said with a knowing grin.
"Well, if she has to go to work or somewhere else, get her to drop you off at the apartment or call me and I'll come get ya. But Em, y'all don't say anythin' to anybody about this. Especially, don't talk to any reporters. Yo' Mama gets wind of this and she'll come take you home. She'll probably come whup me, too. Don't talk to anybody and tell Earline, for goodness sakes, to keep quiet. I don't want it to get out until Flint has a chance to talk with you and go after him. We don't want to scare him off."
"I ain't gone tell nobody. Earline won' either. She gone be too busy nursin' me," he said again with that knowing grin. Flint suddenly walked into the room wearing cotton work pants, a V-neck tee shirt, tennis shoes, his badge attached to his beltless slacks and his holstered revolver in his hand. His black hair was uncombed and fell straight forward. It occurred to Bowman that he had never seen Flint when he was not wearing white shirt, tie and navy suit. He had also never seen him with his hair uncombed. Bowman quickly dismissed the thought and said: "Flint, we need to get Emrick and Earline out of here before the press gets wind of this."
"Bowman, get real. The press doesn't bother respondin' to a knife fight. Too common. The business office people stopped me before I ever got here. They're free to go now, but I need to talk to them."
"They're going to Earline's house and will be available there, but we need to get them gone and I need to talk to you first."
As they followed Em being wheeled to Earline's neighbor's car, Bowman softly laid out the details of the attack, what Em's assignment had been and a need for the detectives to begin seeking witnesses at the golf course. Only when Emrick was gone did Bowman give Flint the description of the attacker.
"Bill Ed," his voice rose slightly in volume and tone. "We need to get this guy in custody quickly. We need that sack and we need to find out where he's been stayin'. We need to do it fast, but I don't think this guy will go that easy. Tell your men not to approach him without a lot of backup. If they don't have numbers, somebody is goin' to get hurt."
Flint responded: "We're not like the feds. We don't have the money and manpower to mobilize twenty officers per arrest. Local cops are used to handlin' things like this. They can take care of themselves. Do every day."
"Flint, don't take any chances with this. Please. I know you
r guys are good. This may be nothin' or it may be big. We don't want this guy hurtin' anybody and we don't want him gettin' away. Please tell 'em to use extreme caution and to not proceed without backup. Oh yeah, this guy may have a hearing problem and he may be mute. They need to know that."
Flint was becoming indignant. His expression made that clear and the flushing of his face underscored it. "Are you telling me now, we're off on another wild goose chase? We can forget Womack and take off after our suspect of the day?"
"Flint, I understand your feelin's. Please, just get the word out first, then you can chew on me all you want to."
He nodded in exasperation and went to his patrol car. After an extended radio transmission, he looked up at Bowman. "You got your car?"
Bowman nodded.
"Follow me and we'll get a cup of coffee and talk this out while the patrolman work their magic."
Bowman nodded, and walked to where his car was parked.
Chapter 29
Leaving the hospital, Bowman tracked closely behind Flint's patrol car. It was not difficult to do because Flint was driving slowly, frequently reaching for his radio microphone. On three occasions he pulled to the side of the street, waving for Bowman to remain in his car, and carried on extended conversations on his radio. Bowman had no idea where they were headed until Flint turned left on Esplanade traveling in a northwesterly direction. At that point he picked up speed and crossed through the intersection at North Broad. When Bowman saw the statue of General Beauregard, he realized they were heading into the grounds of City Park.
He followed as Flint wound his way among the paved roads of the park, neared a large stucco building of Spanish motif and parked in the shade of a large live oak tree. He crossed over to Bowman's window to ask if he wanted coffee, what he wanted in it, and suggested that Bowman join him in the patrol car so they could monitor the radio transmissions. When Flint returned with two large styrofoam cups of coffee, his facial expression made obvious his feelings of contrition. Bowman, realizing how difficult it would be for Flint to make an apology, diverted it with the question: "Have you heard anything on our man yet?"
"No, it's too soon, unless we get lucky. But a guy on foot with his description, it shouldn't take too long. That's the reason I thought we might listen as we talk."
"Well have y'all gotten anything in on Womack yet?"
"It's started comin' in. What we have so far indicates that he wasn't forced to leave any of his assignments in California or the one in Georgia, though they were apparently glad to see him go in every instance. The picture I'm gettin' now is that they considered him to be a kook, but once he was hired, they couldn't get rid of him. Now all of that could be totally incorrect because they could be protecting themselves from lawsuits either from Womack or someone he may have abused because of their lack of action. You know how all of that goes. We'll find out in time." He shrugged and took a sip of his coffee. "I was able to learn from a detective in Georgia that during the time Womack was there, a lot of paramilitary training was going on in the area. Womack was known to have associated with a retired military officer who operated a training facility for mercenary types where they carried on exercises on survival and military maneuvers armed with paint guns. As you can imagine there are all kind of suggestions of CIA sponsorship and involvement, but who knows where all that will lead! It's fun to speculate."
Flint paused, but for only long enough to take a breath, before looking at Bowman and saying: "John, I was all wet back there. I knew I was wrong when I said it. It's just frustration over a lot of different things. I know you're doin' everything you can to help and try to pull some rabbit out of a hat. I'm not angry with you and don't think any less of you than I did when all this started."
"Flint you sound like you've given up on me. Here I am excited over the prospect that we may break this thing and you're still depressed on me."
"Bowman, I let you talk me into getting excited over Womack. That fizzled and now you're trying to get me to buy another 'pig in a poke'."
"I don't think Womack was 'a pig in a poke'. There's somethin' there, and you're goin' to find it and get all the credit. It just doesn't look like he's our man in this case. Now, take this new guy. We know he's antisocial, possibly deranged. We know he's a lone wolf who follows a pattern of sneakin' around the wooded areas of the park in the afternoon hours and that he attempts to conceal his presence. We also know he's violent. We have a kid murdered in this same park with some primitive carvin' on his back. It doesn't seem a stretch in reasonin' for me to consider that this guy may have been the perp.”He paused and looked over at Flint.
“We have grounds to arrest him because of his attack on Em. Buddy, we got the world by the tail with a downhill pull. If you -- no, when you -- nab him and it turns out he's not or apparently isn't connected, maybe he saw somethin'. If not, we'll just start all over again. Maybe I'm the one who's screwed up, but when I get an excuse to feel high, I'm gonna take it -- you don't have to stretch for lows."
Flint stared at Bowman while he considered all that was said. "Then you're not just wantin' to get even with the guy for hurtin' Powell. To be honest, I didn't even make the connection with the kid's murder. God, I must be slow."
"Bill Ed, you're just tired and frustrated and spendin' your day off messin' with fruitcakes. Let me go so you can get back home. If you hear anythin', give me a call, okay?"
"Will do." Flint said, staring at the steering wheel, then turning to his friend. "Bowman, I'm sorry."
"No reason to to be sorry, Bill Ed. Wait'll you're sittin' on the back of that convertible ridin' down Canal Street with a band in front and confetti fallin' down into the crack of your ass. Then I'll accept an apology." Bowman said with a smile as he opened his door.
Flint responded, "Fat chance." But he grinned out of one side of his mouth when he said it.
Chapter 30
Walking the three blocks to Earline's apartment, he watched a thin, mangy dog yawning as he aimed a short burst at a fire hydrant. An older, heavyset man sat on his porch in a cushioned metal chair. Bowman locked on his eyes and nodded. The man waved. A few houses later, a young man, his shirt unbuttoned, leaned back against the house. A quart of beer in a paper bag rested between his legs. Bowman smiled and nodded. The man glared. Bowman averted his eyes and crossed the street. Two children struggled over a rubber ball inside a chain link gate. A young woman watched over them while sitting on a stoop tapping her ankle with a small switch. She reacted to Bowman's smile and nod by lowering her eyes in a blush. Not finding a doorbell, he rapped on Earline's wooden screen door. "Hello, Mr. Bowman," Earline said as she unlatched the door and pushed it ajar. "How's your patient this afternoon?" "He's doin' fine. I think he's enjoyin' the attention." He followed as she waddled to a rear bedroom. Emrick gleamed as she rubbed his back. The pungent odor of Vick's salve reminded him of weekends spent in early childhood with his grandmother. Emrick sat resting against two pillows with a washcloth folded over his forehead. He grimaced as he sagged back against the pillows. Bowman decided not to prolong his visit. "Em, I can see you're in good hands so I won't hang around. I'll be at the apartment if you need me." Emrick nodded as he touched his bandaged chest. I can see you're gonna play this to the hilt, Bowman thought. Leaving Earline's apartment he hurried toward Papa Joe's cafe where he sipped a cup of coffee and traded friendly barbs with Velma while enjoying the teasing way she moved about the room. On his return to his quarters, he heard the phone ringing. Struggling to unlock the door of the apartment, he bent the key. The lock turned easily once the ringing stopped. He looked through a stack of papers, thinking he had placed Flint's number there, when the phone began ringing again. He rushed to answer it and was surprised to hear Yvonne Arceneaux's voice offering congratulations. "Don't tell me," Bowman said. "You purchased a lottery winner in my name." "You haven't heard?" "Obviously not, what's happened?" "They've found the killer of the Porter boy. I just got a call with the news. I was so excited I just had to phon
e you. I thought Flint would've called you by now."
"He may have. I've been out. The phone was ringing when I got back, but I couldn't reach it in time. Do they have him in custody?"
"No, not unless they just got him. But now that they know who he is, it shouldn't take long. I won't go into it because I know Flint wants to tell you, but I'll tell you this much -- they found where this homeless guy had been staying and found enough evidence to know he was the perp. Of course, what I didn't say is that you're getting all the credit for identifying the guy. I'm heading in now and I insist that you allow me to take you dinner. There's a seafood place that's very special to me and I want you to go there with me before you leave."
He looked down at a partially completed crossword puzzle in the newspaper and pushed it aside. "Maybe we could go there for lunch tomorrow. Flint may need me tonight."
"Don't be silly, there's nothing in the world for you to do. Your part is over. I'm going out the door right now. I'll see you as soon as I can get there. Goodbye."
Bowman had a puzzled look on his face as he stared at the disconnected instrument in his hand. It occurred to him that Flint could not call him so he slammed down the ear piece on the receiver, almost breaking it in the process. He did not have long to sit there shaking his head, the phone rang almost immediately.
"You know they may pressure the Archbishop into canonizing you."
"Hi, Bill Ed. You sound much happier than you did a couple of hours ago."
"You were right again. He's our man. We found where he was living. He had set up camp under a bridge on Wisner Boulevard. That's the street that runs the length of the park on the east side. You remember the big figure that was the center carving on the boy's back?"
"Sure."
"There's a clone of it in spray paint on one of the columns on the bridge. When I saw that I knew what we had, but there were other things there that left no doubt that this guy was the perp."
"What kind of things?"