Voodoo Daddy vj-1

by Thomas L. Scott

  “Thanks,” I said. When she was almost to the door, I said, “Miss Sally?”

  “Yes, child?”

  “Everyone calls me Jonesy.”

  She smiled without answering and wheezed her way out of the room, her breathing like that of a locomotive’s steam whistle disappearing down the tracks. There is a God after all, I thought.

  But then, proving God had a sense of humor, she was back five minutes later. “You’re in luck, Sugar. Morning shift change is happening right now. They didn’t need me down there to help with Mr. Jenkins after all. Now, where were we?”

  Sandy walked in just as the nurse was finishing my sponge bath. The nurse looked her up and down one time with approval and said, “Hi. My name’s Miss Sally. What’s yours?”

  Sandy smiled at the nurse. “I’m Sandy. Nice to meet you.”

  “Oh, it’s my pleasure, child. My pleasure.” She leaned in close to Sandy and said, “That’s quite a fella you got there. Wouldn’t let him get away, I were you.”

  They both turned and looked at me. “I don’t intend to,” Sandy said.

  When the nurse left the room, Sandy walked over to my bed and gave me a kiss. “Did I miss anything good?”

  I ignored her question, and said, “If you love me, you’ll find the doctor and get me the fuck out of here.”

  Sandy went to check with the nurse’s station as to when the doctor might stop by to release me and when she came back into the room, she told me the nurse said the doctor was going to be delayed. “He got called into an emergency surgery.”

  “Ah man,” I said. “Any idea how long?”

  Sandy shook her head. “They didn’t know. Listen, I talked to your dad this morning. I’m going to go pick him up and we’re going to get your truck from the station and get it back to your house. I’ll be back to take you home after I drop him off. That okay?”

  “Sure,” I said. “Grab my case notes off my desk will you?”

  “Virgil…”

  “What? I’m just going to be sitting around. Might as well do the paperwork. By the way, how’d my truck get back to the station?”

  “Rosie drove it over there and put it in the lot.”

  “Oh, geez, you let Rosie drive my truck?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “Have you ever seen his car?”

  “You worry to much, Jonesy. Hey, you’re going home today. Treat me right and maybe I’ll dress up in a little nurses uniform for you, make you forget all about the paperwork. You know, show you what a real sponge bath is like.” She winked at me. “See you in an hour or so, boyfriend.”

  Boyfriend. I liked that.

  Later that same afternoon after Sandy returned, the doctor came with a list of instructions for my release and the nurse who was with him made an appointment with me for a follow-up visit the next week at his office. After another hour and a half of preparations and paperwork, I was informed I was free to go.

  I took the mandatory ride in the wheel chair to the front entrance and waited with the orderly-an elderly gentleman who appeared to be in greater need of the wheelchair than I-while Sandy pulled her car around. When she pulled up, the orderly pushed me over to the passenger side, set the brakes on the chair then helped me up and into the vehicle. The traffic was moderate in the city and heavy out on the loop, but forty-five minutes later we were back at my place.

  Sandy turned on the lights and generally woke the place up while I settled onto the couch and tried to get comfortable. “What can I get you?” she asked.

  The time had gotten away from me and the ride from the hospital had taken its toll. “I’m getting behind on the pain. I could use a couple of pills.”

  She brought the medicine to me and I swallowed the pills with a glass of water, then Sandy slipped her hand into mine and said, “So, what’s next?”

  “Is that a big question, or a little one?” I said.

  “What do you think?” she said.

  “I think it’s a big one.”

  “You’d probably be right,” Sandy said. “If it were a little one, I say something like, ‘how about a pizza.’ And then you’d say, ‘sure, what do you like?’ And I’d say-”

  “Okay, I get it. The truth of it is, I don’t know what’s next. But you know what?”

  “What?”

  “I don’t want to know. I know where we’ve been, I know where we are, and I know what I want. You’re here…we’re here, together. That’s what matters to me right now.”

  Sandy pulled her feet up under her and laid her head on my shoulder. After a few minutes, she lifted her head and said, “You know, for a while, you’re going to need someone here to help you.”

  “Yeah, I was kind of thinking the same thing.”

  We sat there with that for a little while, then Sandy said, “you could ask Donatti.”

  “That won’t work. He’s married, remember? His wife won’t let him come over anymore.”

  “Well, what about Rosie?”

  “Naw, he’d just drink all my beer. Plus, he’s kind of a slob. I’ve got a certain standard I like to maintain around here.”

  “Hmm. Guess you’re out of luck, then,” Sandy said.

  “Yeah. I guess so. Too bad there isn’t someone, you know, that could sort of move in for a while and keep an eye on me. Help me around. Like that.”

  “Yeah, that is too bad,” Sandy said.

  “Just about anyone would do, really.”

  “You know, I’m pretty busy and everything,” Sandy said. “But if I moved some stuff around on my schedule, I bet I could do it. And look, I don’t want to seem too forward or anything like that, because I’m not really that kind of girl, but I went ahead and put a bag together thinking you might want me to stay for a few days or something.”

  “Put a bag together, huh?”

  “Yep.”

  “Is it a big bag?”

  “Well, it’s big enough that I’ve got options.”

  “Gotta have options.”

  “Yeah, options are good.”

  I tried to look serious, but failed in the attempt. “Closet is pretty full. I guess I could give you a drawer, though.”

  “Really? A drawer? You mean I’d get my very own drawer?”

  “Well sure. That’s just the kind of guy I am.”

  Sandy grabbed my pants at the top by my waist and bunched them up in her fist a little. “I’ve got your drawers, mister.”

  And with that, I forgot all about my past, both the distant and the recent and for a while, even the pain in my leg. It all melted away against the warmth of a place where no one is judged, where the mind, body, spirit, and soul are all one and the same.

  When I woke the next morning I was alone in bed, the throbbing of my leg in time with the beat of my heart. Sandy came in a few minutes later carrying a tray with coffee and juice, my robe open in front of her body, its edges barely covering the swell of her breasts.

  “How you feeling, cowboy?” she said. She set the tray down on the night table next to the bed and leaned over and kissed me good morning.

  I looked at her in my robe, the curve of her hips, the little space between the tops of her thighs when she stood with her legs together, the dangled jewel of her belly ring. I took her hand and guided it to my stomach, then gently pushed her further down. “This is how I’m feeling,” I said. “Since you asked, and all.”

  “You know,” Sandy said as she ran her finger tips up and down the length of my erection, “the doctor said you are supposed to take it easy for a while.”

  “Fuck the doctor,” I said.

  And then the morning was mostly gone too.

  Later, after we had both gotten cleaned up and dressed for the day, we sat across from each other at the kitchen table, my leg propped up under a pillow on the chair next to me. It felt good to have it elevated for a while, but then it’d start to bark at me and I’d have to set it down on the floor. Then that would become uncomfortable too, so I’d prop it back up again. The back and f
orth was driving me nuts.

  “Wait till it starts itching,” Sandy said. “That’ll drive you mad.”

  “Your bedside manner is atrocious, you know that?”

  “Yeah, but my bed manners are perfect, aren’t they?”

  Couldn’t argue that, I thought.

  “I need to talk to you about something,” Sandy said.

  Uh-oh. I brought my leg back up on the chair and looked at her, waiting for her to go on.

  “Yesterday, when I went to your office to get the case notes you wanted I ran into Cora. We had an interesting conversation.”

  “Is this about us?”

  “Yeah, it is,” Sandy said. “I know we didn’t have a chance to talk about it-what she said to you a few days ago on the phone, but she laid it out pretty clear for me. We have to choose.”

  “Aw, geez, Sandy. I’m sorry. I’ll talk to her.”

  She reached across the table and took my hand. “Let me finish, okay. It’s not all bad. You probably don’t know this, but about six years ago, and every year since, I’ve been trying to get on with the Indiana law Enforcement Academy over in Plainville.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Yeah. And guess who greased the wheels for me.”

  “Who?”

  “The Governor.”

  “What? You asked the Governor to help you?”

  “Well, I sort of mentioned it in passing.”

  “Sandy, this is a pretty powerful guy. Are you sure you want to get in bed with him?”

  “You’re the only one I’m getting into bed with, Virgil.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “It’s not that deep.”

  Hmm. “So I take it there’s an opening at the Academy?”

  “Yep. Director of Training, Psychological Division. He says it’s mine if I want it.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Well, he said they’d have to keep the posting up, let others apply, all that business, but other than maintaining appearances, yeah, it’s mine. I just have to say the word.”

  “What kind of timeline are we talking about?”

  “The current director leaves in thirty days. They’d want me in time for that.”

  I took my leg from the chair and placed it back on the floor. Things were moving faster than I thought they would. Sandy and I had something though. Something strong. Still, could I ask her to leave her current position for something completely new and different just so we could be together as a couple? It didn’t seem fair. Would she ask that of me? Would I agree?

  Then, as if she could read my mind, she said, “It’s just a job, Virgil. I know it might feel like things are moving pretty quick right now, but you and I both know that’s nobody’s business but our own. If I have to take this job so we can be together without the headache of hiding our relationship or dealing with someone else’s bullshit bureaucracy, then that’s what I think I should do. I won’t do it unless you say you want me to though. But I hope you do.”

  I nodded my head, and the words were out of my mouth almost before I realized I was speaking. “I do.”

  “Say that again, would you?”

  I smiled at her. “I do.”

  “I like the way that sounds. Big words though for a guy that only gives a girl one drawer.”

  “Yeah, well, about that,” I said. “I was kidding about the closet. It’s mostly empty you know.”

  “Yeah, I know. I looked.”

  “So there’s probably something I should tell you,” I said. “I knew you applied for the job.”

  “What? How?”

  “Well, I know quite a few people over at the Academy, and when they saw your paperwork come through one of them called me. I think you wasted a favor with the Governor. From what they told me, unless you blew the interview or something, they were going to hire you anyway.”

  “Virgil…”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  The next day, late in the morning I was back at the kitchen table, my case notes and files spread out before me. I had tried working at my desk, but there were two problems: one, there was not enough desk space for everything I wanted to look at, and two, I just could not get comfortable. There was not any way to prop my leg up. Sandy helped me move everything to the kitchen, then kissed me goodbye before she left to go downtown and hammer out the details of her new position with the academy.

  Two hours later I was halfway through my reports when the phone rang. I followed the ringing and saw the phone laying on the end table in the other room and swore under my breath. Should have thought about that. My machine was turned off, and by the time I got my crutches under myself and got up and over to the phone, the ringing had stopped. I brought up the caller I.D., saw who it was, and punched the number back in.

  “Marion County Prosecutor’s Office. How may I direct your call?”

  “Hi, Detective Virgil Jones, for Preston Elliott, please.”

  “One moment, Detective, I’ll see if he’s in.”

  I started to tell the receptionist that I knew he was in because I just missed his call, but she had already clicked off. But then she clicked right back on, again. “I’m sorry, did I cut you off? I think you were saying something.”

  “No, no, that’s alright. I was just saying I just missed his call, is all.”

  “Very well, sir. One moment.”

  I thought by the tone of her voice I could hear her eyes rolling on the other end of the phone. A few seconds later, the line clicked again and Elliott picked up. “Jonesy, thanks for calling back.”

  “Sorry I didn’t get to the phone. Takes me a little longer to get around than I’m used to. How are you, Preston?”

  “I’m doing well. The question is, how are you?”

  “Pretty good,” I said, then winced at my own bad grammar. “Behind on my paperwork, which I’m guessing is the reason you’re calling me?”

  “I knew there was a reason they called you detective. We want to get everything filed and get this one closed off. How much time do you need for your reports, you being crippled and all?”

  I thought about it, but instead of answering, I said, “How many times have you watched the tape?”

  “The one with Pate where he takes the back of his head off, or the one with the Governor tossing his lunch?”

  “The one with Pate,” I said, hoping the sarcasm was not as obvious as it sounded in my head.

  “Only twice, unless you count the nightmares I’ve been having.”

  “Anything jump out at you.”

  “Like what?”

  “That’s what I’m asking you, Preston. Anything at all?”

  “Nothing other than the obvious,” Elliott said. “He cried a river, admitted he was not only a sexual deviant but a pedophile on top of it, admitted torching his Houston church and then, well, you know the rest of it. He punched his own ticket. Case closed.”

  “Yeah, I guess we’ve seen the same tape, then.”

  “What is it, Jonesy?” I could hear the impatience in his voice.

  “It’s not what he admitted. It’s what he didn’t.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Why pack every seat in the house, then go on TV and confess your sins and pop yourself without telling it all?”

  “You’re speaking of the fact that he didn’t mention his connection with the Senior and Junior Wells?”

  “You got it. But not only didn’t he confess, he didn’t even mention them. It doesn’t make sense to me. These two nut jobs are driving around the city taking people out with a sniper rifle, and we know they’re connected, Pate and the Wells. Just doesn’t make sense to me.”

  “Hey, who knows what these psychopaths are thinking? It was obvious he was going to go out on his own terms. Maybe he just got ahead of himself and flipped his switch before he said everything he wanted to say. I could sort of see that happening.”

  “I don’t know. Seems off to me.”

  “Hey, at their heart, suicides are cowards,
right? Maybe he just didn’t have the stones to admit it.”

  “But he had the balls to put a gun in his mouth and pull the trigger?”

  “Do you have any physical evidence that puts him at the scene of any of the other murders?”

  “No.”

  “But we do have forensics that puts Wells and his daughter there, am I right?”

  “And they’re both dead. So if Pate was pulling their strings, why not just admit it, along with everything else?” I said.

  “You know what? I don’t know. But it’s case closed, Jonesy. Send me your reports so I can get on with my life, will you?”

  “I’ll have Detective Small bring them over to you tomorrow.”

  “Hey,” Elliott said. “How is Sandy? I’m hearing a rumor that you two are some kind of item. What’s the skinny on that?”

  “So long, Preston.”

  I carried the phone back to the kitchen table with me and as soon as I sat down it rang again.

  “Hey good lookin’. What’s cookin’?”

  Sandy. “Nothing much. Just doing the paper. You finished down there already?”

  “Nope. That’s why I’m calling. I’m going to be here a little longer than I thought.”

  “Well, God damn. How long?” I said, and instantly regretted the tone in my voice.

  “What’s the matter, Jonesy?”

  “Ah, nothing. I didn’t mean to snap at you,” I said. “These pills, they help with the pain, but they make me sort of cranky or something. I’m sorry. What I really want is for you to be here, at our place.”

  “Maybe you should call the doctor, see if there’s something else he could give you.”

  “It’ll be all right,” I said. Then I told her of the conversation I just had with Preston Elliott. “It seems like a hell of a loose end to me.”

  “Yeah, I can see that. But I think I agree with what Elliott said. Guys like that have got a screw loose somewhere. They’re completely unpredictable. Maybe he left that part out on purpose.” Then, before I could comment on what she had just said, she added, “About the pain, It’ll get better. You’re in the hard part, right now, this period of a few days after surgery. They say that’s always the worst. But you’ll get through it. Look at what we’ve got ahead of us, Virgil. It’s all going to work out beautifully. Hey, you know what I’m excited about?”