Ronald nodded and turned right. The same grocery store was still there, as was the circle park that defined downtown. I noted the post office and the bank off to the left. This flooded me with the memories of my mother going to the bank every week, to deposit a check or to take money out for groceries. She would take Jessica and I by the hand, lead us into the bank and when she was finished there, we would walk the hundred yards or so over to the post office, where she would remove the letters of delinquency and other bills. I remember her frowning and sometimes wiping a tear. Jess and I would ask her, “What’s wrong momma?”
“Nothing you need to worry about.” Then she would smile and ruffle my hair, before tickling Jessica’s sides. I frowned at the memory. Ronald continued around the park and I saw the statue of the brontosaurus that used to sit out on highway 6 & 50. It was now in the park.
“When did they move the dinosaur into the park?”
Ronald clucked his tongue off the roof of his mouth and said, “I don’t know, ten years maybe.”
“You remember that time when we were in high school and Mary Elders dared you to climb up and stand on his head?”
Ronald laughed and said, “What I remember is falling off and breaking my arm.”
I snickered at the memory of watching Ronald shimmy all the way to the top of that statue, get one foot on the top of his head, and then tumble to the ground. I also remembered the sickening sound of his arm breaking.
“Yeah, but Mary made sure you were comforted every day after school.”
He smiled at the thought as he continued around Circle Park and entered Main Street. I looked around at the businesses and was sad to see that none of the businesses from my youth remained. What was once a hardware store now housed a bicycle shop and further on down, the café was now a bar. There were other storefronts that had changed as well. The ice cream shop was now a pizzeria. Next door used to be a Ben Franklin’s, but now housed a high-end antique shop.
Further down Main, I saw the three-story elementary was now city hall. The playground of my youth now had a half-pipe ramp for the skateboarders and a monument to the veterans from all of the wars our nation had fought. I saw the church was still where it used to be and across the street, the library was still there too.
“Anywhere in particular you want to go?” he asked me.
“Hoz the old place doing?”
He shrugged, “Don’t know, haven’t been by there in years.”
“Why not?”
“Don’t see the point.”
“And your place?”
“Same answer.”
I wasn’t surprised. Ronald had never been the kind of guy who looked in the rearview mirror. “You mind if we go by?”
“Why? It’s just a house that’s owned by someone else.”
“Fine,” I said. “Probably right,” I added, almost as an afterthought.
“Are we done now with the trip down Memory Lane?”
“Sure, I guess.”
“You need anything before we leave town?”
“No,” I responded.
Ronald nodded and then turned the truck around, retracing our path back down Main Street, taking us around the park and then out of town towards his house.
My thoughts were still on my childhood as we left town. I thought about the cemetery where my parents were buried and made a note to go and see them before I left. I wondered if Jessica ever went to see them. Were their graves tended or were they left to fall into disrepair like many gravestones did? I was suddenly sad at the thought of their headstones collecting dirt and leaves. I pictured the grass growing up around the headstones like weeds, making it seem sad and forgotten.
I wondered again why Ronald would invite me into his world or why he would think I had something to contribute. In truth, I hadn’t been a real detective in a lot of years and my time as a fraud investigator didn’t lend itself to a homicide investigation. Especially one that involved professional killers with ties into God-knows-what. Police departments were an organized oligarchy that punished outsiders who made the mistake of traipsing into their end of the pool.
I had been a cop in Texas and Florida, so any hopes Ronald had of me having contacts or confidential informants in the state of Colorado were infantile at best. The truth is, a cop is only as good as the knowledge and the experiences they derive from the community they serve. The stories you see on TV and in the movies of a cop moving into a new jurisdiction and saving the day are a fantasy of Hollywood writers. A good cop comes up through the ranks as a beat cop and creates relationships they can cash in on down the line. Perps, as they were known in books and on TV, were not given to openly deal with outsiders they did not know.
When the Feds come on the scene they almost always enlist the help of local agencies who know the suspected individuals involved. They know from experience that criminals won’t deal with those they have no relationship or experience with. On the street, a beat cop who rides the rails in his hood is a known entity. It’s not unusual for a cop on patrol to know entire families because at some point they have dealt with the father and everyone else, down to the youngest offspring.
I turned in my seat as Ronald turned his pickup onto an unmarked dirt road. “Tell me again why I’m here.”
He blew his breath out and then said, “Jessica made me promise not to do anything unless you're with me.”
“Bullshit Ronald. No way do I believe you agreed to that.”
Ronald cocked his head at me, the scowl on his face hiding the real thoughts he was harboring. “Why does it matter?”
“Because I have nothing to offer you, I know it and you know it. I’m not a cop anymore and I never worked in this state, so what gives?”
He made that clucking sound again but didn’t speak. Instead, he turned his full attention back to the road, making a point of ignoring me, which only served to piss me off some more.
“I asked you a question, Ron.”
This got his attention. Ronald hated to be called Ron. To him, it was the ultimate form of disrespect. When we were kids, Ronald would pummel anyone who made the mistake of calling him Ron. I knew I was treading on thin ice. He hadn’t hit me back at Colton’s Coffee Shop when I hit him, but I knew he had wanted to. I watched his face start to contort, the heat of his anger climbing out of his shirt collar and making it all the way to the tips of his ears.
“Call me that again and it won’t be forgiven. Last warning.”
“Tell me why I’m here and don’t bullshit me with fanciful stories of promises to my sister.”
“Lori,” he muttered.
“My ex-wife put you up to this? You told her? Are you nuts?”
“She knows nothing. Jessica talked to her after the hearing and well… she told Jess you were getting deeper into the bottle and really needed something to take your mind off the divorce. You know… start over… get out of Florida. Meet new people, maybe see about getting a job out here.”
“So what… you thought a good ole-fashioned killing, I mean attempted execution, was going to make me feel better? Just how insane are you? Seriously, what is wrong with you? I can’t believe this! Jesus, I can’t believe this!”
“Wasn’t my idea.”
“That’s your excuse? It was my sister? Blame her? Pull over! Now!”
He shrugged. “You wanted to know. And for what it’s worth, I really don’t expect you to offer much. But the good news is Marcie is single and well, Jessica kind of talks to her already. So… who knows, you could get lucky.”
I stared at him in disbelief. This was just insane. I couldn’t even think of a response. I had allowed myself to believe I was really needed. Instead, my sister had played matchmaker and I was just supposed to ignore what had happened and start dating like nothing was wrong. Meanwhile, he would run amuck, doing god-knows-what to god-knows-who. The idiocy behind Ronald and Jessica’s plan defied any level of comprehension. But instead of getting good and mad, I just sat in the cab of his pickup in utter d
isbelief.
Ronald drove his truck for several minutes until he came to another unmarked dirt road. He turned into what was clearly a driveway. I could see a house at the end, the back of the house was visible. The front of the house only became visible to me as he made one last turn.
The house that murder built was not large or grand. Rather, it was a single story house with a nice bay front window that was covered by wood and plastic. When he stopped, I could see the bullet holes that littered the aluminum siding. Ronald put the truck in park and turned the engine off. We both sat there in silence. My anger was building hard and fast. I wanted to hit him hard and keep hitting him until I couldn’t raise my arms. I felt my hands start to ball into fists. My right hand began to rise.
“Walter, if you hit me again, I promise you a very painful stay in a coma.”
I started to scream, the spittle of my words flying out of my mouth and landing on the seat between us. “You motherfucking cocksucker! I should fucking kill you for this! How dare you! Who do you think you are? Fucking shit Christ… AWWWWWWEEEEE!”
My fists lashed out at the dash and the seats. I screamed and yelled, my elbows flying right and left, striking the window and passenger seat. I kicked the floorboards and yelled more obscenities and insults. My words hitting him full on. I did this for a good twenty minutes until I was spent. All the while, Ronald sat there beside me. He never said a word, nor did he react to the words I threw at him.
From afar, I must have looked and sounded like the insane man I was just then. But Ronald was the king of cool. When I was finished, I sat there in the front seat of his truck, heaving and gasping to get air into my lungs. My arms and legs were battered and bruised. My knuckles were bleeding from hitting his dash. I had damaged the console of his truck and I had managed to crack the passenger’s side window. Sweat was popping out on my forehead and had started to run into my eyes. I wiped it off using the front of my shirt.
“For what it’s worth, I told her this was a bad idea but she’s worried about you. Been talking to Lori and well, you know…” His voice trailed off.
“No, I don’t know Ronald, and that’s the point. I’m not some broken down charity case that needs to be babysat like a child.”
Ronald’s hands were draped over the steering wheel, his fingers drumming against the dash. His face was empty, his eyes were far off in another world. “It’s like this. I told your sister I would take you along with me… you know, give you something to focus on other than the divorce and the booze. The truth is I have limited experience in figuring out mysteries. So, after we talked about it, I thought you could maybe act as a sounding board.”
“You’re so full of shit and you know it. You lie like a child.”
“Look, it’s either stay here and help me or not. The choice is yours.” Ronald’s eyes were looking at the floor. He whipped his hand across his face and then turned to look at me. “I was serious about before.”
“Before what?” I asked him.
“She’s probably going to leave me when I tell her what I used to do. And I can’t blame her. Not a lot of women want to share their bed with a hired human resources problem solver.”
“Come again?”
“You know… what I used to do.”
“You mean hired contract killer?”
“God, I hate that term.”
“You’re bothered by a label for killing people? Do you hear yourself?”
“You may not believe this, but Jessica got me out of the life. I really have given up on what I used to do. Now I just want to put this behind us and figure out a way to tell her so... you know, we stay together.”
“So, what, I’m the answer to keeping your marriage? Man, are you screwed.”
Ronald’s voice lowered to just above a whisper. “I can’t lose her. I just can’t. I’ve lost the taste for blood and honestly, if we were too split up, I’d just wind up back in the life, taking my frustrations out on whoever is standing in front of me.”
“So, what, I help you and this is supposed to serve as what… some sort of proof you’ve changed? Let me ask you – if we find whoever is behind this, what then? Huh? What, we’re going to turn them over to the cops for prosecution?”
He shrugged his shoulders helplessly and I just stared at him, wondering where this side of Ronald had come from. I couldn’t comprehend when the tables had turned or where I was supposed to go from here. “Shit, we are a pair of sad sacks, you know it?”
He nodded and then looked me in the eye. For the first time, his eyes weren’t opaque, but clear and innocent of any guile or violence. I was moved by the contrition that appeared in his eyes and at this moment, I was both defeated and helpless. I nodded my head slowly in return and said, “Alright Ronald, where do we start?”
Ronald reached out to shake my hand. I took it and we shook. For the first time since we were kids, I felt like I understood the bond that was forged between us so many years ago.
When our hands broke apart, he raised his in a mock toast and said, “For the good times.”
I raise mine in return. “For the good times.” For the first time in ages, Ronald and I were brothers again.
And then we both broke out laughing at the absurdity of what we had just done.
Chapter 16
The following morning, Ronald gave me the guided tour of the house and its grounds. I could see Jessica everywhere. She had decorated the place with childhood mementos; everything from pictures of her and me as kids, to knick-knacks that my mother used to keep around the house. I saw several doll figurines from my mother’s favorite movies, including the rabbit from Alice in Wonderland, Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz, and even Luke Skywalker with his lightsaber. It was like walking into the home we grew up in.
The living room wall near the kitchen, the one that led down the hallway to a spare bedroom, was dedicated to Thomas and Cassandra. Their photos were lined up like trophies along it and I stopped and looked at them all. Everything was there, from their baby pictures to school pictures. There were even pictures from Thomas’s first little league game and Cassandra’s first dance recital. I tried to pull them from the memory in my own head and failed. Near the end, there was a picture of Lori and the kids posing with Ronald and Jessica. In the background, I could make out the playground equipment at their elementary school. Lori’s hairstyle was the same today as it was in the picture, and the kids had to be about the same age as they were now. I tried again to remember when my sister and Ronald had been in Florida or when Lori had changed her hair to what it was now, but nothing surfaced. I could feel the shame and humiliation building deep inside of me, my face starting to color from embarrassment. I just wanted to fall to the floor and cry.
First and foremost, if pressed I would have to say I am a father. My actions as their father could be defined as sad at best. No matter how many times I swore I would change, something in me always reverted to my base psychological neurosis. I could blame it on the booze or poor choices that at the time I always justified to meet the outcome I sought. But in reality, when push came to shove, I’d always taken the path I knew would cost me the most. For the most part, I always got a pass because the bad guys always had it coming. Either that or the authority I labored under knew that attempts to rehabilitate me were wasted actions.
The disease that is called alcoholism has taken me to places where I would just as soon forget. When I became a cop I earned a reputation for flaunting the rules of law in order to bring about a just result. I wasn’t beyond using violence and verbal intimidation to force the adjustment in others. During this time, I also began to drink so I could forget the trespasses of others. Then I drank to forget my trespasses on the weak and indefensible. Then I drank to just forget. The anger and violence that lived in my breast drove me to very dark places, especially when I encountered people who were walking bags of feces filled with self-loathing. The asp I carried became my bible and the pain I inflicted was my salvation. Internal affairs kept a file
on me that grew exponentially every year.
My undoing in Texas was the drunken beating of a man who heaped violence upon his wife and kids like it was his sworn duty, handed down to him by God himself. My partner had to drag me off of him when the asp I carried flew out of my hand, the sweat and blood running down its smooth metal surface making it impossible to hang on to. After that, my conscience turned itself off and I couldn’t remember all the details of the incident. Later, Internal Affairs would shove the pictures at me. These were accompanied by his wife’s testimony and the hospital records detailing the various lacerations and bruises I had left. His face was unrecognizable, and the bones in both of his hands were broken from where he had tried to defend himself. My partner testified the beating was righteous; that the husband had attacked me and I had simply acted in self-defense. This was of little consequence to the guys from IA. The actions I took were extreme in nature, which gave them the reason they needed to bounce me. The union wouldn’t touch it or me. As far as being a Texas lawman went, I was through.
By then, Lori and I weren’t doing so well. A cop I knew down in South Florida offered me a job in the Collier County Sheriff’s office and I took it, moving all of us to South Florida. I got my drinking under control and for a while, things were looking up. Two years into it, Ronald showed up and my life went straight to the crapper.
I was approaching middle-age. I had nothing to show for all of the years I had walked the earth. No money, no possessions, no house, no real job, and no hope of finding any of them. Hell, even if I had found them, I’m not sure I could have held on to them. It depressed me to think that my kids would be raised in a home with a father who was not their own. The hole in my stomach was like a bottomless void filled with grinding rocks.
I continued to stare at the pictures on the wall. As I looked at my ex-wife and kids with Jessica and Ronald, I could feel the tears welling at the corner of my eyes. All my bravado, confidence and bullshit were seeping into the floor. My knees were starting to buckle under the weight of my shame. I reached out to steady myself against the wall and started to weep quietly, the sobs beginning to build until I was having a hard time keeping them hidden. After a few minutes, I began to get myself under control. I wiped my eyes on my shirt and blew my nose into my shirt tails. Looking around for Ronald, I didn’t see him, but was pretty sure he was nearby and was simply allowing me some space and time. Raising my fingertips to my lips, I kissed them and then placed them on the picture. I told them I loved them and then, crossing myself, said a silent prayer to whatever God might be listening, and begged for redemption. Turning, I walked back into the living room.
On The Devil's Side of Heaven Page 9