Greg stopped short when he saw Mike strangling Smythe against the door jamb his feet dangling. Hot coffee wafted over the edges making him drop both cups with a dull crack of ceramic against linoleum.
"Mike," Greg yelled as he grabbed his arm, beads of perspiration fell like an open faucet down his face. "Don’t do this. This isn't going to change anything.”
Mike's grip on Smythe's collar tightened. Gravity pulled Smythe's body weight down as Mike's hands pushed up.
"Mike. What about Rudy?" Greg huffed through gritted teeth as he continued to pull at Mike. "Who’s going to tell his family what happened if you’re behind bars? “
Mike didn't respond but his face registered understanding.
"Think about Maria and the kids?" Greg continued. "You’re going to let some stranger tell them Rudy’s dead?"
Mike let go and stepped back as Smythe fell to the floor like a dead man cut from his noose. Coughing, wheezing and grasping his throat he curled onto his side. His body shook with the influx of air only to be ravaged by convulsion when he inhaled. Saliva and bile choked from his throat as he lay on his side, eye blinking but seeing nothing.
Mike looked at Greg then he took a long, deep breath and looked down at Smythe. This was far from over and while he wasn't going to kill him – at least not at that moment – he wasn't about to let him skate away thinking that it was. He crouched down and Smythe recoiled as far back as the doorjamb would allow.
"This isn't over," Mike whispered his eyes staring off in the distance. "This is anything but over. And if you say one more thing to I.A. or Captain Madison it will be.” He looked directly at Smythe. “You’ll never hear me coming." It was an unnecessary but definitive exclamation point to an unveiled threat and as Smythe’s eyes widened in fear he made it obvious he understood.
A small crowd formed around the open doorway. Mike looked up to see Madison staring down at a still coughing Smythe then back up at him. The dark circles under his eyes looked like eye black on a linebacker and the skin on his face hung as if deflated. The two men stared at each other until Madison lifted his head then lowered it his eyes never breaking contact. Mike cocked his head and Madison walked away.
Mike followed him down the hallway until they reached the T-juncture, one way led to Madison’s office and the other led outside.
Madison went left.
Mike went right.
It was time to end this and Madison just gave him a window.
Chapter 54
Mike sat in the dark of his car unable to bring himself to walk up to the front door. He listened to the sounds of the night trying to formulate the best words until he realized there were none. It wasn’t a duty with which he was unfamiliar having done it too many times in his career. But it was never personal. No matter the spin there was no easy way for him to tell Maria the future she worked so hard to create no longer existed.
Resigned to his self-imposed duty he got out of his car and walked toward the house each step a labor of will. He rang the doorbell.
The light in the foyer came on. A shadow covered the peephole then he heard the click the deadbolt and the chain sliding back from its protective housing.
"Mike?" Maria asked as she opened the door the sleep still apparent in her voice. "Are you okay?"
Mike cleared his throat. "I'm fine. Can I…come in?”
Her smile morphed from interest to concern and finally the beginnings of fear as the suffocating grip of understanding took hold. Being a cop’s wife for twenty-five years left an indelible mark and the overwhelming fear of late night doorbells tainted her otherwise unsullied face.
He cleared his throat again. "Maria." He didn't need to say anymore as he watched the conflict of denial play its ugly game within her and she stood, motionless and without expression.
"Maria." Mike tried again. "There's been an accident. Rudy—Rudy's been killed."
He would have relived being hit over the head a thousand times than tell Maria her husband was dead. The expression she gave him was of such gut wrenching horror his heart sank and the tears flowed from his eyes.
"No," she whispered. "No. No. That's not possible. No. No." She gave him the smile of denial as her hands went to her forehead. "He's coming home soon. He'll be late but he's coming home. Rujilio always comes home. Always."
"Maria," Mike said. He reached out but she slapped his hand away.
"No," She said stepping back into the safety of their home. "You're wrong. You are wrong. No. No. No!"
Mike stepped in and reached out to hug her. She pulled away, her arms flailing as she punched his chest all the while screaming a repetition of “no”. He grabbed her wrists and pulled her hard against him, wrapping his arms around her so tight she couldn’t move. As the reality of the situation sunk in her screams were no longer of denial but of heartache, pure unadulterated heartache tearing Mike to shreds. As her body went limp he picked her up and carried her to the sofa.
So focused on consoling Maria, Mike jumped when a small hand touched his arm. He looked over at two little crying faces, their eyes begging him for an explanation.
"Mommy's okay girls," Mike said to the twin girls he adored. "She just got some bad news."
He felt Maria stiffen in his arms as her head jerked up with the realization he was speaking to her children. Her face hidden from her daughters, she wiped her eyes and breathed in deeply. Mike looked at her for guidance but was met with only sorrow and the insurmountable responsibility of telling her children what he just told her.
"Listen girls," Mike said as he turned to face the girls while Maria cried into his back, her hands strangling the seams of his jacket. "I have some really bad news and I need for you two to hear it first so you can help your mommy with the younger kids. You girls are the strongest and your mommy is going to need your help. Do you think you'll be able to step up and help your mommy with the others? Do you think you can do that?"
They looked at him warily both still shedding their own tears at their mother’s distress but nodded with the shaky, runny nose confirmation of frightened five-year-olds.
Grace, always the more outgoing of the two finally asked, "what's the bad news Uncle Mike?"
"Gracie, Ava," he paused unsure what to say. Telling Maria was one thing. Telling the children was something completely different. He didn't know if he should just tell them or try to dumb it down so they understood without getting hysterical. They looked intently at him their fists clenched at their mouths as they both sniffed between cries. Then he realized the best way was to just tell them the truth. They deserved that much.
He reached over and pulled both girls onto his lap, pulling them in so close he could intertwine his fingers. "There's been an accident and something has happened to your daddy."
Confusion looked back at him.
"Your daddy’s been…your father’s…I mean…he’s dead.” He cleared his throat. “Your daddy’s been killed.”
The girls both stared at him, lack of understanding clouded their eyes.
"Is he sniffling, sneezing, coughing, aching, stuffy head, fever and can't rest?" Ava asked, sweetly trying to categorize “killed” within her own lexicon.
Mike couldn't help but smile at her.
Grace answered for him. "He's dead dummy not sick," she said it with a bitterness that startled Mike. She was always the more direct and mature of the two but the way she responded was more hateful than her usual sarcasm.
At that moment Mike realized Grace would never be the same, sweet girl who loved him more than life. She would have an edge to her that would worry her mother and give him gray hairs as her surrogate father. At that moment the child in her died.
He cursed Suzanne and Kevin.
Chapter 55
Mike stayed with Maria and the children for the remainder of the night. She tried to talk him out of it insisting she could handle the children but he persisted and too tired to argue, she gave in. After the remaining children were told, comforted and subsequently pu
t back to bed Maria followed, kissing Mike on the cheek, her gratitude evident in her puffy, brown eyes.
He spent the first hour staring up at the ceiling or at the family pictures scattered throughout the toy covered living room. He tried to stay awake in case anyone needed him but exhaustion finally overtook him and he fell into a restless sleep. His dreams tormented him as the night's events replayed over and over in his head, each time seeing Rudy fall while he remained immobile. When he looked down he screamed soundlessly as he realized he was wearing the same dull, black shoes of his attacker. The muscles in his body tensed with anxiety as he felt the repeated crush of the wood against his skull like a carnival game.
He jerked awake with the sound of gunfire and it took him a few seconds to remember where he was. Then he fell back to sleep initiating the scenario to replay in an endless loop before he finally got up unwilling to let his psyche dictate anything more.
He walked into the kitchen to make himself some coffee crushing forgotten toys along the way. Darkness still encased the sleeping Valley as he flipped on the canned lights in the kitchen making him wince and retreat back into the semi-darkness of the living room until his bloodshot eyes adjusted.
Staring at the pot slowly filling with the much desired elixir he heard footsteps coming down the hall and turned to see Maria walking into the kitchen in her pink, flower bathrobe. It was obvious to him she spent the night in similar discord, the excessive puffiness surrounding her eyes immediately giving her away. Her smile was tight as she walked in, grabbed two cups for their coffee and sat on one of the bar stools next to the countertop.
Neither spoke. Mike turned back to the coffee as Maria fingered the second cup she grabbed out of habit. Mary Elizabeth had made the oversized, ceramic mug and had given it to Rudy for Father’s Day the year before. Painted in red with pink and purple heart embellishments, "World's Best Daddy" ran around the circumference. The initials MER and the date were on the bottom.
Mike brought the pot over to where she sat and filled her cup. He moved to fill the second cup then stopped.
"It's okay Mike," Maria said quietly. She pushed the cup toward him and smiled reassuringly.
"I'm so, so sorry Maria," he reiterated his previous sentiments as he held the cup respectfully in his hands. "I wish there was a way for me to change places with him. It would have been better."
She smiled without looking up and put her hand over his. "No," she corrected. "It wouldn't have been better. My heart would still be broken."
"Yes but you'd have your husband with you and your children. It isn't right."
"No. It isn't. But when is the killing of a good man ever right."
He thought her response was overly philosophical given the personal nature of their conversation but didn’t push.
The ringing phone in Mike’s pocket startled them both. Uninterested Mike made no attempts to answer letting it go into voicemail. Silence reclaimed the space until his phone rang again. Frustrated with the intrusion he picked up his coat from the back of the sofa and pulled out the offending device. Prepared to hit the “end” button he hesitated when Greg's name and office number appeared on the display.
Mike debated then answered. "Greg?"
"Hey Mike. How you holding up?" Greg asked.
"As well as can be expected. What are you doing in the office at this hour?"
"I didn't want to wait until later to get started on Rudy."
"Get started? Why are you performing the autopsy?"
"I'm not. I'm doing the forensics work," he said. “It’s been nice to get back into this side of the job again.”
"Old habits I guess but why?"
"I didn't want anyone to drop the ball on this one. Rudy was my friend too."
Mike walked outside indicating to Maria that he’d be back in five.
"I found something interesting and I wanted you to hear about it first," Greg said.
Flashes of the conversation he’d had with Rudy the night before went through his mind and he tried to stop Greg from getting involved. "Look Greg, I appreciate that but you're just going to get yourself into trouble if you tell me anything. It's probably best that you just write it all down and hand it off to…to…,” he stopped. “To whoever is taking over.”
“Do I sound like I give a fuck?” Greg asked in his usual subtle way.
Mike smiled. "Do you know if anyone’s heard from Kevin yet? Have you seen him or heard if he's been back in the station yet?"
"I haven't heard from him but then again he’s got no reason to look for me. Look Mike, I found something interesting on Rudy's body and I think you might want to hear about it."
Again Mike tried to protest but Greg immediately shut him up.
"As far as I'm concerned you are still primary on the triple homicide. If you take the cop aspect out of Rudy getting killed I'm just considering his murder as part of that investigation."
Mike sighed. "Lay it on me Greg."
"Nitrocellulose, butyl acetate, tosylamide-formaldehyde resin, camphor and black pigment," Greg said.
"It’s too early for chem class Greg. Can you just spit it out for us short bus kids?”
"Black nail polish."
"Okay?”
"Black nail polish. I found traces of it on his collar."
Black nail polish. Black nail polish. He rolled the words around and around in his head. He couldn't remember ever seeing Suzanne with black nail polish on or any nail polish for that matter. Then again he wasn't really looking for that but he thought he would have remembered if Miss Prim and Proper was wearing something like black nail polish.
"Does that mean anything to you?" Greg asked.
"No."
"Damn. I was hoping that it would tie the woman to the murder. Daily is so fixated on proving you had something to do with the shooting I was hoping that might prove she was there and had actually touched him. Unless, of course, you started wearing nail polish."
“Not lately,” Mike replied. "Thanks Greg but I don't remember her ever wearing nail polish, especially black nail polish."
"Shit," Greg exclaimed. “There is one other thing.”
“Shoot.” Mike cringed at his choice of words.
“I also found caffeine, taurine, glucuronolactone, sucrose and glucose.”
“Greg?” Mike said exasperated with the chemistry class.
“Right, sorry, force of habit…commercial energy drink. There were traces on his jacket, like a spill. Was he big on those things?”
“No, he hated them. Won’t even let the kids drink ‘em.” Mike exhaled. Similar to the nail polish it didn’t get him any closer to where he needed to be.
He heard Greg take a frustrated breath and then let it out. They both wanted evidence that placed anyone else at the lot aside from Mike and Rudy.
"I'll put it in my final report and make sure someone knows to check her house,” David sighed with frustration. “Maybe she had a dark side.”
Obviously. Mike thought. "Hey, thanks again Greg. It's nice knowing someone's on my side for a change."
"Always," Greg said then hung up.
Maria wasn’t in the kitchen when he returned.
Black nail polish. Black nail polish. Black nail polish. The words kept rolling around in his head as if looking for the perfect location to stop and set up shop. No one would find black nail polish in her house. It wouldn't be like her to wear something so garish. Then again, how well did he really know her? He shook his head in disgust. He didn't know her at all.
He wished he’d have enough foresight to grab the case file before leaving the station last night. Maybe there was something in the files that would help him understand why the idea of black nail polish would not get out of his head. He wondered if Kevin logged the information into the system. If they hadn’t turned off his login ability he might be able to get on the internet, log in and look it up.
The internet.
He dropped his cup.
"Ahhh," he growled low in his thro
at. Even with the pain from his injury he dropped his head between his hands and used them to pound on his temples at his complete and utter stupidity.
"Stupid, stupid, stupid," he exclaimed under his breath, a sense of overwhelming anguish at the realization he missed the most obvious clues that were now blinking, neon lights in front of him. How could he have been so blind?
He pulled out his phone and dialed Doug's number.
"You’re up awfully early?" Doug’s voice was its usual calm toneless cadence indicating he was not asleep either. “I hope you don’t have any more dead people to look up.”
"The girl who got killed in the car crash," Mike said.
"Who?"
"Molly Stanford. The girl you said was killed in a car crash."
"What about her?"
"Do you remember finding out anything about any missing friends around the same time?"
"Missing friends?"
Mike talked slower and enunciated every word. "Did you happen to hear about any of her friends going missing around the same time she was killed in the crash?"
Mike heard cowboy boots walking across a tiled floor and rustling of papers.
"Um, okay, looks like a girl named Kristin Beecham was reporting missing two days later. She was at the graduation party with the victim the night she was killed."
"Do you know if she ever turned up?"
"Turned up? I have no idea. What are you getting at Mike?"
Ignoring the question, Mike continued his train of thought, part of him thinking this was too good to be true the other chastising himself for being so blind. "Do you have a description of her?"
"Who? The Stanford girl?"
"No. The friend. Do you have any idea what she looked like, her build, hair color, etc. Anything?"
Mike heard Doug shuffle more papers and then the silence of him reading.
"Sixteen, five feet seven inches tall, long brown hair, medium build, ears pierced four times on the right side, three on the left, no tattoos."
"So she was built just like the victim."
"Uh, yeah, I guess you could say that. They were about the same age and were the same height. I don't have a picture of the dead girl to compare. Oh, wait a minute, I see where you're going with this. Do you think maybe the missing kid was in the car with Molly and she was the one who got killed instead?"
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