Catch Me When I'm Falling

by Cheryl A Head

  The four stood, shook hands, and made their farewells in a friendlier manner than at their last meeting.

  # # #

  Gil sat on a bench across from the precinct’s processing counter. The desk sergeant was busy with two patrol officers and a very inebriated woman. Gil rose as Charlie and Don approached him. His jacket had been returned, and it too had dried blood on the sleeves and front. Charlie wanted to give Gil a hug but thought better of a display of affection at police headquarters. The three left through the front door and walked to the parking lot across the street.

  “They say I won’t get my car back until sometime tonight.”

  Charlie tucked an arm through Gil’s. “Are you all right?”

  “I guess I fucked up.”

  “You were following your instincts.”

  Charlie knew those instincts well. When they had met at the Detroit College of Law six years ago, they took to each other right away. Despite the gap in their ages, they had studied together and occasionally hung out. When Homeland Security began recruiting for freshman agents from law schools, they both leapt at the opportunity to join the new agency focused on ensuring America’s security after 9/11.

  “Are we going to get Betti?” Gil asked.

  “Eventually, but we should talk first. Do you have a change of clothes at the office?”

  Gil nodded. Conversation was at a minimum on the drive back. Charlie called Mandy to check in, but she didn’t pick up the phone. Next, Charlie called Judy to let her know they were on the way.

  “You can go on home if you want,” Charlie said to Judy because it was now almost five o’clock.

  “No. I want to see Gil before I leave. How is he?”

  “As good as can be expected,” Charlie said.

  When they reached the parking garage, they bypassed it, turned into the alley, and entered the building through the loading dock. “You can’t walk through the lobby with blood all over you. How’d you get it? Betti?” Charlie asked.

  Gil nodded for the second time in fifteen minutes. He hadn’t spoken during the drive, but spoke now. “She was covered in blood when I found her, and when she started flailing I just held onto her until she calmed down.”

  “She’s at the Charlotte Hotel,” Don said, showing Charlie the note Gil had written in the cell. “It used to be one of those places where you could get a room for an hour.”

  “It still is,” Gil said. “But they also have weekly rentals. The guy at the desk was about to throw us out because of our, uh, condition,” Gil said, looking down at his clothes. “But I paid him a week’s rent in advance, and he took us up a back elevator to a room on the fourth floor.”

  “You think she’ll stay put?” Don asked.

  “I hope so. She was scared. Plus, whatever she took made her crash as soon as we got into the room.”

  When the partners stepped into the office, Judy walked over to Gil and held him in a mother’s hug. Then she led him to the conference room and put a piping hot cup of coffee in front of him, also a lemon concha. Gil looked at Judy with love in his eyes. “You went to Mexicantown?”

  “You got any more of those cookies?” Don asked, pouring from the coffeepot.

  “No, but I bought you some cinnamon rolls. They’re in the cabinet.”

  “But I think I want one of those cookies,” Don said, eyeing the concha.

  “No. Those are just for Gil,” Judy said, adamantly.

  Don turned for the cinnamon rolls while Charlie pulled a chair across from Gil to get a good look at him. He looked drawn and despondent. His normally curious, flashing eyes were dulled from fatigue. Charlie wasn’t quite sure where to start, but Don threw out a question from the other side of the room. “What were you doing when the police found you?”

  Gil looked toward Don, but Charlie kept her eyes on Gil. “Betti took her purse when she sneaked out this morning, and I thought it might be in the alley. The phone we gave her was in the purse, and Charlie’s business card, so I went back to look for it.”

  “You’ve gotten yourself in deep, Acosta,” Don said, sitting. “You know being convicted of giving a false confession can nullify your law license. Why are you putting your career on the line for this . . . person? It’s crazy, man.”

  Gil didn’t respond right away. “I don’t know if I can explain. When I was in junior high, I found this puppy—a golden retriever mixed with mutt. He was scraggly, high-strung, and hungry. I brought him home to feed him and begged my mother to let him stay. His name was Pelé.”

  “Like the soccer player,” Judy said.

  Gil nodded and smiled and took a sip of coffee. “I took care of Pelé all through high school and college. He was a companion and a buddy. I left him with my mother when I joined the Marines. He died in my arms on my first visit home after boot camp.”

  “And Betti reminds you of your dog?” Don blurted.

  Charlie and Judy warned Don with their eyes.

  “Go ahead, Gil,” Charlie said.

  “Betti touched something in me I haven’t felt for a long time. It isn’t romantic love or lust, nothing like that. It’s something purer. She makes me want to take care of her.”

  “Maybe we should go see her without you,” Charlie suggested.

  Gil looked up, seeming tired and conflicted. “She likes you, Charlie.” Gil reached into the plastic bag he’d retrieved from the police desk sergeant, and poked around until he found a fob and key and handed it to Charlie. “She’s in room 404. She’ll probably be hungry.”

  # # #

  The Charlotte Hotel was four blocks away from Cass Avenue. The building’s facade had peeling mustard-colored paint curling out like the claws of a calico cat. The hotel’s name in blue cursive against a red and white banner faded into the background. Broken concrete steps ended on a cracked porch, and short metal posts marked where a banister and railing had once been. When Charlie and Don stepped into the narrow lobby, the space was so dark they had to come to a complete stop to allow their eyes to adjust. No doubt this was a strategy to give the person at the front desk a few seconds of advantage when trouble entered the door.

  The bespectacled man staring at them from behind the counter was as rundown and faded as the hotel’s exterior. Like Charlie and Don, he stood dead still. No one blinked, until Charlie stepped to the desk with her business card extended.

  “I need to see someone in room 404.”

  The man glanced at the card with rude uninterest. He scanned Charlie’s face with the same disregard. Only Don, who remained in place on the worn carpet at the portal, seemed to get a stir out of the man.

  “I’ve seen you before. Ain’t you a cop?” he asked Don.

  “I used to be.”

  “Once a cop, always a cop,” the man said matter-of-factly, then spoke to Charlie without looking at her. “The man left hours ago. The girl’s still upstairs.”

  “Thanks,” Charlie said, moving to the stairwell in the center of the lobby. Don followed, and as he passed the counter the clerk and ex-cop shared eye contact and attitude.

  “There’s a back staircase that leads to a rear door,” the man said. “Use it when you leave.”

  The fourth-floor hallway was also dark, probably to save on electricity, and perhaps to hide the disrepair, grime, and other things nobody wanted to see. Charlie knocked, and hearing no sound, turned the key in the lock and pushed open the door. A blast of cold, stale air tickled her nose. The room, covered in shadow, was compact. Everything but the bathroom could be seen from the hallway—one bed, one chair, and one dresser. Don nudged Charlie forward, and as she moved into the room she could make out a thin blanket covering the lower portion of Betti, lying on her tummy. Charlie tugged at the dirty shade until it lifted halfway, and the late afternoon light made the sad room even more depressing. The side of Betti’s face and neck were bruised and puffy, and her lip was cut, but her deep sleep and petite stature gave her the countenance of a sleeping toddler.

  “What do you want to do?”
Don asked.

  “I’m not sure. She’s probably as safe here as anywhere.”

  “Well, she was before you showed your card to that creep downstairs. I think we should wake her up and get the hell out of here. Monty’s people are sure to be looking for her.”

  After a few hard shakes, Betti began to stir. Charlie turned her over, showing her pink see-through blouse and turquoise leggings covered in dried blood. When her eyes opened, they showed confusion, then panic. Betti began punching, kicking, and screaming, so Don inhaled and gave her a quick sock on the chin, sending her back to unconsciousness.

  “No! You didn’t have to do that,” Charlie said.

  “Didn’t I? Come on, grab her legs. I’ll put this she-man over my shoulder.”

  Charlie looked around and found no bags or other items of occupancy other than Betti’s black ballerina shoes. Don lifted Betti onto his shoulder and carried her fireman-style to the door and down the hallway to the front steps. Charlie followed.

  “Aren’t we using the back way out?”

  “Hell no,” Don said. “That little twerp at the front desk probably set up a trap for us. I’m going out the front door, the quickest way to the car. Have your gun ready.”

  When they reached the first-floor landing, Don signaled for Charlie to go ahead. With her gun in a two-hand carry, she stepped slowly down the stairs, stooping to scan the lobby. The front-desk man had his back to the stairs and the lobby was empty. When one of the stairs creaked, the man spun around and looked at Charlie. His gaze immediately dropped to her gun, and his eyes widened to a frightened stare.

  “Keep your hands on the counter. We’re not here to make trouble. We’re just leaving through the front door. Did you call anybody?” Charlie asked.

  The man shook his head, watching Don make his way down the steps with Betti over his left shoulder. Don had his Sig in the other hand. Charlie crossed quickly through the lobby and slowly opened the front door, looking right, then left. She gestured for Don to come ahead. Before Don stepped outside, he turned to the clerk at the front desk.

  “You remember that card she showed you?”

  The man nodded.

  “Forget you saw it. If anyone comes for us, I’ll be back here for you. Got it?”

  The clerk gave a vigorous nod.

  Don piled Betti into the backseat of his Buick while Charlie scanned the area, giving particular scrutiny to the path leading from the rear of the hotel. When a car drove down the street, Charlie followed its progress until it had moved to the next block.

  “Where are we taking her?” Don said, opening the driver’s door.

  Charlie landed with a thud in the passenger seat and turned to squint at Betti sprawled across the backseat.

  “First we have to get out of here.”

  “Should we take her to the office?”

  “No, no. Let’s just get out of here, Don. Drive anywhere.”

  Anywhere turned out to be the White Castle on Michigan Avenue. It was a favorite Mack partners haunt. Don parked the car at the curb rather than go through the drive-through.

  “You want anything? I haven’t eaten since this morning.”

  “What about the cinnamon roll?”

  “Oh, that wasn’t enough to count.”

  “You can bring me a large Coke. I have to make a couple of calls.”

  The first call was to Mandy to explain what was going on and, since she had gotten over being upset, to ask a favor.

  Charlie also called her mother and Judy, letting them know everything was okay.

  Betti moaned from the backseat, but was still unconscious. Don ate as he drove, heading east, circumnavigating the narrow downtown streets until he was riding parallel to the river on East Jefferson, then south into the Berry Subdivision. Don pulled his car deep into the driveway of Charlie and Mandy’s new home. It was dusk now, and neighbors had completed yard work, home projects, and dog walks. Charlie and Don walked Betti up the stairs to the back deck, and Don propped her up while Charlie figured out the keys to the door and the deadbolt. Mandy intervened, opening the back door.

  Stepping into the house past Mandy who stared at Don and an unconscious Betti, Charlie pointed the way to the basement. Don carried down deck chairs to provide seating, and Charlie brought Betti around by holding wet paper towels to her head and temples. She immediately asked for Gil, but settled down when Charlie began to explain her situation.

  Don kept watch on Betti, while Charlie joined Mandy up in the kitchen where she was preparing chicken noodle soup with crackers.

  “I hadn’t imagined the first meal I’d be serving to a guest in our new house would be canned soup,” Mandy said.

  Charlie moved up to Mandy at the stove, wrapping arms around her waist. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t think of any other place to bring her.”

  “I’m not sure how I feel about this, so let’s just deal with the immediate situation and talk about it later.”

  Judy arrived next and went downstairs. She had retrieved a half-dozen items from Charlie’s Goodwill boxes, piecing together a change of clothes for Betti who was now dressed in a somewhat baggy, but blood-free, pair of black cotton pants and a blue plaid shirt. Still subdued from the drugs, but no longer hungry and more conservatively dressed, Betti could easily pass for a college student, Charlie thought.

  “What happened to her face?” Judy asked.

  “Somebody beat her up,” Don said, and in response to Charlie’s scorching look added, “And to keep her quiet, I had to coldcock her. That’s maybe where the bruise on her chin came from.”

  Both Judy and Betti glared at Don.

  “Why did you leave Gil at the hotel?” Charlie asked Betti. “Didn’t you know we were trying to keep you safe?”

  “There was nothing to do. I was bored.”

  “So you went right back to the Corridor.” Don said, shaking his head.

  “I wanted to see some of my friends. But Monty’s guy saw me walking, and grabbed me and threw me into the back of a car.”

  “What did you expect?” Don turned his back in exasperation.

  “I tried to explain to Monty that Gil really didn’t want his money, that he was just trying to find out who was burning people. But he wouldn’t let me talk. He just kept yelling about his currency and his drugs. I saw that look in his eyes, and when he gets like that he can hurt people real bad.” Betti’s eyes were wide. Her body was trembling, and her hands were pressed tightly together as she recounted the events of the morning.

  Don turned to face the room again.

  “Then what happened?”

  “I told him I would do him.” Betti dipped her head, locking her eyes on her hands in the first sense of embarrassment Charlie had observed about her actions and lifestyle. “I wanted to calm him down. He was smoking something, and he made me smoke some of it, too. When, uh, he finished, he started yelling again. He was yelling and choking me. The next thing I knew he knocked me on the floor. I had to cut him ’cause he was going to kill me.”

  The basement was so silent Charlie could hear dripping water. It was something she would have to investigate later. Charlie, Don, Mandy and Judy sat still, staring at Betti, and she looked from person to person, hoping for a sympathetic face.

  “I stabbed him until I knew he wouldn’t come after me. Then I climbed through the window, went around the ledge to the back stairs. I almost fell. I was so scared they would get me.” Betti shivered, crossing her arms against her stomach. “I ran for a long time, but my legs wouldn’t run no more,” she said, crying.

  Charlie, who had been leaning on the washer, walked over to Betti, who was sitting on a chaise lounge. Charlie squatted to be face to face with her.

  “So you killed Monty in self-defense?”

  “He’s dead?”

  Charlie nodded, and Betti sobbed into her hands. Judy moved to sit next to Betti, patting her shoulder.

  “We’re going to take you to the police,” Charlie said.

  “What?” Bet
ti was done with the tears and sat upright in the chair. “Gil said I didn’t have to go to jail. He said he was going to take care of me.”

  “Gil’s in trouble because of you,” Don yelled. “They arrested him because they thought he killed Monty.”

  Betti’s eyes darted from side to side, and she bared her teeth like a cornered wild animal. Charlie braced herself to take the full impact of the woman’s attempt to retreat.

  “I believe your story,” Judy said matter-of-factly, still patting Betti’s hand. “And the police will, too.”

  Betti froze. Her mouth slackened, and she slumped back onto the chaise.

  # # #

  Mandy stayed with Betti, while Charlie, Don and Judy went up to the kitchen. They stood in a tight circle, keeping their voices low.

  “You have to call Gil and tell him what you’re going to do,” Judy said.

  “He’s not going to like it,” Don said. “But there’s not much else we can do. Travers already warned us about obstruction.”

  “I think Travers will see the benefit of accepting this as a case of self-defense,” Charlie said. “Betti was the victim. She was frightened of Monty, and had a right to be. He fractured her arm a week ago. Putting Betti away forever is not going to serve justice. She needs treatment and a chance to do better.”

  Judy nodded in agreement. Don folded his arms and remained quiet.

  “I’ll call Travers, and you call Gil,” Charlie said to Don. “Tell him to get over here. We’ll take Betti to the police in the morning.”

  “Why not have the police just come here and pick her up?” Don asked.

  “No, that’s no good. Mandy and I haven’t even moved in yet. What would it look like if a half-dozen police cars, lights flashing, converge on my house, haul someone out the front door in handcuffs, and push them into the backseat of a patrol car?”

  “I see your point,” Don said, looking around. “By the way, I haven’t had a chance to say it, but this is a nice house.”