Borderline

by Joseph Badal

  “Love?” Barbara said.

  “Yeah, love. Who else loves Marge as much as Navarro does? Or, it could be someone who loves Connie.”

  Barbara had started to wind down. She didn’t want to do anything right now but go home and get some sleep. But she stayed by the bed and held Susan’s hand until one of the nurses chased her out.

  As Barbara turned to leave, Susan said, “You kicked butt today, girl.”

  TUESDAY

  JULY 6

  CHAPTER 69

  Even though she got home very late, sleep didn’t come easily. She tossed in bed for an hour before she gave in and took a Tylenol P.M. When she finally slept, serial dreams disturbed her. Monsters chased her; Rudy Salas took away her badge; Shawn Navarro laughed and told her she was disgusting. And then Susan told her to find the person who loved both Marge and Connie. Barbara awoke drenched in sweat. Her pajama top was soaked through and stuck to her skin.

  “Sonofabitch!” she whispered. “Sonofabitch!”

  She showered as quickly as she could, then dressed in jeans, a sweatshirt, and cross trainers. The drive to the hospital was a blur. Barbara knew she should slow down, but adrenaline gushed through her.

  Susan was in the best condition she’d been in since she was shot. The infection and fever had run their courses and her voice was now almost as strong as ever. Barbara unloaded her thoughts on Susan and waited impatiently for her partner’s response. She paced back and forth.

  “Will you please sit down,” Susan demanded. “You’re making me crazy.”

  “Well, what do you think?” Barbara dropped into a chair and then popped back out of it.

  “Since it’s based on my theory, I’d be pretty stupid to say you’re wrong. Victoria’s killer has got to be one of the four people you mentioned a moment ago. If Navarro was motivated to attack Stein because of his love of Marge and concern for Connie, maybe he or one of the others had the same motivation to kill Victoria Comstock.”

  Barbara needed support from Lieutenant Salas for her plan to work. He was skeptical, but went along with it. He told Barbara he would do almost anything to get the sheriff and the sheriff’s political cronies off his back. He ordered Detectives Anderson and McMurtree to stand by for orders.

  “You sure Marge Stanley’s in Albuquerque?” he asked her.

  “I told her yesterday she ought to come down from Farmington because Connie might need her. But I’ll check.” She pulled out her notebook and looked for Marge’s cell phone number. She punched it into the phone on Salas’s desk and held her breath until Marge answered.

  “This is Detective Lassiter. Have you seen the news?”

  “No. I’ve been with my folks since I got in this morning. My father was released from the hospital but he’s still weak. Why?”

  “We arrested Shawn Navarro last night for the murder of Nathan Stein.”

  There was dead silence on the other end of the line and then a mournful “O-o-h.” She went silent for a moment. “It can’t be. Not Shawn.”

  “There’s no question, Ms. Stanley. The murder was captured on video.”

  “Why would he kill Dr. Stein? It doesn’t make sense.”

  “I think we should meet. Where are you?”

  “At my parents’ house. I can come down to your office. I think that would be better.”

  “No!” Barbara said, more sharply than she’d intended. “I’ll come to you. I can be there in ten, fifteen minutes.” She hung up before Marge could object.

  Barbara and Salas took her department sedan. Anderson and McMurtree followed in another unmarked. Two uniformed deputies would meet them at Roger and Cybil Stanley’s home.

  “You sure about this?” Salas asked when they were two blocks from the house. “If you’re wrong, there will be hell to pay. We’ve already dragged Marge Stanley down here twice. Arrested her once.”

  “Lieutenant, I feel it in my gut. But, I don’t have proof. I’m flying on pure instinct here.”

  Salas slouched in the passenger seat. “That makes me feel so much better. I wonder what early retirement will be like.”

  Barbara glanced at him and wondered if Salas might be about to back out. But he smiled at her. She smiled back, hoping gratitude and respect were conveyed in her expression.

  The deputies were already parked in their cars on the street when Barbara pulled up to the curb several doors before the Stanley house. Anderson and McMurtree pulled up behind Barbara and Salas. Their vehicles were screened from the house by giant sycamore trees. Everybody got out for a huddle behind the detectives’ car.

  “Schultz, Tafoya,” Salas said to the deputies, “you two cover the back. Lassiter and I will go inside. Anderson and McMurtree, you handle the front. I want sirens blasting and emergency lights flashing.”

  “You expecting trouble?” McMurtree asked as he pulled his service revolver and checked the load.

  “I don’t think you’ll need that,” Barbara said. “We’ll go in like gangbusters for effect. I want them off balance. There’s just Marge Stanley and her elderly parents inside. That’s it. Let’s not get careless. Okay?”

  The others either nodded or said, “Yes.”

  “Good,” Salas said. “Let’s move the cars up in front of the Stanley’s house and hit the lights and the sirens.”

  The quiet residential street suddenly erupted in a sound-and-light show. As soon as it started, Barbara and Salas sprinted to the front door of the house. Barbara slammed the side of her fist against it three times and shouted, “Sheriff’s Department, open up!”

  Marge must have been right there because she opened the door almost immediately.

  “What the hell is—?”

  Barbara didn’t let her finish. She grabbed Marge’s arm and turned her around. She took her down to the floor, jerked her arms back, and cuffed her. Someone emitted a shrill scream, but it wasn’t Marge. As Barbara pulled her to her feet, she saw Cybil Stanley standing in the living room with her hands over her mouth.

  Roger Stanley burst into the room behind Cybil, a claw hammer in his hand. “Cybil, what’s going on?”

  Salas brushed his jacket back and exposed the pistol in his belt holster. “Put down the hammer,” he ordered.

  Roger Stanley looked very frail. Barbara wondered if he had fully recovered from the stress of the night of Marge’s first arrest, when he’d been hospitalized for chest pains. She now worried that her little stunt might backfire and cause him to have another attack. He stared at them wide-eyed, dropped the hammer to the carpet. He pulled the wailing Cybil to his side and shushed her.

  Anderson and McMurtree entered the house at that moment. Their presence seemed to agitate the Stanleys even more. “Bastards!” Roger cursed at the cops; Cybil still wailed.

  “Marge Stanley, you’re under arrest for the murder of Victoria Comstock,” Barbara said. “You have the right to remain silent, you have the right—”

  “No-o-o,” Roger yelled. “You leave her alone. Haven’t you put her through enough?”

  “Lieutenant, you’d better take the Stanleys out of the room while I finish here. I want to get this over with before the press shows up.” Mention of the press—part of Barbara’s plan to ratchet up pressure—seemed to shock Roger Stanley. He had a deer-in-the-headlights look.

  “You’re going to put my daughter on television?” Roger moaned. “In handcuffs? She hasn’t done anything.”

  Salas moved toward Marge’s parents. He gently patted Roger’s arm and, with a tip of his head, urged them to move out of the room.

  Roger backed away from Salas. Barbara noticed his face was crimson and his mouth opened and closed like he was a beached fish. Salas grabbed his arm.

  “Come on, Mr. Stanley. Let’s not make this more difficult than it needs to be.”

  Roger shoved the hand away. “You don’t understand. Marge could never kill someone, not even that bitch Victoria Comstock.” He seemed suddenly brittle, defeated.

  “We know she murdered Mrs. Comstock,
” Salas said. “Now, you either go with me to the kitchen, or we’ll take you downtown, too.”

  “Daddy, please,” Marge wailed. “It’ll be all right.”

  Cybil Stanley hadn’t said a word. She looked ready to collapse. Barbara nodded at Detective Anderson and handed Marge off to him. She then moved to Cybil and quickly guided her to an overstuffed chair. The old woman fell into it.

  Roger’s face was no longer crimson. It had turned an unhealthy white. He glanced from Marge to Cybil and looked more worried by the second. He moved over to the chair his wife sat in and took her hand in his.

  There was an angry expression on Marge’s face that made Barbara suddenly doubt herself. She’d had plenty of reason to feel like shit over the past few days, but at this moment she felt like the biggest shit in the world. She was about to abandon her plan and uncuff Marge.

  Then Cybil squeaked, “Let her go, please. Please let my baby go.”

  “It’s okay, honey,” Roger said. “It’s all a mistake. Just relax.”

  Cybil gave her husband an adoring look. She patted his hand. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, I just couldn’t take it anymore.”

  “I know, dear, but it will be all right. This is just one more mistake by these idiots.”

  Cybil patted Roger’s hand, as a mother would console a child. She stared up directly into his eyes. “I love you.”

  Then she sat up straighter in the chair and faced Barbara. “I killed Victoria Comstock. That woman caused Marge so much misery, and then she took our granddaughter from us. Someone had to stop her.” She looked around at them. “I left here after Roger was asleep. I went over there to talk to her, to ask her to stop this vendetta against Marge and our family, but she only laughed at me. She seemed to enjoy my pain. She called Marge awful names; called Connie a stupid slut. She told me we’d never see our granddaughter again. She said she’d own Connie—mind, body, and soul, and would eventually destroy her. She told me she had used Marge’s husband just to see how far she could push him. She bragged about how she could manipulate anyone, how she dominated Joseph Alban, co-opted Connie, and would do anything to ruin Marge’s life. I couldn’t stand to see Marge go through any more pain, to let Victoria destroy Connie, our only grandchild. Something came over me. I snapped, went blank. I grabbed that spear off the wall and hit her with it.” She paused. “So many people hated that woman; so many people’s lives were destroyed because of her. I’m glad she’s gone. I’m not sorry for what I did in protecting Marge and Connie. I’d do it again if I had to.” She turned to her daughter. “Marge, I never meant for you to be hurt in this. I love you, baby.”

  The room went silent. If Cybil Stanley’s words had not been about murder, the scene might have been comedic. All of the people in the room, except Cybil, stood with mouths agape, shock on their faces. Barbara was especially stunned. This wasn’t what she’d expected. She’d thought Roger Stanley was the killer. She’d never suspected Cybil.

  A resigned look came to Cybil’s face. Then the strength that had sustained her seemed to drain away. She sank deeper into the chair. A small groan escaped her lips and she passed out.

  Salas shouted at Anderson to call for an ambulance and then helped Barbara move Cybil from the chair to the sofa. Barbara unlocked the cuffs on Marge, who stared at her with a hateful, venomous look, which told Barbara that Marge had figured out this whole scene had been a set-up to force the real killer to confess.

  Barbara had now solved two murder cases in less than twenty-four hours. She’d never felt worse in her entire life.

  CHAPTER 70

  “You don’t seem happy,” Susan said.

  “That’s the understatement of the century,” Barbara replied from the chair in Susan’s hospital room.

  Susan laughed. “The century’s young.”

  “Thanks. That makes me feel so much better.”

  “Get over it, girl. You did your job.”

  “So, how come I feel like steamrolled caca? How come I feel this visceral hatred for Victoria Comstock?”

  “She really played with the lives of a lot of people. And she got away with it—for a while, anyway.”

  Barbara just shrugged. Then she stood and walked to the side of the bed. “You know, you were right about the murderer being a woman.”

  Susan wagged her head back and forth. “I never would have suspected Cybil Stanley. I wouldn’t have believed she had it in her to murder someone.”

  “Never mess with a mother protecting her young.”

  “How is she?”

  “Not good. Her heart was already in bad shape. The stroke she had destroyed half her brain. She can’t talk, can’t feed herself, needs help just to go to the bathroom. The doctors say she may never recover.”

  “That why the D.A. decided not to prosecute?”

  Barbara nodded. “Figured she’s already been punished. Besides, she’s too incapacitated to stand trial.”

  “Where’s Connie?”

  “Another bad ending. The kid was already screwed up. Victoria’s death didn’t help things. Neither did her relationship with Stein. Then his murder. On top of everything else, she finds out her real father is Shawn Navarro, and he’s charged with the murder of her lover. She’s been institutionalized.”

  Barbara and Susan seemed to run out of things to say. Silence covered the room like a heavy, wet blanket. Finally, Susan said, “I’m sorry about Shawn. I know you really cared for him.”

  Barbara swallowed the lump in her throat the instant Susan mentioned Shawn. He’d used her badly. He’d even tried to throw her off with the suggestion that the same person had killed both Stein and Victoria. But some good—a lot of good—had come from their relationship. It was difficult to admit, but she knew it was true. “Actually, I’m better off today because of Shawn. He helped me get past Jim’s death. He helped me decide to get off the booze.” She performed a slow pirouette. “And I’ve dropped more than ten pounds.”

  Susan smiled. “You look great.”

  Barbara sat down and stared toward the window.

  “We have a trial date yet?”

  “No. Last I heard, his attorney tried to work out a plea deal with the D.A. There’s no way the D.A. can get premeditated murder, although he could certainly go for it. Shawn’s attorney wants manslaughter and the minimum sentence. Shawn’s one tough character. He’ll probably come out of prison okay.”

  After a moment, Barbara added, “Remember that he saved my life, and probably yours, too, when Manny tried to kill us.”

  Susan smiled, but Barbara could see the sadness in her eyes. “Well, there’s always the lieutenant. I still think he’s sweet on you.”

  “He still looks like Sniffles the Mouse, with a beer belly. And that voice . . . .”

  Susan feigned shock, then broke into riotous laughter that brought a nurse to the room, who told them to keep it down. The nurse only made them laugh louder.

  TUESDAY

  JULY 13

  CHAPTER 71

  A week later, Susan’s physician released her from the hospital. Barbara picked her up at 8 in the morning and drove her home. She had arranged to have Susan’s house cleaned, making sure no bloodstains remained on the floor.

  “You want me to sleep here tonight?” Barbara asked.

  “Nah, I’ll be all right. What’s on for today?”

  “Nothing for you!” Barbara scolded. “You’re supposed to cool it for at least two weeks.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’ve been in bed enough already.”

  “Look, I don’t—”

  Susan laid a hand on Barbara’s arm. “Don’t mother-hen me, partner. I already called the lieutenant from the hospital and told him I’d be in today. He agreed as long as I stay off the street and concentrate on paperwork until the doctor gives me a clean bill of health. I’d appreciate a ride to work, though.”

  “You got it.”

  Barbara held the squad room door open for Susan and shared her surprise. Three detectives—Bennett, Anderso
n, and McMurtree—and Salas stood at attention, two on each side of the aisle that ran between the desks. What the hell is going on? Barbara thought. Was this more harassment? Was Salas in on it now, too?

  Then Silas Montgomery, the sheriff himself, stepped out of Salas’s office and took his place at the far end of the aisle. He, the lieutenant, and the detectives smiled at Barbara and Susan.

  “You going to stand there all day, Detectives?” Salas said. “Get over here so the Sheriff can have his say.”

  Barbara and Susan looked at one another. Susan’s eyebrows were arched so high Barbara wanted to laugh, but she suppressed the urge. They moved down the middle of the formation and stopped when they reached Sheriff Montgomery.

  Montgomery was a weathered old geezer who had been elected a few years earlier only because his incumbent opponent drunkenly drove a department-issued sedan into a bank ATM two days before voters went to the polls. From the looks of the busted veins in his face, Barbara guessed Montgomery was a drinker, too. But he had yet to ram an ATM.

  He made a nice little speech about what a good job Barbara and Susan had done on the Comstock and Stein cases, how they had brought credit and honor to the Bernalillo County Sheriff’s Department, blah, blah, blah. Then he presented each of them with a citation. The three other detectives behind them broke into applause.

  The sheriff departed immediately after the little ceremony. Salas and the others crowded around Barbara and Susan and congratulated them. It took a couple minutes for things to settle down. Barbara and Susan went to their desks and faced one another. “It doesn’t get much better than this, does it?” Susan said.

  Barbara put on a feigned frown. “Too bad Gabelli missed the big ceremony.”

  Bennett walked over and said, “I guess you hadn’t heard. Gabelli got transferred to Records.”

  FRIDAY

  AUGUST 13

  CHAPTER 72

  Barbara hadn’t looked forward to this meeting. The only good thing she could rationalize that she had done for Marge Stanley was to clear her and her daughter’s names in two homicides; and she knew that was one hell of a rationalization. She’d arrested Marge once and then faked a second arrest. She’d pressured Cybil Stanley into an incapacitating stroke, and arrested Marge’s lover.