Funeral for a Friend

by Brian Freeman

  Colleen’s smile twitched a bit, but that was her only reaction. “I know, but when you’re getting rid of a guy, you need to do it quick like you’re pulling off a bandage. Anything else just prolongs the pain.”

  “Are you really sure you’re over him?”

  “Very sure.”

  “Are you dating somebody else?” Cat asked. “Is there another guy?”

  “Another guy?” Colleen giggled. “No, there’s no other guy.”

  “Curt thought there was.”

  “Well, Curt’s paranoid. Look, he’s nice and all, but it was never going to be a long-term thing with him. If he didn’t get that, that’s on him.”

  “Okay. You know what you want, and it’s none of my business. But listen, just so you know, Curt may try to get you back. I told him to talk to you. Go over to your place. I thought maybe there was still a chance for the two of you to make up.”

  “You told Curt to go to my place?” Colleen asked with an exaggerated pleasantness in her voice. Cat could tell she wasn’t happy about it.

  “Yeah. Sorry about that. I figured if you guys talked, you might change your mind. I shouldn’t have gotten in the middle of it.”

  “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” Colleen began to rub Cat’s legs with her bare feet. “You want to put on some music?”

  “Sure.”

  Colleen’s eyes narrowed, and she cocked her head like a fortune teller trying to read her mind. “I’m betting you’re a Chainsmokers fan.”

  “I am. I’ve got all their music.”

  “You like ‘This Feeling’?”

  Cat laughed. “Oh, yeah. I play it over and over. I drive Stride and Serena crazy with it sometimes. Do you like it, too?”

  “Love it.”

  Cat didn’t have to be asked twice. She retrieved her speakers from her bedroom, and she connected her phone and booted up the Chainsmokers song, letting Kelsea Ballerini belt out the opening lyrics. She saw Brayden glance inside through the rain-soaked front windows when he heard the music. When their eyes met, Cat deliberately swung her head away, ignoring him. She wanted him to know she was mad. She wanted to be a bitch.

  Colleen got off the sofa and danced, singing the lyrics in an off-key voice. Cat danced, too, letting out some of her pent-up energy from being stuck inside the house. Colleen sidled up to dance behind her, and when Cat turned around, the other girl stayed right there, like they were squeezed together in a crowded club. Neither of them had much rhythm, but Cat didn’t care. They swayed, they sang, they bumped together, and when the song was done, they played it again. And then again. Eventually, after the fourth time, Cat switched off the music and collapsed back on the sofa. She put her feet on the coffee table, and Colleen did the same, sitting right next to her. Both of them were sweaty and hot. Colleen put a warm hand on Cat’s leg below her shorts.

  “You got anything to drink around here?” Colleen asked.

  “Sure, what do you want? We’ve got Coke, Mountain Dew, water.”

  “Got anything harder?”

  Cat grinned. “I think that can be arranged. Like what?”

  “Tequila.”

  “My kind of girl,” Cat said.

  She glanced over her shoulder to make sure Brayden wasn’t watching, and then she went into the kitchen and retrieved a bottle of Jose Cuervo from Stride’s stash in the cabinet. She grabbed two shot glasses and brought everything back to the other room. When she poured an inch for Colleen, the girl downed it in a single swallow, and Cat did the same for herself, enjoying the burn.

  They did it again.

  And again.

  Cat began to feel happy. The alcohol went to her head. She relaxed, humming the way she always did when she was a little buzzed. She took the remote control for the television, turned it on, and muted the volume. Mindlessly, she flipped stations, not even spending a second or two at each one.

  “Do you ever think about running away from here?” Colleen asked in a dreamy voice.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t know. Leave your life behind and go somewhere new. I’ve always thought it would be cool to vanish and leave a big mystery behind me. Magazines would write about it. Maybe they’d do those true crime TV shows, too. ‘Whatever Became of Colleen Hunt?’ That kind of thing.”

  “People talk about stuff like that, but they never do it,” Cat said.

  “Oh, yeah, that’s because most people are cowards. Stuck in their blah blah lives. But I could. What about you? Do you think you could ever just pick up and go?”

  “When I was on the streets, maybe I could. There were a lot of days back then when I wanted to take off.”

  “Well, see, we could do it together,” Colleen said, and Cat couldn’t tell if she was joking. “Run away, go off the grid. Cash only. Color our hair. We could be ghosts. No one would ever find us.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  “Hey, when I make up my mind to do something, I do it. You want to go, we go. I’ve got my car on the street. I’m all packed.”

  Cat looked at her strangely. “I’m sorry, you’re packed?”

  “I just mean, I’m free to do whatever. No strings. So are you.”

  Cat shook her head and spoke softly, bringing reality into fantasy. “No, I’m not. I have a kid.”

  “So bring him with you.”

  “He doesn’t belong to me. He’s with the Olsons. Even so, I’d never go away and leave him behind.”

  “Well, like I said, bring him with you. He’s still your kid, not any-

  body else’s.”

  Cat frowned as she drank more tequila. “I don’t like this conversation anymore.”

  “Sorry. I was just having fun.”

  Cat turned up the volume on the television, because she didn’t want to talk for a while. The TV was tuned to a news channel broadcasting from inside the DECC. Hundreds of people filled the ballroom, and a countdown clock showed twenty minutes until the beginning of the event. A photograph of Devin Card filled a corner of the screen, and a message scrolled across the bottom: “Anonymous Accuser Promises Appearance at Town Hall.”

  “Wow, I’d love to see that,” Cat murmured.

  “What?”

  “The woman Devin Card raped. Everybody says she’s going to come forward tonight. She’s going to confront him.”

  “No shit?”

  “Yeah. That takes guts, huh? To stand up in front of all those people? I’d love to be there. I want to see him skewered. Men like that, they think they can get away with anything.”

  “So let’s do it,” Colleen said.

  “What?”

  “Let’s go over there. I mean, it’s five minutes away. Let’s do it.”

  “Stride wants me to stay home. Wyatt’s still out there.”

  “Oh come on, Cat. Look at all those people. Look at all the cops. It doesn’t get much safer than that. Brayden can come along with us, so Stride can’t complain. We can take my car.”

  Cat hesitated. “I don’t know.”

  “We’ll watch the fireworks as she comes forward. And then afterward, who knows? Maybe you’ll change your mind about going someplace else.”

  Cat switched off the television. When the house was silent again, she could hear the thump of the driving rain not letting up. More lightning lit up the windows, and a drumbeat of thunder followed. Colleen was right. She felt trapped, and she wanted to be free.

  “Sure, what the hell?” Cat said. “Let’s go.”

  32

  Maggie found Adam Halka throwing darts at a Superior Street bar a block from his motel. She shook the rain off her coat and waited while the man finished his game. He had a peculiar sidearm style, but he was good, landing all but one of the darts within an inch or so of the sweet spot in the center. A few of the drunk patrons gave a little cheer when he was done,
and Halka took an exaggerated bow with his tall, stooped frame. Maggie got the feeling that Halka’s proficiency at darts was one of the few highlights of his life.

  The man sat down at a table behind a tall mug of beer and grabbed a handful of popcorn from a large basket. He ate it a kernel at a time. The gruff look on his wrinkled face didn’t change. He wore what he had the first time she’d seen him, the same Twins shirt and jeans, both in need of a wash. A waitress came and planted a kiss on his cheek and put a burger in front of him. This was definitely his hangout place. In here, he was a star.

  Maggie pushed a chair close enough to Halka that she didn’t have to shout over the noise in the bar. Eighties rock music blared from the jukebox, but the television was on, too. On the screen, she saw the ballroom at the DECC and the impatient crowd waiting for Devin Card to approach the microphone and take questions. Halka showed no interest in the television.

  “Seems like you’ve been busy, Mr. Halka,” Maggie told him.

  Halka adorned his burger with ketchup like a thick bloodstain. “Yeah? Busy doing what?”

  “Trying to extort money out of Peter Stanhope.”

  The motel owner shrugged and didn’t look concerned by the accusation. “Oh, that. He told you about that? Pete’s exaggerating. I was blowing smoke up his ass, that’s all. If you think you can make a thing out of it, arrest me, but I doubt ’ol Pete really wants this to go anywhere. It’s not the kind of thing he wants to see in the papers.”

  “I’m not here to arrest you for extortion,” Maggie said, putting a spin on the last word.

  Halka’s eyes narrowed as he took a big bite of his burger. He heard the hidden message in her voice. “Yeah?” he replied as he swallowed. “You got the idea I’ve done something else?”

  “You tell me. Rape. Murder.”

  Halka put down the burger and wiped his mouth. “What the hell are you talking about? Do I need a lawyer or something?”

  “That’s up to you. You’re not under arrest. You want to go? Go. You want me to go? Just say the word. I want to clear a few things up, but that’s entirely up to you.”

  “I haven’t done a damn thing,” Halka insisted.

  “Then answer some questions.”

  Halka rocked back in his chair and spread his arms. “Shoot.”

  “Ned Baer said he had a witness to back up his story,” Maggie told him. “He had somebody who saw Devin Card going upstairs at a party with the woman who says she was raped. Were you the witness?”

  “No. I didn’t tell Baer a thing.”

  “Did you see Card going upstairs with a woman at one of the parties?”

  “Who knows? It was thirty years ago. Card hung out with lots of girls.”

  “The night Ned Baer went to the Deeps, did you follow him?” Maggie asked.

  “Follow him? Why the hell would I do that?”

  “You tell me.”

  “No, I didn’t. Ned drove off, and I never saw him again.”

  “Did you tell anyone else where he was going?”

  “Other than your cop friend? No.”

  “Do you own a gun?”

  Adam took another bite of his burger and chewed slowly as he considered his answer. “Several.”

  “Is one of them a 9 mm handgun?” Maggie asked.

  “Yeah, I’ve got one of those. Me and a few million other people. Why?”

  “Would you agree to let us run your pistol through ballistics? That way, we can rule it out as being the gun that killed Ned Baer.”

  “Well, I already know it’s not, because the only place I fire that gun is at the range. As far as letting the police handle it, no, that wouldn’t be tops on my list. I’m not really a trusting guy when it comes to the government. Tell you what, you come over to my place with a warrant, and you can test any of my guns that you like.”

  Maggie wasn’t surprised that he didn’t volunteer his guns. She gestured at the television screen over the bar. “The media are saying that the woman who made the accusation against Devin Card is coming forward tonight. She’s going public.”

  “If you say so. I haven’t paid any attention to that.”

  “Do you know who the woman is?”

  “Don’t know,” Halka replied. “Don’t care.”

  “Maybe I can refresh your memory,” Maggie said.

  “How do you plan on doing that?”

  Maggie leaned closer. “Let’s start with Denise Forseth. I’m sure you remember her.”

  Halka’s mouth puckered like a dried grape. “Yeah. So?”

  “Tell me about the two of you.”

  “There’s not much to tell. Denise and I went together through most of high school. Kept going out while she was in college. We were going to get married, but Denise broke it off. End of story.”

  “Do you know she’s back in Duluth?” Maggie asked.

  Halka shrugged. “Yeah, I heard that.”

  “Have you seen her?”

  “Nope. Why would I want to see her? Denise and me were ancient history.”

  “Tell me about the break-up,” Maggie said.

  Halka stared at her long and hard, as if he was trying to understand the rules of the game. “Why do you care about that?”

  “Humor me. Do you remember when Denise ended your relationship?”

  “Yeah, matter of fact, when your fiancée dumps you in front of all your friends, it kind of sticks in your head.”

  “So tell me about it.”

  Halka took a drink from his beer. “Denise was heading off to the Air Force. I didn’t think that meant we had to break up. Looking back, I guess that was pretty stupid of me, but I was a kid. And I loved her. I thought we should do long-distance, or hell, I was ready to get married before she left. Instead, she said we were done. Gave me back the ring. Told me where to shove it.”

  “Where was this?”

  “We were at a concert at the DECC. Big group of us.”

  “Was Devin Card there?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  “What happened next?” Maggie asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, what did you do after Denise dumped you?”

  “I have no idea,” Halka replied. “I remember getting dumped, but that’s all.”

  “I understand there was a party crawl after the concert. Did you go?”

  Halka began to act squirrelly. “Who knows? Probably. I already told you, I spent a lot of time drunk or high in those days. I sure as hell wouldn’t have stayed sober after what Denise did to me. But I don’t remember any of it.”

  “None of it?”

  He hesitated, and she knew he was about to lie. “Not a thing.”

  “Denise says there was an incident later that night at one of the parties. She says you saw the whole thing.”

  “What kind of incident?”

  But Maggie could see it in his face. He knew.

  “It involved Peter Stanhope,” she said. “And Denise.”

  Halka froze. A kind of bloodlust filled his eyes. “Okay. She told you about that, huh? Yeah. I remember.”

  “Tell me what happened.”

  The man’s voice came out in a strangled hiss. “I’m sure you already know what happened. Denise let Stanhope bang her in front of everyone.”

  “You saw it?”

  “Oh, yeah. I saw it.”

  “This was the same night? The night she dumped you?”

  “Same night.”

  “You must have been angry. Your fiancée dumps you and then has sex in front of you and your friends with another man? You must have wanted to get back at both of them.”

  “I wanted to rip their fucking heads off,” Halka replied. “So what?”

  “What did you do?”

  “What the hell do you expect? I kept drinking
.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Yeah, that’s it. Did I think about going back home and getting a gun? You bet I did. But they weren’t worth it.”

  Maggie let the silence stretch out between them. The only noise was the music of the bar and the mumble from the television. Then she said, “Did you know Denise’s sister?”

  Halka looked surprised by the change in direction. “Her sister? Andrea? Yeah, sure. I mean, she was around a lot when I was over at Denise’s place. We talked every now and then, but not much. She was younger, brainy, kind of stuck up.”

  “Was Andrea at the party that night?” Maggie asked.

  Halka shook his head. “Hell if I know.”

  “You don’t remember seeing her?”

  “No, I don’t. Could she have been there? Sure, I guess. But I don’t remember.”

  “Would you have recognized her if you saw her back then?”

  “Denise’s sister? Of course, I would’ve.”

  “Was Devin Card at the party?”

  Halka nodded. “Oh, yeah. Devin was there. He was up in my face when Pete and Denise were doing it. Taunting me about it. That asshole.”

  “So you must have been pretty upset with him, too.”

  “Yeah. Him, too. All three of them.”

  “Did you see Devin become involved with anyone at the party? Did you see him go upstairs with anyone?”

  “Jesus, how many times do I have to say it? I don’t remember. For all I know, yeah, I saw Devin with his tongue in some girl’s mouth, but I could have said that about fifty different parties.”

  “But this party was special,” Maggie said. “This is the one where Denise humiliated you.”

  “Spell it out!” Halka growled. “Stop playing games. Exactly what the hell do you think I did?”

  If he was going to crack, if he was going to admit anything, now was the time.

  “Andrea was at that party, Mr. Halka,” Maggie told him.

  “Okay. If you tell me that, fine, maybe it’s true, but I don’t remember. So what?”

  “Andrea says she was making out with Devin, and then she went upstairs to the bedroom with him.”

  Halka eyed the television over Maggie’s shoulder. “Her? Shit, that was Denise’s little sister? She’s the one?”