RCC05 - Some Degree of Murder

by Frank Zafiro

  The two bedrooms were clear and untouched. I pushed open the bathroom door carefully, expecting to find a dead body in the tub. The room was empty. I saw some blood droplets on the wall and water spilled around the toilet.

  Wandering back through the kitchen, I spotted another door. I eased it open and saw a staircase behind it. A basement. The light was off and I couldn’t see anything beyond three or four steps down. I kept my gun trained on the darkness and felt around on the wall with my left hand until I located a light switch. I turned on the light.

  A man’s body lay in a crumpled heap at the foot of the stairs.

  My heart raced. I forced myself to go slowly down the stairs, keeping my gun at the low ready and watching the body and the rest of the basement at the same time. The basement stairs creaked loudly with every step.

  A moan came from the body at the bottom of the stairs, making me jump. As I reached the final stair, I could see the entirety of the small basement. A washer and dryer were pushed into the corner. A few boxes were visible underneath the stairs themselves. That was it.

  I kept my gun aimed at the guy, probably Brian, until I’d checked his hands and his waistband. Then I slid the pistol back into my holster.

  Brian moaned again. I squatted, reached underneath him and helped pull him into a sitting position. He was holding his right forearm and yelped, his eyes shooting open.

  “No more, man! Fuck! No more!”

  “It’s okay, Brian. He’s gone.”

  “Who the fuck are you, man?” he asked, almost crying.

  “Detective Tower, River City Police.”

  He slumped, visibly relieved. I examined his face. Both sides of it were swollen, though the left side considerably more than the right. That eye was probably going to swell shut. The skin was still red and angry. Wet blood flowed slowly from his nose in a steady stream from both nostrils down to his chin. Numerous abrasions covered his face and he held onto his right forearm gingerly.

  “Lean back against the wall.”

  He did so with some difficulty.

  “You want some water?”

  “No, man. I just want to curl up and fucking die.”

  “You aren’t going to die.” I looked over his injuries again. “Did Rowdy do this?”

  “Rowdy’s my friend.” He winced and held his forearm, tearing spilling down his cheeks. “Oh, Jesus, man, he broke it. I know he broke it.”

  “Who broke it?”

  “Some fucking guy. Call an ambulance, man, before I die!”

  “Brian!” I said sharply, snapping my fingers in front of his face. “You’re not going to die. And I’m not calling an ambulance until we’re done talking. The longer you screw around, the longer it’s going to hurt.”

  “You gotta be fucking kidding me!”

  “No kidding.”

  “You’re the police! You can’t do that! I’ll sue you if you don’t call –“

  I reached out and gave his forearm a hard slap.

  “OH MY FUCK!” Brian yelled. “That hurt!”

  He scooted into the corner and held his forearm, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “Sick son of a bitch,” he said between them.

  “Who did this to you?”

  “Some guy I never met before. He called about Rowdy’s hog for sale and I set up a meet with him at two tomorrow. Then he just shows up here–“

  I held up my hand, stopping him. “Wait a sec. How many people called about the bike today?”

  “Just this one guy. Then he showed up here.”

  “How long after the phone call did this guy show up?”

  “Less than five minutes. I thought that was kinda weird, but I didn’t have a lot of time to think about it, because inside of two minutes, he was beating the shit out of me all over my house.”

  “What’d this guy look like?”

  “Big, strong motherfucker,” Brian said, panting and grimacing as he held onto his arm.

  “Thick in the chest and neck?”

  Brian nodded, wincing. “Yeah. Not fat, though.”

  “No,” I muttered, leaning back on my haunches. “Not fat.”

  Virgil Kelley. Son of a bitch.

  “Motherfucker hits like a mule kick.”

  “What happened to your arm?”

  “He broke it, okay? He broke it and then he told me he’d break my other arm and both legs and then my neck if I didn’t tell him what he wanted to know.”

  “Did you tell him?”

  Brian looked away and didn’t answer.

  “Did you tell him?”

  Brian stared at the floor and refused to answer.

  “Brian –“

  “He said he’d come back and kill me if I told anyone,” he said, his eyes snapping back to mine. “Doctors, cops, anyone. He’ll do it, too. He’s crazy. Threw me down the stairs before he left.”

  “Brian,” I said in a low voice. “I need to know what you told him.”

  He shook his head, mucus flowing from his nose and tears from his eyes. Blood was beginning to dry and darken on his forehead.

  “I need to know what you told him,” I repeated.

  Brian started to shake his head, but my hand shot out and grabbed him by the hair. He yelped and jumped. The jump caused him to yelp again and grab onto his forearm.

  I leaned in close. “The real problem you have right now is that the other guy is gone and I’m right here. And I will fuck you up if you don’t tell me what I need to know.”

  “Oh, God,” Brian whimpered. “You’re as bad as him.”

  “What’s it to be?”

  Brian cried silently. I waited for a few seconds, then shifted in my stance. The sound of my shoes on the floor made Brian jump.

  “Fuck it,” he whined. “Just fuck it. I’ll tell you. But I want protective custody from that crazy son of—.”

  “Done,” I lied. “Now what did he ask you?”

  “He asked a lot about a girl. He showed me a picture and said it was his daughter. That’s when I got scared.”

  “Why?”

  “’Cause she was a whore. Rowdy brought her by once and I banged her.”

  “Did Rowdy?”

  Brian shook his head. “No. He’d rather play.”

  “Play?”

  “Give them the Rowdy treatment. He’s into pain and stuff.”

  “What else?”

  “He wanted to know where Rowdy was.”

  “Did you tell him?”

  “Not right away. I told him I didn’t know. That’s when this shit got serious.”

  “So you told him?”

  “After he broke my arm, yeah I told him.” He met my eyes, shaking his head. “Rowdy’s okay and all, getting us weed and whores once in a while, but I wasn’t going to die for him.”

  I held Brian’s gaze and leaned in close, my voice dark. “I only have one more question, Brian. And you better fucking answer it. Where is Rowdy now?”

  Wednesday, April 21st

  Wales/Magnolia, 2:12 PM

  VIRGIL

  It took me less than forty-minutes to find Wales and Magnolia and the deserted building Brian described. I parked Rowdy’s motorcycle about a block away and walked up to the building. A white Chevy van was parked in the alley behind and just west of the building.

  At the front door, I tried the door knob. It turned slightly but wouldn’t open. I pressed my ear against the door and heard music coming from inside. A man’s voice yelled out in excitement several times over the loud noise. From the inside pocket of my jacket, I pulled out a pair of black lambskin gloves and slipped them on.

  I pressed my shoulder against the door and leaned in hard. It took several minutes but the lock eventually popped. The door must have been kicked in more than a few times from the way the door jamb looked.

  The loud music continued, as did the excited male voice. “How do you like that, bitch?”

  I closed the door behind me and pulled my Glock out of my jacket pocket. My second Glock was still at the hotel roo
m, just in case I needed to make a hasty retreat. The heavy weight of Hiero’s larger Glock in the small of my back was re-assuring. With careful and quiet steps, I made my way through the dirty office building. Old desks and broken furniture littered the rooms. I passed several rooms that smelled like someone had shit in them.

  I took a long hallway to the back of the building, where I found a large office with a smaller room connected to it. The screeching heavy metal music was coming from the smaller room. I stepped carefully around the corner into the room and leveled my gun at the back of Rowdy’s head.

  Tied to a bed was a naked young girl with slicked back red hair. Both her arms and her ankles were tied to the headboard, folding her over at the waist. Her hips were forced in to the air. A cloth rag was stuffed into her mouth and a piece of duct taped wrapped around her head. As the music squealed and pounded from a boom box on the floor, Rowdy danced and angrily slammed a large green dildo into her.

  “You like that, don’t ya, slut?”

  On a short, metal stool by the bed was a blackened glass pipe and little baggie. Rowdy jumped up and down and shook his shoulders.

  “I wanna fuck you like animal!” Rowdy screamed in chorus with the music.

  The girl’s eyes caught mine and they widened in surprise. I stepped behind Rowdy and grabbed my gun by the barrel.

  Rowdy hammered his fist into the girl’s face before spinning around to face me.

  “Hiya, sport,” I said and brought the butt of my gun down on Rowdy’s face.

  He looked surprised for a moment and then crumpled to the ground.

  I looked at the girl and realized I’d seen her before on Sprague. She was one of the young hookers who was just earning her bones. Her eyes were closed, her mouth was slack and blood flowed from her nose.

  “I wanna fuck you like an animal!” The words screamed at me from the boom box. With a kick, I sent the boom box into the wall, shattering it and knocking over the stool with Rowdy’s dope.

  I grabbed Rowdy by his hair and dragged him into the other room.

  When he came to I shoved the Glock in his eye socket and told him to get up on his knees. Rowdy wobbled upright and tried to focus on me. A thick trail of blood ran down his face from the gash above his left eye.

  I pulled out Fawn’s picture and showed it to him. “Remember her?”

  Rowdy continued to stare at me. I lifted the picture up in front of his eyes.

  “Remember her?” I yelled at him.

  “Nope.”

  “You killed her.”

  “Oh, her,” Rowdy muttered.

  I shoved the picture back in my pocket before jamming the gun back into Rowdy’s eye. He wobbled before falling backward.

  I stepped over him and leveled my Glock at him. “That was my daughter.”

  “Drop the gun,” a deep voice yelled behind me.

  Wednesday, April 21st

  1414 hrs

  1612 East Wales

  TOWER

  I recognized the place as soon as I turned onto Wales. Years ago, it had been cheap office space that housed shady loan companies and then telephone solicitors. Eventually even those dregs left and the offices have stood empty ever since. Patrol routinely rousted transients out of there in the winter time.

  Cruising slowly up the street toward the building, I saw a motorcycle parked almost a block away in the dirt at the edge of the street. I could feel adrenaline coursing through my body, so I took a slow deep breath and pulled over.

  I turned off the engine and trudged carefully toward the office. As I sidled up to the corner of the building, I saw a white van parked in the alley behind the office.

  I could hear the strains of manic electric guitar coming from inside the building. Over the top the music came the sound of a male voice yelling. It wasn’t the sounds of fighting. Instead, it sounded triumphant and excited.

  I slipped my Glock from my shoulder holster. Fawn’s face flashed in my mind and when I pushed it away, it was replaced with Serena’s.

  I ducked beneath the window even though it had some boards over the top of it and approached the front door. I held my Glock at the low ready position, pointed at the ground about ten yards in front of me.

  The front door stood open about an inch. The sound of heavy metal poured through the crack and the male voice was even louder. I heard the word “slut” fly out at me.

  “I want to fuck you like an animal!”

  With my left hand, I eased the door open. I kept my gun trained on the interior of the room as it became exposed to me. The small reception area was empty except for some trash and a small pile of smashed dry-wall. The smell of human waste hung in the air.

  I felt my heart pounding in my temples as I shuffled through the room and several beyond until I reached a small hallway. The narrow passage was darker than the reception area, but the smells were stronger and the music was louder.

  I took a deep breath through my mouth and took slow steps down the hallway.

  The music abruptly stopped with a crash.

  I dropped into a squat and peered down the hallway into the large room beyond. A moment later, Rowdy appeared from a small office inside the large room. A large, barrel-chested man had him by the hair and once they were free of the office, he pushed Rowdy forward toward the back of the room. He looked like Sammy the Bull.

  Virgil Kelley.

  Rowdy didn’t move for several moments and neither did I. I could hear Virgil’s breathing and watched as he fingered his pistol. It was a Glock, same as mine.

  “C’mon, you fuck, wake up,” I heard him mutter.

  Rowdy stirred.

  “Up on your fucking knees,” Virgil told him.

  Rowdy rose to his knees, wavering.

  Virgil thrust his gun into his face. He held something else in his other hand.

  “Remember her?” he said in a gravelly tone.

  I crept down the hallway, staying almost completely in a squatted position.

  “Remember her?” Virgil asked him again.

  He is going to smoke him, I realized. Right here, right now.

  I reached the end of the hallway and button-hooked around the threshold. Looking around, I could see no cover and no concealment.

  “Nope,” Rowdy said. Even in that one word, I could hear that he wasn’t right. Whether it was drunk or high, he was messed up.

  “You killed her.” Virgil pushed the muzzle of the gun into Rowdy’s face for emphasis.

  “Oh, her,” Rowdy mumbled.

  That was it? Oh, her? In that moment, I wished a thousand deaths for Rowdy. Violent, painful ones.

  “That was my daughter,” Virgil growled. He slipped something into his pocket and jammed the gun into Rowdy’s face, toppling him to the ground. Virgil’s shoulders tensed and he leaned forward almost imperceptibly.

  “Drop the gun!” I shouted.

  Virgil stiffened.

  “Drop that fucking gun!”

  Virgil turned his head and looked toward me over his shoulder. His face was bruised and a bandage covered his cheek. The muzzle of his gun never left Rowdy. Even from across the room, I could see the cold glint in his eye.

  “Or what?” Virgil said.

  Wednesday, April 21st

  Abandoned Office Building at 1612 East Wales

  2:17 PM

  CONFRONTATION

  VIRGIL

  The heavy voice repeated his demand, “Drop that fucking gun!”

  I glanced over my shoulder and saw Detective John Tower staring down the barrel of his Glock. His hands were steady but his eyes wide with the question of a man’s fate hanging in the balance.

  “Or what?” I said.

  His eyes slanted and turned hard. Tower had made his decision to shoot when the time came. “Or I’ll drop you right here.”

  The trigger of my gun tickled my finger and for a moment I thought about slamming it home, drilling my vengeance into Rowdy and taking my chances with the cop. The odds of surviving were bad. I swallowed
hard and ground my teeth.

  “I know he killed your daughter, Virgil.”

  I tilted my head slightly at the sound of my name and looked between him and Rowdy. Andie must have told him about me. I wonder how he forced it out of her.

  “Don’t do it,” he said with a lowered voice, trying to calm me just as he was instructed in Cop Negotiation 101.

  TOWER

  I watched Virgil’s eyes. His head was tilted slightly as they flitted back and forth between Rowdy and me. I could read the hard intelligence in those eyes, as the gears turned behind them and he put things into place.

  “I know you came here to kill him,” I said, keeping my voice low and calm. “But I’ve got him dead to rights for Fawn.”

  Virgil’s eyes stopped moving and bore into me. “You’ve got proof positive?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Proof he killed Fawn?”

  “Yeah. And another girl. And when I pull his DNA, it’ll be a slam dunk.”

  VIRGIL

  My mouth was dry and the trigger pressed back against my finger, begging to do its work.

  “Nothing is a slam dunk,” I said.

  Tower shuffled his feet as he kept his gun on me. He stopped when he realized he couldn’t get an advantage in this stand-off.

  “I’ll make sure he goes away,” he said. “For life.”

  “My way is better.”

  TOWER

  I wanted to scream at him that he was wrong but my words stuck in my throat. Virgil’s eyes were locked onto mine and they did not waver.

  “Your way is not an option,” I said, forcing conviction into my voice. “Put the gun down.”

  “No.”

  “Do it,” I repeated.

  Virgil tipped his head toward Rowdy. “No. He dies.”

  “He dies, you die,” I said, staring into his eyes.

  VIRGIL

  I wasn’t afraid of death, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to cash my chips in if I didn’t have to.

  “Listen,” I started, but Tower cut me off.

  “Lower your gun. I’ve got back-up on the way.”