A Coin for Charon

by Dallas Mullican

  They erupted together, a release of everything horrible and feared. Years of self-loathing, shame, and sadness exploded outward, replaced by ecstasy. For one sweet instant, the world hovered between past and future. Nothing outside this one moment held relevance. The world disappeared—only two bodies locked in fulfilled desire remained.

  “Wow,” Becca said, falling back onto the bed. “You just get out of prison or something?”

  “Ha. No, but it has been a long time.”

  “For me too. We both needed that…badly.”

  “I agree. I didn’t realize how much.” Marlowe traced the back of his hand along the outline of her hip.

  “You’re alright with it? Really?” Becca rolled toward him, her head resting on his shoulder. He could feel his heartbeat against the palm of her hand.

  “Yes, really.”

  “I know why you have reservations. I have them too. How we met, what we have in common. Not the best ingredients for a relationship. But I’m not asking for anything. My mind can’t even think long term. Right now, we need each other. We both have demons to exorcise. What happens next…we’ll figure out as we go. Deal?”

  “Deal.”

  Marlowe turned onto his side to face her. “A shrink should know better, don’t you think?”

  “Should know what?”

  “Not to get involved with damaged goods.”

  “Everyone’s damaged, it’s merely a question of degree. Even Michael’s damaged in his own way. But he manifests it through anger, lashing out at everyone and everything around him. You and I turn it inward. We pour ourselves into our work, as if controlling one part of our lives will help us to control the rest. It never works. We both help others because we can’t seem to help ourselves. And I’m not a shrink, I’m a clinical psychologist. Thank you very much.” She playfully shoved him, that infectious smile beaming.

  “Sounds like you’re a pretty good one too. How did you get into that field?”

  “A neurotic mother,” she said, laughing. “I’m only half joking. I love my mother, but she goes through husbands like a rock star goes through rehab clinics. Listening to all her moaning and bitching over the years gave me tons of theories on emotional distress…hers and mine. Still, having a high-powered attorney for a mother always comes in handy.”

  “An attorney, huh?”

  “Yeah, Mary Tolbert.”

  “Mary Tolbert is your mother?” Marlowe shook his head.

  “You know her?”

  “Of her. Doesn’t everyone? I remember when she sued Jonathan Craft—richest, most powerful man in the state. She had him crying on the stand.”

  “That’s dear ol’ mom. Making men cry is her specialty. That, and enticing them to marry her.”

  Marlowe couldn’t remember feeling so at ease in a very long time. Becca had a way of disarming him. She saw him the pain and guilt, but also the goodness.

  “What about your father?” asked Marlowe.

  “He died when I was young. Heart attack. I don’t remember him very well. Only a few memories of his big, rough hands…and his laughter. I think the main reason mom has married so many times is she’s trying to find my dad again. Each time she remarried, I can’t count the number of times she said, ‘your father would never do that,’ after they did something to irritate her.”

  “Sounds like you see people pretty clearly. Must be what makes you good at your job.”

  “I suppose. I do enjoy helping people. Most of my patients are suffering unimaginably, both physically and emotionally. I deal with patients who have terminal illnesses, progressive dementia, and a lot of the most debilitating conditions you could imagine.”

  “Must be tough hearing those stories all day, and coming home to your own set of problems.” Marlowe reached over and brushed a lock of hair from her brow. He could not seem to stop touching her.

  “Sometimes, but it also puts things in perspective. No matter how bad Michael treated me, it paled in comparison to what those people were going through.”

  “I can see that.”

  “What about you? How did you become a cop?”

  “Stumbled into it. I started college with no idea of what I wanted to do with my life. I got a degree in psychology—don’t worry, I’m no match for you. Then I went to law school, which I hated. Found I was pretty good at reading people too. I could figure out why they did the things they did. I trained at the FBI, thought I would be one of those profilers like in the movies. I met Katy and things changed.”

  “You really miss her a great deal, don’t you?”

  “Every day,” he said, his eyes going dark.

  “I can’t even begin to imagine what you’ve been through. Even with the patients I treat, I can’t think of anything as horrific as losing someone you love in such a violent way.”

  “I hope you never have to.” He averted his face, trying to hide the pain and weakness.

  “I’m sorry. Let’s talk about something else.”

  “I’ve got a better idea.” Marlowe rolled Becca onto her back.

  “Now you’re talking,” she giggled.

  This time, they made love slowly and tenderly. Marlowe felt the weight of his world lift off his broad shoulders for little while. For a blissful instant, Seraphim did not exist and the Churchill Murders were only horrible make believe.

  When at last they collapsed, spent, into each other’s arms, Becca sighed with contentment, lay her head on his chest, and fell right to sleep. Marlowe gazed up at the ceiling, holding Becca close, smelling Becca’s hair, touching Becca’s skin; yet, when he drifted off, it was Katy who waited in his dreams.

  * * *

  Marlowe pulled into the station a full hour late. Disentangling himself from Becca had been more difficult than he thought, and not just from the bed. Their encounter was more than a meaningless one night tryst. No, something sparked between them, something beyond lust or a convergence of circumstances. They had both existed alone for so long, hiding somewhere within themselves. Their connection seemed inevitable in retrospect. Still, theirs remained a relationship rife with dangers—for both of them. He wanted to protect her, not hurt her, but the idea of losing what now grew between them terrified him more.

  “Where the hell have you been?” Spence rounded the front of Marlowe’s car. He seemed irritated, angry even.

  “I’m here now.”

  Spence rubbed his face and tramped across the lot. Obviously, something bothered him. Marlowe wished he would spill it already.

  “Something on your mind, Spence?”

  “Yeah, yeah there is. Tell me you didn’t have anything to do with it. Make me believe it.” Spence stopped and turned on him, his eyes locked onto Marlowe’s.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Michael Drenning. Officer Michael Drenning. Husband of our key witness. The witness you have been getting all chummy with lately.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “No? Seems Officer Drenning got nabbed in a sting. Found enough coke in the trunk of his car to put him away for a very long time, possibly for life.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  “You think so? Well, you’ll love this then. Raze supposedly sold him the coke.”

  Marlowe flashed an appraising frown. “That is a strange coincidence.”

  “Bullshit. The husband of our witness and the two-bit junkie we questioned? Raze couldn’t get his hands on that much coke if his life depended on it. You set Drenning up; you framed a cop.”

  “Listen Spence, if you have some evidence of a crime, you should probably talk to the lieutenant.” Marlowe tried to push past toward the building, but Spence moved into his path, placing a palm against his chest.

  “Don’t do that, Marlowe. This is me. Talk to me goddammit.”

  “Fine, Spence. You want it?” Marlowe shoved Spence back a step, his anger rising. “The guy beat the shit out of his wife on a regular basis, and he was a dirty cop. He did have a side business m
oving drugs around, and he got what he deserved. I only helped set up the sting.”

  “Really, that’s all? Raze didn’t make any sale, he just got Drenning to the site. The drugs were already in his trunk because you put them there.”

  “I don’t know where you’re getting your information.”

  “Wasn’t hard to figure out, and if I figured it out, how long before someone else does? Someone not on your side?”

  “Nothing to figure out, and even if there was, who’s going to question it? A dirty cop with a history of complaints against him, and a DA’s office investigation pointed at him…prior to this?”

  Spence did not have a good answer for that. Clearly, he did not know about the DA investigation. “Why the interest? Why was it so important you stick your neck out, put your career on the line to take this guy down?”

  “The right thing to do? Remember the concept?”

  “No, it’s more. It’s the doctor.”

  Marlowe shifted his eyes and reddened.

  “Shit, I don’t believe this. You’re fucking her, aren’t you? Jesus Christ, Marlowe. I was kidding about you two. I knew, or thought I knew, you would never get involved with a witness. You could lose your badge over this. How will you take care of Paige if that happens?”

  “Won’t happen. No one but you knows. No one else is going to know. Besides, she’s no good at trial. She saw jack shit.” Marlowe stared hard at Spence, the warning evident in his eyes.

  “You’re my partner, my brother. I would never rat you out, but shit Marlowe. Why? Tell me why.”

  “I didn’t plan it. The shit he did to her…pissed me off. Attacked by two psychos, she needed my help. I had to protect her. I have to.”

  “There it is. You’ve been going downhill for a while now. I blame myself for not jerking your ass out of it sooner. I hinted at it when you tore our vic’s house up. I put it more bluntly when you nearly tossed a witness out a window, but now, I’m going to give it to you straight.” Spence stepped close, concern and annoyance written in his every feature. “You’re obsessed, Marlowe. I understood it and gave you some space. After the Churchill Murders, you changed, and who the hell wouldn’t? But you’ve changed again, and not for the better. This isn’t who you are. I can tell you aren’t sleeping. I can’t remember the last time I saw you eat. You work this case day and night.”

  Again, Marlowe tried to walk away. Spence grabbed his arm and spun him around.

  “Listen to me, please. You’re becoming someone you don’t want to be. Dr. Drenning is not Katy. Seraphim is not Frank Brumbeloe. Protecting her won’t bring Katy back. Catching Seraphim won’t change the past. All you can do is be the man Katy loved. Honor her memory with your actions. Be the father Paige needs. Right now, she and Katy would be ashamed of you.”

  The next thing Marlowe knew, Spence lay on the ground, blood trickling from his mouth. He looked down at his hand, still clenched in a fist. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t know a fucking thing.”

  Spence sat there looking up at Marlowe, not with anger, but with sympathy and hurt. “This isn’t you. You’re better than this.”

  Marlowe stormed off, leaving Spence on the asphalt, wiping blood from his face, and checking to be certain all his teeth were still in place.

  CHAPTER

  24

  The monitor squawked out its beeps; the intervals between growing inexorably longer as Wanda’s heartbeat crept toward ceasing.

  “It won’t be long now,” said Charlotte, offering Gabriel a sad smile. “I’m glad you’re here. You mean a lot to her.”

  “She is very dear to me as well. I can sit with her for a time if you need to rest.”

  “No. I want to be here…in case.”

  Charlotte looked down. “I understand.”

  “Who?” said Wanda in a barely audible voice, the simple syllable weighted with effort.

  “Gabriel, milady.”

  She extended her hand, begging him to come close. “I’m scared, Gabriel.”

  He nodded a greeting to Henry, who stood near, looking on through bleary eyes, and moved to Wanda’s side. Peering down with aching compassion, Gabriel took her hand. “There is no need to be frightened,”

  “I am. I know I shouldn’t be. It’s the unknown, what’s going to happen to me? I believe, I do. Always have. But now, I don’t know. I’m just scared.”

  “Look. Can you see it?” Gabriel said in a soft voice.

  Her blind eyes moved side to side, trying to focus, to find something in the black. Death stood close, he knew Wanda could feel its icy touch hovering above her skin. The dark tunnel claimed her, and she had yet to find the light at its end.

  “Wait, it is there, not so far,” said Gabriel. “A city—white marble buildings shine in the sun. So grand, they eclipse any you have seen. A cool breeze blows off a sea so blue and clear. Beautiful people stroll streets of gold, each and every one young and strong. They know no hardships or suffering. They live perpetually in a state of perfect contentment. Look now, see? They bid you welcome. Eager for you to join them, their faces glow with love.” Gabriel leaned to her ear and whispered, “It is time, milady. No need to struggle any longer. Take your place among them. Live anew, free of fear, in peace.”

  Wanda stared up toward the sound of his voice, and for a brief instant, he felt certain she saw him. “Thank you, Gabriel. My angel.”

  She squeezed his hand, an almost imperceptible pressure, tilted her head onto the pillow, and lay still. Charlotte stepped over and wrapped an arm around him.

  “That was beautiful. Thank you, Gabriel. No one could have found better words to ease her fear,” said Charlotte. Though the pain of loss weighted her voice, Gabriel knew she relished knowing her mother no longer suffered.

  Gabriel turned toward Henry. He stood near the foot of the bed, blubbering like an infant. Feeling Gabriel’s gaze, he moved to the window, ashamed to show his grief.

  Gabriel moved to his side and placed a hand on his back. “Do not be embarrassed, my friend. Never be ashamed to love someone.”

  “I’m gonna miss the old bag. I know she’s in a better place, and I envy her that, but this world just went a little colder…a little darker. Ya know?”

  “I do. I feel it too.”

  “She was always one to light up a place. You shoulda seen her. What a looker—hair like gold and legs for days. She and her husband moved into the neighborhood in ’58, I believe it was.” Henry scratched his head, his eyes fixed out the window on something far away. “I spent more time with Wanda and Harold than with my own folks. I worked with Harold at his store downtown. How I learned to manage my own. After he died, Wanda took his place. She knew more than he did about the business. But not just business. Wanda taught me things about life, stuff no one else would.” Gabriel knew Henry needed to reminisce, to etch the memories into his mind and guard them from fading. “Sucks hind-tit getting old. Too many gone, too many good ones. With every good one that goes, another scumbag moves in to take their place. Yep, the world’s growing darker.” Henry rotated away again; this time he let the tears flow.

  Gabriel left his friend to his sorrow. He intended to deal with his own grief in another way.

  * * *

  Gabriel prowled the streets of Westside scanning every alley, store, and bar. Nothing. His prey waited somewhere, unaware a hunter stalked him. Gabriel felt no burden of frustration; he walked with the placidity of purpose, his patience knew no bounds. He would walk and search until he found the one he sought.

  He spotted Red Cap in front of an adult bookstore, his back to the wall, one foot braced behind him. The thug appeared so smug and self-assured. Something dark and cold twisted in Gabriel’s gut.

  No blessing this time, this would be a kill of a different kind. Not mercy, but justice…punishment. A tragedy Wanda died as she did, but a greater tragedy this one still lived. The scales required balancing. Gabriel lurked across the street, watching and waiting.

  Red C
ap sold his product for another hour until traffic waned. Done for the night, he proceeded down 14th Avenue, turning the corner at 35th Street. Strolling as if he owned the city, not a care in the world, he entered an alley behind one of the government housing projects.

  Gabriel followed at a distance, maintaining sight of his mark. Once Red Cap entered the alley, Gabriel increased his pace, pulling up a few yards behind. He remained in the shadows, his glare piercing through the other man. Red Cap sensed a presence and spun around.

  “Who’s that?” called Red Cap into the gloom.

  Gabriel stepped into the dim streetlamp’s light, his darkened outline striking an ominous presence. Red Cap squinted, trying to make him out. Once he recognized Gabriel, he smiled.

  “You? I’ll be damned if it ain’t R2D2. Where’s grandma?” He laughed. “Thought she fought all your battles for you.”

  Gabriel said nothing, only stared.

  “What the fuck you want?”

  “Your life,” said Gabriel.

  The menace in his voice seemed to give Red Cap a moment of pause, a flicker of apprehension flitted across his eyes. He shook his head and flexed his muscular frame, appearing to remember he outweighed Gabriel by fifty pounds and towered over him by half a foot. Red Cap puffed out his chest and reclaimed his macho bluster.

  “Grew some balls, did ya? Best get out of here before I fuck you up.”

  Gabriel advanced another step. Red Cap picked up a four-foot length of rebar someone had left lying the alley. He waved the bar at Gabriel, taunting him, daring him. Surprise washed over his face when Gabriel dashed from the shadows without another word.

  The charge caught him off guard; Gabriel lowered his shoulder and rammed into Red Cap’s stomach, knocking the air from his lungs. Stunned, Red Cap stumbled. Noticing a pile of concrete blocks behind the man, Gabriel slid to the side and shoved. Red Cap tottered on the debris. His leg twisted when a cinder block collapsed out from under him, sending him toppling over hard on his back.

  Gabriel leapt onto the big man, attempting to strangle the life from his floundering body. Red Cap proved too strong hand to hand. He worked one forearm between them and heaved, sending Gabriel flying. Gabriel rolled upright, ignoring the burn of a scuffed elbow. Red Cap tried to regain his feet, but his knee buckled, dumping him on his rear.