Hidden Vices

by C. J. Carpenter

  The woman at the foot of Megan’s bed was bruised and blood-soaked. “Why, Meggie, why? How could you let this happen? My own daughter.”

  Megan shot up, her nightshirt soaked, her hair tangled in sweat. She needed to catch her breath, if that was possible.

  One hell of a way to wake up in the morning, she thought to herself and padded through to the bathroom.

  She splashed cold water on her face and looked at her reflection in the mirror. “Momma, I didn’t know. I didn’t know.”

  She went into the kitchen, poured a mug of coffee, and sat on the couch with Clyde. “Tell me something, boy, did you ditch your family or did they ditch you?” Clyde rolled on his back for Megan to scratch his belly. “Okay. You don’t answer and I won’t answer. Deal?”

  She turned on her cell phone and thankfully had no texts or voicemails. Enjoying the silence, she thought back to what Nappa said about Uncle Mike and tapped the Murphys’ home number. He picked up on the second ring.

  “Meganator! Good to hear from you, kiddo.”

  Megan smiled. “Hi, Uncle Mike. How are you? How is Aunt Maureen?”

  “We’re fine, just fine. Now, for the bigger question: How are you?”

  Megan exaggerated her response and matched his words. “Oh, fine, just fine.” She sipped her coffee. “Is Aunt Maureen there?”

  “Nope, she just left to do a grocery run. She’ll be upset she missed you. How’s New Jersey?”

  “Cold, quiet.” Liar. “Which reminds me, Uncle Mike, please tell Aunt Maureen thank you for the winter sweaters and gear. It was really thoughtful of you both.”

  “I can’t take credit. As usual, she comes up with the best ideas.” He became more serious. “Well, ya know you can tell her thank you in person if you come home for Christmas.”

  Megan felt bad because she knew the Murphys were worried about her. “Uncle Mike, I just need to be away from the city. I need time.”

  “Okay, I can respect that. But let me ask you a question, Megs.”

  “Go on. As if I could stop you.” She smiled.

  “Are you running away or are you running toward something?”

  Megan tended to twirl her hair with her index finger when she was forced into previously rare moments of self-analysis. Her finger was twirling furiously now. “Maybe a little of both. I’m not sure what the toward part would be. Career? Home? Maybe get married, have a few kids?” At this, they both laughed out loud.

  “I can see it now. Come here, little Patricia, let me show you how to load and aim my nine millimeter. I’m not buying it.”

  Megan cackled into the phone. “Neither am I.”

  “Detective Nappa is worried about you. How was your visit?”

  “It was good to see him, but please, not one more word about Nappa, Uncle Mike. I’m warning you.”

  “I relent, kiddo!”

  Megan knew Uncle Mike and Aunt Maureen would dearly like to see the two of them get together. It was probably a good thing they’d been interrupted the one time they’d almost given in to their mutual attraction.

  “It’s good to hear your voice, Uncle Mike. Do me a favor and don’t worry so much about me. You know me, I always make it through.” Her tone didn’t convince her, so she knew it wouldn’t come close to convincing him. Thankfully, he didn’t press.

  “We’ll see you soon.”

  “Love you guys much.” Megan’s voice started to break, which meant the end of the conversation.

  “Love you much, Meganator.”

  Megan took Clyde out into the yard and threw a toy around for him to get some exercise. She certainly wasn’t braving the hill hike after that tumble down the driveway. On what could have been the thirtieth throw, her cell vibrated. It was a message from Callie asking her to drive over to Krogh’s for lunch with him. She accepted, yet felt a twinge of unexplained guilt after spending time with Nappa the day before. She stared at the boathouse for a few minutes and hated the fact she was uncomfortable walking out there again. The very reason for her to do so, in her mind.

  “Clyde, stay. I need to do this,” Megan said to herself, and she was right. Facing the moment she was attacked was imperative. As she would ask victims of violence to take her through their trauma step by step in hopes of remembering even the slightest detail, she was now asking it of herself. Megan opened the gate, taking deliberate steps to the front of the dock. She of course made certain the inside of the boathouse was empty, and it was. Every step over the boards creaked. “I would have heard you walking down. There’s no doubt.” She looked back at the edge of the dock and it hit her. “Son of a bitch. You were already here before I came down.” Megan moved beyond the side door to the boathouse, right up to the edge of the turn to the front boating entrance. “You were in my blind spot.” She walked over to the exact spot she’d been standing when the burlap sack was pulled over her head, closed her eyes, and replayed the quick action. “You smelled of cigarettes. The bag smelled like mildew and dirt. And then I hit the water.”

  Armed with her new clue, Megan walked back up to the house with Clyde. She now knew the frustration of people she’d interviewed, and she didn’t like it one bit.

  Hurt me once, your fault. Hurt me twice, I pull my trigger, bastard.

  Driving down the road en route to Krogh’s, she noticed Leigh checking her mailbox and stopped to say hello. “Hi, Leigh. How are you?” Megan could tell by her color and demeanor that she was not feeling much better than she had the night they had dinner last week. If anything, she looked worse.

  “Hanging in. I’m just grading papers today, taking it easy. Crazy times in these parts, wouldn’t you say?”

  “So I read.”

  “Plans tonight?” Leigh asked.

  “Nothing on tap.”

  “I’m flying solo tonight. Jo is working a double shift at the hospital, if you want to come over. Nothing fancy, I was just planning on ordering a pizza and watching bad television.” Leigh’s smile seemed painfully forced. “Bring Dog. He and Lady Sadie can play.”

  “Sounds good. Oh, Billie named him Clyde.”

  “That kid never ceases to surprise me. See you about seven.”

  Megan pulled into Krogh’s parking lot. The wind was strong on Lake Mohawk across from the pub. Whitecaps surfaced where the water had yet to freeze. If the sun hadn’t been out accompanied by blue skies, she would have thought a storm was brewing. She should have taken it as a sign. She found Callie in the restaurant speaking to staff and signing off on invoices. He waved her over, and the staff scattered to their various stations.

  “Hey, Trouble, good to see you.” He went to kiss her and Megan had an awkward hesitancy about returning the affection. “You know I bite, don’t be so shy.”

  Megan removed her coat and Callie just gave her the grin he’d mastered back in college. They sat in the same booth as the last time she was in Krogh’s. “So, do I get to hear the specials, or are you just going to stare at me?”

  He gave her a comical snarl. “Drinks first. What’s your pleasure? Besides me.”

  “White wine, Chardonnay.”

  Callie ordered Megan’s wine and a Krogh’s Gold for himself. “Pecan-crusted tilapia, linguine with clams, and skirt steak are the lunch specials. I suggest the tilapia.”

  “It’s your place—you would know. Sounds good.”

  “So, that was a bit awkward yesterday when you’re partner arrived unannounced,” Callie continued in a probing manner. “The tall, dark, handsome detective must be fun to work with.”

  “Callie, think what you want, but it’s only professional.” But Megan looked down at her glass when she answered.

  “I’m guessing it hasn’t always been, but that’s none of my business,” Callie continued, raising his beer. “Cheers.”

  “Cheers. Nappa needed to bring me something from work.” She waved it off. “In
formation from a previous case.”

  “There’s this place called the post office. They actually deliver mail right to your home!”

  “Sarcasm duly noted,” Megan continued. “I didn’t see Vivian’s car; is she working today?”

  “She’s in the back doing prep work.”

  “How is she?”

  “Good. I mean, same as usual, though I think the other day definitely threw her for a loop, as it would anyone.” Callie was hedging a bit with his next question. “So, do you think you’ll be here for a while, in New Jersey?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “I had a great time the other night and just wondered if that will happen again, that’s all.”

  “One step at a time, Callie. I’m here to clear my head, so let’s keep things one day at a time. Is that okay with you?”

  It was a small laugh. Callie knew he wasn’t shot down, just winged a bit. “I’m not accustomed to having the ball in someone else’s court, Trouble.”

  “I remember.”

  While they sat enjoying their lunch together, they stormed through more memories of college and the twist and turns of their lives since then. Megan saw the flashing lights before Callie. She didn’t have to guess about the two police cars pulling up.

  “Callie.” She pointed. “Now I think you have trouble.”

  Nineteen

  Two police cars and an unmarked car parked outside of Krogh’s. Megan didn’t have to guess who would emerge from the unmarked car: Detectives Krause and Michalski and an interpreter.

  I was right about a storm. I just thought it was going to be on the lake, she thought to herself.

  They both rose from the table and headed toward the entrance. Krause entered and handed Callie papers. “I believe one Vivian Campbell works here, is that correct?”

  “You know she does,” Megan snarled.

  “What do you want?” Callie asked.

  “We have a warrant to search Ms. Campbell’s car. And we have an interpreter.”

  Megan snatched the warrant from Krause’s hands and examined it. She nodded to Callie and said, “It’s legit.” Megan looked at Krause. “Whatever that means around here. Wait, you searched her home; why didn’t you search her car then?”

  Michalski, the voice of calm answered, “Yes, we did check her car, but we’re back based on an anonymous tip, detective.”

  Callie reluctantly showed them to the back kitchen, but not without a comment from Krause directed at Megan. “You do realize you have nothing to do with this case, don’t you?”

  “What I realize is you’re not even close to being capable enough to have anything to do with this case.”

  “Ms. McGinn, you will remain here,” Krause barked.

  “I own this place,” Callie cut in. “She is my patron and she will go anywhere she damn well pleases.” He clearly wasn’t about to be bossed or have Krause boss anyone around in his restaurant.

  Vivian was chopping vegetables at the counter with her back toward them when they entered. Callie placed his hand on her shoulder and signed that there were police there to see her, at which point Krause and the interpreter took over communication. Vivian looked confused, on edge. They walked out to her car and she gave the detectives her car keys and was asked to step back. Megan and Callie both paced nervously. Megan knew they wouldn’t have come without some kind of knowledge that they would find something.

  Megan waited for the other shoe to drop.

  One of the officers popped the trunk and pulled back the felt-like fabric, then lifted the board covering the spare tire.

  “This is too specific. They’re not even searching the rest of the car,” Megan whispered to Callie. He could only respond with an even more worried look.

  “Detective Krause,” the officer said, motioning her over.

  She pulled out a pair of plastic gloves and withdrew a knife from the spare tire well. She requested the interpreter to ask Vivian why there was a knife in her trunk.

  Vivian signed back that it was not hers, and she only used the trunk to transport her massage table.

  Megan felt an eerie calm. She knew what coming next, and it wasn’t going to be pretty.

  “We’re taking you down to the police station.” Krause waited for the interpreter to get up to speed. “We’re going to ask you questions with the interpreter.” She pulled out her cuffs and began to recite the Miranda warning to Vivian through the interpreter.

  “Come on!” Callie yelled. “Megan, do something.”

  Megan knew, as did Krause, that her hands were tied. “Callie, there isn’t anything I can do. You need to find the best lawyer in town, someone not affiliated with Judge Campbell.” She could tell he wasn’t listening to her. “Callie!”

  Krause and Michalski placed Vivian in the police car. Callie signed to her that they’d be right down and to not be afraid.

  “We’ll take my car,” Callie said to Megan.

  “What? No. I’m not going down there.” Megan needed to escape the moment. She wanted to just turn and walk away, get as far away from it as possible. So she did.

  Callie followed, screaming her name. She crossed the street, nearly getting hit by a car. Horns were honking, cars screeching.

  “Megan, what the fuck? We have to go down there. We have to help.”

  She was halfway down the boardwalk overlooking Lake Mohawk when she spun around with her finger pointed at Callie. “No, I don’t have to help. This is not my problem, and, by the way, it’s not your problem either.”

  Callie was beyond furious. “It is my problem, and it should be yours. What the fuck kind of cop were you? Where is your fucking heart? You know she didn’t do this. You said it yourself—otherwise why start such a pissing contest with Krause? You know Vivian is innocent and that bitch only wants to get someone’s head on a stake so she can move forward in her career. Are you telling me you’re going to let an innocent woman—wait, an innocent deaf woman—take the blame for this?”

  “Callie! I cannot be a part of this! Why can’t you see that?”

  Megan turned again, but Callie grabbed her by the arm, jerking her back. “No, I don’t fucking see it. Hey listen, I am truly sorry for what you and your family have gone through. I can’t imagine anything so awful.”

  Megan interrupted, “That’s right! You can’t imagine, so don’t even try. What? You think reading about my life in newspapers and what’s happened to me, to my family, you suddenly think you have an ounce of understanding of my job, my life for the last six months? For the last fourteen years? Well, you fucking don’t. You motherfucking don’t!”

  Callie closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Megan, you know, you know, you can help. I’m asking you, please. Please, just try and do something.”

  “Do what? I’m on leave. I don’t even have jurisdiction here for Chrissakes!”

  “You must know people!” Callie pleaded.

  “Callie, get her a good lawyer.” She again started in the opposite direction then added, “There, I just helped.”

  Even Megan hated herself for uttering those words.

  Megan sped home and locked herself in a fortress of guilt and shame. She ran through the possibilities of how the knife could have gotten into Vivian’s car. The problem was, there were too many. The car could have gotten broken into; Vivian wouldn’t have known, as there’s no alarm she would have heard. As she was contemplating the circumstances of the uncovering of the knife, she couldn’t help but mutter more questions to herself.

  “What the hell are you doing? You said you don’t want a part of this. Stop the mental train wreck, now!” She poured a glass of red wine. Clyde stared at her. “Yes, Clyde we humans sometimes talk to ourselves. Go get groomed, we’re going over to Lady Sadie’s soon.” Clyde walked over to the door. “No, not yet, come here, you need to get brushed.” While Megan brushe
d Clyde, he looked up at her with his big brown eyes, as if asking her to change her mind. “Great you, too?”

  Leigh opened the door before Megan had a chance to knock. “Sadie let me know you were coming down the driveway. Come on in. The pizza should be here any minute.”

  Megan handed Leigh a bottle of vino.

  “What, do you own your own winery?” she laughed.

  “No, but I should.” Megan let Clyde off his leash and the dogs chased one another around the house before settling in to chew on rawhide bones.

  “So, Jo is working a double shift. Does she do that often?”

  “Every now and again. After twenty years it doesn’t phase me anymore.” Leigh poured the wine and started to put together a salad.

  “It’s good she has someone who’s so understanding of her hours.” Megan immediately realized how transparent the comment was. “I mean, that’s hard to find is all.”

  Leigh was rinsing the salad ingredients. “I guess you haven’t found the someone who can handle your work?”

  Megan laughed. “Let’s just say they don’t stay around long.” She motioned to ask if Leigh needed any help cutting the cucumber and tomatoes. “My work is not exactly appealing to most men. And hey, a woman who carries two guns on a daily basis, that just screams for a second date.”

  “Here’s to that!” Leigh clanked glasses with Megan just as the doorbell rang. “That would be the pizza.”

  They sat and made small talk while both dogs begged for crusts, which both received two times over. Megan couldn’t help but notice Leigh looked off. She knew what that was. Eight years ago Aunt Maureen had worn the same burdensome look.

  “So, when were you diagnosed?”

  Leigh smiled. “I guess it’s starting to show.” She wrapped herself up in a pashmina shawl. “I’m on my second round of chemo. Breast cancer. Stage two, verging on three, so they say.”

  Megan remembered when Maureen was diagnosed. Uncle Mike was heartbroken and terrified, even if he didn’t say it. Megan’s father and mother helped out as much as possible. Rose would go with Maureen to sit with her during chemotherapy. This was, of course, before her mother’s memory began to decline. Megan’s father was in charge of keeping Uncle Mike centered, strong, and drunk when he needed to be. Aunt Maureen recently celebrated her sixth year cancer-free.