Unhinged

by Findorff, E. J.

  “Please leave.” Mrs. Lotz stretched out on a couple of throw pillows and closed her eyes. “Haven’t I shamed myself enough? Haven’t I been punished enough?”

  “I have more questions. Please.”

  She opened her eyes. “Do you want me to go tell the press that you’re here? That wouldn’t look too good, knowing that you’ve been kicked off this case.” Her eyes closed again.

  I rose, not knowing whether to call her bluff and keep her awake so that I could push the issue or just do more investigating. Her deep breaths and rapid eye movement told me I should leave and maybe come back to fight another day.

  The Same Day Surgery Unit on the second floor at Children’s Hospital had been quiet all day. A well-read copy of People magazine was lying in front of Jennifer on the break table, but she hadn’t turned the page for several minutes.

  She gazed straight ahead, fighting back tears and ignoring a Coke and a half-eaten sandwich to her left. She was lost in a daydream about her wedding and what it would be like with Paulina as her maid of honor. Jennifer had informed all the nurses in her unit that she didn’t want to talk about the discovery of her sister’s body, as the front-page news swept through the hospital like an airborne virus.

  The emotions were like finally ripping a Band-Aid off a cut. Jennifer was able to cry with her parents, and there was going to be closure. Just one more newspaper article about capturing the killer for her father to put in his scrapbook, and he could finally put an end to his torment.

  She feared watching television because every newscast was showing the Dixie-Mart where Paulina was found. Reporters were acting like ants that had just had their pile stepped on. It was only a matter of time before the press arrived at Children’s Hospital and began scaling the walls.

  Two other nurses, Donna and Angela, came in and said hi, but Jennifer barely acknowledged them with a wave. The women faced each other on the other side of the break table, and Donna started telling Angela about her wedding plans.

  Jennifer desperately tried not to listen or stare, but every now and then she glanced at Donna’s 1.2 carat engagement ring and then looked at hers. She didn’t mind the size, yet she did. She wondered if she would’ve gotten a bigger rock if she had accused Decland of cheating, like she had wanted. The guilt was in his eyes, but she chose not to confront him on the issue, a choice that was eating away at her.

  It had been nice to talk about wedding plans with Donna, although lately it had become more of a competition. Jennifer and Decland hadn’t even set a date, much less booked a band, a caterer, or a reception hall. She hoped he was ready for marriage but wished that this Sarah Simpson business had never happened. She tried to rationalize that if Deck could forgive her for an indiscretion that couldn’t be proved, then so could she.

  Jennifer closed the magazine and got up to throw her trash away. She didn’t want to listen to any more wedding talk. Besides, she had promised to visit a seven-year-old girl recovering in room 205.

  “I’ll see y’all later.” Jennifer rounded the table to leave.

  Donna and Angela nodded, then looked at each other.

  The unit’s main hallway had shiny white and beige tiles that reflected Jennifer’s warped image. She looked forward to talking to the little blonde girl who loved to laugh at her own jokes, but a page came over the unit intercom. “Jennifer, you have a call on 101.”

  She took a detour to the nurses’ station, dodging a couple of chairs, and picked up the phone. “Hello?” Jennifer glanced at Vicki, who stood near her and pretended to write in a chart.

  “Yes?”

  “Ms. Wilder? This is John Mayock. I’m a medic with EMS. Your father’s been in an accident, and he wanted me to call you.”

  “What? Is he all right?”

  “He’s fine, but his car is totaled and he’s refusing medical help. He wants you to pick him up at the corner of West Esplanade and Power.”

  “Let me talk to him.”

  “He’s busy getting his cuts bandaged by my partner. I think he’s okay, but he says you’re a nurse. Maybe you can change his mind.”

  “I’ll be right there.” Jennifer hung up and began to bite one of her nails, something she hadn’t done in at least nine years. She remained frozen in thought.

  Vicki bit her bottom lip and grimaced, adding yet another hue of pink around her mouth. “Anything wrong?”

  Jennifer jumped. “I gotta go.” She backed away from the counter. “I can’t talk about it now. Y’all got things covered here, right? Tell Donna I’ll call to explain later.”

  Jennifer trotted down the main hallway to an adjoining corridor with a staircase leading to the parking lot. The rooms in this hallway were only used for outgoing patients and were usually empty. She reached for the door that led into the stairwell, realizing that she was completely alone. There was a chilly echo of metal hitting metal as the door closed behind her, and then she remembered Decland’s warning.

  She felt an intuitive panic as she took the stairs quickly, wondering for a moment if the call she had received about her dad was even real and thought to call his cell. Arriving at the bottom near the surgery doors, a man grabbed her arm from behind, forcing her shoulder up to her cheek. She gasped and felt a trickle of urine escape. There was a sharp pain at her elbow where her attacker was tightly squeezing.

  “Keep on walking, or I’ll kill you right here. This is a gun pointed at your back,” he said casually.

  Jennifer forced herself to breathe and keep her wits about her, but the pinch on her elbow was making her fingers numb. She slowly turned her head to get a look at her abductor, the man the reporters were calling the Absinthe Killer.

  He nodded. “Act natural, or Decland will never see you alive again. We’re going to walk out these doors to your car. Try to tip anyone off, and you’ll regret it.” His eyes were huge, and his face was blotchy. She figured that his adrenaline must be off the charts.

  There was no one in the surgery rooms or corridor leading to the exit, as was the case on most days. There were no witnesses. And to make the whole abduction more extraordinary, it was half a block to her car in broad daylight, and not one person walking toward them recognized her. Her mouth began to move with every stranger who approached, but she feared a small entrance wound in her back and an amazingly large blast of an exit wound from her abdomen. She didn’t want to put any other person at risk, either. She couldn’t believe this was actually happening or that she was letting it.

  Greta Lotz’s story had me sympathizing with the child Spider. The pure torture that kid went through was enough to send any adolescent to the insane asylum.

  I didn’t want to call Jennifer because the Feds probably had a tap on our phone. The only soul I could turn to was Ron Lacey. I had to take a chance that a pair of Fed binoculars weren’t focused on his front door. But what were they going to do if I merely wanted to visit an old friend?

  It was 10:15 a.m. as I made my way across Lake Pontchartrain on the Twin Span Bridge, which ran from New Orleans East toward Slidell where the first immediate exit was Eden Isles, a small, quiet community built around a canal. Heading into the neighborhood, I saw the fire department Ron had told me he wanted to join. It appeared clean, undisturbed, and not a spotted K-9 in sight.

  River Lane was easy to find as all the side streets crossed over the main thoroughfare. I parked in the driveway next to Ron’s newly bought, beat-up, red Ford pickup. The flatbed had fishing poles, crab traps, and a cooler on it and exuded a horrid smell of fish. The door was open, but the screen door was locked with one of those flimsy aluminum hooks. Inside, boxes were stacked at different heights along the far wall, forming a crude city skyline of sorts.

  I rang the bell and saw Lacey jogging from the kitchen. He had on plaid shorts and a dirty police T-shirt, the uniform of a retiree.

  “Hey, Decland.” He opened the door, putting his hand on my shoulder. It smelled as if he had been shucking oysters.

  “You’re looking good. Doing
a lot of fishing, are ya?” I looked around the place, not daring to tell him that I liked his other house better. This dwelling had no sense of its owners. I imagined the boring pile of bricks rejecting Ron and his wife as a body would a transplanted organ.

  “Yeah. Besides unpacking, fishing’s about all I do nowadays. Kathy likes me out of the house anyway. She’s got her own decorating ideas. When I’m here, she’s usually out shopping for more shit as if we didn’t have enough. You think I should take a hint and live in the garage?”

  Ron appeared more relaxed than the last time I had seen him, as if the evil spirits of Greenwood and the Eighth District were exorcised. I took a seat on his couch as he went into the kitchen. I figured he was getting coffee, but he came back with two Bud Lights.

  “Maybe the garage would be good if you had a gas mask. You must be going nuts trying to stay busy.”

  “It’s nice being retired, but I miss the action.” He leaned on the bar that divided the kitchen and the living room. “The guys, too. Every now and then, I get a call from one of ‘em, letting me know what’s going on. As a matter of fact, Greenwood called me earlier today and told me you found Paulina’s body in that freezer at the store. He wanted to know if I was helping you go behind the Feds’ backs.”

  “What’d you say?”

  “Told him no. I’m retired. Leave me alone.” I smiled, knowing he was probably leaving out some Ronisms.

  “I like that you’re fuckin’ with the Feds, but you’re gonna wind up fuckin’ yourself. You want my advice?” He pointed at me. I could tell he liked having someone need his advice.

  “You miss the case, don’t you?” I glared at him to get a good read. “I was wondering why you haven’t tried to contact me.”

  “No, I don’t miss the case. It was hard at first, but I’m relieved they gave me early retirement.” Ron stood up and walked over to a boom box on top of a bookcase. He pushed Play, and Jimmy Buffett’s “Margaritaville” started. “My retirement music. It’s the life I live now.” He turned around, smiling, doing something similar to a cha-cha, but it looked more like a seizure.

  I nodded, drinking half my beer in one swig.

  In a flash, he was back in the refrigerator for two more. I began to wonder if Ron had traded in his caffeine for alcohol.

  “Listening to songs about sailing and dreaming of a paradise where women wear nothing but coconut shells isn’t what I picture you doing for the rest of your life. You would never choose this for yourself.” I waved my hand at the canal outside his back porch. “Fishing and drinking are fine for some people, but they won’t be quality years for you.”

  Ron looked straight down at his beer, and his jaw jutted to the left. “I think I’ll adjust just fine. I haven’t figured out what I’m going to do with my time yet. Do I need a plan right now?”

  I had clearly struck a nerve. “Why did you take early retirement and not finish with the case, and don’t give me that bullshit about it getting to you.”

  “Oh, you know me after working together on a couple of cases? You don’t know shit—”

  “I know your type,” I interrupted. “Don’t dismiss me like that. You have too much integrity to bullshit me. I can tell because your expression gets strained when you talk about your retirement. C’mon, level with me.”

  I think he saw that I wasn’t going to back down. His intense eyes lightened, and then he blinked. After he paused and glanced at his ceiling fan, I knew he was going to lie again. “The case was getting to me. I’ve seen a lot of sickos in my time, but this guy was driving me outta my mind. I couldn’t sleep at night. Kathy didn’t know who I was anymore. There comes a time when enough’s enough.”

  “I don’t buy it. You’re a cop trying to be a scruffy old fisherman who likes to drink before noon. You would never quit and leave me to go it alone. You’re better than that.”

  I was about to leave when he suddenly blasted his music, then motioned for me to follow him onto the back porch.

  The breeze over the canal water invaded my nostrils. It was actually a calming smell that went well with swatting mosquitoes. We sat on a couple of green plastic chairs overlooking the weeds that flourished at the edge of the water. A flowered umbrella was shooting out from a hole in his patio table, giving us adequate shade.

  Ron nodded at the boom box. “I don’t trust the Feds.”

  “I’ve seen the light myself.”

  “You have me up on a pedestal.” He put on dark sunglasses the size of welder’s goggles. “It’s an unrealistic view of me as a detective, to say the least. Now tell me how your investigation is going.”

  I slouched on my chair of flexible plastic, testing its resolve to keep me upright. “The other day I put two and two together and discovered where Paulina was. She was hidden in Dixie-Mart’s freezer behind a stack of ice cream that no one ever touched. After that, I stumbled on Spider’s hiding place at Donny Packard’s house, our old manager. I went there without a warrant and didn’t even read Packard his rights. I totally assed it up. And Spider bolted before I even pulled up to the house. Now the FBI blames me again for losing him and had me fired.” I ran my fingers through my hair.

  “But you’re not off the case.” Ron did know me.

  “No. I’m personally involved in it. I’m not lying down for Dorrick to wipe the dog shit off his shoes.” I leaned forward and began tapping on his glass table. “I found out about a tape the Feds made with Spider’s mother after we talked with her that first time. They weren’t letting me see it, so I went to visit her to find out what she had told them. It wasn’t nice. Plus, she knew Vorhees when he was a senator, but I couldn’t get any more out of her. I also now know why he puts makeup on the women he kills.”

  Ron’s sunglasses reflected the noon sun. I could tell the gears in his mind were starting to spin. “Senator Vorhees? Dorrick?” He paused. “Are they following you?”

  “They’re trying. I got away from them today, but I don’t know if I can pull it off again. Sooner or later, Spider’s going to get to Jennifer. If that happens, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

  “I was told not to tell anyone this or I’d be dealt with severely, but what the hell? I think you deserve to know the truth.”

  I took a huge swallow of beer, finally finishing the bottle. After the past few days, I didn’t know what I was going to be hit with next. If Ron thought he had to keep something from me, it had to be major.

  “I was in with you on this case 100 percent. You know I’d never leave your back unless I had no choice. When Greenwood called me into his office, I was offered early retirement with the full package. I turned him down. You’re right; I love this job. Then he told me I had to take the offer. It wasn’t an option.” He began to peel his Bud Light label. The golden brew was probably part of the reason he was unloading. “I told him he was a spineless bastard for not standing up to Dorrick. I gave him some quality abuse and he just took it, but he didn’t back down from the retirement deal.”

  “They can’t force that on you before the mandatory age, can they?”

  “I asked him what would happen if I refused. He told me if I didn’t retire, he would have me arrested for taking kickbacks when I first joined the force. That ball came from left field and knocked me right in the kisser. Dorrick’s got everyone’s number.”

  “He was making it up, right?” I couldn’t tell if Ron’s eyes were open or not, but the way his brow crunched and his lower lip twitched, I already knew the answer.

  “No,” he said, and shame crept into his expression. “He had me. Some drug dealers turned snitch ratted me out about my early days on the force. I wasn’t making any money, and I had bills. I took what I could from the dealers. What else could I do? I didn’t enjoy it, but the details I worked weren’t paying enough, either. As I rose in the ranks, I didn’t have to do that anymore, and I quit. The dealers certainly didn’t mind. I never heard a thing about it until Greenwood came to me. I still wonder how the fuck he found those guys. Two were
in jail, and one lives in freakin’ Shreveport. I’m sure they want to make some kind of deal.”

  “Unbelievable.”

  Ron finished his second beer. “Take the retirement package or lose everything and be kicked off the force with possible jail time. There was no bargaining on this one. It was a fight I couldn’t win, and I’m ashamed to say that I backed down.”

  “That son of a bitch is sabotaging the investigation. There’s no other explanation.”

  Ron grabbed my arm as if I were about to spring from my chair. “If anyone finds out what I told you, charges can still be brought. You can’t tell a soul. I’m trusting you.”

  “I won’t say a word. You can trust me. Listen, partner. I gotta run. There’s a lot going on right now, a lot I gotta figure out.”

  “You need me, just call. Okay?”

  I shook his hand and said good-bye, letting myself out. I hoped Ron would be able to fight the demons that had recently surfaced and look back with pride over all he had accomplished. As for me, it seemed as if I were in a swamp, finding myself in deeper and deeper with the alligators.

  I drove back over the Twin Span. There was too much information to sort out. I wanted to forget the whole thing for a while. I wanted to get drunk or high until my mind was a blank. As soon as I focused on one aspect of the case, another thought took it over. The President Vorhees angle had me baffled, too. Was it just gibberish from an old woman or the slip of a drugged tongue?

  I arrived at my house, hoping to figure out what to do. Maybe Spider had been foolish enough to leave a message on my machine. As I jetted up my walkway, I immediately noticed something hanging from my door. When I got closer, I saw that the black object had eight legs and red menacing eyes. In a panic, I tore the spider off my door and searched for a note or the clue that Gene had mentioned. I ripped off its legs one by one, not finding a damn thing. I glanced at the street to find a Fed sitting in a car, but there were none. The surveillance had left.

  I ran inside shouting Jennifer’s name, but there was no answer and no sign of a struggle. But why would there be? She was at work all day. I checked every room and our backyard, grateful not to find her body horribly mangled.