by Judy Clemens
“I don’t care what he’s like,” Becky said. “I just want to see him.”
“Doc?” Folsom said. “Can I talk with Mr. Oldham tonight?”
The doctor nodded. “Give us a chance to get him in his new room. As soon as he’s settled, assuming he’s still awake, you can talk to him.”
“Great. Thanks.”
The doctor gestured toward the back and led Becky, Dreama, and Rose through the double doors. I hesitated, wanting to go, but knowing I wasn’t needed at the family reunion. Or wanted. Becky hadn’t even looked back to see if I was coming.
“That phone call I got?” Folsom said to me.
“Yeah?”
“Detective Shisler. She’s on the way with your other friend’s family. His mother-in-law?”
“And son. Billy.”
“Right.” He shook his head. “Wouldn’t want to be in your guy’s shoes. Poor man. Losing his wife like that.”
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath through my nose. When I opened them, Folsom was back on the phone, and I was left to my own thoughts again.
Mandy, lying in the snow. Wolf, his body hot with fever.
I held up my wrist and rubbed the inscription there. How. How could I ever let them disappear while I lay in the chair, oblivious?
“These your folks?” Folsom angled his head toward the door, where Eve and Billy had entered, Shisler at their side. Eve and Billy stood as if shell-shocked, doe-eyed in the bright lights. Shisler gently took Eve’s arm and led her into the room. She caught my eye and nudged her charges my way.
“No word yet,” I said when they arrived.
“But he was alive?” Eve’s voice held hope that hadn’t been there on Christmas Day.
“I talked to him.”
She took a shuddering sigh and reached down to squeeze Billy’s shoulder. Rather than hope, or even joy, the boy’s face betrayed only exhaustion and despair. Appropriate in someone who’d so tragically lost his mother. I knew Billy would soon be glad to see his father. His emotions just hadn’t had a chance to catch up yet.
A family cleared off a sofa, and Shisler claimed it for Eve and Billy.
Folsom hung around the edges, waiting for his chance to talk with Rusty, and Shisler stood at the end of the couch, punching a number into her cell phone. I stuck around, too, not sure what to do with myself. A hand clutched my sleeve, and I turned to Eve.
“I hear it’s thanks to you the police were able to find Wolf,” she said.
I cleared my throat. “I was able to talk to some people the cops couldn’t reach. It helped to link things.”
“Thank you,” Eve said. “Thank you for saving my Wolf.”
A while later a woman in the same kind of outfit as the earlier doctor stepped out of the doors and cast her eye about the room. Shisler perked up and walked toward her. They exchanged a few words, and the doctor came to the sofa.
“Mrs. Freed?”
Eve, who had been watching Shisler’s conversation with the doctor, stood up.
This doctor didn’t smile. “Mr. Moore is very ill.” She glanced at Billy, but the boy was still seated on the couch, his attention focused on something none of us could see. I drifted his direction and blocked the doctor from him, just in case he came back to the present. The doctor nodded her thanks.
“Mr. Moore has something called cellulitis—infection of his skin and underlying soft tissues. His tattoos have been defaced, and it looks like someone has taken a needle, a knife—I’m not sure at this point what all exactly was used—but he has suffered many injuries to his skin. Because of this, he has incurred infection so severe it’s starting to affect his body functions. We have him on our strongest intravenous antibiotics, and we’ve called in the hospital’s infectious disease team to monitor him and give recommendations. Besides those things, he’s had a chest x-ray and we’ve drawn blood and urine cultures to send to the lab. We’re just not sure what we’re dealing with.”
Eve sucked in her breath, but made no comment.
“I believe,” the doctor said, “that Mr. Moore will be able to overcome it, but that depends a lot on the condition of his health before he became sick.”
“He was very healthy,” Eve said. “In good shape. Didn’t smoke. Not on any medications.”
“That’s good,” the doctor said. “That’s very good.” She glanced around me toward Billy, then looked back at Eve. “I’m sorry you can’t see him just now, but he’s sleeping, with help of a sedative, and we’re doing what we can to cleanse his injuries. He’s also in a private room, since we’re not sure if he’s infectious or not. We’ll let you know as soon as he’s awake and can see visitors.”
“Thank you, doctor,” Eve said. “Thank you very much.”
The doctor nodded and disappeared back through the double doors. Eve turned to sit and crush Billy in a hug, her face crumpling. Billy’s face remained as it had been. Blank as a barn wall.
A commotion erupted at the front door, and Folsom and I spun around to see Mickey Spurgeon shoving his way into the room, Jewel swimming along in his wake. I raised my hand and Mickey changed his course, startling several waiting room occupants out of their stupors. Many eyes followed the pair as they crossed the room, not entirely because of the force of entry. Mickey’s mustache was flying, and his facial jewelry sparkled under the harsh fluorescent lights.
“Where is he?” he demanded, inches from my face.
I jerked my thumb toward the double doors. “Back there.”
He made a move in that direction, but Shisler stepped in his path.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “No one’s allowed through.”
Mickey reared back. “Who the fuck are you?”
“Mickey,” I said, “this is the detective who helped find Wolf.”
He glanced back at me, and Jewel placed a hand on his chest. “Come on, sweetie,” she said. “Settle down.”
“Settle down? What do you mean settle down? My best friend is lying at death’s feet and I’m supposed to settle down?”
I held out a hand toward Mickey, but Shisler stepped forward. “Mr.…?”
“Spurgeon,” Jewel said.
“Mr. Spurgeon. Mr. Moore’s family is sitting here, waiting until they’re allowed to see him. They are just as anxious, but are trying to be patient.”
Mickey whipped around to see Eve and Billy staring at him, almost fearfully.
Mickey’s stubborn expression faltered. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m just so…” He collapsed onto the cushion beside Billy and dropped his face in his hands. Jewel placed a hand on her husband’s shoulder.
Shisler looked at me, her eyebrows raised, and breathed out a soft whistle. I certainly understood how Mickey was feeling, but after seeing his outburst I was especially glad we’d suffered no problems from the misunderstanding with Jewel the day before.
I stepped toward Shisler and said quietly, “So where’s Gentleman John?”
“At the police station. I wish I could get my hands on him, but the Montgomery County guys are already there, taking over.”
I breathed through my nose. “I just can’t understand how he got Wolf and Mandy both outside and was able to kill Mandy. Like he told me, she alone was more than a match for him. Unless his nephew helped. What was his name?”
“Darren Wilcox.” Shisler shook her head. “He couldn’t have been there. His mother has been keeping him under lock and key since he snuck out to get that tattoo from Thunderbolt. Whatever Greene did, he did on his own.” She shrugged. “I have to think he had a weapon. Something to keep the Moores from kickin him out.” Her phone rang, and she answered it, fading away toward a more or less unoccupied corner of the room. I tried to hear her conversation, but with all the people around, along with the television in the corner, her words were lost.
I turned back to the couch, where Eve still hugged Billy and Jewel was trying to comfort Mick. I considered going over to them, but realized I wou
ld be redundant. They all had someone already. The memory of Wolf’s wail outside Gentleman John’s Tattoos entered my mind, and I tried to force it away. The depth of his pain at Mandy’s loss was bottomless, almost too much to comprehend. Did I have anyone who would mourn like that if I were to die?
Shisler snapped her phone shut and looked at me with haunted eyes across the room. I walked to her.
“He didn’t have a weapon,” she said.
“Then how—”
“He told a lie.”
I stared at her. “A lie?”
“When Mandy went to the back room he was already inside. Probably got in while Tank was making his ruckus out front. Mandy saw Greene and immediately told him to get lost. He says he smiled at her and told her if she wanted her son back she’d let him stay. He figured they were even—she and Wolf took his nephew, he took their son. That’s when she dropped the tray. He told her to call Wolf into the back without bringing his customer—you—with him, and when Wolf got there, Greene explained that he had Billy, and if they wanted him alive, they’d come with him without making a fuss.” Shisler stopped and looked at me.
I had been sitting right there, in the parlor, and they couldn’t ask me for help.
Shisler continued. “When they went outside, he told Wolf to get in the back seat of his car. As soon as Wolf was in, Greene slammed the door on him, and Mandy attacked him. Pulled his hair, went for his eyes. He got in a lucky shove that sent her sliding on the ice. She fell backward and hit her head on the corner of the Dumpster. Wolf couldn’t get out of the car, because Greene had activated the child locks on the back doors. Greene dragged Mandy behind the Dumpster, whacked her head on the ice for good measure, then ran back to the car, where Wolf was climbing over the front seat. John told Wolf that if he didn’t behave, he’d do the same thing to him. Or to Billy. I guess Wolf decided to go after his boy.”
“He probably thought I’d come looking for Mandy.” I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting dizziness, and put a hand on the wall for support.
Shisler made a noise in her throat. “We don’t know that. Anyway, the rest is pretty self-explanatory.”
“Yeah. Gentleman John’s nuts.”
“Right. Once he got Wolf to his place he jabbed him with a sedative, tied him up in the back room, and went to work on him.”
My mind swam. If only I had been suspicious enough to look in John’s bathroom.
“Greene says he realized too late that Mandy would be a witness and the cops would come after him,” Shisler said, “but by the time he thought about it, she was already dead, and it had hit the news. He got lucky.”
Lucky.
“I’m not sure he meant to actually kill anybody,” Shisler said. “They’re still talking to him, but it sounds like he was just hell-bent on revenge. He hadn’t planned out how he was going to end it all. Just how he was going to start it.”
I leaned my back against the wall and looked toward the couch, where Wolf’s family waited for him. Billy’s eyes were vacant, while Eve’s face shined with tears. Gentleman John had gotten lucky when Mandy died. Her family got only heartache.
“And Rusty just walked into it?” I asked Shisler.
“Apparently. He called Greene saying he wanted to talk, and Greene invited him over. I don’t think Greene had a plan for him, either. He probably was sedating him, waiting until he was ‘done’ with Wolf before starting on Rusty. So Rusty should be glad—he came out relatively intact.”
The double doors swung open and Rusty’s “girls” walked through, a lightness surrounding them that I hadn’t seen earlier.
I stepped toward them. “He’s good?”
Becky smiled. “He’s great. Not quite himself, but enough I know it’s him.”
“Yeah,” I said. “It’s hard to mistake him.”
She laughed, and several people turned toward the unusual ER sound.
“We’re waiting now for him to get moved. The doctor says we can sit with him for a while yet this evening.”
“That’s great. I’m really glad.” I glanced at the girls. Rose was occupied with tying her shoe, so I asked Becky, “Did he say anything?”
Her smile wavered. “About what happened?”
“Right.”
“He said he’d suddenly realized you’d both completely forgotten about Thunderbolt.”
“But he had an alibi for the night…for Monday.”
“I know. But Rusty thought maybe he’d know something. He thought the two of you should go talk to him. And then Thunderbolt started telling him about Gentleman John’s wife leaving him, and Rusty wanted to talk to John about it. So he called him, and John invited him over.” Her voice wavered.
I closed my eyes briefly, then opened them to find Becky staring at me, studying my face.
“I’m sorry I didn’t get his voice mail, Becky,” I said. “I’m sorry I wasn’t with him.”
Becky looked around the waiting room, biting her lips. Finally, she put a hand on my arm. “It’s okay, Stella. He’s going to be all right.”
I looked away. “I’m glad.”
Rose plucked at her mother’s arm. “Can we go now, Mom?”
Becky patted her hand. “Sure.” She turned to me. “I have to fill out all that nasty paperwork while Rusty’s getting moved. You know how it is.”
“Sure.”
But Becky’s voice sounded tense now. She was angry. Angry that I’d gotten Rusty into this mess and couldn’t keep him from getting hurt. I knew it was irrational. She was the one at home, the one Rusty should’ve confided in and told where he was going. But I also knew Becky had been more terrified in the last several hours than anyone ever should be. I hoped she’d forgive me, eventually.
I hoped I’d forgive myself.
She and the girls left me, and I stood alone in the middle of a room full of people. Shisler was on the phone. Folsom punched keys on his Pocket PC, his back to me. Eve, Billy, and the Spurgeons nestled together on the couch.
I studied the ceiling tiles for a few moments.
Then I turned and walked outside, into the cold.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
I sat in my truck in the tractor barn. I’d turned off the engine, but hadn’t yet moved. The cold seeped around my feet and niggled its way under my gloves to stiffen my fingers.
Wolf and Rusty were alive. They were with their families. Or what was left of them. They didn’t need me. After all, what help had I been, when it came down to it? Sure, I put things together to find them, but if I’d been more observant to begin with, neither of them would’ve ended up where they’d been.
My door creaked as it opened, and my toes shot needles through my feet when I stepped onto the ground. I guess I’d been sitting in the cold longer than I’d thought. The lights in the living room shone through the frosty window panes as I slid my feet up the walk, and Lenny’s truck sat by the side yard.
When I opened the door, Lucy rushed from the kitchen, her face a mask of concern. “Did you find him? Is he okay?”
I dropped my gloves to the floor and blew on my fingers. “Found them both. Rusty’s just fine. Wolf should be okay, eventually.”
“What happened? Where were they? Who had them?”
“Let her get her coat off, hon.” Lenny lay his hands on Lucy’s shoulders and rubbed her upper arms.
“You’re right,” she said. “I’m sorry, I just… You need some supper?”
I sniffed the air. “Pizza?”
“Homemade. With ham and pineapple.”
“My favorite!” Tess appeared in the kitchen doorway, tomato sauce on her chin.
“That’s right,” I said. “It is your favorite.”
I hung my coat in the closet, took off my boots, and looked at the three of them. “Why don’t you guys go ahead and finish. I’m really not hungry.”
“You’re sure?” Lucy’s eyebrows came together in a frown.
“I’m sure.”
&nb
sp; “Well, all right. You come when you’re ready. There’s plenty.”
“Unless Lenny eats it all!” Tess said.
“Me?” Lenny said, going after her with wiggling fingers. “What about you?”
Tess shrieked and disappeared back into the kitchen, Lenny thumping along behind.
“You okay?” Lucy asked.
I lifted a shoulder. “Go on and eat.”
She wasn’t convinced she should let me off so easy, I knew, but she went back into the kitchen. After standing in the foyer for a few minutes, not knowing what else to do, I joined them. Lenny and Lucy both glanced up at me as I entered, but neither commented. I went and stood by the window while they ate.
They behaved like I wasn’t there, although I knew Lenny and Lucy were dying from curiosity. But we weren’t going to speak about Wolf and Rusty’s escape from death with Tess in the room.
After a few minutes Tess said, “Dessert?” with a hopeful uplift of her voice.
“In a few minutes,” Lucy said. “Why don’t you go make sure Smoky has food in her bowl.”
“She does.”
“And water?”
“Yup.”
“How about you just go play with her?”
Tess eyed her mother suspiciously. “Are we having dessert or not?”
“In a little bit.”
Tess reluctantly left the room, and Lenny and Lucy turned toward me.
I told them of the day’s events.
“So this Gentleman John guy was mutilating Wolf to get back at him?” Lucy asked.
“Basically, yes.”
“Sicko.”
Lenny fingered one of his tattoos, a skull with a clerical collar, and pursed his lips. “Nasty stuff.”
“Very,” I agreed.
“And that poor man,” Lucy said. “Wolf. Losing his wife like that. And poor little Billy.”
There was nothing left to say to that.