Pam sat on the side of the bed with a cup of coffee. “Wake up, sleepyhead. Heroes can’t sleep all day.”
Joe tried to open his eyes, but bricks were pounding the inside of his head. He desperately wanted to return to unconsciousness. He wished the previous night had not happened, especially the tequila. He couldn’t think straight. Now, what was it he had told the cops? He would have to stay away from his apartment in case the detective wanted to ask him more questions, at least until his head cleared up. Right now he could not function, much less remember everything he needed to.
“Ooooh,” groaned Joe, “who ran over me?”
“A tequila truck,” Pam said jokingly.
“I believe it! Can I stay here today? I need to sleep.”
“Sure, I’ve got to go out for a while. I’ll bring us some lunch. I don’t have to be at work until six.”
“What time is it now?”
“Noon. Go back to sleep. I’ll wake you when I get back.”
She bent over for a kiss, but immediately pulled back. He smelled strongly of tequila and smoke. “You’re going to have to take a shower first if you want any dessert!” She laughed and left the apartment.
Joe stumbled to the bathroom and pissed. Using his left hand to steady himself on the lavatory, he rummaged through the medicine cabinet with his right until he found a bottle of aspirin. He poured out a handful and threw them down his throat, staggering as he took his hand off the lavatory. He found a used, dirty glass and quickly chased them with a few swallows of tap water. He had difficulty breathing, due to all the smoke he had inhaled from the bar the night before. He eased toward the shower, turned it on, and waited until it was steamy before getting in. It was too hot, so he cooled it down slightly before getting under the spray. He could feel the hot jets tingle his skin. The steam climbed into his nostrils, relieving the pressure in his head.
He made his way back to the bed, ready to sleep and dream of his newfound power. He had a hundred dollars coming and he meant to collect it. That would be later, though. Right now all he wanted was to sleep off his hangover.
Pam returned much sooner than Joe had hoped. She was full of news. Joe’s name was in the newspaper, on the radio, and on television. She quickly told Joe about the other murder. He had almost forgotten about that one.
“Yeah, I know.”
Pam looked surprised. “How did you know?”
“The cops mentioned it last night.” He had almost tipped his hand. “They were talking about how it could have been connected with the liquor store.”
Pam shook her head, appeased with Joe’s answer.
“That’s pretty wild,” Joe said, running his hands through his hair.
He decided to call the detective, just to keep any suspicion away. “Make us a drink while I call Detective Hopkins and see what’s up.”
Pam smiled and obeyed while Joe fished through his wallet for Detective Hopkins’ number. After a few minutes on hold, Hopkins answered.
“Joe, I’m glad you called. We’ve been looking for you.”
Joe’s heart rushed, but he kept his cool. “Sorry, I just woke up. I didn’t stay at home last night.”
“Single man,” Hopkins chuckled. “It must be nice.”
Joe relaxed. “Not always.”
“Joe, I need to get with you and go over a few things. It seems our boy was busier than we knew. He broke into a house and killed a young man. How about dropping by the station about six o’clock. I’ll fill you in. It won’t take long.”
“No problem, I’ll be there.”
Pam returned with two glasses of wine. “This is all I have. Sorry.”
“That’s fine,” Joe sipped. The taste surprised him. It wasn’t as bad as the cheap stuff he had drank in the past. “What is this?”
“White Zinfandel. Do you like it?”
“Yeah, it’s not bad.” He repeated the name to himself under his breath but knew he wouldn’t remember.
“What did the detective say?”
“I need to go by and confirm a few things.”
“Is it the same guy who killed the other one?”
“Yeah, they think so.” Joe was amazed at himself. He was really beginning to believe his lies; not that it mattered, but if he could fool himself, fooling others would be easy. He looked at Pam, her short, cropped black hair, rosy cheeks, and those beautiful pink lips. She seemed so childlike, but instead he saw a woman with nice breasts and a firm ass, and he wanted her, and he knew he could have her.
Pam had wanted to make love before she went to work, something she could think and feel warm about while she waited on all the drunks. She wanted to please him, so he would stay with her. With all this new popularity, it would be easy for him to stray. She didn’t want that to happen. She wasn’t totally sure about Joe, but he had a job and treated her nicely. That was far more than she had ever had before. Joe needed sex, but she needed love.
They slept until four o’clock and quickly rushed to the Whiskey Trough bar, grabbing a burger from McDonald’s on the way. Pam was beaming as they walked into the full bar. Everyone applauded, shouting, “Hero” and whistling loudly. For ten minutes, they couldn’t hear what anyone was saying. Everyone was talking at the same time, some laughing and joking, others wanting to know all the details. Joe laughed and joked back, telling the crowd he would fill them in when he returned from the meeting with the detective. And no, he wasn’t planning to run for sheriff.
Joe was no longer hung over but was starting to get a quick buzz from all the drinks everyone was buying him. He told Pam to mark his complimentary drinks down and he would catch up when he got back. Pam told the day bartender, who smiled in agreement. Pam smiled at Joe and reached for a kiss. Joe was pleasantly surprised by her display of public affection.
“Now you two, watch it. Pam has to relieve me in five minutes,” said Midge, the short, plump bartender. “You must be proud of him.”
Pam smiled at Joe and gave him another kiss. “I sure am!”
Joe knew this was the perfect time to leave. Not only was he embarrassed by all the attention, but also he was getting a little drunk. “I’ve got to go. I’ll be back later.” He quickly walked out to shouts of, “See you later.”
Joe still had an hour before the meeting. He definitely didn’t want to be early. He parked his truck at the Hilton, a few blocks away from the station. Although he had never been inside the hotel, he knew there was a bar. He would sip on a drink and collect his thoughts, then walk over to the police station. The less they knew about his truck, the better. Joe parked and walked into a side entrance. A sign directed him to the lounge. It was dark like other bars, so Joe walked in slowly, waiting until his eyes adjusted from the change of light, and then eased onto a cushioned stool with arms. He liked the feel of the leather, the softness and the smell. He felt like he was the first customer ever to walk in. It was a great feeling.
“What can I get you?” asked a slender blonde bartender. She was wearing a uniform of black slacks, a white, puffy-sleeved blouse, and black vest. Joe was impressed but wasn’t sure why he was. He looked around, trying to get his bearings.
“Staying at the hotel?” she asked, picking up the slack.
“No… no… uh… just stopped in for a drink.” He tried to regain his composure.
“We can do that. What’ll you have?” she asked again.
“Screwdriver,” he answered, for lack of anything better to say.
“You got it.” She quickly retrieved his drink. “Three twenty-five.”
Again, he was surprised. He thought drinks at a hotel would be twice as much. The bartender brought change for a five and returned to the end of the bar, resuming a conversation with a middle-aged woman in a business suit. He imagined she worked for the hotel. There was no one else at the bar, and only a man and woman at one of the tables.
Joe took a deep breath and tried to put everything in perspective: how he needed to sit, what he needed to say, and most of all, what not t
o say. The less information he gave, the more he would appear an innocent bystander.
“Hey, Joe,” came a pat on the shoulder. “Mind if we join you?”
Joe turned to the smiling face of Detective Hopkins. Shocked, he couldn’t say anything.
“Joe, this is Marjorie Simpson. She’s with the DA’s office. Let’s grab a table so we can mix a little business with pleasure.”
Joe extended his hand to the young, attractive blond. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Simpson.”
“It’s Miss, but just call me Marjorie.” She smiled.
The detective led them to a table, closely followed by a waitress.
“What are you drinking, Joe?”
“Screwdriver.”
“Sounds good to me. What about you, Marjorie?”
“That’s fine.”
The waitress turned and started for the drinks, smiling at Joe as she left. He smiled back, wondering if she might be flirting with him.
“So, Joe, are you getting a lot of questions from the press?”
“No, I haven’t talked to anybody. Was I supposed to?”
Hopkins laughed. “Only if you want to. I’m just surprised the local television people haven’t caught up with you. They’re good at tracking people down, regular bloodhounds. They’re probably camped out at your motel right now.”
Joe knew everything was on the news and in the papers, but for some reason he hadn’t imagined anyone but the police wanting to talk with him. He wasn’t sure how to handle the news people or having friendly drinks with a cop and a lawyer, for that matter. He had been expecting interrogations and accusations, and accounting for his time. Instead, everyone was accepting his innocence, even calling him a hero. Joe was almost in awe at the weird twist of fate… but he still had to be cautious. He must trust no one. He would play the role of the reluctant hero. He had to chuckle to himself.
“What’s got you amused, Joe?” Hopkins asked.
“Nothing, really. I guess I’m a bit bewildered.”
“Why is that, Joe?” Marjorie leaned toward him.
“Well, I’m used to having a few beers with roofers, not detectives and district attorneys.”
Marjorie and Hopkins both laughed. “Sorry to laugh, Joe, but the truth is, I was a house painter until about ten years ago, and lot of the time I wish I still was. Marjorie’s dad is a builder here in town. I painted for him for years.” Both smiled at Joe.
Joe smiled back. “I guess I expected some stuffed shirts with a lot questions. Guess I’ve been watching too much TV.”
“Well, we do have to ask you a few questions, which we will get out of the way in a hurry.”
“Sure, I’ll be glad to answer any questions you have.”
“Do you have any handguns, rifles, or shotguns of any kind?”
“Not in this town. I did have an old .22 at my mom’s, if it’s still there. I’ve never been much of a hunter; I prefer fishing.”
“You’re lucky you didn’t get yourself killed.”
“How’s that?”
“Being inexperienced.” Hopkins cocked his head upward. “If you had missed, we might not be sitting here today. You know what I mean?”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. I hadn’t thought about it. I just grabbed the gun and pulled the trigger.”
“Lucky you just reacted instantly; had you hesitated, we might still have a murderer on the streets.”
“That’s right, Joe,” Marjorie added. “You made our jobs a lot easier.”
“Just blind luck all the way around, I suppose,” Joe said. He really felt that way. He had been extremely lucky, considering the reality of the situation.
“The police report states you knew the clerk?” Marjorie inquired.
“Not well, just from stopping by occasionally to get wine.” He tried to think of the name of the wine Pam gave him. He should have kept quiet.
“Never went out for a drink or to his house?”
“No, just talking football and stuff in the store.”
“What about the man you killed?”
Joe almost asked which one. He turned red. Hopkins caught it.
“Kind of a shock to hear it put that way, but you did kill him, even though it was considered self-defense.”
“I definitely did that, didn’t I? Guess I’m still a little in shock.”
“I can imagine,” Marjorie empathized.
“Well, did you?” Hopkins asked.
“Did I what?”
“Know the man.”
“No! I had never seen him before.”
“I guess that’s all we have to know for now. Let’s have another round, if that’s OK with you, Joe?”
“Sure.” Joe felt relieved.
“Did you need to know anything else, Marjorie?”
“Not for now. However, we need to keep in touch, just in case. I’m sure there will be more. There always is with paperwork. Here’s my card. Call if you change your address or phone number.”
Joe took the card and laid it on the table, then turned it over and over. “No problem. I do have a question, though.”
“Shoot.”
“Why did you want to know if I owned any guns?”
“Just routine. In case it comes up for some reason. You know, if the press makes something big of the shooting, we’ll have the answer.”
“Why would they want to know that?”
“You know, all the gun laws and stuff. The NRA. Anything for a story.”
Joe shook his head as if he understood.
“Enough shop talk. Let’s have a drink. Hopkins motioned for the waitress. She took the order, again smiling at Joe.
“Why didn’t she smile at me?” asked Hopkins jokingly. “I’m the one who ordered the drinks. Lucky Joe.”
“Don’t let him fool you, Joe. He wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Joe smiled. “What about you, Marjorie? I don’t see a ring on your finger. “
“Oh, I tried it once, but it didn’t work out. A lawyer’s hours are not always nine-to-five.”
“Better watch it, Marj. Joe has a funny look on his face.”
Everybody laughed. Marjorie began to blush a little but managed a smile in Joe’s direction. He sure liked all the smiles he was receiving.
The waitress brought their drinks but was in a hurry because of a sudden rush of customers. Most wore suits and ties, dressed similarly to Hopkins and Marjorie. Perhaps they were average people, too. But somehow, Joe mistrusted them. They were like the people in the house, money people, who didn’t share unless they were made to. And now, he knew how to make them share. He could never go back to roofing, or any job for that matter. He had the power to direct his own future. He could wear suits, play their game, and take their money.
Joe paid for the drinks, just to get in the right frame of mind. Not so much to impress them, as to impress himself, to know he could buy drinks for suits, as well as construction bums and oilfield trash. Before long, one more drink led to several more rounds. They began to talk about different drinks and their strange names: sex on the beach, blowjobs, and others. Of course, for every new drink, they had to sample it. They began to run a tab. Joe knew he was almost out of money, but he continued to order drinks as freely as the others did.
Hopkins’ wife, Linda, joined them, making quite a distinct foursome, Joe thought. At first, she seemed pissed off, but with a little coaxing from Marjorie, she loosened up and fell right in line with the laughter. Joe liked her. She was quiet, not at all pretentious, not a threat, and one less person Joe needed to watch.
“Hi, Marjorie!” A feminine voice came from behind Marjorie, accompanied by two men in slacks and polo shirts.
Marjorie turned, “Oh, hi, Judy. Join us?”
“Can’t Marj. Other plans, but maybe later. Are you coming to my party?”
“I’m planning on it. This Saturday, isn’t it?”
“Day after tomorrow.” She looked at Hopkins, Linda, and finally at Joe. “Bring your friends. They’
ll have fun.” She turned, shook her blonde hair, and led the two men out without any introductions.
Joe disliked her immediately but had a feeling they would meet again. Her puppets, too!
Hopkins was the first to speak. “You have friends?”
Everyone laughed.
“Not as many as Joe does.”
“Don’t worry, Marj, honey,” Joe patted her hand. “Rick, Linda, and I will be your followers.”
“I always wanted an entourage.”
“And now you have us,” said Linda.
“And this member wants one more drink, then it’s beddy-bye time.”
“OK, but you all are going with me to the party. Right?” She looked at Linda and Hopkins.
“Sure! I’ll go any place with you, especially when I’m drunk.” Linda amused herself.
Marjorie turned to Joe. “Now that includes you too, Mr. Hero.”
Joe blushed. “Mr. Hero?”
“That’s right. You’re the city’s new hero. Are you going to escort me, Joseph?” Alcohol slurred her words. “It would be good for my career to be seen with a hero.”
Joe smiled. He had never been called Joseph before. “I would be honored to escort the future DA anyplace she would like to go.”
Hopkins took all this in with only a sleepy smile, whether quietly observing, tired from a long day or passively tipsy, Joe was unsure.
Marjorie avoided looking at Joe for a few minutes, a bit embarrassed at being so forward as to ask Joe out on a date. For some reason, she was attracted to him and didn’t want this to be their last encounter.
“Can you imagine if Judy had known who Joe was?” She laughed. “She would have been all over him.” She looked at Hopkins for confirmation. He smiled sleepily.
“Now, are you sure you want to go?” Marjorie looked at Linda. “I don’t mean to corner you.”
“I’m looking forward to it. How should I dress?”
“Let’s go shopping early.”
“OK. Pick me up.”
Save the Child Page 3