Turtle Island

by Caffeine Nights Publishing

  Georgina sat up, leaned across the bed and opened her small attaché case. She pulled out a large A4 pad and pen and began to write her report on the case. She was angry that she was compromised into killing Fleisher. If anyone were going to break that night she would have laid a month’s salary that it would have been Leroy but if anything he was more focused than usual. Rick Montoya had acted like a rookie, a bad one at that. Georgina was in no doubt that if Rick had aimed better Karen Fuller would have lived to tell the tale. O’Neil worked on until 4-30in the morning, when finally she succumbed to sleeps hypnotic potion. She fell asleep holding the biro, still writing the report with the pad resting on her raised knees.

  SUNDAY

  At twelve thirty, Georgina called into the office. The day was overcast and considerably cooler than of late. Rain threatened and the stormy clouds that held it were moving fast towards Turtle Island. She had watched the morning news and wasn’t surprised to see Barbara Dace reporting from inside the house where Charles Fleisher and Karen Fuller had died. The media were spinning their own version of events on Turtle Island. It would seem that everything was straightforward and Barbara's report appeared to be with the police department's blessing, it certainly coincided with Captain Frusco’s thinking. Seeing Norman Frusco interviewed by Dace confirmed Georgina’s suspicions. The case was over and the only thing left for Georgina to do was to file her report, which out of courtesy she felt obliged to show Frusco, even though she knew his reaction would be far from one of pleasure. She waited outside his office occupying one of the seats that was usually kept for interrogating suspects. The well-worn leather seat was unsupportive and for the few minutes she had been sitting on it, found it extremely uncomfortable. With luck she could be on her way home by Monday, Tuesday at the latest. She had no desire to be drawn into a lengthy post mortem of the case, not that for one moment did she believe there would be one. This case had all the trappings of an irritating acquaintance and the chances were it was going to be swept under the carpet and forgotten about. It was not the sort of thing that the people of Turtle Island wanted hanging about, it stank as bad as the unknown corpse they fished out of the water at the beginning of the case, lowering property prices and scaring prospective tourists. Hence the sunshine and roses report from Barbara Dace.

  ‘…the nightmare ended last night and now residents of Turtle Island can return to the idyllic lifestyle they shared before Charles Fleisher began his short reign of terror. Tonight we can sleep safe. Barbara Dace, M.R.T.V Turtle Island.’

  Georgina waited patiently in the office, looking at the hive of activity unfolding in front of her. Missouri Police were dealing with the daily running of their state. Norman Frusco was lunching with Barbara Dace and the desk sergeant couldn't give a time, approx or otherwise, of his return. She said she'd wait.

  Georgina waited an hour before accessing a photocopier and leaving a Xeroxed copy of the report on Frusco's desk. She couldn't shake the image of Karen Fuller lying dead on the bed under the prostrate figure of Charles Fleisher. She wanted to go somewhere to clear her head, do something positive. She found herself driving down the highway towards Leroy LaPortiere's house. As she drove, she began to question the sacrifices she had made for a career and wondered about the psychological damage to her mental welfare. The scars usually materialised in the form of nightmares, sleepless nights, or as now, trying to find some sort of mental release. After a mile or so Georgina couldn't understand why she was having difficulty seeing properly, when she looked in the rear view mirror she saw the reason; both her eyes were clouded with tears. She pulled the car to the hard shoulder and spent a confusing twenty minutes controlling large shoulder heaving sobs. She could see Karen Fuller in her mind, lying perfectly still, perfectly dead. Georgina had been close to death on many occasions and was at a loss as to why one more death should affect her so deeply. Georgina had seen worse, dead children, murdered babies, old folk robbed and brutalised; why should the death of a middle class school teacher move her to tears on the hard shoulder. She wiped her eyes dry and tried to compose herself, before putting the car into drive and pulling away.

  In the daylight, Leroy LaPortiere's house showed the signs of neglect that Lia had so often complained. Cracked and flaking paint around the windows and doors allowed rain to seep through the unprotected surface, swelling and splitting the exposed wood. Georgina looked for a bell, two bared wires hung impotently from a small hole which once was resident to a push button bell. She rapped on the fly screen with her knuckles hoping that if he were in, he would hear her. Georgina waited for a minute before pulling open the fly screen and knocking hard on the glass panelled door. Leroy's lumbering frame moved toward the door behind the obscured glass panel. He opened the door, unshaven and reeking of alcohol, eyes hanging out of his head. He looked bewildered, lost.

  ‘Hi.’

  He seemed unsurprised to see the detective standing at the door and stepped to one side to let her in. Georgina noted that he was still wearing the same clothes as when she last saw him.

  ‘Sorry the place is a bit of as mess.’ Leroy apologised as Georgina entered the main room.

  A home video was playing in the VCR, Lia was running around in the garden, spraying water over the cameraman, whom Georgina guessed to be Leroy. Lia was laughing, filmed during happier times. To the side of the armchair that Leroy had obviously been sitting in lay an empty bottle of rum and five cans of beer. The image on the television froze, Georgina turned. Leroy swayed unsteadily, the VCR control held in his wavering hand.

  ‘Been watching old films.’ Leroy said almost apologetically. ‘You know, I've been walking around the house spraying an old bottle of Lia’s perfume, just to pretend she was still here...’

  Georgina spotted the bottle of Jewel lying amongst the empty bottles.

  ‘I spent 50 bucks on a bottle of her brand of perfume just to spray around the house, yet when she was here I never bought her a bottle. She always used to buy her own, ‘cause I was too busy...pathetic isn’t it?’ Leroy dropped into the armchair, his foot kicking the empty bottles out of the way.

  ‘I don’t know what you want me to say Leroy. I know this job eats too far into all of our lives, but no matter how much, it always come as a complete shock to us as to the damage it is doing to others.’ Georgina sat opposite Leroy, placing her report folder down next to her. Leroy scratched his head then rubbed his face with his hand. He stared at her, through her, for a moment completely lost in his own world.

  ‘You know I had all the warning signs, just ignored them...’ Leroy raised his large hands in a dismissive gesture. ‘She...was...just the most beautiful woman, did I tell you that?’

  Georgina smiled. ‘Leroy, she still is, she is not dead.’

  ‘Then why do I feel as though I am mourning her. She has gone and I miss her so...’ Leroy’s voice trailed away, cracking slightly. ‘…much.’

  There was a vulnerability to the big man that was hitting home to Georgina’s heart. She wanted to console him, take him in her arms and ease away the pain, maybe she felt that would help relieve her own burdensome anguish or would that just be calculated self reciprocation. Part of her wanted to mother him, part of her wanted him to father her, part of her, the trained self reliant woman wanted to step back and not get emotionally involved. That side of her was saying in her head. ‘Keep your distance.’

  ‘All I have is this video; she didn't even leave a photograph.’ Leroy paused the video, Lia was laughing, holding a hose, water gushing from its spout spilling onto her face. ‘Hey, I'm sorry. I must really be dragging you down.’

  Georgina stopped herself from going over to Leroy and hugging him. ‘What are you going to do?’

  Leroy shook his head and looked out through the window. ‘I don't know yet.’ He sighed. Then added. ‘Have another drink, then maybe drink some more until the pain eases.’

  ‘Sounds like a good idea, maybe we should get drunk together.’ Georgina didn’t want to leave him alone to dr
ink. As always, there is safety in numbers.

  ‘There's a tumbler beside you in the bag. She took all the glasses, so I bought some from the gas station last night.’

  Georgina felt inside the plastic bag lying next to the sofa she was perched on and grabbed a plastic tumbler. She threw it to Leroy who, though his senses were dulled by drink, managed to catch it.

  ‘Only got brandy.’ He said unscrewing the cap of a bottle.

  ‘Fine.’ Georgina shrugged not really caring what she was going to drink as long as it was alcohol.

  ‘So, you know my problem, what's yours?’ Leroy filled Georgina's plastic tumbler to the brim. ‘Sorry, no coke left.’ He handed her the full glass, their fingers touching briefly. Georgina realised that was what she wanted now more than anything; human contact. Leroy held onto the glass, spilling brandy down their fingers.

  Georgina took a deep breath. ‘My problems pale in comparison to most people I know, present company included.’

  ‘A problem is a problem is a problem.’ Leroy raised the glass in salute to Georgina and took a large gulp from the plastic tumbler. Georgina passed the brown folder to Leroy.

  ‘This is one.’ Georgina handed Leroy her report.

  Leroy’s eyes focused on the A4 pages of type.

  ‘You pick your times.’ Leroy said trying to concentrate. He began to read Georgina's case report; he sat back in to the seat, while she swallowed back the contents of her tumbler then topped up both glasses.

  Frusco closed the folder and pressed the intercom on his desk.

  ‘Get me Agent O’Neil, Hannah? She’s staying at the Motel off highway 14.’ He let go of the button, not waiting for a reply and dialled a number on his phone. The phone, eager to please as usual, rang in his ear. Frusco waited for Rick Montoya to answer. The phone rang three times before a child answered.

  ‘Hello.’

  Frusco knew Ray’s voice and asked to speak with his father, he heard the phone being placed down and the child saying. ‘Okay’ followed by his little voice booming. ‘ DAD, PHONE.’

  There was a scrabbling sound and Ray spoke quietly into the receiver. ‘He’s coming...’

  Frusco could hear the child breathing and chomping something, probably gum. Then from nowhere the boy said. ‘I gotta bike today.’

  Norman felt uneasy speaking to the boy, having missed out on the whole child rearing process. It was not that he didn’t have any, he had a boy and a girl, it’s just that he was too busy working while they were too busy growing up.

  ‘That’s nice.’ Frusco lamely offered.

  Fortunately before Frusco had to indulge in any more ‘small’ talk, Rick picked up the extension. ‘You can put the phone down now, son.’

  Norman heard the click; Rick asked ‘What’s up?’

  ‘I need you to make a full account in writing of what happened last night, it seems O’Neil is going to name you as being incompetent and endangering the lives of other officers, including herself.’

  Rick listened in silence.

  ‘I’ll eh...I’ll...come in...right away.’

  ‘You know the procedure once a complaint has been issued by an FBI agent against a Police officer, Internal Affairs are going to be all over you and the station, plus...’ Frusco didn’t like saying what he had to say next and took a deep breath before continuing. ‘Plus, I’ll have to have to suspend you until any investigation is completed.’

  Rick felt his stomach flip. He stood pole-axed. He placed the phone receiver back in its cradle without saying goodbye to Frusco. Rick put his jacket on. Just as he was leaving the front door Jo-Lynn caught him.

  ‘Where you goin’, hon?’

  ‘I gotta go in.’

  ‘But you said you got time off time to be with Ray and me.’

  ‘I know, I know...It’s just that something...unexpected has just occurred.’ Rick kissed Jo-Lynn on her lips and walked straight to the car and sped away without further explanation. Jo-Lynn stood at the door baffled.

  ‘Is something wrong?’ Korjca’s voice gently asked, sensing her employer’s distress. Jo-Lynn put on her fake smile- the one that she usually reserved for clients that she didn’t much like. ‘It’s nothing to worry about, I’m sure.’

  ‘I see that the protection men have gone.’ Korjca’s broken English added a greater hint of danger. Jo-Lynn peered across the road, the darkening sky hovered overhead cutting visibility. An empty space occupied the place where the twenty-four hour police protection vehicle had stood guard for the past two and a half days.

  Leroy closed the file. ‘Are you sure you want to do this?’

  ‘You saw the way Montoya acted. He may as well have been holding the knife himself.’

  ‘I know that he's been under a lot of strain. The threats may have clouded his judgement.’ Leroy tried to defend his partner.

  Georgina wanted to believe that, but if that was the case then he should have distanced himself from the investigation. ‘Anyway, I thought I would show you.’

  ‘Frusco won't be too pleased that's for sure.’

  ‘What about you, what do you think?’

  ‘Me, I'm nearly past caring…’ Leroy emptied the remains of the rum bottle in his glass before resting it down next to the other empties. ‘But Rick is a friend. One of the few true friends I have at this moment. I’m not happy…but he did jeopardise our lives.’

  ‘Do you think I’m being unfair?’ Georgina pressed for Leroy’s opinion.

  ‘Does what I think really mean that much.’ Leroy rested his head against the curve of the chair. The effects of the rum slowly driving home.

  ‘I don’t know, I always seem to be on the outside...on the periphery, looking in on the real world, that kind of detachment doesn’t always make you the most popular person in the room. It’s kinda hard to judge whether I’m being too...’ Georgina searched her mind for the right word but Leroy found it first

  ‘Objective.’

  Georgina smiled. ‘Something like that...So?’

  ‘So...’ Leroy took a breath. ‘My opinion for what it’s worth. Rick Montoya is a friend and a good detective. He’s been there backing me up, supporting me and I have never had cause to find him lacking in commitment...’

  ‘But?’ Georgina could sense a ‘But’ was coming.

  ‘But,’ Leroy cleared his throat, making room for a confession Georgina thought. ‘But he arrived on Turtle Island under a cloud of suspicion. Now I wouldn’t tell you this under any other circumstances because he’s a brother...’

  Georgina was getting impatient, wanting to know Leroy’s secret.

  ‘But?’

  ‘But there were rumours that followed him here.’

  ‘What sort of rumours?’

  ‘Let’s just say that he had a brush with Internal Affairs back in Chicago. I don’t know the full account, Rick’s never entrusted me with any confidences from those days. I do know it’s something to do with Jordan’s death.’

  ‘His daughter.’

  Leroy nodded. ‘I looked into it, he doesn’t know though, but I thought that if I’m putting my ass on the line with this guy then I need to know about the rumours and dispel any harbouring doubts I had about his...’

  ‘Commitment.’ It was Georgina’s turn to complete a sentence.

  ‘Yeah...Something like that. Commitment.’ Leroy paused, drank a little. ‘So I dug a little and I found some things out.’

  Georgina sat forward on the edge of her seat, willing Leroy to reveal whatever he knew about Detective Rick Montoya.

  Leroy closed his eyes, tried hard to remember the details, the names, and the places.

  ‘Rick had been on the tail of a small time sociopath, Fortune something, was his name, something like that anyway. As I say mostly small stuff, a robbery here, extortion there, nothing much, but all of a sudden Fortune’s name was linked with a kidnapping. A wealthy young business man, Patrick Multhorne.’ Leroy took another sip from the tumbler before continuing. ‘Whether Fortune had Multhorne o
r not will probably remain a mystery. It seems that on the day Jordan died Rick was taking her home from school, when he caught sight of Prentice Fortune, yeah that was his name Prentice Fortune, driving a beat up ol’ Mustang. A chase ensued. The rest is history. Rick somehow managed to clip Fortune’s Mustang; his jeep rolled killing Jordan instantly, breaking her neck. Fortune’s Mustang mounted the kerb and shot straight through Garland Bach’s front window.’

  Georgina looked puzzled. ‘Who?’

  ‘Garland Bach.’ Leroy continued. ‘They’re high fashion retailers. Fortune had his girlfriend with him at the time. She was all but decapitated when a scaffold pole used as part of a display went through her head. Three people in the shop were injured, one person was left paralysed under the wheels of Prentice’ car. Prentice was arrested but the Chicago PD couldn’t nail anything on him…muchacho embaressmento.’

  ‘Surely Prentice had a strong case for compensation?’

  ‘Yeah, sure he did, would have won too, but you know how the system works. Chicago PD stood by their man, Rick had lost too. They dragged the case out and started to counter sue Fortune’s estate on behalf of Rick for the loss of his daughter, which just about financially crippled Prentice Fortune. He dropped the case, had to sell house and just about everything else. Meanwhile Rick took a sideways promotion to...’

  ‘The Missouri PD.’ Georgina raised her glass and polished off its contents.

  ‘Correct, but allegations followed him here. IA was all over him for about two months, then they seemed to disappear, things went quiet, returned to normal. Fortune Prentice vanished; Patrick Multhorne was never found. So as you can see, another round with Internal Affairs is going to dig up a whole can of worms.’ Leroy finished his glass and sank back even further in to the armchair. ‘Shit man, I’m outta booze, why is it that when you want to get steamin’ you can’t?’ He tossed the plastic tumbler to one side.