The Grey Door

by Danna Wilberg

  “How’s Grace doing?” the detective asked nonchalantly. “Ever find the person who beat up her dog?” Spiderelli backed away.

  “No, we haven’t,” Paul said. “Not one clue.”

  Spiderelli turned and gestured toward the house. “Ever been in there?”

  “No. It’s not like Jess and I are friends. Like I said, I was passing by.”

  “You just happened to have his address?” The cop inched closer to Paul.

  “What is this? Can’t a guy ask a question?”

  “You’re right. No harm in asking questions,” Spiderelli agreed. “Give Grace my best.” Spiderelli turned and walked away. Paul nodded to the officer and headed for his truck.

  Paul’s rearview mirror didn’t reflect the good-natured “French Fry.” The man with Paul’s reflection was determined and deadly. He vowed, You may have fooled the cops, but you can’t fool me, Justin, Jess, or whoever you’re pretending to be. I am going to hunt you down, and if you’ve so much as harmed one hair on Grace’s head? I will pull your balls through your throat and wrap them around your neck!

  ***

  Jess placed the duffle bag he grabbed from the Fran’s car on the bathroom sink. He shed his blue scrubs and donned the police officer’s uniform. His timing couldn’t have been more perfect. From the bathroom window, he could see police invading the hospital parking lot like ants. He snickered to himself. Nice. He liked the way the uniform fit. Maybe I should kill a few more cops, expand my wardrobe. He wondered if uniforms came in black. He checked his teeth and smiled at his image before dipping his hand into his pocket and pulling out his wallet. He tucked his old driver’s license in his breast pocket and glanced at the familiar replacement. Justin Barnes: Phoenix, Arizona. He checked his image once more. Guess you’ll be needing a haircut, dude.

  ***

  Grace moaned, waking slowly from the anesthesia. Her hip ached. Her mouth felt like cotton. Her hand touched something warm.

  “Gracie, it’s me, Marcus. Can you hear me?” “Get out,” she whispered.

  “The graft is done. LuLu has a chance thanks to you.” “You could have told me,” she groaned weakly.

  “Would that have changed anything?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “You have every right to hate me, but I wanted you to be the first to know how proud I am of you and what it means to me that you followed through on the donorship. I know I can’t make up for all those years of lies, but I can tell you that I have loved you girls with every beat of my heart. And that will never change.”

  “My father, have you forgiven him?”

  “I feel sorry for him. I got the best of the deal. I got to raise one daughter and mentor another.”

  Grace couldn’t speak. She pictured her father in his comfortable room, eating Jell-O cubes and watching reruns of Jeopardy.

  She closed her hand over Marcus’s hand and squeezed.

  “Give Willa my love.”

  ***

  Jess drove into the night. The fiasco at the hospital pressed on his mind: Fran’s car swarming with police, looky-loos in colored scrubs gathering to watch evidence being extracted from the driver’s side of the car. He had walked through the crowd unnoticed, peeling Elmer’s glue from his fingertips.

  No one questioned a man in a uniform, he thought, nibbling the candy bar he bought from a vending machine. He walked two blocks to a car rental. The girl at the counter bent over backward to accommodate his needs. Women can be so dumb, he chuckled to himself. An image of his mother came to mind. His smile dissolved. Stupid. Not like the mom he hired to introduce to Grace. That “mom” came with a “dad.” Nice couple. Too bad they had to die. Can’t trust anyone.

  The sign for San Diego cautioned Jess to slow down and merge to the right. Soon he would be in Tijuana sipping tequila and banging a cheap whore. He smiled. Maybe he’d get a bunch of whores this time. They could pile on top of him like puppies while he spanked and pinched their bottoms. The vision aroused him. Funny how situations reversed themselves. He hated being spanked, but he sure loved doing the spanking. He wondered if Grace would grow to love his skills once they were together, like Jenna did.

  He conjured the image of Grace lying on the gurney, all docile and drugged. He laughed out loud, recalling how her eyes rolled back in her head. No, baby, you weren’t dreaming.

  It wouldn’t be long before they were together. He sighed heavily. First, arrangements needed to be made. He needed supplies, the key to their castle, and a passport for Grace. They would start a new life. The life they should’ve had eight years ago before he got caught up in becoming everyone’s golden boy. I’ll never let you go again, my Grace. Never.

  Jess pulled into a strip mall. The sign in the window encouraged him to get out of the car. When he stepped into bright fluorescent lights, he was greeted by a young woman with a stud in her nose and pink bangs.

  “We close in twenty minutes,” she said. “No time for highlights.”

  Jess ran his fingers through his curls. “I got an inspection in the morning. Just shave it off. I’m tired of hassling with that dick sergeant of mine.”

  “Really? You going the skin-head route?” “Can you finish in twenty minutes?” he asked.

  “Think so. Sit over there.” She indicated a barber’s chair away from the window. Jess obliged.

  The young woman shook a plastic drape over his uniform and fastened it at the nape of his neck. She bent down to plug in her electric razor. “You’re a ways from home aren’t you?”

  “Yeah, how did you guess?”

  “Patches on your uniform. I’m observant. I notice stuff like that.”

  “Sister was having problems with her ol’ man. Had to straighten him out. The uniform helps adjust his attitude. I had an appointment with a barber in Cooper, but then I got the call from my sister. I’m glad I caught you before you closed.”

  “Where’s Cooper?”

  “Little town in Arizona. I’ll be driving all night.”

  “Hmm. Never heard of Cooper. I’m a geography nut.”

  “You’re not missing much. Look it up on Google.”

  “I will.” She began snipping. Curls fell into his lap. He suddenly felt tense. He didn’t need some little twerp causing trouble for him before he got across the border.

  “Where are you from?” he asked casually.

  “Here. I was born here. I’ll probably die here.”

  Jess’s lips spread wide. Don’t give me any ideas. “How long have you been a hairdresser?”

  “Four years.” Jess’s eyes drifted past the woman’s reflection in the mirror. He noticed the back door was to his left.

  “Long time on your feet.”

  “Yeah. Standing all day gets tiring. How long you been a cop?” “Eight years.”

  “Do you like it, tough guy?”

  “What do you mean? Who said I was tough?” He chuckled, despite his urge to stab her with the little scissors she placed on the tray beside him. He couldn’t decide. Her jugular vein? Or one of her pretty, blue eyes.

  She turned on the razor and buzzed a path from the center of his forehead to the back of his head. She returned to the front and buzzed another row next to it. “I wanted to be a cop,” she confessed. “They said I was too short.”

  “Wow, bummer,” Jess said sympathetically. “Bet you would’ve been a great cop.”

  “Yeah.” She didn’t speak again until she finished buzzing his head clean. She sprayed a layer of fine mist on his scalp and massaged until the oil was absorbed. Jess reconsidered his murderous notions. His shoulders relaxed. She eyed him carefully.

  “There. All done. Two minutes to spare.”

  “How much?”

  “Twenty, just like the sign says.”

  Jess handed her a twenty and a five dollar tip.

  “Thanks, you saved my bacon.”

  “Yeah.” She jammed the five into her pocket and placed the twenty in a drawer.

  Jess caught a glimpse of himself in th
e mirror. The shaved head made him look dangerous. He smiled. Nice.

  He drove a mile up the road and pulled into a gas station parking lot. He grabbed a small, black case from the back seat. He removed a brush, a bottle of spirit gum, and a black mustache peppered with grey. Once the mustache was in place, he pulled into traffic. He got back on the freeway and headed for the border. No stopping me now.

  ***

  “Paul! What are you doing here?” Grace protested, weakly.

  “I know, it’s past visiting hours. The roses convinced the night nurse to bend the rules.”

  Grace still felt too groggy to appreciate his sentiment.

  “What about my dog?” she asked, her mouth dry and tacky.

  “Sneaky’s doing great! I picked her up this morning. Sal convinced me to leave the dog with her, so I could come and see you.”

  “That’s a long drive just to say hi.”

  “Had to do something; you didn’t return my calls.”

  “My battery died,” she smiled. “Forgot my charger.” She leaned on one elbow to admire the flowers he held in his hand.

  “For moi?

  “Oui. How are you feeling?”

  “I’ll be out of here in three days provided I don’t get a staph infection.”

  “Good. Three days is much too long, but I want you back in tip-top shape. Does it hurt?”

  “My hip or my heart?”

  “I know you feel betrayed, Grace. Anyone would.”

  “I thought a lot about what you said, Paul. About letting things go. I am going to try, but I need time, time to forgive. Others… and myself.”

  “No need to hurry, Grace. I’m a patient man.”

  “Wow,” she said, shaking her head. “The drug they gave me must have sent me to la-la land.” Her body shook off a tremor. “I still feel strange.” She remembered a time when she felt she was losing her mind, when she thought someone was watching her, when she suspected she was being followed. It was true. She shivered again. “Side effect, I suppose.” Paul pulled her blanket to her chin.

  “Chilled?”

  “No. Hallucinations.”

  “Really?” he mused. “Monsters? Little green men?”

  “No, I thought I saw Jess.” Her voice trailed away as she remembered his face looming above hers.

  Paul didn’t speak.

  He’s a dead man. Paul swallowed the sour taste in the back of his throat. Memories flooded his brain. He recalled the day a young man came to his house to hire his mother and father for an acting gig. He didn’t introduce himself as Jess; he said his name was Justin. Paul was busy studying and didn’t pay much attention. He glanced up briefly and caught the young man’s profile. The first time he met Jess at Grace’s house he knew it was the same person.

  All I need is proof. All I need is one little shred of evidence to prove Jess murdered my parents ten years ago.

  Paul’s thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door.

  “Miss Simms?” The officer approached the bed. “Are you Grace Simms?”

  “Yes, what is it?” Grace turned to Paul. He didn’t seem to have a clue why three officers stood blocking the doorway either.

  “I’m afraid we have some bad news. We need to ask you some questions.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s your mother, Miss Simms. A neighbor found her unconscious in her home. She took a nasty blow to the head. She’s in surgery. We’re trying to sort things out, because, frankly, we don’t know if she fell and hit her head or if she was struck. Paramedics indicated her blood alcohol level was point-three-zero. The neighbor claimed her car was missing. However, we found it right here in the parking lot. Do you know of anyone who would want to harm your mother?”

  “No, my mother was well respected. I don’t understand. You’re saying my mother was drunk, her car was found here, and you suspect foul play?” Her body stiffened. Her left temple began to throb. Her voice raised a notch. “Is she going to be okay?” “We’re not sure, ma’am.” Grace’s pulse quickened.

  “How did you know I was here?”

  “We called your office. The answering service got a hold of your secretary.”

  “Sal told you?”

  “Yes, ma’am. We explained the urgency.”

  Grace reached for Paul’s hand and squeezed, exchanging a worried glance.

  “Please tell us if you know of anyone who is capable of harming your mother. It’s important that we move on this case right away.”

  “I don’t know. She was seeing some guy, a salesman. Tom something or other. Bridges!” she recalled. “Tom Bridges.”

  “Mr. Bridges is the man who found your mother.”

  “Really? Well, there you go! He’s not her neighbor. He lives across town.”

  “What can you tell us about this man?”

  “Not much. I only met him once. My mother spoke quite highly of him, but in my opinion she didn’t know him very well.” “Anyone else you can think of? Did Mrs.Simms have any enemies?”

  Grace thought long and hard. Her mother wasn’t the easiest person to get along with, but who would want to hurt her? It didn’t make sense. She reached for her robe. “Why is she having surgery?”

  “A piece of bone is lodged in her brain.”

  “Oh, my God,” Grace cried. She tried to rise, but Paul pressed her back down on the bed.”

  “You have a hole in your hip,” he said firmly. “Remember?”

  “She’s my mother! I have to be with her. I’m all she has!”

  A nurse slipped between the policeman and Paul. She wrapped a blood pressure cuff around Grace’s arm and squeezed the pump. She stared at her watch, counting the beats. “Are we almost finished with this soirée? Miss Simms is in no condition to be grilled.”

  The officers mumbled apologies. Grace pleaded with the nurse, “Please, take me to see my mother.”

  “I’ll see what I can do about getting information on your mother’s condition. Meanwhile,” she said, turning to face Paul and the officers, “finish up here. Miss Simms needs her rest.” After waiting patiently until the group showed signs of disassembling, the nurse pivoted on her heel and left the room.

  “Here is my card,” the officer said, placing a white rectangle on the night stand. “If you think of anything, no matter how trivial, call me.” Before the officer reached the door, Grace called him back.

  “There is one thing,” she paused, placing her fingertips over her lips, removing them as if what she was about to say would infect the room. “I think I saw Jess Bartell here in the hospital. Can you check to see whether or not he was in Sacramento?”

  “Who is Jess Bartell?”

  Grace’s face turned pale. “I’m not sure.”

  ***

  Jess laid a hundred dollar bill on the bar, grabbed a bottle of tequila and walked away with five young whores. The whores laughed and teased. Jess couldn’t understand a word they said, but he didn’t care. The girls reminded him of puppies, with their dark skin and big brown eyes. They were happy, enthusiastic, and he was horny. All that mattered to him was the dexterity between his index finger and his thumb. He was ready for some serious pinching. The girls would take care of the rest.

  When they entered the small room, Jess motioned for the girls to wait by the door. He instructed them one by one to get undressed and parade before him while he rubbed the aching member hardening in his pants. He wanted to wait until he was fully erect before unleashing the demon. As each girl finished getting undressed, he instructed them gather at his feet. Obedience. So important. He learned that very young. He did what he was told; otherwise there would be consequences: razor blades inserted in orifices that weren’t meant to be hiding places. He shivered at the thought. By the time he was three, he had learned obedience was his only salvation.

  The little whores began tugging at his clothes, eager to get down to business. He fondled their breasts, bouncing them in his hands and pinching the tips. He finally lay back and let the puppi
es remove his pants so they could lick and suckle. He giggled at the dark heads bobbing up and down and the tangle of flesh roaming his body. He randomly grabbed a handful of femininity until one the whores screamed. She threatened him in Spanish. Jess remained aloof. He knew the man on the other side of the door wouldn’t interrupt until his time was up. He pinched harder until the girl began to cry. The sound of her whimper released a surge of blood into the head of his penis. He became so engorged that the girls handled his shaft like they would a stick of dynamite. One of the girls got brave. She climbed on top of him and lowered herself down. The other girls joined in the fun, kissing and caressing one another. Jess latched on to the cry-baby. He wanted to rip the hair from her head, bite her nipples off and break her face. He pulled her close and licked her cheek.

  “C’mere little cry-baby. Did I hurt you?” Her wan expression was unconvincing. Jess yanked her hair until her face was next to his. “Does this hurt?” He twisted her flesh in his fist, satisfied that she didn’t cry out. “Much better,” he said, playfully slapping her rump. She turned to offer her backside to him. “Are you fucking kidding me!” He lunged, biting her buttocks so hard he drew blood. The girl cried out in pain.

  The other girls stopped the pleasure crusade and huddled against the wall, trembling. Jess looked shocked. “Why did you stop?” The puppies drew closer together.

  “Aw, c’mon! She asked for it!”

  ***

  At two a.m., the nurse wheeled Grace into the surgery recovery room. Fran slumped helplessly on a temporary bed with a tube running from a machine into her esophagus to help her breath. A lump formed in Grace’s throat. Tears welled in her eyes. “Mom?” She took her mother’s hand in hers. It was cold. “Mom, it’s me, Grace. How about that? We’re practically roommates.” Grace’s worried expression cued the nurse.

  “We won’t be sure of the damage until the swelling goes down. The bone fragments were successfully removed, but there was bleeding in the frontal lobe, not to mention severe pyramidal neuron damage. She’s lucky to be alive.”