Harbor Blues

by Cheryl Devenney

  “And Connie?”

  “He’s always known. I had to kill him. He was going to ruin everything I’ve worked so hard for.” His voice softened. “I did it all for you, you know?”

  “For me?”

  “I had to make up for Mancini. I had to give you a reason to love me, but it wasn’t enough, was it?”

  This was all too much, and Melanie didn’t know what to say.

  “Was it?” Ted yelled, and raised his gun.

  She stared into his eyes and whispered. “You let me think it was Daddy all those years.”

  “Yeah, and you pretended to be faithful to me.”

  “I’m sorry. The thing with Dean just happened.”

  “How many others were there before that sleaze?”

  “There weren’t—”

  “Do you hate me that much?”

  “I don’t hate you.”

  “Who else knew your dirty little secret?”

  “Nobody.”

  He shrugged. “I’m sure Dean bragged to his slimy friends. They all knew you were fucking him!”

  Outside, the audio feed had started breaking up, and Scott couldn’t stand still. He finally announced, “I’m going in.”

  Charlie grabbed his arm and attempted to hold him back, but Scott pulled out of his grasp, ran toward the door, and drew his gun. Charlie signaled to him to wait while he grabbed his weapon. Scott complied, and on Charlie’s signal the two pushed through the door.

  Melanie and Ted turned, startled, as Scott stumbled over Sergio’s body in the doorway. Ted aimed his gun at the intruders, then grabbed Melanie and held her like a shield in front of him. Melanie gasped as she stood in the middle of the three guns.

  “You didn’t tell me you brought backup, honey.” Ted said.

  “I didn’t know they were out there.”

  “She didn’t know, Dad. Come on, let her go.”

  “I thought you guys knew better than to rush in on a hostage situation,” Ted said. “Especially you, Charlie, one of the best goddamn street cops I know.”

  “What are you doing chief? Melanie could get hurt here. Could you live with yourself if that happens?”

  “It’s up to you. All you gotta do is put your guns down.”

  Scott and Charlie held their positions.

  Ted thrust Melanie forward in anger and screamed at Scott. “This is your mother!”

  Melanie jerked out of his grasp, prompting Scott and Charlie to lunge forward. In the scuffle, Scott landed on the floor, and Charlie grabbed for Ted’s gun. The two struggled for it, causing Charlie to drop his gun.

  Ted kicked it away and managed to yank his own weapon from Charlie. With Charlie on the floor looking up at him, Ted aimed the gun at Charlie’s head.

  Scott, now on his feet, directed his gun at his father. “No, Dad. Don’t!”

  Ted eyeballed Scott. “Go ahead son. Pull the trigger.”

  Scott stared at his father, clutching his gun with his quivering hands, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

  Seconds later, a shot rang out, from behind them, and Ted dropped to the floor, a bullet in his head. Scott and Charlie whirled around where Melanie stood there, her face deadly pale, gripping a smoking gun.

  CHAPTER 14

  Within minutes, breaking news could be seen on every LA area TV station and in last editions of newspapers.

  “Wife shoots LAPD Assistant Chief in standoff!”

  “Son cracks Assistant Chief’s 1973 Cold-Case Murder!”

  News vans and reporters swarmed Harbor station, the Swains’ neighborhood, Scott’s apartment, and McNeil’s. They remained there for three days, harassed anyone they could find to make a statement about the family and the incident; looking to sensationalize any piece of information. Finally, three days after the incident. Plain-clothes detectives escorted Melanie and Scott to a hotel in a nearby town in the middle of the night. But the frenzy continued until after the day of Ted’s private burial. Only Scott and Melanie attended. She refused to allow Scott to face the day alone.

  ◆◆◆

  Six weeks later, Melanie still struggled with the outcome of the shooting. Recurring nightmares of the scene robbed her of sleep. Her attention span had shrunk along with her appetite. Worst of all, guilt had kept her from talking to Scott since the funeral, despite her worry about the incident’s effect on him.

  She rarely ventured outside, because the press still bombarded her with questions. Just when she thought it safe to pick up newspapers in her driveway, two men, one with a camera, appeared out of nowhere.

  “Mrs. Swain, I’m Bob Mandano from the six o’clock news.”

  She raised her hand and signaled the men to stop. “Why are you people still here?” she cried.

  “I was hoping that since it’s been a few weeks now, you might feel comfortable giving me an interview. After all, our viewers are—”

  “I told you no before, and it’s still no. Now get off of my property and leave me alone!”

  He moved toward her. “I understand that you—”

  “You understand nothing. Just go away. Go away,” she yelled and ran into the house. She slammed the door behind her and took a deep breath to compose herself.

  Then with a burst of nervous energy, she went to the kitchen sink where she rinsed and transferred a stack of dirty dishes, glasses, and cups to the dishwasher. She filled the sink with soap and water and wiped down the counter. She carried the sponge to the island, but instead of wiping it, she slid onto a stool and sobbed into her folded arms.

  ◆◆◆

  She had shut out everyone in her life except Sandra, who stopped by as often as Melanie would allow. After weeks of watching Melanie suffer, she spoke up.

  “Mel, it’s time for you to talk to a professional. “I love you, but I can’t help you with this. Please.” She put a business card on the kitchen counter. “I made an appointment for you on Thursday. I’ll pick you up at one o’clock.”

  Melanie was stubborn, but not stupid. She kept the appointment. Dr. Andrea Stone was a doctor of psychology, not medicine, and about her age. To Melanie’s relief, she spoke in soft tones and had a gentle manner. After reviewing Melanie’s background and the questionnaire she had filled out, she looked into Melanie’s eyes and said, “Tell me how you feel about what’s happened.”

  “Well, how did it go?” Sandra said when Melanie walked back into the waiting room.

  “She’s okay. I guess I’ll come back next week.”

  ◆◆◆

  A part of Scott wanted to see his mother. The other part was relieved that he didn’t have to talk to her. They hadn’t talked much at the funeral. He hadn’t been sure she would attend. But then he knew she always did the “right” thing, and she went through the motions for his sake as well as for public perception.

  It had been hard for him, too. The absurdity of it still disturbed him. What exactly is the protocol for burying a father who had held his wife and son hostage during the commission of a murder?

  It didn’t matter now. What mattered was how to face his friends, family, and the department. He solved that problem by not reaching out to anyone and taking time off work. That tack had seemed to help after suffering the humiliation of Adriana.

  A month had passed, and time had quelled some of the sting from the shooting, so he reported to his office. He’d only heard from Charlie once or twice since the incident, but he knew his partner had also taken some days off.

  Charlie had arrived earlier and stood up when Scott walked into the room. They greeted each other with a bro-hug.

  “How you doing?” Charlie asked first.

  “I’m fine. Ready to get back to work.”

  “You sure?”

  “I can’t sit home anymore.” He motioned toward the files on Charlie’s desk. “What have you got?

  ◆◆◆

  After four sessions with the therapist, Melanie knew she had to get out of her Valley house. She packed her bags and headed for San Pedro. She walked
into the backdoor of McNeil’s to the sound of screeching saws and pounding hammers. In her absence, the bar and adjoining living quarters had been completely gutted. She went over to the contractor and tapped him on the shoulder.

  “How are things going?”

  He removed his ear plugs. “Oh, hi ma’am. Glad you’re here. We ran across an issue with the electrical leading from the kitchen into the bar. Looks like we’re going to have to re-do it. It’s way out of code, and—”

  She didn’t hear the rest. Her mind had wandered to Benny, and how he would’ve felt about this guy tearing down his life.

  She approved the electrical work and carried her bags up the stairs. The studio hadn’t changed since she had lived there in the seventies. The place needed a good cleaning before she could even think about emptying her bags. She considered checking into a hotel, but she couldn’t face the stares the publicity about the shooting would generate.

  She gathered cleaning supplies from the bar closet and went to work. Almost every space or article she touched elicited a memory; turning eighteen and her father telling her she could move up there, hours dreaming of a singing career, lying in bed with Enzo, and that fateful night with Ted.

  Over the next few days, she removed the clutter, scrubbed the room of dirt and grime, and painted the burnt orange walls an ocean blue. Next, she re-arranged the furniture, bought new bedding, and hung inexpensive pictures with inspirational messages. After that, she stood back and admired her handywork. Sometimes going back is a good way to start over.

  ◆◆◆

  Working cases took Scott’s mind off his father. He just wished he didn’t have to talk to anyone besides Charlie. The uneasiness among his co-workers in the office was palpable. Some went out of their way to be nice and offer their sympathy, some avoided the subject altogether. But the hardest were the ones that averted their eyes when they spoke or passed him in the hallway.

  “Ignore it, kid,” Charlie said. “They either don’t know what to say, or they’re assholes and aren’t worth worrying about.”

  Easy enough for Charlie to say, Scott thought. Even though he’d risked his own skin for him and his mother, Charlie didn’t carry the burden of not knowing if he should’ve been the one to pull the trigger that day, instead of his mother. Either way, it had been the end of the family as Scott knew it. And the reactions of the staff in the office made it impossible to get through the day without it haunting him.

  ◆◆◆

  After three months of counseling and focusing on the remodel, Melanie began reaching out to Scott. They had dinner a few times, but the conversation was strained and revolved around his work and the bar. She hadn’t spoken to Charlie for some time either, so when he called and asked to see her, she invited him to her new digs.

  “I heard you moved back here.” He sat on her daybed. “Kind of a comedown from your Valley house, isn’t it?”

  “I needed to re-group, and this seemed like the best place to do it.”

  “Planning to go back up there?”

  She shook her head. “It’s on the market.”

  “I’m glad. It’s nice to know you’re close by.” He smoothed his shirt. “Maybe we can see each other. Go out to dinner, take in a movie.”

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea right now. After everything that’s happened, I just don’t—”

  “I get it.” He shuffled his feet. “Um, I wanted to talk to you about Scott.”

  Morbid thoughts ran through her mind. “Is he all right?”

  “That’s what I came to ask you. He came back to work, saying he had to keep busy, but he’s late almost every day and seems to have trouble focusing. His work is shoddy and incomplete, and our cases are falling apart because of it. So far, I’ve been able to cover for him, but I don’t know how long I can keep doing that before the Captain notices.”

  ◆◆◆

  The next day, Melanie asked Scott to drop by McNeil’s to help her with some heavy lifting of furniture she’d ordered for the new club. She tried to ease into a conversation by asking him about his love life.

  “Been seeing anyone these days?” she asked.

  “No one in particular. Thought I’d play the field for a while.”

  “That’s probably a good thing.” She said with a smile. “As long as you’re out there.”

  “And how about you?”

  “Me?”

  “Sure,” he said, his lips twisting into a bitter smile. “You had somebody while Dad was still here. Why not now?”

  Melanie had hoped connecting with Scott would allow her to recommend counseling to him. She felt it would help him as it had her. After his biting remark she knew his recent behavior ran deeper than grief, and she’d lost him, along with everything else. She could only hope Charlie would keep him in line while Scott saw his way through this.

  ◆◆◆

  Charlie pounded on Scott’s door. No one answered, but he followed the blaring music to a side window and peeked in it. He rapped on the window, and Scott lifted the curtain. Charlie motioned toward the entrance, walked back, and waited at the door.

  Scott opened it a crack. “Charlie?” he said.

  Charlie pushed the door open wider and stepped inside, crushing one of the beer cans littering the floor. “What’s going on here?”

  Scott stood there in jockey shorts and a rumpled T shirt. He ran his fingers through his greasy hair and squinted. “What time is it?”

  “It’s six o’clock.”

  “In the morning?”

  “Shit, no. Why weren’t you at work today?”

  “It’s Sunday.”

  “Like hell it is. It’s Monday. What’s wrong with you? You sick?”

  Scott dropped into a chair and rubbed his head. “Yeah, I’m sick.”

  Charlie looked around the messy room, bent over the coffee table, and picked up two empty bottles of whiskey.

  “How long you been holed up in here?”

  Scott shrugged. “Friday night, I think.”

  “Take a shower and get dressed. We’re going to go get you some food.”They went to an Italian place for dinner. Scott picked at his food, as they sat in silence.

  Finally Charlie said, “I’ve woken up in a cold sweat a couple of times since that day. How about you?”

  “You have?”

  “Sure. You think I just took that in my stride?”

  “I guess I didn’t think about it.”

  “Pretty wrapped up in yourself, huh?”

  “It’s not every day you’re forced to choose whether or not to blow your father away.”

  Charlie nodded.

  “Lucky for you your mother covered you.” Charlie took a mouthful of lasagna. “Nothing like a mother’s love. Have you talked to her lately?”

  “Last week.”

  “Did you thank her?”

  “Thank her? She did it for herself.”

  “Well, we all had a lot to lose.”

  “She never loved him, ya know. It was that Mancini guy she wanted. She played my old man for a sucker.”

  Charlie cleared his throat and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Well,” he said, “there was a lot more to it than that.”

  CHAPTER 15

  Melanie and Sandra sipped wine as they admired the newly remodeled McNeil’s.

  “This place looks fabulous,” Sandra said. “so why haven’t you scheduled the grand opening?”

  “I don’t know if I’m ready to commit to a date yet.”

  “But you’re doing so much better now.”

  “I’m not sure enough time has passed since Ted’s, uh, death.”

  “What are you afraid of?”

  Melanie lowered her head. “People might think I’m capitalizing on what happened.”

  “Do you think that would stop them from showing up to see the woman behind the headlines? It could be great for business.”

  “I suppose.”

  “Come on, Mel. What’s the real reason?”

  Melani
e shrugged. She knew if she told Sandra that after all this time she feared failing, Sandra would say it wouldn’t happen. She had always been her biggest supporter. But what if she did bomb? Her dream would turn into a nightmare, and what would she have left?

  ◆◆◆

  Scott and Charlie had just received a dressing down from the captain after he’d found out that the DA wasn’t able to prosecute a case because their evidence had been compromised. The two detectives filed out of the office with heads down. Scott wiped the sweat from his upper lip and followed behind Charlie. He couldn’t look at him, but he sensed his anger as they walked out of the station door in silence.

  When they reached the car, Charlie ordered, “Get in.”

  Scott complied, and Charlie drove out of the lot and onto a busy street. A wave of nausea hit Scott and he fidgeted in his seat. It had been his screw up, and he didn’t know what to say.

  Charlie drove to a local grocery store, parked in the back of the building, and stared out the windshield. “That’s the last time I take the heat because of you. I’ve covered for you as long as I can. I’m too close to retirement to fuck up now.”

  “I’m sorry, I—”

  “I don’t want any more of your bullshit excuses.” Charlie turned to face him. “You’ve been through a rough time. I know it, your mother knows it, and despite what you might think, most of the staff in the Bureau knows it. Your father’s actions put a stigma on this department, but you don’t have to wear it on your back.”

  Scott pressed his hand to his mouth in an attempt to suppress the tears building behind his eyes.

  “Son, it’s time to move on. If you can’t do it on your own, then go see the department shrink. Either way, you better grow a set of balls, because you’re going to need them. You’re being transferred to Southeast Division patrol next week, and you’ll be too busy protecting your ass from bullets to worry about your emotional problems.”

  ◆◆◆

  Melanie had begun moving her things downstairs into the fresh new living quarters. She had combined her father’s room with the spare room to create one big master suite with the kitchen and office separating it from the bar rooms. It wasn’t luxurious, but it gave her more space, and would do until she sold the house and figured out what to do next.