Sick Man

by Paul Spencer

  “Don’t act so surprised,” Buchanan said. And then the obvious conclusion fought its way clear of my hung-over brain.

  “Look, I didn’t do it. I may be a fuckup, but I don’t go around killing preachers.”

  “We’ll see about that. Right now all you need to worry about is not making this any harder than it needs to be.”

  “And you need to talk to my lawyer. Casey Raife. I think you’ve met her.”

  “Really?” Buchanan said. “You’re going to pull that lawyer shit on us again?”

  “I’m not stupid, Detective. You told me Elder Robbins is dead. You think I killed him. I’m not saying another word without my lawyer present.”

  “You have a lawyer on the Aaron Jones case. This is a different matter. We don’t need to go through your lawyer.”

  “Bullshit, detective. And even if it were, I’m invoking my right to counsel on Robbins too, as of this moment.”

  “Fine. Have it your way. But if you and your hotshot lawyer aren’t at the Detention Center in an hour, I’m putting out a warrant for your arrest.”

  He hung up. I stared at my phone, trying to process what Buchanan had told me. Robbins had been murdered. Why? And when – was that why he didn’t meet us Wednesday night? Was he already dead?

  I thought about what to do next. I could go on the run, but that would just convince Buchanan and Malone that I was guilty. I had to go to the Detention Center. But how the hell was I going to avoid being thrown in the frame again? This was some serious shit.

  I pounded on Tony’s bedroom door. “Wake up!”

  He opened the door, rubbing his face. “It’s fucking early, man. What are you doing?”

  “Buchanan just called me. Elder Robbins has been murdered.”

  “Fuck.”

  “Yeah. You can bet he knows we talked to him. I’m going to call Casey, then I’m going to meet him downtown. Don’t worry, I won’t talk to him until she’s there. They’re going to want to talk to you too. I can stall them, but you might want to be out for a while.”

  “I’m not going to hide.”

  “I know. But this whole situation just got a lot stranger. I’d rather have you working on finding the killer than cooling your heels at the Detention Center.”

  “Yeah, okay. Give me a couple of minutes to get my shit together.”

  “Take your time. Don’t answer your phone unless you know who’s calling.”

  I called Casey and told her what was going on. She said she was in hearings all morning, but that she would meet me at the Detention Center as soon as she could. I grabbed my jacket and headed out.

  The rain had returned, but for once I didn’t mind. Cold water on my face helped to clear my head. I took a bus downtown. The Division line stopped right outside the Detention Center at Second and Main, so at least I didn’t have to walk too far.

  I went inside and told the duty Sergeant that I was there to see Buchanan and Malone. He made a call, and told me they’d be right down. Every fiber of my being was screaming at me to walk back out the door, but that wouldn’t make my situation any better. I paced up and down, staring out the window at the rain falling on the morning rush hour traffic. What would I give to be in one of those cars right now, living a boring life, on my way to my boring job?

  I didn’t have long to wait. Malone and Buchanan got out of an elevator and walked over to me. Neither of them had shaved, and they didn’t look any better than I felt.

  “Where’s your lawyer?” Buchanan said.

  “Busy. She’ll be here later.”

  “OK, come with us.”

  They took me down to the basement and put me in a holding cell, identical to the one I’d been in last time. I sat on the bed. Buchanan put his hands on his hips.

  “Where were you Wednesday night?” he said.

  “Out with a friend.”

  “Would that be the same friend you were with when you were skulking around the parking lot at the Servants of Christ church round eight o’clock that night?”

  I had been expecting something like that, but it still hit me hard when I heard it. I knew where this was going. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” I said.

  “Like what?”

  “My Miranda rights.”

  “I thought you knew them.”

  “Yeah, well, maybe I need a refresher.”

  “You’re fucking unbelievable. You really want to bust my balls right now?”

  “Tell me my rights. Then we’re done here until Casey arrives.”

  Buchanan snorted, then recited the Miranda warning in a sarcastic monotone.

  “Happy now?” he said when he finished.

  “Yes. See you later.”

  “Mick, this is going to go much easier if you just tell us where you were.”

  I stared at him and didn’t say a word. He stared back. Eventually he shook his head.

  “All right. It’s your funeral.”

  He left, and Malone followed him out. I put my hands behind my head and stared at the ceiling. Casey wouldn’t be here for at least a couple of hours. I tried to use the time wisely, to figure out what was going on, but I didn’t get far.

  Larsen must have had Robbins killed, but why? Even if he knew about our plans to meet, he could have just warned Robbins not to come. I got the sense that Larsen had an iron grip on the church. It seemed unlikely Robbins would disobey him. But then, he had reached out to me in the first place, so there had to be something going on. I had no idea what, though.

  After a few minutes the backs of my legs started to hurt from sitting on the bed. I got up and walked around the cell, swung my arms around to loosen up my shoulders. I sat down again, then stood up right away, walked around some more.

  I hated not having the information I needed to understand what was happening. There had to be some underlying pattern. Eventually I sat down again. I still couldn’t get comfortable.

  I couldn’t tell how long had passed when Malone appeared with a uniformed officer in tow. It felt like days.

  “Let’s go, Wray,” he said. “Your lawyer is here.”

  The uniformed officer unlocked the cell, then the two of them escorted me up to the same interview room we’d been in last time. Malone ushered me inside and closed the door again. Casey was already there, sitting at the table, so I sat down opposite her. She fished a sandwich out of her briefcase and slid it across the table to me.

  “I thought you might be hungry,” she said.

  “I am. Thanks.” I unwrapped the sandwich and ate.

  “What’s this all about?” she said.

  “I have no idea,” I said, around a mouthful of ham and cheese. “I was hoping you could tell me. Have you spoken to Buchanan or Malone?”

  “No, I came straight in here. What happened?”

  “I don’t know. Buchanan called me about Robbins being killed, and here we are. He thinks I did it, but I didn’t.”

  “So why are they looking at you again?”

  “You know I told you about my meeting with Robbins Wednesday night?” I said.

  Casey nodded.

  “He didn’t show. Tony and I poked around the church a bit looking for him. I guess they have security camera footage of us. And they probably talked to Larsen too. I’ve got a nasty feeling that he made up a story to incriminate me. He wants me dead, but I’m sure that having me locked up would be the next best thing.”

  “And you have no idea what happened to Robbins?”

  “None at all. I tried to call him a couple of times after he didn’t show on Wednesday, but he never answered.”

  “All right. Let’s get this over with.” She went to the door and called out that we were ready.

  Buchanan and Malone came in a few minutes later. Casey sat next to me, and the detectives sat opposite us.

  “Nice to see you again, Counselor,” Malone said to Casey. She ignored him.

  “Okay Mick, you got your lawyer,” Buchanan said. “Now tell us what you were doing at the church on
Wednesday night?”

  I looked at Casey. She nodded.

  “I had a meeting arranged with Elder Robbins. He didn’t show up.”

  “You had a meeting with him? What for?”

  “I’d tell you to ask him, but I suppose that won’t work.”

  “Don’t be a smartass. Why were you meeting him?”

  “I don’t know. He asked for the meeting, not me.”

  “Why would he want to meet with you?”

  “I told you, I don’t know. I never got the chance to ask.”

  “Was Tony da Costa with you?”

  “You know he was.”

  “And where did you go after you left the church.”

  “We got dinner.”

  “Then what?”

  “I went home.”

  “What time?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe ten.”

  “Can anyone verify that you were at home?”

  “What, my word’s not good enough for you?”

  “I told you not to be a smartass, Mick. You’re not in a good situation here.”

  “Easy for you to say. You haul me in here for the second time this week, and I have no fucking idea what’s going on. All I know is Elder Robbins is dead.”

  “Yes, he’s dead. Bound with duct tape, shot in the back of the head, and dumped in a park before dawn on Thursday. Sound familiar?”

  I didn’t say anything.

  “Well?” Malone said. “You want to tell us about it?”

  “Tell you about what? I didn’t kill Robbins, just like I didn’t kill Aaron Jones. What motive would I have?”

  “Then why did you threaten to kill both Elder Robbins and Elder Larsen when you were at the church on Tuesday.”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake. I didn’t threaten to kill anyone. Larsen told you that, right? Why would I threaten him?”

  “Larsen got you disbarred,” Buchanan said. “Ruined your career.”

  “I got myself disbarred, Detective. Larsen just happened to be there at the time.”

  I sat back and folded my arms, and the room went quiet. I could tell Malone was itching to make a smartass remark, but he couldn’t figure out what to say. Good thing, too. If he had said anything, I probably would have climbed over the table and decked him.

  “Okay, let’s back this up a bit,” Buchanan said. “Was Tuesday the first time you went to the church?”

  “No. Tony and I went out there Monday afternoon. That’s when we first saw Larsen there.” If they had security camera video from Wednesday, they probably had it from Monday too, so there was no point in lying.

  “Three visits in three days, Mick. That’s a lot. Care to tell me why you’re suddenly so religious?”

  “I was doing what you’re supposed to be doing, Detective. Trying to find whoever it was that killed Aaron Jones and wants to kill me.”

  Buchanan’s face darkened. “I told you already to stay away from this investigation.”

  “Oh, I’d love to. But some asshole detectives keep dragging me back in.”

  “Watch yourself,” Buchanan snapped. “Normally I wouldn’t bother throwing a witness tampering charge on top of murder, but if you keep that shit up, I’ll make an exception.”

  “Fuck you!” I pushed my chair back and stood up. Casey put a hand on my arm, but I shrugged it off. “Two people are dead, whoever did it has me on their hit list, and the way I see it, you’re doing fuck all to stop them. I’m going to take care of myself.”

  Malone stood up and leaned on the table. “Watch yourself, Wray.”

  Casey stood up too. “All right, everyone calm down.” She pushed on my shoulder. I resisted for a moment, but she shot me a look that changed my mind. I sat down. “Detectives, this interview is over.”

  “Have it your way, Counselor,” Buchanan said through gritted teeth. “We’re out of here. Check in with us before you leave the building. You,” he said, and jabbed a finger at me, “aren’t going anywhere.”

  Buchanan and Malone left. Casey smoothed her jacket and sat down. “I hope you’re happy,” she said.

  “Of course I’m not fucking happy. But I meant what I said. Especially now Robbins is dead too. I’m not going to sit around and twiddle my thumbs waiting for some crazy dude to make me number three.”

  “You don’t have a lot of choice, for now at least. You know they’re going to hold you.”

  “Yeah, I know. At least I’ll be safe in here.”

  “If you call being charged with murder safe. I wouldn’t be surprised if they go to a judge for a warrant. You know they’ve got enough to get one. I told you interfering doesn’t help. You’re just shifting their focus back on to you when they could be chasing down other leads. And without an alibi for Wednesday, it’s not looking good. Can anyone vouch for the fact that you were at home?”

  I rubbed my hands over my face. My nerves were jangling. I took a couple of deep breaths, waiting for my heart to stop racing, but it didn’t slow down. I hadn’t been this wound up in a long time, and I didn’t like the feeling. I hesitated, but Casey was right. I had to tell her.

  “I wasn’t at home.”

  “What? Where were you?”

  “It’s a long story,” I said. “Actually, no, it isn’t. I was in bed with a woman. I stayed at her place all night.”

  “Oh great. Why didn’t you say so before?”

  “That’s the long story part. I don’t want to drag her into this. Also, she’s an ex-client. And before you ask, no, I didn’t sleep with her while she was still my client.”

  “Given your situation, her feelings are the least of your concern. What’s her name?”

  Casey was right. Without an alibi, I’d be looking at an indictment Monday morning. And with two murders on the table, bail wouldn’t be an option. I had no choice.

  “Robin Carmichael. I don’t have her number off the top of my head, but she lives in an apartment off of Halsey, over by Franz Bread.” I realized I didn’t know Robin’s actual address, but I gave Casey directions on how to find her place. “Also, she pled to misdemeanor assault about five years back. That should give you enough to find her. If not, Tony can probably track her down.”

  “We have our own investigators.”

  “What’s wrong with Tony?”

  “There’s something I should tell you,” she said.

  “What?”

  “I asked about Tony da Costa around the office today. Apparently he used to do a lot of work for Metro, but we don’t use him anymore. He’s connected to some bad people.”

  “What are you talking about? Tony is the only person who’s helped me since this whole clusterfuck started. Well, except for you, of course.”

  “I’m just telling you what I heard. Be careful.”

  “Jesus fucking Christ! Be careful about this. Be careful about that. I guess it’s a good thing I’m locked up in here, Ms. Raife.”

  “All right, stop with the Ms. Raife stuff,” Casey said. “Since we’re obviously going to be spending some quality time together, you can call me Casey.”

  I took a deep breath. “Fine. Call me Mick.”

  “Better,” she said, and packed up her briefcase. “I’ll find your alibi witness, and I’ll be back.”

  She stood up and left. I put my head in my hands. Pissing Casey off was a bad move. I had enough enemies already.

  Chapter 24 – Weekend Vacation

  After Casey left, a uniformed cop took me back down to the holding cell. He gave me some prison orange overalls and made me change into them, then took my clothes away. I asked him for a receipt, but he ignored me. It must have been a quiet night last night, because I had the cell to myself. I lay on the bed, hands behind my head. My father always used to say “act in haste, repent at leisure.” I was glad he couldn’t see me now. I had a long, cold night of repenting ahead of me.

  I was an only child, and my parents had always doted on me, even though I never felt like I lived up to their hopes and dreams. They’d been gone for over ten
years now. Breast cancer took my mother just before her fiftieth birthday. Dad nursed her through the last few months, and watching her die in stages tore him apart. He carried on as best he could afterwards, but he always seemed like a big piece of him was missing. When he crashed his motorcycle into a pole on a rainy night a year later, I had a feeling it wasn’t entirely an accident.

  The lights went out at some point. I laid on the bed and tried to sleep, but as usual nothing came. I was too tired to care, though. I must have fallen asleep eventually, because the sound of a cell door slamming shut jarred me awake a while later. I didn’t know what time it was. I felt drowsy and half-awake. Some guy down the hall was shouting about a conspiracy. I thought about telling him to shut up, but it didn’t seem likely that he would listen. I tried to go back to sleep, but my mind kept going in a hundred different directions. I gave up.

  Eventually I heard keys rattling in the door of my cell. I sat up as the door opened and a cop showed Casey into my cell. She leaned on the wall opposite the bed. I rubbed my eyes.

  “What time is it?”

  “About eight. How are you doing?”

  “I’ve had better nights.” I’ve had worse, too, but I didn’t tell Casey that. “Did you find Robin?”

  “Not yet, but I’m working on it.”

  “So where do we go from here?”

  “Nowhere until I find her. I saw Buchanan on my way in. He really looks like shit, by the way. They want to talk to you again. They’ll be in shortly. Mick, this is when you have to tell them about Robin.”

  “Yeah, I know.” I ran my hands through my hair. “I bet I look just as good as Buchanan.”

  “Yeah, and you smell great too,” Casey said, with a grimace.

  As if on cue, a uniformed officer arrived and took us back to Interview 3. Buchanan and Malone were waiting for us. Buchanan did indeed look bad; unshaven and tired, bags under his eyes. Malone looked worse, like he’d been hitting the sauce hard. Rheumy eyes, his head hanging low and to one side, slight tremor in his left hand.

  I knew that look. I’d seen it in the mirror often enough.

  Casey and I sat down opposite the detectives. Seeing them in such rough shape buoyed my mood. I smiled at them.

  “Good morning, guys, how’s it going?”