by David Putnam
Wicks.
I hesitated, going over the pros and cons. I made my choice and got in the passenger side ready for his barrage of epithets. Instead he closed the window and stared at me.
“What?” I said too harshly.
He stared some more, anger apparent in his expression.
He hadn’t driven by the attorney’s office out of coincidence. This had been the location of the meet with Sams, and in his mind, I’d followed Wicks there for no other reason than to screw up his case. To stomp Sams into the dirt, put him in the hospital so he couldn’t work the street for Wicks.
“What are you doing here?” Wicks asked. “How did you follow me? I was real careful.”
“Take it easy, it was an accident.”
“An accident that you’re sitting here in my car in front of this office, really? That’s what you’re going to go with?” He waved his arms. “A county of ten million people and you want me to believe you just happened in here?”
“Take it easy.”
He pointed a finger. “Don’t you tell me to take it easy.”
I took the plain white business card out of my shirt pocket. With it came a second card that fell into my lap. I picked it up. Here was the source of all the confusion. The card read, “Harry and Sons Oil to Nuts Auto Supply, 11050 Firestone Blvd., Norwalk.” The real card Jumbo and Johnny Sin had put on the counter at TW the night before. Harry and Sons was just down the street a few blocks in Norwalk. It wasn’t a huge coincidence; Johnny Sin had been following me. Crooks tend to swirl in one large vortex, bumping into each other in their travels, using the same dope dealers, the same fences, same attorneys, the same hidey-holes. All of them connected by two degrees of separation instead of six like regular folks.
Seeing both cards, I remembered Dad had found a card stuck in our front door, the one Ms. Franklin had put there. The one to lure me over to her office to serve me with the TRO and make the service so Derek could be present to gloat. Dad had put that card in my shirt pocket, and with all that had been going on, I’d forgotten about it. I hadn’t even taken time to look at it. Muddled emotions over a family lost could do that to a person.
“Don’t you tell me to take it easy,” Wicks yelled. “You’re not a cop anymore, so I can arrest you for obstruction. Is Sams okay? What did you do in there?” He grabbed my right hand and checked my knuckles for injuries and didn’t find any.
Then the full impact of what had happened in the law office hit me. What that little punk had pulled off. I punched the dash. Punched it again and again.
“Hey! Hey! Are you outta your mind? You’re not going to take out another one of my cars. What the hell’s the matter with you? You got a thing against my cars? Get out. Get the hell out, now.” He shoved hard on my shoulder. “I’ll pistol-whip you if you don’t get out of my car right now.”
I stopped punching his dash. I had developed an anger issue, but only where it concerned Derek Sams. I took in several long breaths. “I’m okay now. It’s not about your cars, really. It’s Sams.”
He took in several deep breaths and settled down some. “Yeah, I figured as much. You need help, pal. You need to get your head shrunk. And don’t waste any time doing it. I’ll drive you to a doc right now.”
“No, I’m okay.” I needed time to think.
“The hell you are. When I drove by you were standing out there on the sidewalk, big as you please with a huge bull’s-eye on your chest.” He leaned over and knocked on my head with his knuckles. “Remember La Vonn, the guy who gunned down the judge and his wife with deer slugs? He killed that coke whore. He’s still out there gunning for you. You weren’t supposed to leave your house. Buddy boy, you gotta get your head on straight or end up on a slab in the morgue. I’m not kiddin’ here. You get serious or La Vonn is going to pump a pumpkin ball right up your ass.”
“I know, I’m sorry. I promise I’m going to play it smart from here on out. What are you doing here, at this address? Did you drive Derek to this office?”
He squirmed a little. “That’s right. He said he wanted to see his attorney before he’d tell me a thing. So I said, what the hell could it hurt? What were you doing in there?”
I handed him the plain white business card with the Firestone address Ms. Franklin had left at my house.
“What’s this?”
“Your informant Sams put it on my front door. He wanted me to come here.”
“For what?”
“His attorney just served me with a TRO.”
Wicks sat back in his seat. “You have got to be kiddin’ me? Why that little shit.” He smiled and shook his head. “You know, if you think about it, that’s really a smart move. He’s locked you out. Now if something happens to him, you’re suspect numero uno. Somebody bangs him in a drive-by, and they’re coming for you.”
“I don’t think it’s so funny.”
“Oh, this is ironic. With his lifestyle, you might want to hire him a bodyguard.”
“Stop it.”
“Listen, you’ve had plenty of chances to cancel that puke’s ticket and you haven’t. I know you. If you haven’t done it, you’re not going to. For some reason, you don’t have the stomach for it. I’m guessing it’s because he’s your daughter’s fiancé, the father of your grandkids. I get it, I do. But if all your lookin’ to do is to kick the bejesus out of him, wait. Lay low for a few months, let him think he’s safe. He’ll let his guard down. That TRO is temporary. Let it expire. Then if you still feel the same, wait for your shot and waylay him in some dark alley. Hell, I’ll even help you. But for right now, leave him be until we track down this La Vonn. Okay? Just put it on the back burner. It’s the smart thing to do. I’m the one thinking clearly here, you’re not. You hear what I’m saying?”
I stared at him, wanting to tell him the rest, the part about Derek’s fingers, the part about Albert’s body in a valise and how Sams threw him off the San Pedro Bridge. Discarded him like so much trash. And couldn’t. Shame for allowing all of it to happen wouldn’t let the words materialize. How could I tell Wicks? He wouldn’t understand why I hadn’t already disappeared Derek. Why I had allowed him still to be breathing the same air as all the other nice humans. Had Wicks been in my place, he would not have hesitated. Wicks looked at it as if it was our responsibility to protect the herd from this kind of threat. He was a sheepdog with a Colt .45.
I nodded. “They also said … the attorney took a depo from Derek. He’s suing me.”
“Big deal. If I had a nickel for every time I got sued, I’d be a rich man.”
“He’s going to win.”
“What? Of course he’s not. He doesn’t have a—”
“Remember, I’m the one who crushed his fingers. I admitted as much in front of his attorney.”
Wicks’ mouth dropped open. He broke into a smile. “I forgot about that part.” Wicks smiled and held up his hand, his fingers imitating a claw. “Ouch.” He shook his head and chuckled. “As far as winning the lawsuit, they can’t get blood from a turnip, right? You said you’re broke from fighting for custody of your grandson. This is an easy one. Have your attorney make a deal to pay him, make it ten million if that’s what it takes, then file for bankruptcy. Start over. See, no problem.”
A lump rose in my throat as it always did when I tried to talk about what happened to little Albert. I couldn’t get the words out to tell him the rest, and let it go. Tears blurred my vision. “Can you drive me around to my car?”
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
I COULDN’T GO to the meeting at the auto parts store, not with my thoughts all in a jumble. I got in the Kadett and drove. I stopped at signals not fully aware of the colors green or red. My foot knew what to do and made the changes on the pedals all on their own.
Telling Wicks that I had caused the injury to Sams’ fingers made me realize the source of all my recent mistakes, the reason for them. The most recent, letting Johnny Sin follow me around in a truck, a truck I was looking for. I had a black cloud hanging over
me, one so real it tinted the sunlight and followed me wherever I went. I couldn’t get rid of it until I unburdened what had happened to Albert. I’d kept the incident all bottled up since the night at The Green Spot motel in Victorville when Sams admitted what he’d done. His words created horrible unwanted images that floated just above my head and leapt into my brain whenever I tried to close my eyes. Perpetual sleep deprivation had caused me to commit too many errors. Telling Wicks the part about the fingers relieved some of that pressure. I could see that now. I needed to tell someone all of it.
I left the Kadett in the parking lot of Martin Luther King hospital and walked home. I couldn’t tell Dad, but I needed to tell someone. Doc Abrams was the logical choice. But he was a contract doctor for the sheriff’s department, and normally he was restricted from relaying any information generated from his sessions. Unless what I told him was a threat to public safety. Putting Derek’s fingers in the doorjamb one at a time to solicit a confession certainly qualified.
I took the three steps up our stoop and hesitated. I moved my ear closer to the door. I tried to recognize the noises coming from inside and refused to believe what I heard … a child giggling and laughing. Was it a hallucination?
I opened the door and rushed in.
Dad sat on the floor with bright-colored building blocks, playing with Alonzo. At the sight of my happy grandson, all the worries of the world melted away. I wilted to my knees and crawled over. He saw me, smiled even broader, and scuttled quickly to me. I stopped and scooped him up, tears in my eyes, my heart filled with joy. He laughed and patted my face. “Pop. Pop.”
I hugged him and kissed his fat cheeks. I laughed with him and bounced him and cried.
I didn’t realize until that moment how much he looked like Olivia.
“Dad, what’s going on? What’s he doing here? This isn’t for real, is it?”
“No. No, he can’t stay. It’s just a visit. I told you I know those folks at that foster home. Ms. Kinder is one of the nicest people. You have to meet her. She let me take him to get some ice cream. I thought it would cheer you up to see him.”
“You have no idea how much I needed this.”
“He can’t stay much longer. I’ve had him here for a while already. I was hoping you’d come home a little sooner. You need to keep that cell phone with you.”
“Thank you, Dad.”
He beamed and held out his hands.
I closed my eyes and took in a big whiff of Alonzo. He smelled of everything right in the world; he smelled of the way everything used to be when Olivia and Albert were still there in the house.
Dad tugged on Alonzo. “I’m sorry, Son, I have to go. We don’t want to ruin what we have going with those folks at the foster home.”
“Of course, you’re right.” I reluctantly released my grandson. Dad stood with Alonzo in his arms. “I’ll run him back and then make you some dinner. How’s that sound?”
I nodded and thought evil thoughts. We could take Alonzo and make a run for it. I didn’t have anything holding me in Los Angeles, not anymore. It would be so easy.
But I couldn’t disappear forever, not without taking Dad along, and he wouldn’t go; his strong ethics and morals wouldn’t allow it. And running wasn’t the right thing to do.
Dad left with Alonzo in his arms. When the front door closed, the strange dark tint that covered my world returned. I sat on the couch and stared at the wall as depression closed in and made me want to curl up on the floor of the clothes closet with the door shut tight. I tried to bring back the memories of happier times that Alonzo carried with him wherever he went, and couldn’t. The expression on Derek’s ugly mug, his mocking words in the law office, pushed out everything else. I wanted to crush him more than ever.
Dad came back seconds later, or at least it seemed like it. He set a warm pizza box on the kitchen table and got out two plates. “Come. Sit. Eat something.”
I did as he asked.
For those brief moments, Alonzo had brought light back into my life, but when he left, it somehow made the darkness worse, taking it right to the edge of unbearable.
The pizza tasted like cardboard and warm tomato paste.
Dad reached over and put his hand on mine. “It’s going to work out, you’ll see.”
Only he didn’t know what I knew. He didn’t know that I had to tell someone or risk never climbing out of the dark hole I’d fallen into.
Misery loves company, and I didn’t like myself for it, but I asked anyway. “Tell me what happened that night?”
He pulled his hand away. The residual joy in his eyes from his time with Alonzo turned to flint. He knew what night I meant. He stared at me.
“Dad, when Mom came in with someone else’s blood on her, who did you call that night? Was it the police? Is my mother in prison?”
“You really want to know the rest of it?”
“I don’t want to know—I have to know.”
He nodded and started talking in a low monotone, his eyes staring off into the distance.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
THE NIGHT DAD’S wife, Bea, came home covered in blood, he called Agnes Reyes, the regular sitter, and asked a big favor: Could she take Bruno overnight, just this one time? He’d pay her extra. Fifteen minutes later, when Bruno was safe on his way, Xander could think clearly, well, a little better, anyway. He filled a deep soup pot halfway with warm water and used the softest bath cloth he could find to give his sleeping Bea a sponge bath. He gently stripped off her damaged red crepe dress with the fake white pearls and soaked it in the kitchen sink to get the dark maroon blood stains out.
Afterward, she lay sleeping on the couch in bra and panties with an afghan cover. He held the back of her hand up to his cheek and stared at her angelic expression. She smelled of E&J brandy and Ivory hand soap. He was more scared than he’d ever been in his life. What the heck was he going to do? More important, what had she done? Had she killed someone? Was there, this minute, a police dragnet out for his gentle little flower that he loved so dearly? Would they batter down the door and drag her away screaming? Would she be housed in San Quentin for the rest of her life? These thoughts darkened his world.
When he couldn’t wait any longer, he nudged her awake. “Baby. Babe, come on, wake up.”
She jumped and scrambled away from him, her eyes wide with terror. For her to be so scared caused an ache in his chest. His number one job was to protect her, and he’d failed horribly.
He held up his hands. “It’s okay. It’s okay, it’s me, Xander.” Fear left her. She crawled over to him. He hugged her like it was the last time he’d ever have the chance. She held on tight and spoke into his chest. “Honey, tell me it was just a dream. Please tell me it was all just a bad dream and I’m awake now.”
Life hadn’t been fast enough for his naïve young wife, naïve in the ways of the world, in the ways of the ghetto. Now she’d had her taste of the life she’d desired and found it too bitter to handle. She wanted to go back to the way it had been. But that wasn’t how it worked. The true price was yet to be paid. He believed in law and order, but for the first time, he thought that price too high.
With an effort, he pulled her away from him. “I can’t tell you that it wasn’t a nightmare.”
He waited for her to respond.
She said nothing more.
“I wasn’t there with you in the motel. Tell me what happened. You have to tell me.”
Her chin quivered as tears filled her eyes and wet her cheeks. She stared at him, her eyes begging for relief from her anguish. It ripped his guts out.
“Bea, tell me what happened. What did you do?” He held onto her shoulders and kept her at arm’s length even though she wanted back into the hug, a place of comfort and safety.
She finally nodded. Her knees collapsed. He caught her and picked her up the same as he had the night he carried her over the threshold, a little more than two years before. He set her back on the couch that still held a bit of warmth from w
here she’d been sleeping.
He waited for her to speak, the silence unbearable as she gripped both of his hands.
She nodded at nothing and gulped. “It was awful, honey. Absolutely awful.”
He waited for more.
“I never …” she said … “I never thought two people could be … I mean, the greed; it was like a beast let loose from inside both of them. Ugly and violent. Their … their eyes were wild like animals. Baby, there was money enough for all of us, bags and bags of coins. More money than I have ever seen in one place, and it was ours. Had to be a couple thousand dollars … more, even three or four thousand.” She looked down at her cupped hands as if she still held a mound of the precious coins she worshipped. She looked back up at him. “We hadn’t even finished counting it.
“They didn’t have to fight over that much money, right? There was plenty for all of us. We’d done it. We got away with it. But that wasn’t enough for either one of them. They had to have it all and … and went at each other.”
Bea stopped talking. Her eyes no longer saw him and jetted back and forth in a nervous tick, as she must’ve relived the violence that got her dress torn and her hands and arms covered in someone else’s blood.
“Tell me,” he whispered.
She again nodded, not looking at him, staring off at the wall.
“They were both so happy. Or they played like they were. When we got to two thousand dollars in the count and still had half the bags left to go, she …”
“Cleo?” he asked.
“Yes. And Melvin. They both stood up. Held hands and danced around and around in that small motel room, laughing and yelling. I clapped and laughed with them. Cleo turned toward me with this huge smile; she said, ‘Come on, Bea, join us. Get up and join us.’ Then … Then she lost her smile. It turned to … shock. Her eyes went wide as saucers and her mouth … her mouth became a little ‘O.’”