Now Joe was back beside her. She swung her gun up, pointed to the ceiling, her finger safely away from the trigger, as Joe kicked the knife under the bed and knelt beside Stover. Jimmy tipped aside and slid to lying on his right arm.
“Is he dead?”
“No.”
From the other room, Hugh called, “Joe?”
He stood up and ran back to the kitchen. “Cheesecake.”
Stover was bleeding from his nose and mouth, and gasping. Bridgid ran into the hall shouting “Cheesecake! Cheesecake!” She ran past the kitchen to the living room and grabbed her medical bag by the front door. “Pneumothorax!” she blurted as she ran back to the bedroom. Sirens wailed outside. She tossed her gun on the bed and knelt in front of Stover, fishing through her bag. She yanked his shirt apart; buttons went flying. There was too much blood for tape to stick well. Nonetheless, she managed to seal the chest wound, but he was still in extremity.
His eyes opened and he looked at her. His voice was a raspy whisper. “I want to. To kill you.”
“I want to save you.”
From the kitchen Joe called, “Bridgid?”
She left Stover and ran to the kitchen. Meghan was in here now. She and Joe were working on a motionless body on the floor as Hugh just stood there, gun in hands. Of course; he was keeping watch lest a third attacker appear. Joe moved aside to give her room.
She gasped. “This is Jay! This is the man Stover brought to the garage.”
It occurred to her almost as a non sequitur that had she been challenged by two near deaths like these, and not long ago, either, she would probably panic. She had beaten panic down in that garage. She could do it again. Right now she switched into autopilot and went to work. Her medical bag plopped down at her right elbow; Joe had fetched it. “Hold this, please,” she asked no one in particular. “Strong pressure.” She dived into her bag for more sponges. Meghan took that task and Bridgid worked to control the bleeding in a second wound. She didn’t have all that much to work with. She would not enter on duty until tomorrow, so she had with her only the bare minimum of supplies brought from Ireland.
The situation temporarily under control, she ran back to the bedroom as uniformed police officers came storming in the front door. She heard Hugh start filling them in.
She had hit Stover with both shots, but the second wound was in his arm. Probably broke it. He was no longer gasping. She made certain his blood pressure was not cratering and hurried back to Jay in the kitchen.
Hours later it seemed, eons later, sirens outside told her help was here. At last. As two paramedics came hustling in the front door, she ran back to Stover. He was in worse condition than when she had left him minutes ago. But now more help came rushing into the room. Bridgid stepped back and let them work on Stover. She did not have any injectables at all in her bag, no IV kit, and no pain meds, but they did.
One of them raised his head. “Congrats. Nice job on the pneumothorax there.”
“Ta.” She smiled. Suddenly totally knackered, she plopped to sitting on the bed. She stood a good chance of getting blood all over the sheets, for her hands were bloodied to the elbows, but she was too weary to care. And elated. That emotion surprised her. Elated! She had kept two severely injured people alive for over five minutes while help was coming. Seasoned professionals praised her handling of a very critical situation requiring immediate action. She had moved quickly past the fact that this man was so recently her abductor, rapist, and tormentor and treated him as best she could, as she would treat any other victim.
She, Bridgid Flaherty Rodrigues, simple working-class farm girl, was a competent medical professional in every sense of the word.
“Okay. You can have your house back now. We’re done.” Doug Hakamura and his forensics crew packed up the last of their cases and samples and left.
Bridgid watched them go, then got the pot to top off everyone’s coffee. “Breakfast is almost ready.” She turned back to the stove.
At the dining table, Joe told Mrs. Sturdivant, “I’m sorry we messed your apartment up so badly.”
Across from Joe, Mrs. Sturdivant waved it off with a hand. “Those long years ago when you and your sister came to me to rent this apartment, I don’t mind saying I had serious misgivings. You youngsters, wild parties, drinking, I envisioned all that. But the laws about refusing to accept tenants were changing. If I turned you away, you might sue, and even a simple suit gets expensive. So I decided to sign you, and the minute you started playing loud music and partying, I’d have a good excuse and out you would go. But you never did.”
Joe smiled. “We were too busy trying to earn enough money to stay alive.”
“And you’ve been wonderful tenants. Never a problem, the rent is always paid on the dot, and you even make all the minor repairs around here yourself without charging me. This is the first time I’ve ever had to file an insurance claim on this apartment.”
Hugh, to Joe’s left, added, “You know the department has a victim fund for relief from crime damage. It probably won’t cover all of it, but it should help considerably. Here’s the number to call. We’ll give you all the qualifying paperwork.”
Mrs. Sturdivant said, “Thank you. I didn’t know about that.”
Bridgid prepared Mrs. Sturdivant’s plate first—the full Irish breakfast, except for pudding. She gave the landlady her breakfast, loaded Meghan’s plate, then Hugh’s, then Joe’s, then hers. She sat down at the table and picked up her fork.
Hugh looked at Joe. “You eat this every morning?”
“Whenever we’re both here.”
“No wonder you were in such a hurry to get married. It wasn’t for the sex after all.”
“My dear, this is delicious!” Mrs. Sturdivant smiled broadly. “This has been quite a day for you already, and it’s not even nine in the morning.”
“Aye, ‘twas surreal. The attack, and then running between the rooms trying to keep the two of them alive…and it never even occurred to me that Joe and I were both stark naked, nary a stitch. Most surreal is that the scene was so chaotic, no one else noticed either.”
Hugh exclaimed, “You better believe we noticed.”
“But no one said…”
“Of course not. We’re not stupid. If anyone said anything, you’d get all embarrassed and then you’d cover up.”
Chapter 12 John Bellamy
Silly Joe. Here he assumed that once he got married, he’d quit mooning over Bridgid. Hah. At the desk facing his, Tommy was tick-ticking away on a supplemental. Across the room, Meghan Walters and Hugh Bartoli were working away on their keyboards. Behind him, Janet James was sending something to the printer. Back in the corner, Joel Visneros, just returned from a family reunion, was being productive in two languages. And here sat Joe, his screen still more or less blank. What was the matter with him?
The door opened and a vaguely familiar fellow entered. He crossed the room, knocked at Jerry Hocks’s door, and disappeared inside.
Tommy frowned. “Is that not that Bell-something fellow in Legal?”
“Or HR. He facilitated that last seminar on retirement strategies, didn’t he?”
“Aye. Bellamy, I do believe.”
“You’re right.” That settled, Tommy went back to work and Joe went back to trying to work.
Jerry’s door swung open and behind him Bellamy was whining, “This is proprietary information, Captain. Don’t invite the whole division.”
Jerry stepped out into the room. “Bellamy, we’re specialists in proprietary information, and we don’t keep secrets from each other. We work together, all of us, and this is a division-wide matter.” He raised his voice. “Bellamy here is worried about the prospect that Charles Stegener might sue us. Stegener wants a hundred thousand dollars and for Joe Rodriguez to get kicked off the force.”
Hugh stared at Joe. “Bring him on. We’ll bury him.”
Bellamy sort of sputtered. “You don’t understand. The department doesn’t have the money right now to tak
e care of this matter.”
“So what? I happen to know the situation. Stegener can’t win. So we countersue and make back costs, maybe a little profit. How hard can it be?”
Jerry looked grim. “I agree. But Bellamy says we’re too broke to sue this fiscal.”
“Isn’t that why God created errors and omissions insurance? We’re covered, right?”
“Wrong.” No wonder Jerry looked grim. “You explain it to them, Bellamy. It’s your problem.”
Bellamy didn’t just sort of sputter. He sputtered. “I, uh, rather you did. Uh.” He sucked in a deep breath. “It costs money upfront to, uh, defend a suit or counterfile. The department, uh, doesn’t have, uh, that money. We’re, uh, in the hole.”
“And tell them why.” Jerry’s voice was smooth and quiet. Joe knew the man well enough to know that inside he was livid, ready to explode.
“You all are aware of that, uh, mess last year in, uh, Traffic Detail. The insurers paid it off, but, uh, they raised their rates beyond our budget. Uh, we’re self-insured now.”
“Wait a minute!” Hugh was shouting. “You mean we’re uninsured!”
“No, no, no. It’ll take us a couple years to build up the kitty. We can handle ordinary stuff now, but just not big situations yet.” He spread his hands, a take it easy gesture. “Captain, all you have to do is suspend Lieutenant Rodriguez for a couple months so that it looks like he’s gone, until this blows over. Then we’ll be into next fiscal. Mr. Stegener will think he won, but of course he didn’t. It’s a win win situation for the department.”
Joe’s brain went into neutral; flabbergasted was too mild a term. “I’m innocent of any wrongdoing and we can prove it, and you want me to accept a suspension?”
“I’m asking you to take one for the team here, just until we get things squared away. Everyone is supposed to keep at least a six-month cushion in savings and this is only five months. You’ll be okay.”
“No!” Jerry looked ready to punch somebody and Bellamy was closest. “I will not suspend anyone in this division without due process, and I demand that you provide the backup we need right now. I don’t give a damn how you do it, but do it.”
Now it was Bellamy who looked grim. “The chief said you might resist. We’ve already taken the steps to suspend him, just temporarily.”
Jerry was obviously beyond angry—obviously only if you knew him as well as his people in the division did. “Bellamy, sooner or later Stegener is going to sue. That’s a given. Guaranteed. It’s the kind of person he is. You can’t mollify him and expect to come out ahead.”
“We’re playing for time here, Captain. When we get the funds behind us, we’ll tackle him. I promise.”
“Wait a fuckin’ minute!” Hugh was on his feet now. “Every day when I go out on the street, what happened to Joe could happen to me, or worse. I could get slapped with a million-dollar lawsuit or even end up dead. And I depend on you guys to cover my back. And you’re saying you won’t cover me!”
“It’s only temporary. You’ll be covered. We’ll—“
Hugh pulled out his badge case and threw it on the floor. “I’m not going to hang my ass out there without backup. I quit.”
Meghan stood up. “I got a job offer from Tempe police. A headhunter. I think I’ll take it.”
“You’re over-reacting, all of you!”
Joe crossed to the beleaguered legal beagle and wrapped an arm across Bellamy’s shoulder. The man flinched. “Tell you what, Bellamy, old chap. Who cares whether we put our lives on the line every day? It’s just the budget that needs protecting. So I’m going to make it super easy for you to put a couple bucks ahead of the welfare of all of us people you’re supposed to be supporting and protecting. I quit.” He tossed his badge case on the floor and went back to his desk to get the kids’ pictures and the letter opener Rico had made him. He didn’t bother to sit down to do it, either.
Jerry’s voice was iron hard. “You seem to feel qualified to make executive decisions for the homicide division, so obviously, you don’t need me. I’m retiring as of right now. Congratulations, Bellamy. You just managed to gut the most productive and efficient homicide division in the state. Check out the statistics. Best conviction rate, least manhours spent per conviction. There was even an article about us in Police Times. Good luck.”
Joe didn’t look at Tommy. He couldn’t. He walked out the door.
When Rico got home from school, Pop was at the house and in muttered conversation with Tía Inez. He must have quit work early. He said, “I’m going out to the raceway. Wanna come?” He sure didn’t have to say that twice.
They cruised west on Baseline in silence. Pop seemed agitated, tense, sad, angry, everything all together. Something big had happened, really big, but Rico didn’t ask. Pop would tell him anything important.
They got out of the car in the raceway parking lot, but the guard didn’t come running this time. Instead he walked over looking bored, opened the side gate, and closed it behind them when they entered.
Rico tagged along a little behind. This was Pop’s show. Rico had no idea what Pop was thinking or what he intended to do, so he stayed quiet.
There were three cars out on the track, whining around the course. Practicing? Do drivers practice? Probably. The blue one was Ellis Lane, Rico knew. He didn’t know the other two.
Up near the first turn, a black car left a small group of men and roared out to join the others. Rico really liked the raceway. Even when nothing was happening, things were happening.
Pop walked over to a fellow in a canvas folding chair. Rico recognised him. It was Mr. Mason. “I understand you’re in the market for a driver.”
“Tis a lovely zoo ye have, Joe. Our zoo in Dublin; would ye believe it; is in Phoenix Park.”
“Really. The Phoenix Park Zoo. In Ireland. Sometime we’re over there, I’d like to visit it.” He reveled as she sat nestled against him on the park bench, and the Great Indian Hornbill looked on. Or didn’t. Joe could not tell that the bird gave a rip about him. But the snuggling, that was the important part. He thought of the speech by the prodigal son’s father in Matthew: “My son was dead and is alive again.” Bridgid. They had skated so near to hideous disaster. So near. So very near. He pulled her in still tighter against himself.
“Twill be quite crowded compared to this. Our zoo is hundreds of years old, and tis very close. I’ll not say cramped, but close.”
“Compact.”
“Aye. Compact. Many exhibits in limited space. This zoo feels roomy, spread out. Just delightful.” She squirmed tightly against him, so perhaps she too needed the closeness he coveted.
“It is kind of sprawling. And in comparison to yours, it’s brand new. I’ve lived here my whole life, so I was alive when they began not too many years ago. When it started, this was an Arizona Game and Fish facility. They raised fish in the ponds, and when they turned it over to the Zoo, their old office became the zoo’s admin building and gift shop until they built the present one. Between the game land and Papago Park, the zoo had plenty of acreage to spread out in.”
“Y’r African savannah, for example. We’d not have the space for something like that in Phoenix Park, but tis perfect here. And to get from the otters to the lion and rhinoceros here, ye walk up a hill with almost no displays, except the javelinas and y’r bison. That rather surprised me.”
They fell silent. Joe basked in the peace. He had not known enough peace lately.
His phone rang. Damned mobile phone. He unholstered it and thumbed it open. “Rodriguez.”
“Flaherty. Me greetings to me cousin.”
“I shall extend them.”
“Got a report from Mays. Stover is out of ICU and under guard in a real room. The other fellow, Jay, died early today. Talked to Inspector Daniel at length and he has put into motion the mysterious forces that make extradition happen. Stover is still breathing fire and mayhem. I interviewed him this morning, an official enquiry, and he insists that Bridgid deserves death
. I pointed out to him that in this country he would go to the chair, or lethal injection; they end up much the same; and Ireland has abolished capital punishment. He be unimpressed. I doubt he cares whether he lives or dies so long as Bridgid dies.”
“I’ll let Bridgid know about Jay.”
“Understood.”
“Want to say hello to your little cousin? In fact, you can tell her about Jay.”
“The very thing.”
Joe handed the phone to Bridgid and only half listened. One of the keepers, a sprightly young lady in a ponytail, drove up in her electric club car and parked by the cage. The hornbill got all excited and hopped around on its perch. She grinned. “Hi, Lieutenant.”
“Miss Harris.” He returned the grin.
She dug into a big pail and got out some fruit. “Here you go, Rajah. Bon appetit.” She shoved it piece by piece through the bars and it rolled around on the ground.
“So his name is Rajah.”
Bridgid handed the phone back to Joe and he holstered it.
“He’s from India, after all, and he thinks he’s king of the world. So, Rajah.” The keeper started to hop back into her club car and stopped. She stared at Bridgid. “Oh my.” She briefly laid a hand on her mouth. “Rodriguez. Of course. I didn’t connect the names.” She smiled. “Welcome back, Mrs. Rodriguez.”
“I thank ye.”
“Adios.” With a wave she hopped back into her club car and drove away, its only sound the tires gritching in the gravel.
Bridgid asked, “Am I that much a celebrity?”
“Your picture was on TV and in the paper. I’m afraid so.”
She sat quietly for a few minutes. Then, “I am either maturing, probably an effect of marriage, or I have a dark side I’d not known about. I’m becoming rather accustomed to the strange humor of Hugh Bartoli. And it sometimes takes a moment to realise he just complimented ye.”
Joe chuckled. “Hugh Bartoli can be something of an acquired taste. But when you need backup, he’s the best there is, and he’s probably the smartest investigator I know. Say. This zoo has a real tea house, Gertrude’s. Lapsang Souchong, Earl Grey, Rare Mandarin, and servers in frilly aprons. Would you like tea, Mrs. Rodriguez?”
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